I look directly at her, the flames from the fire warming the right side of my cheek. “Kingston.”
She pauses, and then slowly lowers the bottle down onto her lap. “I can understand why you might be confused, what with how he’s been acting around you. Maya said that he’s never been like that around or about any girl—ever.”
“I don’t know,” I answer, taking back the bottle. I sip on it, even though, deep down, I know that I shouldn’t and that I’ve probably had enough. I inhale deeply and exhale, the sweet tang of wine simmering behind my throat. “I got the feeling there may have been someone else. At the very least, another friend.”
Rose’s hand rests on my thigh, and my eyes instantly snap to the connection. “Have you fucked him?”
“What?” I should be shocked by her crass outburst, but instead I find myself laughing and drinking more. “No. That is—no. Well, he made me come, but he hasn’t fucked me.”
She shrugs. “I mean, I’m just saying, it would be hard not to.”
I sigh, resting back into my chair. I know what she means, but I’ve seen many good-looking men in my days, so I’ve somehow built a restraint against them. I’m more interested in how someone makes me feel, as opposed to what they look like.
I’m losing that battle with King, though, since he makes me horny most of the time. Or angry. Or a combination of both.
We sit there for a few minutes, and I watch as I think almost everyone is back, except I haven’t seen Jack come in yet. My mind is swimming from the alcohol, my head buzzing. I feel good. Warm and good. The song switches to “Company” by Tinashe. My head starts swaying from left to right. Maya starts dancing with a joint hanging out of her mouth, gesturing for me to come to her. I obey, dancing toward her, and laughing. The beat is intoxicating, and I already know I have my next song to dance to. Every thud of the beat, I move my body to it. Maya starts singing and swaying when Rose joins us.
Spinning around, I see King is back in his chair, his legs spread wide and his finger tracing his upper lip. Now I can’t move my eyes from him.
He leans up from his sitting position and hooks his hand in mine, tugging me back onto his lap before he carries on the conversation he was having with Keaton.
Being this close to him is both calming and frightening. It’s a concoction that should never be stirred, let alone felt.
His hand comes to my belly, and his fingers spread out, securing me to his lap. Bored and a little drunk, I turn to the side until I’m facing the other person beside him. I was expecting Killian, but instead, I get Delila.
“Delila.” I nod my head with a small smile.
Her face remains passive, her smirk wide. “Little Bird, you look rather comfortable on the King’s lap.”
I snort, and then I want to kick myself because I freaking snorted, and then I’m mad that I thought of the word “freaking.” I’m a cheap drunk. “I have an idea,” I mumble, watching her. It’s true, I do, but I only got this idea about two seconds before I found myself on King’s lap.
She waves her hands, bringing her glass to her mouth. “Well, go on.”
I wriggle. “Okay.”
A hand tightens around my hip, sending a shockwave through my muscles and over my limbs. Just when I’m about to open my mouth, I feel King’s lips on my earlobe. “Move like that again and I’ll fuck you right here and right now, and Dove, it’s nothing that these people haven’t witnessed or done before, so don’t fucking test me when it comes to your ass on my cock.” Before I can answer him, he’s already leaning back in his chair and continuing his conversation with Keaton.
My cheeks flush as I look back to Delila, who’s laughing behind her drink.
“Interesting,” she mutters, her eyes flicking toward King briefly, before going over my shoulder. “Before you tell me what your idea is.” She waves her hand ahead of her, and I spin around to see what she’s gesturing to.
Six men have entered from—I don’t know where—because everything is sort of blurry, but I also notice that there are seven girls with them. They’re all blonde and older. They have to be in their thirties. The men are interesting. One has long hair and a long beard, and one has a shaved scalp and a long beard. If I had to say which one is attractive, I’d go with the long hair and long beard. They’re all intriguing in different ways, not lucidly good-looking like The Brothers.
“That is The Six and The Seven.” Delila’s voice carries through as they all pull out seats and get comfortable. “They’re one of the acts, but in short, they’re the Six Demons of Hell and the girls are the Seven Angels of God.”