Page 38 of Hate to Love You
Coincidence my ass. Try insistence.
The woman doesn’t seem to take a hint.
“I came with a girlfriend, but she took off, but then I spotted you up here and thought I’d come say hi,” she says walking forward and standing next to me. “I hope that’s okay.”
Before I can tell her to fuck off, however, Stetson apparently sensing my mood, interrupts before I can.
“And we are soooo glad you did,” he says with a big grin, staring at her huge tits as he wraps his arm around her. “We were just looking for a fun little distraction.”
“Here we go,” Stetson says loudly above the club music, licking his lips. “Two tits, two lines.”
He sprinkles the fine white powder from a tiny glass vial onto the perfectly crafted tits of Heather who has lingered around me like a virus and is now, somehow, seated on my lap.
I blame the vodka.
Heather giggles, sipping her third martini while staring me down.
“Oiy, sweetheart, you can’t move, or you’ll spill the goods,” Stetson says to her before tapping my shoulder. “One of these is yours, Roman.”
I’m pulled back to reality as Stetson hands me the hundred-dollar bill rolled tightly into a straw. I think about refusing, but given the shitty direction my night took, and the fact that it’s sitting right in front of me, I quickly change my mind.
Fuck it. Why not?
I snort the line, feeling it tingle a little. While I don’t do it as regularly as Stetson, I do allow myself a little indulgence from time to time.
After all, I have to know the product I sell to my customers.
I throw my head back and pinch my nose, but the second I shut my eyes to avoid the blinding strobe lights of the club, I see her face again.
She was here.
“Feeling better, baby?”
I’m immediately reminded there is a woman in my lap when she spins around to straddle me.
“So I was thinking,” she whispers in my ear, grinding her pantiless pussy against my crotch. “What do you say we slip off somewhere private?”
“No,” I say, my mind still clouded by The Brunette. “Get off.”
“Hmmm that’s exactly what I wanna help you do, baby,” she says, biting her lip and grinding harder, kissing my neck.
“I said get off.”
“Aw, come on, don’t be like—”
“Are you fucking deaf, bitch?” I snap, quickly grabbing the back of her fake blonde highlights in my hand and leaning in close to growl in her ear. “I said get. The. Fuck. Off. Me.”
I release her, dumping her onto the floor before standing and adjusting my suit coat.
“Fuck her if you want, she seems desperate for it,” I say to my friends as she glares up at me. “I’m leaving.”
Irrationally I have lost all desire to be here, in this club, or with any of these people any longer. My men look at me in confusion, but quickly follow me out of the VIP section, and down the staircase. We make our way across the club dance floor, getting pawed at by beautiful women the entire time.
But this is normal for me.
After all, I’m Roman Nikolai Antonov, and as Heather upstairs just proved, there’s no shortage of beautiful women desperate to choke on my cock. If I wanted to, I could fuck any one of them in the middle of this crowded room, and no one would even bat an eye.
And yet…all I can think about is her. The Brunette.