Page 102 of Doesn't Count

I almost want to laugh at the nickname remembering the first time he ever called me by it. How it dug deep under my skin because he used it as an insult.

Now, when he calls me by that name, I can’t help but think that he sees me as a Goddess, and it makes me feel powerful.

“Was I a good boy?” He asks, smirking.

I bite my lip to stifle a laugh, schooling my face before responding.

“Good enough.”

“Can we go now? I’m physically in pain every time I look atyou, knowing I can’t throw you down on this floor right now and fuck you until you’re crying.”

“Yeah, we can go.” I breathe, nodding my head, wanting nothing more than for him to do just what he said.

His fingers crawl into my hair as his mouth finds mine once more. My lip catches between his teeth, the pain a punishment from biting him earlier. He doesn’t let go until I squeal and try to shove him away, but it just makes him push me further into the wall. One of his hands releases the strands in my hair to slip into the slit of my dress, wasting no time, fingers pushing inside of me.

Throwing my head back, it slams into the wall as a moan bleeds from my lips.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

My fingers wrap around his wrist to fight him off me. We can’t risk being seen in public like this, for more reasons than it just being illegal. With fierce thrusts, he forces a delicious burn in my lower belly, his other hand wrapping around my mouth. There, in the hotel hallway, minutes after midnight, Khaos steals an orgasm from me.

My legs shake when he removes his fingers, but he holds me up, supporting my weight.

“I don’t think I can wait.” He complains.

“Let’s get a room, then.” I pant, the idea of getting in a cab right now seems absurd.

“Fuck yes.” He plants one last kiss on my lips before pulling up his mask.

Threading my fingers through his, I follow him back down the hall and around the corner towards the front desk, stopping short.

“Can I help you?” He growls, annoyance clear in his voice.

I step out from behind him to see who he’s talking to, finding the last personI want to see.

“You missed midnight.” Justina pouts.

“What are you doing out here?” I ask, my eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Using the bathroom.” She gives me a face that says “duh.”

I look behind her and sure enough the bathrooms are right there. She could be telling the truth, but not a single ounce of me trusts her. A sinking feeling sneaks into my gut but doesn’t get to linger.

“We’re leaving.” Khaos yanks me along again, passing her.

“Happy New Year!” She calls after us.

Too busy imagining all the ways we’re about to use each other, we ignore her, practically running to get that room.

Today I wake with dread weighing me down as if my blood has thickened into mud. This is our last day together before we fly out to Boston to finish the final month of the tour.

I’ve grown used to waking up every day in my apartment with Khaos, crowded in my own bed that’s been capsized by the deity who’s larger than life. The privacy here has been such a gift, the mere idea of having to control ourselves again seems painful. Not that we did a great job at it before, but at least here, away from the group, I don’t have to be so embarrassed all the time.

I’m going to miss the way we do such mundane things together, like brush our teeth side by side or watch movies entwined on the couch. The way he pulls me across his chest while we talk until the pink and orange hues of early morning bleed through the windows. Most of all, I’ll miss having Khaos all to myself, not having to share him with his bandmates or fans.

I try not to think about it too hard as I pull a pink sweater over my head and trudge into the kitchen. Khaos leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the wall.

“Coffee?” I offer, breaking him from his trance.

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