But sleeping with a guy-with Jarett-would be different. And I've slept with guys, though I can count the ones I let close enough to me on one hand. It just never clicked. I never wanted them enough. There was never enough interest.
Just because boys are attracted to me, Octavia thinks I sleep with all of them. She thinks I don't feel much.
Funny how that works. I mean, boys are the ones chasing after me, not the other way around. And sure, having all that attention feels nice. It feels good, no denying that. But it doesn't mean I'll sleep with them all. Or with any.
But I would with Jarett. I totally would.
Shit. No, I wouldn't. I shouldn't. He's a bad guy. Part of a gang, if Merc is right. A total dick.
I have to stop thinking, imagining, fantasizing about him-but my hand has taken a life of its own, and it slips inside my jammies, under my panties.
Oh God, I'm soaking wet, and so sensitive. So excited as I rub my fingers over my clit.
The tactile memory of my hand around his hard-on is driving me crazy. Before, my fantasies of him were abstract. His eyes, his mouth, his shoulders, and then I'd imagine him kissing me, touching me.
But now I've kissed him, touched him, made him come, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek not to moan out loud as I relive it all, my fingers rubbing harder, then pushing into me.
Not me. It's not me doing it. In my mind, it's him.
I can see him. Jarett. He's on his knees in front of me, those pretty cat-like eyes trained on me. He's stroking me, smirking down at me as he ratchets up the pressure in my belly, in my pussy, as he stretches me and prepares me for his cock. As he prepares to fuck me into the mattress, and I'd let him.
Hell, I'd beg for it. Beg him to shove that thick, hard cock into me, to fuck me so hard the bed will bang against the wall, that he'd have to put his hand over my mouth to drown out my cries as I came apart.
And I do come apart as the fantasy plays out in my mind, my fingers buried inside me, my hips rocking and my heart hammering. The pleasure drowns me, and I sink into the mattress, into the possibilities and another fantasy where this could really happen, where Jarett would want more from me than this.
Where he'd care for me, want to be with me, where he wouldn't pretend not to know me in front of his friends, where he'd ask me to be his girlfriend.
My head falls back on the pillow, and I close my eyes, shivers running through my body.
Crazy.
Chapter Ten
Jarett
It's late morning when Sebastian stumbles into the kitchen and starts banging through the cupboards, then the fridge, cursing under his breath.
I watch him from my chair at the table, lowering the ice pack from my swollen jaw, the noises he's making going like spikes through my pounding head.
He slams the fridge door shut, and then gasps when he sees me. He lifts the last bottle of beer I had inside, as if to hit me with it.
I stare at him stonily, waiting to see what he'll do-yell at me for no reason, break things, or ignore me and stomp off.
It's a toss-up these days. Living with a guy hooked on drugs is like living with a live grenade. You never know when he might go off.
"Whatcha doing here?" he mutters.
"I live here, fucker. Like you."
He just shakes his head, like he can't believe his bad luck in finding me in front of him, and takes his beer and foul mood out of the kitchen.
"Hey! You got money for the rent this time?" I call after him.
He doesn't reply.
Dammit. Bracing on the table, I get up, take a tentative step and swallow down a curse. Icing my knee didn't do much good. It's fucked ten ways to Sunday, and it's a goddamn miracle I made it home on my feet last night. I was still high on adrenaline.
And pleasure.
Was it worth it, getting into a brawl for the sake of Gigi's friend?
For the sake of Gigi. Cuz she asked for it.
As I limp out of the kitchen, I'm still debating that. If I should ignore Sydney next time I see her-because I have no doubt our paths will cross again, if her mutinous look at Gigi as she dragged her indoors last night was any indication about her intentions-and if having Gigi touch me again, even for the wrong reasons, is even a possibility …
Goddammit, Jarett.
Angry at myself, I hobble across to Seb's bedroom and slam my fist on the door. "Hey! Open up. You can't keep taking my money and never pay anything. I can't pay the fucking rent on my own, man."
