The Wicked
: Chapter 3

11:08PM LOGAN:

Where are you?

11:22PM LOGAN:

Are you okay?

12:00AM LOGAN:

Happy birthday, Hay. Call me.

12:01AM CARSON:

Happy birthday brother

12:14AM LEVI:

Happy birthday bitchhhhh

Locking my phone without responding to any of my friends, the stoplight turns green, and I slam my foot down on the accelerator to turn out onto Main Street. My knuckles hurt from beating my steering wheel, but I can’t replace anything inside of me to give a shit.

I park my Maserati in a space on the edge of the street, turn off the engine, then dig around in my center console. The first pill bottle I pull out is empty, so I toss it onto the floor and grab the next. I twist the top off, pour three Xanax bars onto my palm, and then put the bottle back. Putting the bars on my tongue, I grab the old beer in my cup holder and take a swig.

I have about ten minutes before my head is swimming, so I grab my wallet and keys and swing the door open.

I double check that I have my fake ID inside my LV billfold before I slip it into the back pocket of my jeans, not that I’ve ever been carded at Amethyst before – the guy that owns the joint can barely see straight.

Running a hand through my dark hair, I walk across the street toward the club, trying to give myself that don’t-give-a-fuck look that generally works for me, then I turn my phone off and put it in my pocket.

I appreciate my best friends texting me at midnight, but I’ll have tomorrow to say thank you. Tonight, I’m going to be free. I’m eighteen – fucking finally – and I want to feel something.

While the Xanax numbs the parts inside of me clawing for an escape, I’m hoping a cold beer or three will push me right into that sweet spot of fucked-up where I can laugh.

God, I want to fucking laugh.

Even just for tonight, even without the friends who have grown to be family, in a loud club with randoms. Maybe with someone swallowing down my cock like it’s made of gold.

I nod at the familiar security guard as I pass through the open rope, heading into the dim entrance of the club. The darkness of the club greets me like an old friend as I walk through the sweet and smoky buzz of people. I feel my lips twitching with pleasure like they want to smile, and my gaze runs over the crowd of people dancing in the center of the room.

It’s like they’ve all gathered here for my birthday without knowing it, just waiting for me to take advantage and suck them dry for all they can give me.

I head for the bar first, needing a beer, and tap my fingers at my sides to the electronic song bouncing through the speakers. The bartender is one I recognize, a little blonde who has gargled my balls on more than one occasion. I nod my head at her, and she reaches under the bar to grab me a beer without asking what I want.

She sets it down in front of me, popping the cap and resting her tits against the wood of the bar. “Hayden.”

I take a mouthful of the beer. “Hey.”

I don’t remember her name.

“You’re never here on Thursday night,” she muses, her bright lips twisting up on the sides. “You miss me?”

“No, it’s my birthday,” I say, swallowing down another mouthful of beer.

“Ohmigod!” she squeals. “Happy birthday! Your beer’s on me.”

I tip my head in thanks. “I appreciate it.”

She leans in a little closer, showing me her white teeth. “I get a break in a half hour, if you’re interested.”

The implication is clear, and while my dick twitches in my pants, I decide to shut her down.

I nod toward the dance floor. “Gonna see what else is out there.”

Her smile falters slightly, but she forces herself to appear unaffected. I smirk at her, wrapping my hand around her throat. “But if I change my mind, I know whose mouth to come in.”

She swallows thickly against my palm before I drop it, trying to mask the wound I’ve inflicted. “I’ll be here.”

My brows quirk. Grabbing my beer, I turn and weave through the masses of people as I drink it slowly. As the Xanax infiltrates my bloodstream, my thoughts fade and my steps slow. My hips sway to the music lazily, and once I’ve cut through the crowd, I drop down on one of the empty couches to people watch.

I don’t know how much time passes, as I’ve just been sitting here staring at the people on the dance floor. No one has caught enough of my attention to pull me out of my haze, so I leave my empty bottle on the table and make my way out to dance.

I can barely make out the words in the songs playing through the buzzing in my mind, and my limbs move slowly even when I try to get them to speed up to the beat. It isn’t until someone’s hands curl around my waist that I even notice I’m in the center of the club surrounded by people. When I turn to look over my shoulder to replace the owner of the fingers that are squeezing my t-shirt, I replace a decent looking guy grinding behind me. I can’t feel him, my entire body is numb and warm, but I do my best to keep dancing with him.

My dick fills with blood when his fingers slide to the waistband of my jeans and curl into the belt loops, so I drop my head back against his shoulder and close my eyes to rub against him hard enough that I feel something.

Fuck, I need to come so bad.

