by Anna B. Doe
I laugh at his words, but my laughter slowly dies at his next words.
“Or maybe you are just waiting for the right man.”
The shimmer in his eyes is a clear giveaway that he thinks he’s man enough to handle me. The right man, my ass.
“Here you go,” the kid on the other side of the bar slid two glasses in my direction. I give him a flirty smile along with the cash, not waiting around for change.
“What was that about?” Anabel asks once we move away from the bar.
“A know-it-all.”
Without elaborating, I take a sip of my drink and smile at her. “Let’s dance.”
I don’t give her a chance to say anything before I drag her to the middle of the dance floor.
We dance.
God only knows how long. As long as the music is good I can keep on dancing forever. The beat of it matches the flow of the blood in my veins. Words are the blur that loses all the meaning of this place.
We sip drink after drink and let loose. My eyes are closed, and I simply let myself feel it all.
Feel the beat.
Feel the heat.
Feel this moment.
There is nothing like letting go of what you are, of what you know, and feel. Empty the mind of all the doubts, all the worries, and everyday life.
In the dark, you can be whoever you want to be.
As long as you are surrounded by darkness you can let yourself forget.
Hands land on my hips and move forward, settling on my belly. They pull me in and I can feel a hard body pressed against my back.
I don’t bother turning around.
I don’t want to know.
Unknown.
That’s what I crave.
And for a while, I can let myself be exactly that.
“I knew you are a wild, free spirit when I first saw you,” a guy whispers in my ear.
Through the haze in my mind, I recognize the voice.
The guy from the bar.
Tilting my head back, I flutter my eyes open and look over my shoulder to confirm what I already know.
“You don’t know anything,” I whisper, heat rising inside of me.
“Ohh, you are wrong there, darlin’.” His eyes gleam in the darkness. A smug smile curling his lips. “I know exactly what I need to know.”
His lips land on mine. Hard and fast.
Demanding.
Controlling.
He wants to prove his point. That he’s man enough to control me. That his dick is bigger than the rest of the guys in this club. He is right. Partly. He is a bigger dick than the rest of the guys here.
One of his hands moves to my neck, fisting the strands of the hair at my nape and tilting my head to the side to get a better angle.
His lips demand mine to open, and I do, but I don’t let his tongue slide in. I meet him halfway and hold my stance.
No man has power over me.
Not mentally.
Not emotionally.
And sure as hell not physically.
My teeth bite into his lower lip, not too strong to draw blood, but strong enough to make a statement. When his eyes finally open and focus on me I let his lip go, but my hand that found the way to hold his jaw keeps him strong in place.
“Who’s the boss now?”
His blue eyes widen in surprise and irritation.
“No need to be so bitchy about it, darlin’. We are just having fun.”
“Then go find it elsewhere. I’m sure there are girls out there who don’t mind being manhandled. I’m not one of them.”
I shove at his jaw strongly, not wishing to be in his presence for a second longer.
He glares at me, but takes a step back, rubbing his jaw. “Whatever.”
“Are you okay?” Bel looks at me and the retreating guy, confusion written all over her face. “I thought …”
“Don’t worry.” I give her one weak smile because I don’t want to worry her. “It was nothing.”
I rub my swollen lips with my fingers.
I can still feel his lips on mine. I can still taste him on my tongue. Faint taste of beer and cigarettes.
My body shudders in disgust.
I can still feel it all. The pressure. The texture. The taste.
And it feels wrong.
So damn wrong.
And that feeling doesn’t have anything to do with his pushy, manhandling ways.
“Is that Sienna Roberts?”
My eyes leave Sienna’s hot, lean body to look over at Luke, one of Will’s friends from high school. His voice is awestruck, and his eyes swallow her in hungrily. Not that I can blame him, she looks good enough to eat.
Her curls are bouncing on her shoulders and with every step she takes her short white dress sways around her miles-long, tanned legs.
I can’t decide what I want more. To curl my hand into a fist and punch it into Luke’s nose to make him stop eating her with his eyes, or trace my hands up her soft skin, lift her in my arms, and let those long legs wrap around my middle while I kiss her senseless.
Choices, choices.
She never answered my message, which kind of pisses me off. I thought we were past that after she opened up to me about her past. Obviously, I was wrong.
I don’t want to put a fucking ring on her finger, for crying out loud. I want us to be friends. Inside and outside of the bedroom. What’s so wrong about that?
But at the same time, I missed her. I don’t know when was the last time I missed someone outside my family.
“Yeah, that’s her,” I grumble, answering his earlier question.
“Don’t even bother, mate,” Will’s brother Nate laughs at me, probably because he knows there is something going on between us.
He and Mrs. P were at one of our games in January, which happened to be the game Will invited Anabel to. Giving the fact Sienna is her best friend, she came too. So, of course, he knows something. He would have to be blind not to know.
“All the pretty gals are taken.”
