Dylan

The techno shit blasting from the speakers is horrible, but it does the job drowning out the pestering thoughts that echo in my skull. It doesn’t seem like the alcohol I’ve been drinking all night is helping. Although the amount of vodka I’ve drank is making me looser than I’d been all day.

The redhead in a short skirt grinding her ass against my dick like her life depends on it seems to know I’m too drunk to really care about her desperation. So when she turns around and ropes her arms around my waist so our bodies meld together, I let her. When she feels me up—my arms, chest, and abs—in the middle of the club, I let her. And when she pushes her fake tits against me then pulls me away to an empty hallway, gets on her knees, and takes me out of my jeans and boxers, I sure as hell don’t stop her.

The end game is all the same. Get in, get off, get out.

I know if the guys were here, they’d give me shit for letting a girl go down on me out in the open. And maybe if they actually decided to join me instead of staying behind at the hotel, I would have pulled myself together.

But after the makeshift intervention they held for me at the hotel, I had no interest in caring that they didn’t want to hangout. They all thought I had a problem.

Maybe my problem was them.

My hand grips the back of the girl’s head as she takes me farther in her mouth. My head tilts back against the wall behind me as a guttural groan escapes my mouth. No doubt she has plenty of experience, because she knows exactly what guys like.

“Fuck,” I curse, gathering a fistful of her hair in my palm and lightly yanking on it.

She moans at the move, my dick vibrating in her mouth. If she keeps that up this is going to be over quickly.

Taking what I want, I thrust my hips forward so she takes me fully in her mouth. I repeat the movement a few times, seconds away from coming when a surprised gasp snaps us out of the moment.

Red almost takes off my dick when she loses her balance, falling backward onto her ass.

“Oh my God!” a high-pitched voice squeaks from down the hall. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think … uh …”

Red’s face is about the color of her hair, struck from getting caught in the act. I wouldn’t think a girl who is so willing to give a blowjob in the middle of a hallway would care, but turns out there is some shred of dignity in her after all.

“Do you mind?” I ask casually, gripping my swollen cock in my hand as I try putting myself back into my jeans.

“Excuse me?” the girl snaps, boldly stepping forward. When she steps into the light, everything pauses.

“Unfuckingbelievable,”Ashton snips in disgust, crossing her arms over her chest. She looks completely different than the first time I saw her two days ago.

Rather than the leather she wore last time, she is sporting a white sundress with some sort of pattern stitched into the bottom. It came mid-thigh, showing off her toned legs. I bet she worked out to have the kind of muscle that her cowboy boots seem to emphasize. When I trail back up her body, I notice how her crossed arms push her breasts together so they’re better displayed in the V-neck of her dress.

“You just escape from the set of Footloose? You do realize we’re in a club, right? This isn’t some line-dancing class.” I focus on buttoning and zipping my jeans up, although the aching bulge protests from the imprisonment.

“And you realize this is a club, right? Not your hotel room where you can get off anywhere you like.”

I shrug, not bothered by her clear distaste for my nightly adventure. “Unfortunately, you showed up before I actually got off. Going to get a bad case of blue balls unless one of you ladies would like to finish the job.” My eyes stay on Ashton as I suggest it, waiting for her reaction.

Just as I assumed, her face contorts in pure disgust. Chuckling to myself, I absorb the little win, proud to have made her look like that.

Red finally gets up, pulling her skirt down as she looks at Ashton. Her red lips formed an O in recognition, and I can’t help but grin knowing where they just were.

She steps forward, hands flattening out her wrinkled tank top. “Wow, you’re Ashton King. I’m a big fan of your music!”

The way Ashton’s brows quirk up as she stares at her made it hard to contain my laughter. It’s reasonable, considering Red went from embarrassed to starstruck in two seconds flat despite Ashton catching her deep-throating me just moments ago.

“Well … thanks,” Ashton murmurs, staying civil as Red warily passes her and goes back to the dance floor.

I prop myself up against the wall, noticing her narrowed eyes. Whatever makeup she wore made the color of her green eyes look fierce like a tiger ready to pounce.

It’s hot.

“You got something to say, princess?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What do you want me to call you?”

“My name.”

My head cocks to the side. “I can think of a few fun ways to call out your name.”

She holds up her hand. “Stop right there. I don’t need to hear the stupid shit you’re about to say. We’re never sleeping together.”

I push off the wall, stalking toward her. “You say that now, but just wait. Now that we’re going to work together, you’re bound to change your mind.”

I stop in front of her, the tips of our shoes touching. Her eyes are distant as they lock with mine, giving nothing away. That asshole of an ex that everybody is talking about must have done a number on her to be this closed off.

“Ever hear of personal space?” she quips.