After a minute, I turn and look into deep brown eyes that study me fiercely. I grin, not wanting to waste any time, and lean forward to capture his lips with mine.

His hands tug me closer by my belt loops, and I roll my hips against his to show him how hard I am under my zipper.

When one of his hands releases my jeans and slides up and down the bulge in my pants, I almost come right there.

Growling, I pull back from his mouth. “C’mon.”

I yank him behind me, curling my hand in his t-shirt to make sure he follows me. I head for the storage room at the back of the club that’s always empty – my home away from home. I flip the lights on, and once we’re both inside, I slam the door behind us. Walking across the small space, I replace my seat on a stack of cases of beer in the corner. Taking him in, he’s kind of scrawny, but he’s got a nice face. His hair is shaved down at the sides, and his eyes turn feral when I unbutton my jeans.

I lift my hips, sliding my pants and boxers down to my knees before I sit back down.

“Come here.” I grab the base of my cock with one hand, using the other to beckon him closer. “Get on your knees.”

He walks toward me slowly. “What’s your name?”

Pulling my hand up my shaft, I blink at him. “Did you come here for my name, or my cock?”

I pump my fist slowly, looking down at the angry head of my dick that’s already leaking, then I look back up at him in time to see him drop to his knees before me.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to take the whole thing,” he groans, but before he can say anything else to waste my time, I press the head of my cock against his lips and paint them with precum.

“Open up.”

He spreads his lips, letting me slide onto his tongue until he gags.

I put my hand on the back of his head, stroking his soft brown hair. “There you go, you can take it.”

He moans in the back of his throat, and I push in farther so I can feel the vibration against my dick. When he gags, my head falls back, my eyes dropping closed as waves of pleasure spread through me, making my balls pull up.

“Fuck, such a nice throat, you’re gonna make me come already,” I praise him, threading my fingers through his hair so I can control the movements of his head. I push and pull, fucking up into his throat hard and quick until his saliva is dripping down onto my lap.

I hear him choke, so I pull back to give him a second to breathe, but he slides back down almost immediately, his hand curling under my shaft to grab my balls. My spine burns as my orgasm speeds toward me, and when he hollows out his cheeks and suctions around my length, I moan loud and slam my hand against the wall behind me.

Grabbing his hair harder, I work his head the way I need to blow down his throat, but just as I’m about to come, I hear the door open. My eyes snap wide, replaceing a woman standing in the doorway with a curious grin pulling up her lips.

She’s fucking gorgeous, tall with long dark brown hair cascading over her shoulders and hanging over a perfect set of tits that are spilling over the top of her dress.

I slam the guy’s mouth down on my cock as I start spilling, my body taken over by pleasure as my head goes back. “Fuck!”

“Oh my god,” she says, her breath catching when she realizes I’m coming, so I drop my eyes open again to meet her gaze. Her green eyes stare back at me like she can’t look away, watching me grind and pump my cock into this guy’s throat while I come so hard I can’t stop moaning. She doesn’t back away, though. She doesn’t close the door, she just stands inside the frame and watches.

My eyes press closed once again as my climax peaks, and my entire body falls against the wall. “Jesus Christ.”

When my orgasm subsides, I pull from between the guy’s lips, letting cum dribble down his chin. I stroke my hand around his jaw. “Good job.”

He smiles, and I tuck my cock back into my pants before I stand up and sidestep him. Walking toward the woman in the doorway, I smooth my hands down the front of my shirt. “Do you mind?”

Her eyes narrow. “Do you?”

“Not at all.” I smile devilishly. “That’s why I didn’t cut my nut short.”

I put my hands against the doorframe, stepping close to her. “But unless you’re offering those pretty red lips for round two, do you mind moving aside so I can leave?”

She huffs, taken aback by my words, and crosses her arms over her chest. It’s the wrong move, though, because my gaze automatically travels to her cleavage. I grin like a kid in a candy store, still faded from the Xanax, and let my eyes trail down the rest of her body. Her dress is short and black, hugging hips that would be perfect to grab onto while she climbs on top of me.

She clears her throat, and I look back up, seeing that she’s moved to the side. Waving a hand, she motions for me to pass by her. “Go ahead.”

When there’s a tap on my shoulder, I remember the guy I left on his knees across the room. I turn to look at him, and he smirks like we’re sharing a secret. “So, could I get your number or something?”

I chuckle softly, cupping his jaw. “That’s cute, but that isn’t how this works.”

The woman in the doorway snorts, making my attention return to her. “What are you doing still standing here?”

She smiles at me, her perfectly painted lips curving into a grin that feels mischievous. “You’re a fucking dick.”

