She lifts herself up, biting her lower lip, and then shudders as she lowers herself. Duke’s hands are at her hips, guiding her. She moves above him, making herself mewl and coo at her own movements. The most involvement I can see from Duke is that he’s keeping his hands in place and letting her use his dick for her own pleasure. She tosses her head back as one of her fingers finds her center and makes small, fast circles. Her skin breaks out in goose bumps at the exact moment that I think I’m going to be sick. My stomach rolls in disgust—not at the act itself, but in jealousy. A little over a month ago that was me straddling Duke’s lap. It was me mewling and yearning for more from him. It was me trying to tell myself that fucking Duke really was just fucking and it didn’t mean anything. But then he left and he didn’t really come back. A week-long trip across the country and he was back in town, but he wasn’t back here—not with me at least.
After he’d claimed me in his room, I decided that I wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. I wasn’t going to be one of those stupid bitches who got all sad and weepy over the fucked up shit these guys do. I know it as well now as I did the first time I attended a party here—Lost Girls are club whores. We show up to fuck, and to have fun with, but at the end of the night the guys still go home to their wives and girlfriends. After they leave here they check and make sure their kids are tucked into bed, and they might even make love to their wives. We’re the entertainment, and they’re the commitment.
And it isn’t until this moment that I realize how entirely fucked it was to sleep with Duke. And it’s here in this moment that I promise myself to never be this stupid again. So I stand here and I watch. I watch as Duke reaches behind her back and grabs her by the hair, yanking her head backward. I watch as he tells her to stop going slow and to get with the program. She makes a sound of displeasure, but I doubt he gives a shit. She’s no better than cattle in this moment. And neither am I.
So, I decide I’m done after tonight.
Duke grips Dawn’s hips firmly and roughly slams her down onto him. Her eyes fly open and she catches my gaze. I want to turn and run. I want to flee before he realizes I’m here, too. But he doesn’t notice. Instead, he keeps ramming into her again and again. Sweat starts at her hairline and drips down her face, onto her breasts, and even onto his stomach. She holds on as best she can as he pummels her hard and unrelenting. She keeps her eyes on me, and I think she might enjoy the attention I’m giving her. Every time her mouth makes this little “O” shape, I feel it in my gut. It churns around in there, looking for a home, and eventually settles in and hardens my heart. Slowly but surely, I can feel my emotions shutting down until all I feel is the air conditioning as it kicks on. When the pain subsides and I’m no longer teaching myself a lesson, I decide that I’ve seen enough.
As I turn and walk away, leaving Duke with his whore and Dawn with her bastard, I don’t feel an ounce of regret or sadness. I just feel empty.
Chapter 7
HALFWAY THROUGH THE main room of the clubhouse, I catch Diesel’s eye. He’s at a table with some chick on his lap. Everything looks kind of fuzzy and all over the place. I scrunch my eyes together to keep the gut-wrenching disappointment from showing on my face. But it’s too late. Diesel’s seen something and he’s honed in on me. He pats the chick’s ass and gives her a push off his lap and strides over to me.
In the back of my head I’m telling myself to move and leave—just get the fuck out—but my feet don’t make the attempt. Maybe I’m tired of being chased, or maybe I know better than to run from Diesel. It’s not like there’s anything he could possibly do to me that’s worse than anything else I’ve experienced today.
Today is, officially, the worst day of my life.
There won’t be another day that’s this bad, I swear it. Because I won’t let anything else ever hurt like this. I refuse. I flat out fucking refuse to let anyone else have this kind of power over me. I did so well for so long—keeping people at bay—but then this. I gave him a chance and this is what happens.
“You’re being weird,” Diesel says as he grips my hips. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lie. His lips form a thin line, and he lowers his shaved head to meet my eyes.
“I know what Ryan did,” he says, and I tense up. Just because I stood there and watched the entire act doesn’t mean I want to relive it right now. I can see the shape of Dawn’s pouty lips as they form that “O” as she slides down Duke’s dick. That’s one image I don’t think is ever going to go away.
“It’s nothing,” I say, but still he doesn’t budge.
“If it’s something to you, it’s something. Come on,” Diesel says. He places his hand on my lower back and guides me down the hall toward one of the spare bedrooms. Since Diesel doesn’t have an officer position within the club, he doesn’t have his own room here. Not that it matters—all of the rooms are in need of a serious cleaning. I walk compliantly into the room. It doesn’t even matter what Diesel has to say or wants to do. I don’t know that I can feel any worse than I do right now.