Page 16 of Dolls & Daggers
Men aren’t the only ones who abuse children.The memory of Wren’s words echoes in my mind.
“Are you speaking from experience,” I murmur, “or did someone you know go through it?”
A painful clench tightens in my chest. And for one fleeting second, I wonder—if he’s gone through it too, will he understand me better? Understand my need for control. Why I keep up this relentlessly chipper personality.
Maybe he won’t hate you so much if you show him who you really are.
But the thought vanishes as quickly as it came.
Because there’s no way in hell he’ll ever understand who I am or what I’ve been through.
We’re opposites.
And this is one case where opposites won’t attract.
A resounding crashcuts through the din of the bar, the shattering of glass drawing attention to the blonde whose shoulders slump in defeat as she stares at the mess.
“Dude, Alex, your new girl sucks.” Bunny snickers before tossing back a shot of tequila. She sucks on a lime wedge, her oversized leather jacket slipping off one golden shoulder, exposing the iris-colored crop top beneath.
“You think you can do better?” Alex snaps, yanking a tap handle down with unnecessary force. “Why are you even here, Bunny? Thought you hated tacos and tequila night.” He mimics her voice in a high-pitched falsetto, shaking his head with exaggerated sass.
He’s not wrong. Typically, I have to beg Bunny to come along, mostly because Hunter is usually here too. But something must have happened between them, because tonight, she’s dressed to impress—and Hunter can’t take his eyes off her from across the room.
Vixey—the new waitress in question—inches up to Alex, her honey doe eyes downcast. “Sorry, Alex,” she murmurs.
“It’s fine,” he grumbles. “I was planning on ordering new glasses anyway.”
Bunny erupts in another laugh, and I immediately reach over to push her next shot out of reach. “Okay, I think that’s enough for you.”
It’s rare for Bunny to be rude to other women, but she hasn’t forgiven Vixey for spilling a rum and coke on her earlier. Never mind that she’s wearing black vinyl leggings, and the mess was easy to clean up.
Vixey shoots me a grateful, fleeting smile before turning away. She’s cute, with a ‘90s style aesthetic—tall, lean, and unsure. Desperate to prove herself. Clumsy as hell. She’s spilled multiple drinks on customers and broken just as many glasses, and it’s only her first night.
Bunny huffs, and I follow her gaze to where Hunter and Wrenley are playing pool with a few women I don’t recognize. It irritates me for only a second before I grab my best friend by the shoulders, forcing her mossy eyes to meet mine. “Wanna get out of here? They have karaoke down at The Lounge. Personally, I’m feeling a little Alanis Morissette.”
I ask Alex for our bill, glancing away just long enough to sign the credit card slip he hands me. By thetime I’m done adding the tip and total, Bunny is strutting toward the guys in her Tamer Manolo pumps, her glare sharp enough to rival Stone Cold Steve Austin’s.
“Buns!” I shout, hopping off my stool to go after her—but before I can take a step, a pair of warm hands circle my waist and pull me back against a solid chest.
My senses are flooded with Ryan’s spiced, woodsy cologne. I glance over my shoulder to see him grinning at me. “Hey, babe.”
My heart thumps against my ribs as I whip my head around, locking eyes with Wrenley, who has frozen mid-jump shot to stare at us. I don’t know why I care. The weird tension between us isn’t simmering down anytime soon, but it isn’t romantic.
Maybe getting laid and expelling my sexual energy is exactly what I need.
Spinning in Ryan’s arms, I flash him my best smile. “Well, hi yourself, handsome. I thought you weren’t coming.”
He ducks his head, pressing a kiss to my cheek before whispering in my ear, “Not without you, I’m not.”
I giggle as expected, dragging my hands up his huge biceps to clutch the sleeves of his Henley. “Well, aren’t I a lucky lady tonight?”
It feels forced. Normally, I’d be thrilled to ride Ryan until sunrise, leaving him worn out and satisfied.He loves going down on me, never overstays his welcome, and even brings Fang treats sometimes.
Unfortunately, just the thought of going home with him tonight makes my lower body as dry as the Sahara. Where my clit would normally pulse and swell with need, it’s currently tucking itself further under my hood and peeking around for a certain songbird to pay it attention.
God-fucking-dammit.
I’m going to have to fuck Wrenley out of my system, aren’t I?