I grin, noting how she hasn’t stepped back.

“Don’t think about making a move, pretty boy,” she warns, voice clipped. I can tell she means it, but I can’t stop myself. There’s something about pushing her that gets me off.

I reach out to move a strand of her perfectly curled hair behind her ear, but before I make contact, she drives her knee straight between my legs.

“Fuck!” I yell, dropping to my knees, cupping myself. I’m bent over when I hear heels running toward us.

“Jesus, what happened?” a new girl questions frantically.

I squint at the girl, inspecting the similarities between her and Ashton. They’re both wearing the same dresses, although the new girl’s is a little shorter and she has on stilettos instead of cowboy boots, and whereas Ashton’s hair is curled, this girl’s is straight.

The girl peers between me to Ashton. “Ash, why is Dylan Hilton holding his dick on the floor like somebody just kicked it?”

“I didn’t kick it,” she defends. “I kneed it. There’s a difference.”

Her friend stares at her like she’s crazy.

I wince as I stand up, rubbing myself as I study them. Eye-level they don’t look that similar like I originally thought. The new girl’s eyes are a weird shade of brown, almost amber-gold unlike the green eyes Ashton has, and Ashton’s face is heart-shaped and innocent, unlike her friend’s sharp edges. It’s the kind of sculpted face that you see on a screen, perfected for the camera.

“He was trying to touch me,” Ashton adds, shrugging like it explains everything.

“I was fucking with you,” I deadpan. “Has anyone told you that you’re uptight? Loosen up, would you?”

Her eyes narrow at me. “Do you want me to knee you in the balls again, pretty boy?”

“Pretty boy?” her friend repeats. “You already have a nickname for him?” The way she says it is too excited, which makes Ashton glare at her next.

“I call her princess, but she doesn’t seem to like it,” I inform her friend.

She snorts. “Yeah, that definitely doesn’t fit. A for effort though, buddy.”

Buddy. Can’t say many women call me that.

Before I can properly scope her out, Ashton snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Stop checking her out. You just had some random chick going down on you for Christ’s sake!”

Her friend chokes out a laugh. “Um, what the hell did I miss?”

Ash rolls her eyes. “I was heading to the bathroom when I found some moron on her knees in front of him. Right in the hallway!”

My face screws up. “Well, the bathroom seemed unsanitary. Would you want to do that in a place where people piss?”

She gapes at me in disbelief. Taking a step forward despite her friend giving her a warning look, she levels with me. “I wouldn’t do that anywhere except my own home. I have more class than the girls you hook up with.”

I cock my head, studying her hard features. She’s determined to stay closed off. Pissed off with the world over everything. I want to believe it’s because of more than just her old boyfriend, because the familiarity of a broken soul behind those sea-green eyes is caused by more than just one measly man.

“Sounds like your ex-lover didn’t keep things very exciting outside the bedroom then, sweetheart,” I muse, flicking the piece of hair she wouldn’t let me touch earlier.

Her widening eyes make me laugh louder than I had before, especially when her cheeks turn a rosy shade of pink. Even her friend is trying to hide her snickers from me, turning away so Ashton wouldn’t see her wavering lips.

“That is … I can’t believe … you’re—” She shakes her head, too flustered to complete her sentence.

“I’m what?” I press in amusement, leaning forward into her personal space.

I swear she hisses at me, which only hikes up the curves of my lips.

“You’re crude for one,” she announces as if I don’t already know that. In fact, it makes me roll my eyes. I notice her hands balling into tight fists at her sides, and the irritation growing based on her nostrils flaring.

“That all?”

Her friend laughs. “As much as this back and forth is entertaining, you really don’t want to mess with Ash, Dylan.”

Ash.

The name fit her. Like she was built from the ashes of a damaging fire. Maybe one day she would rise from them, if she’s lucky enough to see past whatever is holding her down—spoiling her soul from the soot.

Not all of us are that lucky.

“I’d hate to have the claws come out,” I relent, winking at her friend. “I didn’t catch your name.”

She grins. “I didn’t give it to you.” She loops her arm around Ash’s tense one. “Come on, babe. I think you’ve had enough fun for tonight.”

They start walking away, not another look back.

“I’ll see you around, princess,” I call after them, shoving my hands back into my pockets.

She raises her arm up, middle finger waving at me as they disappear around the corner.

I chuckle, leaning my shoulder against the wall. I’m still not for collaborating with Ashton King, but something tells me that working with the feisty wildcat is going to be ten times more interesting than I thought possible.

But the black pit growing inside of me warned me away from playing with the fire I wanted nothing more than to touch. To burn for. And as long as my own self-destruction was growing, I’d become my own piles of ashes long before I’d ever see her reborn from hers.