Page 46 of Plum

“What I like?” he laughs. It’s an ugly sound. “Show me your tits.”

I exhale slowly. Oh, yeah. Adam Wade’s doing me a real favor right now. I almost got my head twisted, but ain’t no way I’m pressed overthisguy.

I get that his ego took a hit when I snatched his fancy wine, and he’s gotta come hard like every other man on the planet when a woman gets one over on him. But he thinks he can come in here and push me around, like I’m breakable or something? Like he even knows the words that would phase me?

Man thinks way too much of himself.

I untie my top, let it drop. Then I shimmy my shoulders and cock a hip. My nipples instantly harden. That’s why Cue keeps it cold. And to keep the sweat stank down. I cup my tits and lift them up. “You like this?”

“You like showing me?” His voice drops lower.

“I love it, baby.” I’m gonna start thinking about my Amazon wish list in about thirty seconds. “What do you want now? You want me to shake these titties for you?”

“I want you to stop talking and dance.”

What is this guy’s problem? He wants a pound of flesh? I told him I’d give him his fucking bottle back.

“What’s the issue?” he asks when I don’t start dancing right that instant. “You’re a working girl, right? Work.”

He’s so different tonight. A spoiled little shit. I’d never have gone anywhere with this asshole. Well, I’d never have gone home with him. I should walk out the door now. Go get that bottle and crack it over his entitled fucking head.

“All right. If you’re not going to dance, why don’t you get on your knees and come suck my cock.” He reaches for his buckle.

It’s like a string that was holding me together snaps. Fuck. This.

I don’t really know what I’m saying until I say it.

“I’m never going to do anything you don’t want me to,” I drop my voice, mimic his bullshit from the other night. “Remember that?”

At first, he doesn’t respond, but I can tell when he remembers. His expression changes. Some of that smug asshole gets wiped off his face.

“I’m never going to hurt you. I’m never gonna take anything from you.” I spit his words back at him. All his bullshit lines. I can hardly believe I remember. I don’t usually pay attention to that kind of crap.

His face kind of goes wary. He blinks like he’s waking up.

“You want me to dance? Sure. Whatever, asshole. Just as long as we’re both clear that I’m apro, and you’re a lying sack of shit with issues for goddamnmiles.”

I’m righteously pissed, so I don’t wait to find a beat. I squat, stick out my ass, and I’m so riled up, I forget to keep my weight on my toes. As soon as I step on my right foot, the heel cracks, and my whole foot bends sideways at the ankle. An agonizing pain shoots up my leg, and I scream as I pitch forward, slamming onto my knees.

“Whoa!” Adam leaps to his feet. He almost catches me, but not quite, and I crumble like a rag doll. He follows me down to the floor.

Oh fuck, it hurts. I’m pushing him away while I struggle to sit on my ass, get my foot out from under me.

He’s in the fucking way. “Move!” I slap at him.

We’re all tangled up, and then we’re not. We’re both breathing heavy, staring at each other. His glasses are askew.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“No. My ankle’s all fucked up!”

He kneels, examining my leg. “What happened?”

“I twisted it, dumbass.”

“It hurts?”

“Of course, it hurts.”

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