But no reply comes through, so I turn the handle and open the door.
He's not there. The room's empty. Fuck. He snuck out as I was busy trying to get up, that fucking jackass.
I drop down on his bed and shove my fingers through my hair. What am I doing here? Renting this place when he almost never pays his part, never wants to work, only thinking he'll be the next mafia boss or something and swim in dollars. I feed him and protect his sorry ass-for what?
For a promise. Yeah, I did swear to protect him, ever since he started hanging out with the gang, getting deeper. The stupid shit doesn't have a clue what he's gotten himself into. He thinks he's invincible.
That's the guy I'm trying to save.
Most of the time I wanna kill him myself, save anyone else the trouble.
I scrub at my scalp, in the vague hope that it will ease the headache, ease the burden of this impossible task I've undertaken.
But of course, for that, too, like with everything else, it's too damn late.
"Christ, what happened to your face?" Suzie stops and stares as she gets ready to leave the bar. We swapped shifts, and hers is ending as mine is starting. "Did you get into another fight?"
I shrug. "Got in the middle of one."
Indecision flickers over her face. "Want to talk about it? I have … " She checks the time on her phone. "Five minutes before my friend picks me up."
"It's okay," I tell her gently, cuz she still has a crush on me, and I don't want her thinking I feel the same way, even if it feels good to have someone care enough to ask. "Go on, go meet your friend. David and me, we'll hold the fort."
David gives her a thumbs-up from behind the bar.
She nods uncertainly and steps out into the drizzle.
"Before I forget," David tells me as I tie on the black apron with the bar's logo, "a girl came asking about you the other day. I've been meaning to tell you about it."
I shoot him a surprised look. Many girls ask for me here, and David has long since stopped giving me their messages. "Go on. What did she do? Was it bad?"
There was one girl who left me her phone number-written in permanent marker on her unwashed panties.
And then there was that girl who made a video of herself getting nailed in the ass by an older guy and asked for my phone number to send it to me.
I stopped giving girls my number after that. It was the last drop in an ocean of craziness. I don't need this shit.
Sure, I like watching a pretty girl getting off as much as the next guy, and flirting and fucking gets my mind off the shitty reality that is my life on most days, but this … it's too much.
"She was … different." David finishes polishing a shot glass and places it carefully in a row of many other small shot glasses. He verges on OCD sometimes, and also sometimes I wonder if he's into both girls and boys. There's something in the way he looks at me.
Like now.
"Different, how?" I turn away, busy myself with checking the alcohol we have behind the bar, to see if anything needs restocking.
"Well, for starters she didn't leave you her panties or bra, or even her number."
"True, that is different," I concede.
"She also didn't ask if you have a girlfriend, although she seemed glad when I said you don't."
"And how do you know I don't, huh?"
He ignores my protest. "She said she only wanted to see the place where you work."
"That's fucking weird, if you ask me."
"She said she wanted to see if the rumors are true."
"What rumors?"
"She never said. But she did say you were old friends."
I still, my breath going out, because it can't be. No fucking way.
Why would she come here, asking about me? I turn slowly back around to face him. "Did she say her name?"
"Maybe." He shrugs, eyes fucking twinkling.
"David."
"Okay, okay, I remember now. Gigi. Unusual name."
It sure is. "It's short for Augusta."
"Heh. She didn't tell me that."
A grin spreads over my face, for some reason glad for that, and I rub at my mouth to hide it. "So she said we're old friends, huh?"
"Ah-huh."
"What else?"
"Nothing much. Oh wait, she did ask if you sleep with all the girls who come looking for you."
I choke. "And what the hell did you say?"
He laughs at whatever it is he sees on my face. "What was I supposed to say? Wait … " He takes a step back, lifting his hands when I glare at him. "Hey, relax. I said no, okay? I swear."
What does this all mean? Why did she come here? What rumors did she want to verify-that I fuck around? Well, screw that. I do whatever the hell I please.