Page 21 of Filthy Devil

There are also huge black-and-white pictures on the walls of women inPlayboybunny costumes or just completely naked. I recognize some of the faces as celebrities. Then, something shiny draws my attention to the stage.

There is a woman dancing. She’s wearing a rhinestone-encrusted G-string with blinged-out sky-high heels. She’s completely topless, her breasts on display for every man staring at her, and they are doing just that.

I think if a bomb exploded, not a single man would even flinch.

They are her captivated audience.

Turning away from the stage, I decide I need to get some food. Maybe I’m hallucinating because I am feeling just as captivated by this naked dancer. I’ve never thought about stripping, bad or good. It’s never been at the forefront of my mind one way or the other.

Now I’m wondering what it’s like to be up there. To have all those eyes on me. But is adoration by a bunch of strangers really what I want? Or is there only one man who I want watching me right now?

I already know the answer to that. I want this man, this singular man, to look at me the way those men are looking at that woman on stage. I want Nash to obsess over me. Not justso that I’m under his net of protection, but because I’m that attracted to him.

It’s not even a manipulation thing any longer. I just want him to want me like that. It’s only been a couple of days, but I cannot keep this man out of my head or off my mind. It’s only been a few hours since I last saw him, yet I miss him, which makes me feel immature.

But I’ve never been one of those boy-crazy girls. I’ve never really felt that desire to be around someone twenty-four-seven or craved that ache between my legs from their intrusion.

God.

I want him inside of me. I miss it like a living, breathing thing.

I’m lost inside my own head as I place my palm against the swinging door that leads to the kitchen and push it open. As soon as I step onto the tile floor, I’m brought back into the moment.

It’s loud.

There are pots and pans clanging everywhere. Men and women are yelling and moving about the room. It looks nothing like the place where I had sex this morning. The calm, quiet place where I ate omelets with Nash after said sex… said amazing sex.

Stepping to the side, I hug the wall and wonder how I’m going to get anything to eat here. I’m clearly not going to be able to rummage around for a little snack. Biting the corner of my lip, I turn away and head back out of the kitchen.

Immediately, I decide that tomorrow, I’m going to try to go to the grocery store and get some food for my room, because I don’t want to do this again. Some cheese, cold cuts, crackers, and maybe cookies could go a long way up there.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I move through the hallway, heading back up to my room, when I hear a voice that I don’t recognize call out my name. Turning my head, I see aman dressed in a leather vest and jeans, much like Nash. But he’s clearly not Nash. He’s a touch more weathered but still handsome in his own way.

Turning to face him fully, I tilt my head back and look up into his eyes. “Yes?” I ask.

He smirks, his golden-brown eyes searching mine. “What’re you doing down here, babe?”

“I was going to get something to eat. Nash said I could come down here…” My words trail off, but the man across from me, his eyes widen at them, so I shut up and I don’t continue.

“He did, did he?”

I’m not sure if I’m supposed to answer that question or not, so I don’t. Instead, I give him a smirk and take a step backward in an attempt to show him that my part in this conversation is over. He doesn’t take the hint, though.

“I’m Bugsy. Come on, and I’ll get you fed.”

I’m not sure how I feel about him.

Not at all.

Instinctually, I want to run back to my room, mainly because I don’t know anyone else here, just Nash. But he’s gone, and it’s not like he told me to stay away from everyone else. He didn’t. This man is from the same group. His vest is almost identical to Nash’s.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He jerks his chin, then turns and walks away. I’m not sure where he’s going because he waltzes right past the kitchen. I follow behind him, though, now a mixture of hunger and curiosity.

Bugsy walks back up the stairs, although this is a different staircase. When he turns to the right at the top of the stairs, I notice that the hallway is the same as the one my apartment is on. My room is at the very end of the hallway.

Instead of continuing down the hall, he stops at a door. He jerks his chin as he pushes the door open and walks inside. I expect to find an office, maybe another apartment like mine, but neither of those is what I see in front of me as I step into the room.

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