Page 24 of Tormenting Me

Sending Atlas a text letting him know I’m on the way and should be there soon. The ride seems to last forever, every minute ticking by with excruciating slowness. As the car pulls up to the curb, I spot Atlas waiting for me. “Stop here,” I tell the driver as I open the door, “Thanks!” I hop out of the car and wave to Altas as I make my way through the crowd of people standing outside.

“Hey, bitch. You made it just in time!” He grabs my hand and leads us inside.

“The driver took a longer route here. Let’s find a sweet spot up front!”

We move through the crowd of early entrants. They all gather in the lobby area, buying merch and chatting people up. General admission gets us right up to the stage. I figure we’ll hang out up here until one of us needs the bathroom. “I’m gonna grab us some drinks. What do you want?”

Atlas scrunches up his face and then gives me his drink choice. “Rum and coke. Thanks, babe!”

Determined, I make my way through the crowd to the back bar. Concertgoers begin to arrive and the venue becomes a symphony of animated conversation and laughter. The bartender acknowledges my presence with a nod, and I waste no time in ordering a vodka and Redbull for myself, along with Atlas’s drink. Just as he hands me the drinks, the crowd roars with excitement as the opening band takes the stage. I push through the bodies that are packing in together on the floor, coming up behind Atlas.

Shoving the drink into his hand, he smiles at me in gratitude. I swing my head back and forth to the lyrics of the lead singer, letting the music seep into my subconscious. We stay put for the band’s entire set and let out a roar as they finish their last song.

“Good potential if they get a following,” Atlas shouts over the chatter. Dating Sky has turned him into such a connoisseur of music.

The bands begin to change over so Atlas takes the opportunity to confront me. “What are we looking for tonight, hm? A bad boy with lots of tattoos? Someone who looks as innocent as you?” He scans the area, looking at all the guys in our vicinity. I roll my eyes and give him the middle finger. How do I tell my best friend that we won’t find anyone because the man I desire is not here? That nobody will even touch the way Wes makes me feel.

“Yeah, about that,” I say.

He cuts me off before I can even finish my sentence. “Nope. Don’t you even start with that shit. Come on, La La, you can’t stay the virgin fucking Mary forever.”

This won’t go over well. I take out my phone and pull up Wes and I’s conversation.

Layne: Atlas is hell-bent on finding someone to take my nonexistent virginity.

The seconds pass, and my phone vibrates with his response.

Wes: He better fucking not.

Layne: He is already looking around at all the potential prospects.

Wes: Either you tell him or I find you and fuck you up against the stage in front of everyone.

Find me? I turn around and search the crowd, hoping to see Wes’s face. He is nowhere. My phone vibrates.

Wes: Do you see me, Ma Petite Mort? I can see you. You look so beautiful tonight. Not as beautiful as you will be with my cock in your mouth.

My pussy throbs with anticipation, craving his words to become reality. I’m considering not speaking to Atlas to make Wes search for me. My hand reaches out for Atlas’s shoulder and I turn him to face me. “You don’t have to find anyone because… because I already lost it. Okay?” My face flushes and Atlas eyes me.

“Bullshit! You just don’t want some rando guy taking it.” He gives me a look that shows his disbelief. I let out a sigh. He won’t believe me. Wes confirming it himself is the only way he’ll believe me. He will end this conversation permanently. I pull my phone out and send the text.

Layne: Show yourself, Loverboy. I’ve confessed, and he still doesn’t believe me. Come, save me from this. Do this and I will let you drag me into the darkness and show me what my body was made for.

No response. Well, that’s not like him.

I divert my eyes back to the stage, intrigued by the meticulous work of the In Flames roadies as they assemble the band’s gear. I feel hands wrap around my waist and when I look down and see the telltale tattoo of a skull on Wes’s right hand; my heart somersaults. He spins me around, takes hold of my face, and plants a possessive kiss on my lips. He tastes of beer, smoke, and the sweetest sins. I let my tongue dance with his, forgetting that we are in the middle of a crowded concert floor. I feel myself being drawn into the abyss of his darkness, like a moth to a flame.

Wes’s eyes shift towards Atlas, who is standing there in awe, his mouth hanging open. He extends his hand out and Atlas takes his hand with a firm grip. “I hope you can take this as a hint to stop trying to set up Layne with guys,” his voice oozes with possessiveness. All Atlas can do is nod, still speechless. Wes turns me back around so that we are facing the stage, and the band makes their way on stage, the room darkens again. The crowd erupts and pushes us forward, but Wes’s grip on me is firm. Atlas gets separated from us and even though we are in a room full of people…I can only feel us.

His lips graze my ear as the music starts up. “I can’t wait to see you, on your knees, for me.” I grind my ass into him, my core aching for him to fill me. “Eyes on the stage, baby, wouldn’t want you to miss the show. They are your favorite band.” His hand glides up my thigh and underneath my skirt where he teases my clit over the top of my panties, making me shiver. “Fuck these panties.” he rips my fishnets and shoves my panties to the side. The feeling of his finger penetrating me makes my knees weak, the slow, delicious pressure building. He wraps his free arm around my waist and holds me against his body, as he finger fucks me in the crowd of people.

Wes picks up the pace, fingering me in time with “I Am Above.” It only takes a few pumps of his fingers to have me coming apart in his arms. My orgasm sends me shattering while his fingers continue to ravage my pussy. “Mmm, that’s my dirty fucking girl. You like getting your pussy fingered in public?” He lets out a deep, primitive groan. He withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean of my cum. “You taste like heaven, Ma Petite Mort.”

Wes straightens my skirt and holds me in his arms, just as In Flames begins their cover of “Wicked Game.” I lose myself in the embrace of his arms, and we sway to the music while he seductively whispers the lyrics into my ear and I melt into him.

If this is what Hell is like then all I want to do is burn with him.

“Don’t fall in love with me, Layne. I’m the Devil,” his words a warning to me.

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