Luke sighs in distress, shaking his head. “They usually are. It’s probably the lucky guy she was spotted with yesterday. Her flavor of the month, that’s what they call him.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I start, but then my mind fully registers his words. “Wait, what?”
Yesterday? What the hell happened yesterday?
Apart from her ignoring my message, that is.
“I saw it earlier today.” He takes his phone out of his back pocket, unlocks it and clicks a few times before turning it towards us. “I probably wouldn’t even notice if I didn’t follow the club on Instagram.”
When I see the picture, I feel my teeth clench and my hands squeeze into fists by my side.
There she is, same yet different, but still breathtakingly gorgeous, kissing another guy. The picture is taken in the darkness of the club, but there is no mistake. Although her hair is straight, something I have yet to see in the flesh, blond tips shine through the dark. Her height, her stance, the way she is. It can’t be anyone else.
And if there was any doubt the caption below the picture is there to make it all clear.
Who is Sienna Roberts' flavor of the month?
What would I give to know, peeps.
“J.D.,” Nate calls me, caution in his voice, but I don’t give a damn about him or his caution.
Lifting my head, my eyes scan Price’s backyard for her. There aren’t a lot of people. Even if there were, I would still be able to find her. She is the kind of person that sticks out in the crowd. You can put old, dirty bag over her head and people will still notice her.
Sienna-freaking-Roberts.
I find her standing on the other side of the yard with Will’s sister Zoe and a few other women laughing at something. She says a few words before turning and walking into the house.
“This is not the best idea, Shelton.”
Nate’s words are spoken low so only I can hear them, but I ignore him. “Mind your own damn business, kid.”
Taking slow, measured steps, I stalk behind her.
The last thing I want is to cause a commotion and listen to the whispers of people behind my back. I don’t need that shit. I want to talk to Sienna, and I want to talk to her alone.
When we discussed our arrangement, I think I was clear enough. No messing around with other people. I don’t want and don’t need this kind of shit in my life. It’s complicated as it is.
Leaning against the doorway of the living room I wait for her to come.
It doesn’t take long for me to hear her footsteps near.
“Had fun last night?”
“J.D.,” she breathes my name, her hand pressed against her rapidly rising chest. “You scared the crap out of me!”
I cross my hands over my chest and raise my brows, waiting for her answer.
Her amber eyes narrow at me.
“As a matter of fact, I did. Bel had a birthday and we went out to celebrate.”
Sienna folds her hands over her chest, copying my stance.
“Meet anyone interesting?” I challenge.
Something flashes in her eyes. It’s only there for a second and then it’s gone, her mask back in place.
“Are you implying something?”
“I don’t have to imply anything, doll. The picture is on social media for everyone to see.”
Her face is a mask of calmness. No twitch. No guilt. Nothing.
We stare at each other in silence. For how long I don’t know. I don’t know what to think or who to believe. There is a picture of her kissing another guy and all I can feel is this rage.
I want to yell at her to tell me the truth, but I also want to kiss her. Kiss her so fiercely and bend her will. Make her melt into my arms. Make her feel something other than this calm because I sure don’t know what calm is.
Not when she’s around.
Until I met her, my life was fine. Then she danced her way into my life and everything started falling apart. My world turned upside down and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.
“You don’t know what happened,” she whispers finally.
“Then tell me.”
She frowns even harder at my words; her lips press tightly together.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you. It’s not like we’re …”
“Dating?” I supply when she doesn’t seem to find the right words. “Because we may not be dating, but we did agree to have this relationship. No matter how fucked up it is.”
“Fucking,” she hisses, pointing her finger at my chest. “That’s what we agreed on, Shelton. Fucking. Fast, hard, and emotionless. And in my world, that doesn’t give you any kind of right to question me about my whereabouts and people I hang out with.”
Her words are like a punch in the gut. A fast, hard kick that knocks the air out of your lungs and makes you bend forward.
We are both panting hard, leaning toward the other person. Her cheeks are flushed with anger and my teeth grit at her words.
There is a little bit of guilt flashing through her amber eyes, but it’s disguised by other emotions. Anger. Fury. Defiance.
I want to bend her over my knees and spank it all out of her.
I know she feels this connection between us. This chemistry. There is no way not to feel it. No way to ignore it.
Obviously, she can resist it. Or, at least, she is trying.
Her anger raises mine, and I’m scared that if she utters one more word I’ll strangle her, so I make myself take a few deep breaths.
Unclenching my hands, I take a step back.
The surprise on her face is obvious. She didn’t expect it. Not at all.
She wants to fight.
She craves it.
But I’m not giving it to her.
“Whatever,” I whisper, turning my back and walking away from her. “You’ll come to me when you are ready.”
Fucking J.D. Shelton.
Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you!
Who does he think he is? Stalking me, bossing me around. Demanding answers he has no right to demand.
Stupid, entitled prick.
And stupid whoever had the nerve to take that damn picture and post it online. Can a girl have a little bit of privacy? Soon they’ll demand from me to let them go with me to the bathroom and post about that. I can see titles in my mind already.
