I take a deep breath and hold it, reading the text over and over. It says unknown, but I fucking know who it is.
Rhett.
The man who’s about to fucking ruin my life apparently, though I do ponder his question, deep in my mind where no one would ever hear it. It feels like he knows just how fucking desperate I am, as any junkie would be, I suppose. Although, I know I’m not as bad as most.
A tame junkie, you could say.
But that doesn’t mean I won’t do some pretty nasty shit for what I want. Or won’t I? Maybe I don’t need them that bad. There’s alcohol.
My nails dig further into my flesh, and I bite down on my tongue. There is no fucking way I’m going to allow some fucking dude I don’t even know to tell me shit about shit.
Instead of answering by text, I jump to my feet, feeling bitterly sober, and push my way past people until I’m standing three feet in front of the piece of shit. A small smirk plays at the corner of his lips, though his eyes remain deceptively cold as he brushes ring-covered, tattooed fingers through his straight brown hair and pushes it back, out of his face to stare at me with an unobscured view.
“Hey, again,” the dude leaning on him speaks, and my eyes dart to him. He must see the way my brows knit together because he lets out a light laugh and shakes his head. “It’s Seth. We—”
“Oh, yeah, the weed man. Hey.” I try to sound friendly, but I know I fail miserably if the wince he gives is any indication. Too bad I don’t give a fuck.
“Go away, Seth.” Rhett’s deep, snapping voice sounds through the stuffy air, and goosebumps break out across my neck and race down my spine.
“Daddy,” he leans his supple body in and tries to whisper, but it’s an impossible feat at a party, although his voice does come out hushed and submissive.
Daddy?I raise a brow, looking back and forth between them. Rhett’s stone-cold face remains impassive, even though the twinky-lookin’ dude is all over him.
I never would’ve pegged this cop for being gay, but I guess looks can be deceiving because, well, he did fucking kiss me. And I can’t say shit because I didn’t hate it.
Does that make me gay? Or bisexual?
Sexuality is so fucking confusing. I’ve always loved pussy, never thought to stray from it, and while the thought of sucking this dude’s dick doesn’t exactly turn me on, if the prospect of drugs is thrown in there… well…
I would be a fuckin’ idiot to say no.
“Don’t fucking ‘daddy’ me, Seth. What the fuck did I tell you?” his cold voice barks again. Everything about him seems so cold. But not the normal kind of cold—the cold where it’s so fucking frigid, it burns.
Seth visibly recoils, his eyes widening in shock before he turns and disappears without a backward glance. My eyes follow him as he retreats before falling back to Rhett, apprehension twisting in my gut.
How did I get here?