Page 75 of Princes of Carnage

As a new track begins to play, Zoey draws back a little, her cheeks flushed from the exertion as she gazes up at me. Her tongue darts out to sweep over her bottom lip, and then she goes up onto her tiptoes and leans in to kiss me.

Her mouth is just as familiar as the rest of her. Soft, plush, tempting. Part of me wants to end this before it goes too far, but another part of me doesn’t want to admit just why that is. I don’t want to think about what I can’t have, so I focus on what’s right in front of me instead.

I kiss Zoey back, one hand going to the small of her back to keep her in place. I’m drunk enough that it feels like the room is spinning around us a bit, and I focus on the way her mouth feels on mine.

It could be five seconds or five minutes later when we finally separate, and Zoey’s emerald eyes burn with desire. She takes my hand again, tugging me away from the dance floor, and I don’t resist.

She leads me away from the din of the crowd, into a different room off the main part of the clubhouse. It’s dimly lit, one of the little side rooms that we use for private talks or when someone needs time to cool off.

I can’t remember if this is the first time we’ve been alone in this room before, but probably not.

Zoey definitely moves like she knows what she’s doing and what she wants. She pushes me down into a chair and stands over me for a second, just looking. I can feel her gaze, hot and weighty, and I lick my lips as she watches.

Then she grins, moving to crawl onto my lap, straddling me with her legs spread wide.

“You have no idea, do you?” she breathes, leaning in. I can smell her scent, like sweet vanilla, filling my senses.

But that’s not right. It should be jasmine and honey.

“No idea about what?” I ask, and it comes out low and a little slurred.

She grins, running her fingers through my hair. “How much I’ve missed this. I think about you all the time, Atlas. How good you were to me. How good we were together.”

I open my mouth, although I’m not even sure what I want to say. It doesn’t matter anyway, because Zoey leans in and kisses me again, tightening her grip on my hair.

Her mouth is blazing hot, just as sweet as her scent, and she makes a soft, needy noise when I kiss her back. She slides her hands down to rest against my chest, and I can feel it when she grinds down on me a bit, making my cock stir in my pants.

Her tongue presses into my mouth, and I let it, parting my lips and letting my own tongue dance and twine with hers. She tastes good, familiar, and there’s a low groan of pleasure that I realize is coming from me.

Zoey smiles against my lips and then bites down lightly on the bottom one, making me hiss in a breath. Her hands snake down to my crotch, and she starts going for my belt to undo it.

Her fingers graze my cock through the fabric of my pants, and something about that startles me out of the daze I’ve been in since we started dancing. I catch her wrist before she can take my belt off, stopping her in her tracks.

“What?” She blinks, looking startled.

I shake my head, still not sure what to say to her. My head is still spinning from the whiskey, and my body is humming from being drunk and turned on—but I’m not so drunk that I don’t remember there was a reason we stopped doing this before.

“Atlas.” Zoey drops her voice, staring up at me with her big eyes. “Please. I want you so much. Can’t you see that? Can’t you see how badly I want you back? How desperately I need you to fuck me? I missed your cock, baby. No one has a cock like you do.”

She purrs that last bit, pressing in closer so that I can feel her tits against my chest.

“Just once,” she whispers. “Just tonight. Please, baby. I’ve been going crazy without you.”

She leans up to kiss me again. But before her lips touch mine, the door opens, letting light from the outside room come flooding in.

My gaze shoots up to see who’s interrupted us, and it’s like a bucket of cold water has been dumped over me as I recognize the figure silhouetted in the doorway.

Quinn.

She stands frozen like a statue for a second, shock reflecting on her shadowed face. Then her expression morphs into something else. Something that looks more like disappointment—or hurt.

She blinks and then whirls around, letting the door slam shut as she leaves.

“Fuck,” I curse, lifting Zoey off my lap.

She yelps as I deposit her roughly on her feet so I can stand. “Atlas, what—”

I don’t hear the rest of what she says, because I’m already out the door.

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