Vik (Shot Callers 2)

I started talking before he even had a chance to speak. “Don’t do this. Not this time. He’s a nice guy, Vik.”

“Uh huh” was all he said as he slowly chewed his gum, clearly unconvinced.

I placed my hands on either side of his neck, caressing his warm flesh with gentle fingers. I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead to his, whispering, “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Those brawny arms flexed and tightened on me.

Close enough to his lips to breathe in his minty breath, I hurried out, “I don’t even want to go anymore. I won’t go, okay?”

Vik took in a deep breath and released it slowly. He sounded more than a little put out when he uttered roughly, “If you think I’m gonna to sit back and watch some little punk dance with my girl all night, pose with his arm around her for some lame-ass photos, and lean in close, hoping to get a taste of those sweet lips…” He reached around in front of me to grip my chin and force my head up so our eyes met. His brows lowered some. “Then you are out of your damn mind.” His gaze flickered to my pouting lips, then back up again. “No one touches my girl but me.”

The intensity of his gaze had shivers stealing down my spine.

My voice was feather-soft. “I know.”

He seemed pleased at my speedy acquiesce, and when I ran my thumbs along his sharp jawline, his nostrils flared. Vik hefted me higher up his body, adjusting my weight, and then, right there in full view of everyone, he slid his warm palm around my nape and jerked me forward, my lips meeting his with vigor.

He kissed me long and deep, bruisingly rough, for the longest time until I came up, clutching his shoulders, gasping for air. Dazed and confused, I blinked at Vik a moment, unsure if it had really happened or if I just fantasized about it so much that I willed it to be true.

Appearing overly-pleased with himself, Vik’s exhale warmed my skin, and when he leaned in for another taste, it was gentler this time. He pecked my throbbing lips once, twice, three times, lingering on the last. Taking in the feel of his stubble against my chin, I closed my eyes and fell even harder.

I wasn’t a stupid girl. I knew what this was.

It was a display of dominance. Of ownership.

The feminist inside me raged, but the romantic in me cooed happily to be considered worthy of a display like this. And frankly, I didn’t hate it.

Vik lifted his hand and gently ran his thumb over my lips. I pecked the pad lovingly and watched his eyes blaze. And suddenly, Vik twisted and called out, “Hey, Bran.”

“Bram,” I corrected.

Vik brow furrowed. “Whatever.”

I hadn’t realized the entire football field had stopped to watch us until I heard a cheerleader ask, “Anika, isn’t that, like, your brother?”

Another asked, “Isn’t that Nastasia?”

My head turned at the question, and when I found Anika frowning at us, I clung to Vik, lowering my face into the crook of his neck, hiding myself away from the judgement of others.

Nothing else mattered but the feel of his body against mine.

When he moved to face a confused-looking Bram, Vik called out, “You’re going to prom alone, kid. You hear me? Just you and your hand. So have fun with that.” An open palm slid over the globe of one ass cheek and squeezed roughly while he bit his bottom lip, then grinned. “Mine are full.”

Vik held onto me until we got into his car. Once there, he pulled me close enough that almost all parts of our bodies touched and smiled into my soft mouth, kissing me restlessly, impatiently, until my lips were pink and swollen.

Just as originally planned, I went to prom alone.

Anika and I spent the afternoon getting our hair and makeup done. Her dress was a cream satin number with thin spaghetti straps and swept along the floor behind her. My dress was long, black, and formfitting. It had a sweetheart neckline and thick straps. Anika wore her hair up with a few loose strands of hair curled at either side of her pretty face, while I wore mine down, parted in the middle.

Neither of us would be getting a corsage this evening. It kind of dulled the experience, but it was what it was.

There would be no limousine. Only the two goons in the black SUV parked outside who were expected to see to our safety. And once Anika’s parents had taken a hundred and one photos of us, we were on our way.

Anika’s eyes met mine in the back seat. I smiled sadly. She returned it with a light shrug before peering out the window with a soft sigh.

In disappointment, we were matched.