Page 18 of Explosive Prejudice

“I’ve got a busy night, and so do you.” I eyed his erection with a teasing smile. “Make sure to think of me when he fucks you.”

Stepping out of the room was easy. Stopping myself from thinking about him was nearly impossible.

Shay-Lee

The sound of the running water coming from the bathroom, where Dion was taking a shower, mixed with the buzzing of an incoming call, stirred me awake. With a grunt, since my ass was still sore from what we did only a little while ago, I turned onto my back and reached for my phone.

My stomach flipped the same as it did every time when the name Jordan popped on the screen. Since making him leave for New York, he’d been calling me nonstop, and despite promising him we’d speak on the phone every night, I’d been avoiding him. During the week I stayed in London with my father, I shot Jordan a short text, telling him I wouldn’t be available for the next few days before my dad took my phone away. But I’d been home for over a week now, and I still ignored all of his calls and texts.

I felt too guilty to hear his voice, even more so knowing that I’d just fucked the person who had threatened him because of his father’s debt. His asshole of a father borrowed money from Dion’s company, and when it was time to pay it back, it was Dion’s men who came for Jordan. Of course, Jordan never knew Dion—he was too much of a nobody to actually face the big boss—but it was still wrong of me to sleep with Dion.

But I did everything wrong, anyway. My existence itself was wrong.

My guilt wasn’t only because of Dion but because of being with someone else, period. Jordan and I were never an official couple, but in the time we spent together, I sure as hell tried to be as faithful as I could. Considering I was practically a slut, it didn’t go well. While Jordan was all but willing to give up on everything for my sake, I couldn’t even bring myself to stop fucking others. Therefore, I couldn’t let him ruin himself for someone like me. I used him, and he was ready to be used. It was toxic, deadly, and it ended violently.

The phone went off, and then came a text.

Jordan: I miss you, baby. I keep running everything back in my head and nothing makes sense… Please, I need to talk to you. Just call me back. Please.

It was one out of many texts that pinched my heart. I missed him, too, and yet, I didn’t text back. I couldn’t. If I did, it would only pull him back into the vortex known as my life, and I knew he wouldn’t survive it. Not this time.

My phone suddenly felt too heavy, so I dropped it on the mattress, flipped onto my stomach, and shoved my face into the pillow. Squeezing my eyes shut, the sweet moments I shared with Jordan flashed before me like a moving film. The first time I sucked him off in his hideous motel room, the time in the hospital where he’d confessed his love for me, and when we went to buy our costumes for Halloween.

And then, without any warning, my thoughts drifted a thousand miles away from my kind Jordan and into the dangerous zone of Diesel. A guy who shouldn’t be in my head, and yet, the strength of his arms and the warmth of his skin were all engraved in me. Whenever his name popped into my head, it was as if my brain floated back to every second I’d ever shared with him. The aggressiveness, the violence, the hate—they all came crashing against that night in the hotel where he was nothing but gentle.

All those thoughts gave me a headache, and I knew the cure for that. Getting up from the bed, I passed by the dresser where we did coke earlier and grabbed a silk robe. Just as I was tying the creme-colored belt around my waist, the door to the bathroom opened, and Dion walked out.

Drying his tousled brown hair with a towel, he pinned his pale eyes on me. “Where are you going?” he asked, a crooked smile on his chiseled face, as I reached for my mask.

“Downstairs, to the club.” We were in his suite, which was on the upper floor.

“So I wasn’t enough?” He tossed his towel on the floor, then came to stand before me, naked, while caressing the bite mark he’d left on my neck with his fingers.

Looking between us, I eyed his flaccid dick resting against his dark pubes and smiled to myself. He was definitely eye candy. “You’re never enough.” I grinned. “Too old to keep up with me.”

He laughed at my tease. “Too old? I’m thirty-two. If anything, you’re too young.”

“And yet, not once did it stop you.” I pushed back from him and moved to the mirror to put my mask on.

“You’re over eighteen. That’s all I care about.”

Glancing at him over my shoulder, I found him looking back at me with hungry eyes. “Obviously… Considering all the drugs we do, I assume you don’t care for corrupting young souls.”

He laughed and moved until he was close enough to graze his thumb over my bottom lip. “Oh, mon péché, you’re already corrupted enough.” His mouth twisted in a wicked smile. “I’m just enjoying someone else’s work.”

“You’re hideous,” I said, and his grin widened.

“Only because I, too, was corrupted.”

For a moment there, we just stared at each other. He was seeing whatever he saw in me while I tried to imagine how a man like him, the head of a crime organization, was once the same as me.

Slapping his hand away, I cleared my throat. “Well, I don’t give a shit. I’ll see you later.”

I hadn’t seen Nero since our time in the Notte Oscura three days ago. And it would be a lie to say I wasn’t dying to see him again. His personality was what I expected it to be and more. The man was a complete asshole, which only made me eager to know him more. When he ordered me to step into the light and sit on the bed only so we could switch places? Fuck. It thrilled me to the point I forgot who I was for a moment. Such disconnection never happened to me while sober.

Because of what Dion told me about Nero’s “no men” rule, I was sure I’d get punched in the face. One could only imagine my surprise when I noticed that he’d been hard the entire time we’d been together. I didn’t do anything to get him aroused, which was odd. I managed to seduce more than enough straight men in my life before, but I had to work for it, whether it was dirty talking, body language, some games, or manipulation. Eventually, they all fell into my bed. But three nights ago, I didn’t do any of those things because Nero didn’t leave room for that. I was too captivated by him to do anything but be under his influence.

Maybe being in control turned him on? I considered that option but dismissed it because he wasn’t a Dom. No. He didn’t want to play games. He’d made that clear, which was good because I wasn’t a sub and was never into the whole BDSM thing. It worked for others, not for me.

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