Page 91 of Riot's Thorn
The inside of the club is insane. The ceiling in the main room is tall enough to hang a full-scale airplane, but the Roman architecture is so large, it makes the club feel intimate even though it’s huge. There are two levels of VIP tables and couches on either side of a large pool that is thankfully surrounded by guardrails so drunk partygoers don’t fall in, but they do hire girls in skimpy bikinis to play with beach balls and romp around on giant pool floats every weekend.
In the middle of both sides of the pool are platforms for go-go dancers and a DJ booth that hosts professional DJs from all over the world. Two circular bars are located to the left and right of the booth, and if things weren’t crazy enough, there’s a centrally located, glass-enclosed restroom where there are more women showering and dancing in bikinis.
It’s definitely sensory overload, but if you drink enough cocktails, it’s a good time.
Paxon and Otto stand just behind our U-shaped sofa situated right in front of the pool. It’s a good location because we won’t have to go far in order to dance. The cushions are buttery soft leather, and there’s a coffee table in the center held up by thick Roman columns.
“Okay, now will you tell us about the two hotties you brought along?” Penny asks once our waitress has brought our first round of drinks.
I take a sip of my old fashioned to wet my throat so I can yell over the EDM. “Because of how my dad died, I thought it was best I had a security team. The cops still aren’t sure why he was killed, so I could be in danger.”
It’s the lie I decided to tell everyone who asks. I’d never forgive myself if the Sons took any heat because of what happened, even if I haven’t decided whether I agree with this vigilante murder spree Killer and Riot are on. Taking a life has to weigh on your conscience, even if you feel it’s justified, and I’dhate for either of them to wake up one day and regret not turning the assholes in instead of killing them.
“They don’t have any leads?” Renee asks.
I shake my head. “I’ve been doing nothing but dealing with my dad’s death for a month now. I don’t want to talk about it anymore; I want to shake my ass on the dance floor!”
“Hell yeah!” Cass shouts.
We stay in the space between the pool and our table, where Otto and Paxon can keep their eyes on me, but I block them from my mind as my hips begin swaying. I don’t move to the beat because the beat is so intense, it moves me. And for the first time in weeks, I feel like the nearly twenty-two-year-old college student I am.
Suddenly, nothing matters but some good old-fashioned girl joy as we drink, laugh, and shake our asses. There are no mass shootings, no badass biker abductions, no snuggling rats, no inheriting a billion-dollar company, and no flirting personal assistants.
The later it gets, the more people infiltrate the club until our section of dancing space is no longer just us four. I decide to take a hydration break and slide into our booth. One of the perks of reserving a table is the complimentary small cooler of bottled water on ice. I pop the top off one and chug the cool liquid down as I people-watch.
My friends are all beautiful, so it’s not a surprise when they pair off with other club-goers. Renee and Cass somehow end up with a set of twins who look like frat bros, which is their type, and Penny is grinding against a masc lesbian who has me questioning my sexuality.
That brings up thoughts of Riot and how unapologetic he is about his sexuality. I’m not sure if I would’ve ever discovered how kinky I am if it hadn’t been for him. My pussy clenches atthe memories of how much it turned me on when he called me names and used my body.
Since Riot was my first, I don’t know what vanilla sex would be like, and I hope I don’t ever find out. I’m quite literally ruined for all other men, and I’m not mad about it. He better not give up on me because if he did, the roles would reverse, and I’d be the one stalking him.
After the booze and water, my bladder begins to protest, so I catch Otto’s eye and point to the bathrooms. He rounds the booth and makes space for me to get out. I become the meat in a bodyguard sandwich as I’m led to the glass-enclosed bathrooms.
The line is a mile long, so I convince them to take me out into the casino. I breathe a sigh of relief when there’s a bathroom just outside the club with no line. It’s a U-shaped space with toilet stalls on one side and sinks on the other so no one is going against traffic to get out.
The jingling slot machines in the casino are so loud, the sudden lack of sound in the bathroom is drastic. I might even be the only person in here.
I suck in a sharp breath, and my body locks up when someone grabs me from behind. Their gloved hand is over my mouth, making it impossible to scream. My limbs flail as I struggle to get away, and my first thought is that Bart got me, just like Riot said he would. I should have fucking listened.
“Stop struggling,” a man whispers next to my ear; it sounds familiar, but I’m not certain.
“Who are you?”
His only answer is to kick the wheelchair-accessible stall open and push me inside. My heart is thumping loudly, and my body tenses in fear. It happens so fast, I become disoriented and can’t think of a plan to get free.
He slides the lock then turns both of us until we’re facing the door. His hands run down my arms before circling my wristswith his fingers and flattening my palms against the cold metal door. The black leather gloves and the black sleeves of his shirt do nothing to help me identify who this is.
“Did you miss me, Little Thorn?” If the nickname didn’t give him away, the voice does, because now that I’m not struggling and it’s quiet, I recognize the deep timbre right away.
“Riot?”
“Keep your hands here. If you move them, I’ll stop and leave your greedy little cunt wanting. Do you understand me?”
“What are you talking about? We can’t have sex right now.”
“We can, and we are. Now, will you leave your hands here, or do I need to spend the little amount of time I have spanking your ass red?” He palms my breast through my dress, and my core clenches tight. I’d like to think I’m a smart woman, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about myself, it’s that my brain shuts down when I’m scared, so I don’t reply. “Answer me.” I open my mouth, but I can’t form words. “So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?”
He releases my hands, which I do keep in position because, regardless of my inability to speak, I want this. It’s been too long since I’ve felt satisfied. No matter how many times I pleased myself, even feeling Riot’s eyes watching me, it was never enough. I couldn’t ever get myself to the same place he took me; it always just fell flat.
