What Grows Dies Here

I typed quickly, trying to keep the rage off my face so Zoe and Yasmin didn’t clock it and decide to push me further.

His text shouldn’t have irritated me as much as it did. I wasn’t ashamed of Karson. Not even a little. Despite what my closest friends thought of him. I was never one to let other peoples’ opinions affect who I was attracted to, even if they were the opinions of the people I treasured most in this world.

They did not know Karson. Not like I did. That he could be gentle. Soft. That there were eternities behind his eyes. That there was a past that defined who he was today. That that past could’ve erased any humanity or kindness within him, but he still possessed them. I felt both, deeply in my soul, when he was with me. I also felt safe, protected and treasured when I was with him.

So no, I was not ashamed to be fucking him.

I was terrified it was something more than fucking. And I was acting like a brat because of it.

And Karson was pushing me. Despite what he’d said about not playing games, he was fucking with me. Which was fine, because I could fuck with him right back.

I slammed my phone down on the seat beside me then drained the rest of my drink.

“I’m going to dance,” I declared loudly.

Both Yasmin and Zoe looked at me, my words coming out a little more manic than I’d intended.

“Does anyone want to dance?” I asked, mania still evident in my voice. I couldn’t help it, my blood was pumping and anger was pulsating.

Both women shook their heads slowly.

“Okay,” I said, standing, adjusting my dress.

I blew them kisses. Then I strutted onto the dance floor, swaying my hips to the music. I quickly melted into the bodies, letting the music take over.

As was the norm when a woman in a skimpy dress went onto a crowded dance floor, men descended, thinking she was doing it all for them. Because she wanted something. Was asking for something.

It pissed me the fuck off generally, but for now, it served my purpose. So I focused on the least sleazy looking one and put my hands on his shoulders, moving close to his body.

His hands went to my hips, then he leaned in so his mouth was to my ear. “What’s your name?” he shouted.

I yanked my head back and shook my head at him, turning to dance against him. He didn’t seem too eager to learn my name after that. Whenever his hands got too intimate, I made sure to move, to separate myself from him. I didn’t look for Karson, though I knew he was watching me. Just like Jay had eyes on Stella all night, Karson was watching me. Sure, he had some kind of job to do here, but he was a man who could multitask.

While I danced against this stranger, I thought of Karson’s eyes on my body, moving fluidly to the music, another man’s hands on me. He’d be pissed. He’d verbalized the ‘you are mine’ thing more than once in the weeks we’d been fucking. And he may have pretended he didn’t care when he thought I was still fucking the prince, but thinking I was doing something and seeing it with his own two eyes were very different things.

I was taunting him. It wasn’t nice or mature or ethical, but I didn’t give a fuck. The thought of his fury mounting sent my blood pumping hot. My body thrummed with need. With arousal that had nothing to do with the man dancing with me.

When it became too much, when the man thought that I was promising something he was not entitled to, I knew it was time to stop. It was entirely possible that Karson might break his iron clad composure and pummel this poor, albeit slightly handsy, man.

“Thanks!” I shouted at him with a wink before walking off.

The man looked disappointed, but he did not follow me off the dance floor, calling me a tease or harassing me like some might have.

Zoe and Yasmin greeted me back in the booth with wide eyes, but thankfully, neither said a word. Also thankfully, Stella arrived a moment later looking flushed and well fucked. The attention was diverted from me, so I settled into my seat, grabbing the brand new martini the VIP concierge had set down for me.

I grabbed my phone.

You’re lucky I didn’t kill him.

The way I’m going to fuck you to erase the evidence of that man’s touch will make you forget your own name. The only one you will know is mine.

I shifted, trying to staunch the throb between my legs, grinning wickedly. It was then I got up and went to the bathroom—a private one for VIPs only—and took a very tasteful nude, sending it to him.

My name is Wren fucking Whitney, and no one will make me forget it, not even you. And after I’m done with you tonight, you’ll want it inked into your skin.

I snickered under my breath, leaning forward to touch up my lip gloss. I did not look at my phone for the rest of the night.

As the night neared its end, the women started to get ready to leave. It was late. For some people, at least. For me, the night was only just beginning. My skin felt tight, and my body was wired with anticipation. Even the friction from moving in my seat was too much.