Sienna Roberts—yellow waterfall daily.
Idiots!
All of them. And Jack Daniel Shelton is the biggest prick of them all.
How dare he come and demand answers from me and then turn his back and walk away? Leaving me hanging with the same words that douchebag from the club uttered before walking away.
Guys are such jerks.
Furious, I shut the door of my car, not bothering to lock it behind myself and stomp my way to the front porch.
I ring the doorbell a few times, but when nobody answers immediately, I start knocking forcefully.
“Open the door! I know you are in there, you stupid s—”
I prepare to knock again when the surface underneath my hand disappears and I stumble forward.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
J.D.’s big body fills in the doorway. Hands are on his hips, his brows are furrowed, and the look in his green eyes is murderous. He’s angry with me, so damn angry.
But he’s not the only one.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” I stab him in the chest with my finger. The force of it makes me want to shout out in pain, but I force myself not to show any signs of it. “This is all your fault!”
“My fault?”
“Yes! Your fault. You don’t get to say shit like that and turn your back on me. You don’t get to say the last word and walk away!”
He looks at me like I’m some crazy person while the steam is coming out of my ears. I see the corner of his lips twitch and my fingers have this insane urge to wrap around his neck and squeeze.
How dare he laugh. There is nothing funny about the whole situation.
Maybe I should kick him in the nuts and wash my hands of him. That would be the reasonable, adult thing to do. Okay, maybe not exactly adult, but a girl has to have a way to get rid of all this pent-up anger and frustration.
“And why is that?” J.D. crosses his hands over his chest.
Aghh! This man is so frustrating!
“Because I say so.”
“Because you say so?” His brows lift on his forehead. A nocking smirk playing on his lips.
It’s irritating the hell out of me. I want to punch him in the face and wipe it off.
God, this man is killing me! I don’t remember anyone ever having this kind of effect on me. Shelton brings out the worst in me.
He brings out the best in you, too, a low voice whispers in my mind, but I choose to ignore it.
J.D. wakes up all these emotions inside of me, and if that’s not enough, he brings them out on the surface for everybody to see. He knows how to play me—not only my body, but also my mind and soul—like a musician who plays the violin.
“You have a problem with that?”
I tilt my chin in the air a bit, hoping my boldness can compensate for those few inches that separate us. I want him to know I’m not some girl he can manipulate to his heart’s content.
“I have a problem with you.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to think or breath. His lips crash into mine.
Strong.
Demanding.
Forceful.
Consuming.
Pushing against his chest, I try to step away from him. Incomprehensible words come out of my mouth, but his lips muffle the sound.
I bite into his lip trying to take control, but he doesn’t let it bother him. J.D. nibbles at my lip and soon I’m melting against him. My fingers don’t push him away, they grip the fabric of his shirt and pull him tighter.
Strong hands grip my hair, fingers intertwining in the long strands.
He tilts my head to the side to gain bett
er access to my mouth. His silky tongue slips between my parted lips and we both moan in delight.
Our bodies are pressed together tightly. There is no chance even a strand of hair can come between us.
I can feel his rigid, ripped body under my hands.
Surrounding me.
Owning me.
There is a hard thud before his hands lower to my ass. His fingers dig into my flesh and, for a second, I wonder if tomorrow I’ll have his fingertips engraved on my skin. At the same time, I love and hate the idea of that.
My legs wrap around his middle and I can feel his hard cock settle between my legs. On their own, my hips start moving. Grinding against his hardness.
The ache between my legs grows stronger. Pulsing intensifies.
My head falls back, and an embarrassingly painful moan comes out of my mouth.
J.D.’s lips don’t leave my skin. I can feel him chuckle lightly, his warm breath tickling the skin of my exposed neck.
“We are taking this to the bedroom,” he murmurs, getting a better grip on me before he starts moving.
The need to show him away is strong. After all, I didn’t come here for this. Sex between us has never been a problem, which is a problem in itself. How is it possible that someone can make you feel so much? How is it possible there is a person out there in this world that matches you so perfectly? But our problems, our real problems, are outside of the bedroom.
However, the need to have him, the need to kiss him and feel him enter me is stronger. Way, way stronger.
He throws me down on the bed.
There is no elegance or care in his motions.
Just force. Passion. Hunger. Need.
J.D. rips off my dress and underwear and his soon follow to the growing pile on the floor.
Once we are naked, he joins me on the bed. His big body hovering over mine.
Rugged palms caress my naked body. Down my shoulders, caressing the side of my breasts, over my flat stomach and hips.
“Mine.”
His touch is light but powerful.
My eyelids flutter shut with the first contact and my back lifts of the mattress, moving closer to him. Leaning into his rugged palms.
My legs fall to the side, opening me to him.
“Please,” I beg, even though I don’t know what I want.
For his touch to be firmer? For his lips to kiss me? For him to squeeze my throbbing breasts and suck at my erected nipples? Or maybe for him to enter me and ease the growing ache between my legs?