Page 57 of Brutal
For some reason, it raises my hackles.
Mine, I want to say. And she is, but I promised to share. I’m not going to be some chump who falls for a fucking sex slave, even if she is attractive, and intelligent, and…
Nope.
Not going there.
“Patrick, this is Mimosa,” I say, realizing I never introduced them the other night. I only called her Mimi tonight because it sounds more natural, but if he’s going to be here — and inside of her — he might as well know what she really is.
A whore named Mimosa.
“Hi, Mimi,” Patrick says, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Love the dress.”
Mimi.
He doesn’t get to call her Mimi. Not to her face. I scowl at him, but I don’t correct him because what the fuck? Why do I care?
“Hi, Patrick,” she echoes back. She doesn’t even flinch at his touch.
I do. I bristle because I can’t help it.
It’s like the night at the maze, when I’d known other men would be touching her and everything in me had been screaming not to go through with it.
But I am not like that.
I’m not selfish like Hunter and Chase.
“You can touch her,” I offer, even though it’s the last thing I want.
The two other men who have lingered behind have their eyes on this scene, anticipating when they’ll get to have a turn with her.
I’d promised them. I can’t go back on my word now.
So why am I being such a possessive piece of shit?
Mimosa looks around the room, her brow furrowing slightly. “Oh, I see.”
Patrick chuckles. “What do you see, girl?”
She steps away from him and into the center of the room, so she’s now facing all of us. “It’s that kind of afterparty. Okay. Who would you like me to service first, Drake?”
It’s not like she’s never used my name before. She has. Sometimes mockingly — mostly mockingly, really — but she’s wielding it like a weapon right now. It’s gotten personal, and I don’t even know when the shift occurred.
“Me,” Patrick says before I can utter a word. “You already told me I could have her first. I don’t want some guy’s sloppy seconds.”
“It wouldn’t be sloppy anyway,” I retort. “You’d be wearing a condom.”
If I let them, and… I’m not so sure I want to.
Fuck.
I am so, so screwed.
Mimosa looks me in the eyes, and it feels like she’s seeing deep inside me. How the fuck does she do that? She isn’t that special. She can’t read my mind.
“All right,” Mimosa says, taking a step closer to Patrick. “How would you like me? On my knees? Bent over the sofa?” She glances at the other two. “I could probably suck somebody at the same time.”
I snarl at the thought before I can catch myself. Patrick is bad enough. Introducing someone else to the equation…