It hurts. In every cell in my body, seeing him hurts.
He’s looking around with one eye due to the patch that accompanies his costume, but I know, I just know he’s looking for me.
I’m drowning. This is beyond what I can handle. The world around me is disappearing, zeroing in on him and only him.
And I can’t fight this. I . . .
I have to get away. At least for a few minutes. Gather some semblance of rationality.
I’ve never been this ready for a man in my life. If I don’t leave, now, I’m going to grab him, right here, in front of every single person in this place, and I’m going to fucking devour him.
So, I turn around and head straight for the stairs, taking them as fast as I can, hoping there is some place in this huge house where I can hide from him.
My phone’s dead in my left hand.
My eyes are locked on my right hand. The same hand I’m currently holding up. The same hand covered in my come.
This girl made me fucking come all over my hand and then hung up the phone on me.
And she came, loud as fuck in my ear, while fucking herself with a dildo.
That’s the last cock other than mine that’s going to go in there. Next time that * gets stretched open, it’ll be by me. My fingers. My dick.
Temple throbbing, I rush to wash my hands and throw on my makeshift costume. Once I’m dressed, I slam into my car and peel out of my parking spot. The drive from Columbus usually takes just over an hour. I make it in less than that, but even that takes too fucking long.
Before exiting my car, I send a text to Kira. I’m here. Where are you? I don’t even know why I try reaching her phone. Even if she sees it, she won’t respond.
No. Because she doesn’t want me here.
Tough fucking luck. I’m here.
So is Austin.
Therefore, I sure as hell belong here.
I honestly don’t know why I’m so mad right now, but there’s this volcanic throbbing in the pit of me. Brutal energy coalesced into an impending detonation.
I need to calm the fuck down. Sure, years of wanting the girl have merged with the torture of the last few months. My mind’s totally screwed.
Stepping just inside the open doors, I try to spot her among the dozens of people here. In the back of my mind, I register how most of them stop to stare at me.
My eye bounces off the crowd’s faces.
I spot Austin first, dressed in some ridiculous gladiator costume. What a fucking douchebag. He’s walking with an intent that’s unmistakable. So is the look on his face. I follow his stare.
Fucking knew it.
Son of a bitch, what the hell is she wearing?
Here we go again.
I cut a path through everyone in my way, following Kira to the large staircase.
Don’t know who she’s running away from, but I’m going to be the one to catch her.
She’s halfway up the stairs by the time I reach the bottom.
That tutu doesn’t cover shit. Her tiny as hell underwear are bare for the whole world to see.
So is her ass when staring from down here.
Goddamn this girl.
That’s mine. All of it. Enough is enough.
I follow her, as I’m always doing lately. There’s a certainty that grows with every step take, one I can’t even begin to describe.
Kira turns left down the hall, and I speed up to catch her. She’s halfway down another hallway when I get within a few feet and reach out for her.
The certainty solidifies.
It’s over. I’m done giving her the choice. Even if she ends up fucking despising me even more than she already does, this bullshit ends now.
She’s going to admit she’s mine. Tonight. My mind's made up.
I take that last step, reach out, and turn her around. That beautiful little demon glares at me. Her eyes caress me, anger mixing with lust, and I know I’ve got her.
We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be—on the same page. Ready to fucking devour each other.
Locked by the same desire-fueled rage.
“What the fuck do you want?” she growls.
“What the fuck were you thinking when you decided to wear that?” I growl back.
“What the fuck were you thinking when you decided to wear that?”
It’s one of those moments when someone’s audacity just leaves you utterly speechless. That’s me right now. Jaw completely unhinged. Anger skyrocketing to a whole new level.
Who the hell does he think he is asking me that? Did he see himself before leaving his damn apartment?
His pirate costume was obviously put together last minute, probably with clothes he already had in his closet, but that only makes it look more rugged. The light beige shirt he’s wearing has a wide-open collar and he rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, leaving his forearms exposed. The black leather vest he threw on top of it has gold buttons and adds the perfect touch, and matches the leather combat boots on his feet.
Mussed-up hair, light jeans, the thick leather bracelets encircling his large wrists . . . the eyepatch covering one of his gorgeous eyes. The exposed eye is narrowed and glaring at me.