Wretched (Never After Series)(5)

He points toward the dance floor. “I’m not here alone. And it’s Nick.”

My eyes follow where he’s pointing toward an attractive guy dancing up against a random woman in the middle of the floor.

“That’s my friend, Seth. I got put on a new job today that’s taking me out of town, so we’re ‘celebrating’ one last time.”

“I’d probably celebrate too if you were leaving.”

Laughing, he takes another sip of his drink, exactly on the same spot I did earlier, his tongue peeking out and running over his lips, not dropping my stare for a single second. My insides tighten, heat flooding between my legs.

It’s obnoxious how much he’s affecting me.

“Listen, I don’t have time for”—I wave my arm between us—“whatever this is. So either get to the point or go find someone else. I’m sure there are plenty of desperate women willing to give up their personal information so you can peek in their windows.”

He sets down his glass and glances past me before stepping forward and bending down, his lips impossibly close to my cheek. I suck in a breath, my heart ramping up in my chest.

“I don’t want to stalk you, pretty girl.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I want to fuck you.”

Oh.

Something hot and wicked swirls through my middle. This guy is dangerous. A distraction—one I can’t afford. Although… I peek over at Andrew, the bartender, realizing there are at least a couple hours before he gets off work. A little bit of fun wouldn’t hurt, and why shouldn’t I reward myself? Besides, I’m not used to being the center of attention. Usually, I hide in dark corners, trying my best to blend in with the shadows. This change of pace is kind of nice, in an unexpected way.

“Well…” I tap the bar with my fingertips, feeling the burn of Nicholas’s stare as it trails down my body. “This has been fun, but I’ve got to use the ladies. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t follow me, stalker.”

He purses his lips like he’s holding back a grin and tips his head.

Honestly, I expect him to follow anyway, but as I make my way through the dance floor and down the narrow halls, pushing past a dozen sticky, sweaty bodies, he’s nowhere to be found.

It’s better this way.

I pull open the door to the ladies’ room and step inside. It’s a small bathroom, with black and white subway tile on the walls and only two toilets. I walk over, peeking underneath both stalls to make sure there’s no one else in here before heading to the sink and resting my arms against the edge, blowing out a deep breath.

The door swings open and then shuts, making my heart shoot to my throat and my defenses spike, a lock clicking into place. I spin, excitement squeezing my middle as I meet Nicholas’s stare, his eyes dark as he strides toward me. He tilts his head, taking off his black leather jacket and tossing it on the sink’s counter. I step back until I’m flush against the grungy tile of the bathroom wall, but he continues until his body is pressed against mine, a thrill racing through my insides.

“I knew you’d follow me.” I roll my eyes. “Predictable.”

His hand reaches around and threads through the strands of my hair, tightening as he pulls, forcing my eyes to meet his as my neck stretches back.

Jesus.

My heart speeds, hoping like hell the glue I used will keep the wig in place.

“Turns out… I don’t know what’s good for me,” he says.

And then he bends down and kisses me.

I moan, my hands flying to the back of his head as his tongue dives into my mouth, tangling with mine. He tastes sweet and spicy, and I let myself get lost in the moment. I’ll never see this guy again, but I’m hopeful he lives up to his bravado and can at least give me an orgasm before he disappears.

His hands come down to my thighs, lifting me up, and he presses himself into me until every single inch is nestled between my legs. He thrusts and I whimper into his mouth.

So glad I left my gun in the car. That would be awkward to explain.

Locking my ankles together behind his back, I move my hips, grinding against him.

“Fuck,” he curses, breaking away to trail his lips along the column of my neck.

Wetness leaks from me, and I arch my back until my head hits the wall, giving him more room to work.

“You gonna give me your name yet?” he rasps.

“No.”

Reaching down, I pop the button on the top of his jeans, slipping my hand inside and grasping his dick, my stomach tensing when I realize just how big he really is.

He drops my legs, backing up slightly and pulling out a condom from his pocket. I snatch it from him, dropping to my knees and grabbing the waistband of his pants, lowering them just enough so I can reach through his boxers and pull his cock out. The head is dripping with his precum, and I lean in, licking up the salty liquid, moaning when it hits my tongue. It tastes good, and I decide I need to have more, so I put my mouth over him and slide it down, letting him hit the back of my throat.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, his palm slapping against the wall.

I bob my head a few times, sliding my tongue along the thick vein running up his shaft, then letting him slip out of me with a pop, moving back and ripping open the condom package with my teeth. I place it on him, his stare burning into the top of my head as I do.