Page 33 of Dancing With Delusion

“You will not come, Victoria,” I repeat, then I still, shuddering as I empty inside her. Her hand slips between her legs, and I snatch it away, holding it against the table. “Defy me and face the consequences.”

“Please, Dmitry, I need it.”

“And I need you to stop being mad about things that aren’t important.”

Tori

Dmitry pulls from me, keeping one hand at the small of my back so I can’t move from the table. Why did I have to open my stupid mouth and piss him off? He runs his other hand between my legs, and I shudder as his fingers brush my swollen clit. He rubs his cum into my inner thighs, waiting until my skin has absorbed him before letting me go.

I shove my dress back into place and take my knickers from the table. “It’s a mistake,” I mutter, pulling them on.

“And why is that?” he asks, a smirk on his face.

I arch a brow, heading for the door. “Because you’re sending me out there pissed off, horny, and in need of a release.” I glance back, and his smirk has faded. I grin. “Have a great day, honey,” I whisper sweetly.

I’m almost out the door by the time he catches up, grabbing my wrist. “You’re being unreasonable,” he argues.

I snatch it free and glare at him angrily. “No, Dmitry, you are. How dare you tell me how to feel, like I’m not valid in feeling pissed you lied to me?—”

“I didn’t lie,” he cuts in.

“You said men only. Unless that whore got a sex change, she isn’t a man. So, yes, Dmitry, you lied. And when I tell you I’m upset that you lied, you try to fuck me into submission.” I feel my emotions trying to spill over and I take a few steps away, noticing that Marshall is waiting by the car. “And you also tell me my reaction isn’t grown up enough to have you justify why you lied. I’m doing what Harriet said I needed to, by trying to talk to you instead of screaming.” I inhale sharply. “And it doesn’t work. So, now, I’m going to see my friends, because if I spend another minute in your presence, all her hard work will go to waste.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, which I suspect is so he doesn’t grab me again as I head down the steps. “Tori, please don’t go like this,” he mutters, and I’m glad he has the decency to look hurt because I am too. His father’s car rolls to a stop, and he groans. “You don’t even have a phone,” he adds. “How will I contact you?”

Marshall pulls open the car door. “You won’t.” I get in, slamming the door closed.

I watch as Dmitry and Marshall exchange words before Marshall gets into the driver’s seat. He fixes me with a stare in the rearview mirror. “No funny business.”

I resent the way he assumes I’ll be trouble. “I’m meeting the girls for lunch,” I tell him. I’m about to reel off the bar I’d previously arranged to meet everyone at, but he cuts me off.

“The boss wants us to stop at the phone shop first. He’d like you to get a new phone.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course, he would.”

We drive for twenty minutes before Marshall slows to a stop in the car park of a mobile phone shop. “I’ll wait here,” I mutter. He gives a small laugh before shaking his head and getting out the car. “Radio,” I add, and he sighs heavily, dipping his head back in to put the keys in the ignition so the music continues. If he assumes I’m going to be trouble, he should have thought that one through.

I wait until he’s inside the shop before climbing into the front of the car and igniting the engine, but I don’t wait to see if he’s spotted me before I wheel spin out of there. I press the call button on his phone that still sits in the cradle.

“Tell me you’ve not lost her already,” says Dmitry, his tone bored.

I grin. “Hey, sweety,” I coo in a sickening voice. I imagine the way he’s frowning right now, trying to understand why I’m calling him off his man’s phone. “New rules.”

“Victoria, where is Marshall?”

“I want some ‘me’ time at least once a month.” Another driver beeps me as I pull in front of him, and I give him the middle finger.

“Victoria,” he barks, and I hear the panic in his voice, “where are you?”

“And for the record, this is not Marshall’s fault.”

He growls. “I believe it wasn’t his fault before, it makes no difference.”

“But this time, I hold the cards.”

He laughs, and it’s cold. “And what makes you think that? Jesus, you’ve been gone less than half an hour and you’re already causing chaos.”

“If you touch a hair on Marshall’s head, I’m leaving you.”

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