One Dirty Night

His fingers only tightened until blood pumped there, blocked by his grip. The tips of my fingers throbbed from the restriction.

He swallowed hard. “I-I thought you went to bed?”

Bed?

What?

“I was reading my book!”

“Yeah, but…you normally go to bed early.”

“To avoid you!”

He stiffened.

Nervous laughter spilled out of me. “And I thought you were going to a bar, so don’t you get all shitty with me, Nicholas Davis. Not tonight.”

His jaw clenched. “Well…obviously, we both lied.”

“Obviously.” I sneered, letting Hunter tug me toward the looming purple and grey big top. “Have a good night, Nick. Goodbye.”

He stayed rooted to the spot for a moment before giving chase. “Stop. Wait…just for a sec.”

Hunter sighed heavily but obeyed. Keeping a claiming arm wrapped around me, he barked, “What? What do you want with my Ella? If you know each other, then you know it’s against the rules to approach each other if the other party is unwilling.” He pressed a doting kiss to my cheek. “So, I ask you, little witch. Are you willing? Because it sure as hell doesn’t seem like it.”

“Witch?” Nick wrinkled his nose. “She’s not a witch.”

“Tonight, she is.” Hunter grabbed himself and stroked the large bulge between his legs. “She cast a spell on me the moment I set eyes on her.”

“Fuck, I know the feeling,” Nick groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Wait…what?

What the hell was he playing at?

This wasn’t him.

Where was the coldness? The criticising? The cryptic asshole I barely tolerated?

“What are you doing, Nick?” I narrowed my eyes. “This isn’t you. Go home, or better yet…go bother someone else.”

“You heard her.” Hunter chuckled. “Plenty of other partners here to play with.”

Nick reared back as if I’d physically slapped him. “Y-You’d be okay if I went and slept with someone else? Now you’ve seen me here?”

I shrugged even as my heart pinched. “Makes no difference to me who you sleep with.”

“Says the girl who fucks a vibrator every night.”

I went still, so very, very still. Every part of me surged to deny it. To trip over myself with explanations that I tried to wait when he was out of the house, but some nights…when he’d been particularly chilly toward me or been working late with his nerdy, sexy copper-rimmed glasses on, I just couldn’t help myself.

I’d keep it short.

A few seconds was all I needed to penetrate myself, line up the little rabbit wand, and picture Nick throwing me over the very kitchen table where he worked, scattering his papers, and pouncing on me.

I’d come. I’d wash my toy. And then go to sleep with tears in my eyes.

Dammit, he was ruining my night.