I blink at her a few times, my face a mask of boredom. “And?”

A confused look passes across her features, telling me she didn’t expect the response she was given – she was looking for an argument. She wanted to be some justice warrior and defend the poor guy I just pumped and dumped into. Her lips drop open a fraction like she’s going to say something, but then she presses them closed again.

Chuckling, I study her green eyes one last time before I step around her and back out into the club, leaving them both behind me.

I go to the bar, order another beer from the blonde who isn’t as friendly now, then go back to the couch and sit down.

The strobing purple lights are starting to fuck up my high and make me dizzy, but not enough that I want to leave. Drinking my beer, my gaze roves over the crowd of sweaty, salacious people on the dance floor. It’s carnal and animalistic how they move with each other, like they’re under a spell.

The concept of clubbing has always fascinated me – putting on an outfit you think is sexy enough that someone may want to fuck you by the end of the night, drinking too much and writhing all over friends and strangers alike, only to probably be disappointed when the person you take home can’t make you come the way you want. But they all do it again, the next night or weekend or holiday or random Thursday, forgetting the disappointment they found within these four walls last time.

But who am I to judge? I’m here, disappearing and ignoring my friends when I’m searching for a reason not to slice my wrists for fun, or even when I just need to let go, get fucked up and nut down some random’s throat in the storage room.

We’re all the same at the end of the day, each and every one of us inside Amethyst – desperate for a night away from the life that haunts us in the daylight, the normalcy we’re sick of.

As I scan the crowd, I see some regulars – past hookups or future hookups – each of them abiding by the unspoken rule that we don’t communicate. We don’t come back for seconds or confront the fact that we’re normal faces in this smoky, purple haze of hormones and desperation.

Then my eyes land on two women moving effortlessly together in the middle of the room, the strobing and rotating lights hitting them as they grind and sway with each other. They ignore every thirsty man around them, pretending like they’re the only ones here. I recognize one – the woman from the storage room.

She’s running her hands down the front of her body slowly while she grinds her hips, even as the song picks up tempo and pulses around her. Her head is thrown back in bliss, her eyes closed, and her mouth dropped open a fraction so she can breathe. She shakes her plump ass to the music and my dick swells in my pants. I barely register the girl with her; she might as well be alone because I can’t replace one other thing to give my attention to. Her body rolls sensually to the music as one of her hands snakes up into her hair, and she drags her fingers through it to get it out of her face.

I down the rest of my beer, settling back into the couch, content to just watch her for the rest of the night.

After a minute, her friend steps into her and says something against her ear. She scans the crowd for a moment, stopping when her gaze replaces mine. She doesn’t do any of the things women typically do when they realize they have my attention – biting their lips, curving their spines to pop their ass out, checking their cleavage – she just stares at me for a moment before she laughs and walks toward me.

I don’t move, I just wait for her to reach me.

She bends so her face is aligned with mine once she reaches me, her hair hanging over her body like a curtain. “Do you need something?”

My brows pull down a touch. “Do I need something?”

She looks at me the way Logan does sometimes, with wildness and sass that screams are you dumb?

“Yeah, do you need something?”

I lick my lips, then press them together, sitting forward so we’re just inches apart. “That depends on what you’re offering.”

She cracks a smile and huffs through her nose before she stands up straight, then she waves a hand in front of my body. “I bet this whole hot-broody-tattooed-asshole thing usually works pretty well, huh?”

I smile smugly, crossing my arms over my chest as I take in her delicious body. After a moment, I replace her eyes again and cock my jaw to the side. “Usually, yeah.”

She laughs. “Well it’s not going to work on me, so stop watching me.”

Leaning closer, my mind follows a second later, and I run a finger down the center of her body until I reach her stomach. I pout playfully. “You aren’t attracted to me?”

She laughs again, stepping backwards until I can’t reach her. “Nope.”

I clear my throat, then stand up so we’re back on the same level. Grinning wolfishly, I take a step toward her. “You wanna dance with me, beautiful?”

She grins, bringing her mouth an inch from mine. I can’t help but let my gaze travel to her red mouth, her lips curved so devilishly that I almost lean forward to trace them with my tongue. When she starts to speak, my gaze moves back to those green eyes.

“Not even a little bit.”

I laugh, I can’t help it, and my laughter triggers her own, like we’re two friends making a joke instead of laughing at the fact she’s rejecting me. My heart picks up pace, sending my blood speeding through my veins and making my skin vibrate with pleasure. She’s a spitfire, I’ll give her that.

And daddy likes a challenge, after all.

I sit back down, looking bored. “Have a good night then, beautiful.”

She rolls her eyes. “You too, dick.”