Page 58 of Brutal
“Forget it,” I snap at the other two. “You two can leave.”
Vincent, who’d begun to move closer in anticipation, pauses and stares at me. “What?” He sounds baffled. “We haven’t even gotten to the main event yet.”
“That’s why we came here, Drake,” Marshall says bluntly. “Do you think we really came to sit around and watch everyone else go off to get laid?”
My vision whites out, and my hands clench into fists. Those words hurt. “Yeah, I thought you came because you enjoyed my parties,” I say, staring him down. “And if you don’t like them when I don’t share my bitch, you can just fuck off.”
Vincent makes a frustrated sound. “Fuck off, Brutal. We can party anywhere. We like your afterparties.”
Mimosa gets between me and Vincent, and she peers up at me. “I don’t mind, Drake. It’s just a blowjob, after all.”
I know she’s fucking lying now, but I can’t help the way I flush hot with anger.
“Well, if he wants to get laid so bad, he can go pay for some bimbo. I hear Club Ruby’s and The Web have great deals late at night,” I say, grabbing Mimosa’s wrist and yanking her back so she’s partially behind me.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Marshall asks. “You always share.”
What the fuck is my problem?
He’s right. I’m never greedy with whoever I have on hand.
Why am I sacrificing everything to keep Mimosa to myself?
“I’m not in the mood,” I say. “Maybe next time.”
Patrick glares at me. “Seriously, dude? You’re the one who suggested this afterparty.”
He’s the one I’m most worried about. He knows how I feel about Chase and Hunter falling for their cunts like pathetic sons of bitches.
But I’m not falling for Mimosa. I don’t give a shit about her.
It’s just that she’s mine, like a boat or a plane.
Except I’d share a boat or a plane.
“Yeah, well, I changed my mind,” I tell him. “Do you have a problem with that?”
There’s a long silence, one where it looks like Patrick might actually lash out at me. He looks past me at Mimosa, his eyes narrowing.
“Whatever,” Patrick mumbles. “She’s not even that hot. I fucked a hotter girl in the pool earlier.”
“So why are you being a little bitch about this?” I hiss.
Marshall and Vincent must’ve gotten the hint — finally — because they head to the foyer to wait for the elevator.
“I’m not the one being a little bitch,” Patrick counters. He starts for the foyer, but he stops to look over his shoulder at me. “Have fun finding a new supplier though. I’m cutting back on your party favors.”
“You’re doing what?” I demand, stalking toward him as rage starts to creep inside of me. “I pay for that shit! You’re gonna cut me off because I won’t let you fuck a bitch once, when I always let you have them for fucking free?”
Patrick shrugs and keeps walking. “I was planning to either way. I can’t do that shit forever.”
“Patrick—” I start, but he joins Vincent and Marshall in the elevator without another word to me. The door closes quietly behind them, and I stare, dumbfounded, before my attention snaps back to Mimosa. “You,” I say furiously, crossing the room back to her. “This is all your fucking fault, you goddamn whore.”
Mimosa’s eyebrows go up. “My fault? I said I would do whatever they wanted.”
“You don’t get to lead my friends on,” I say, grabbing her by her upper arms and squeezing tight. “Make them think you’re into them.”
“Oh, you wanted to make it look like they were raping me?” she says casually. She glances at my hand on her arm. “You’ll have to be more specific next time.”