I’m euphoric.
In a state of ecstasy.
And it’s bliss.
The music calls my name.
I need to dance.
Walking down the stairs, I pop the link into the button hole on the cuff of my shirt. My brow furrows when I see people gathered around the center of the ballroom.
Curious as to what’s causing the assembly, I walk a little faster the rest of the way down. I don’t have a good feeling.
My gut clenches at the sight of her.
Lexi dances off-beat to the music, at her own pace. The skirt of her short black dress swishes around her thighs, lifting high enough to see the rounded cheeks of her ass.
She looks lost. And at the very same time, found.
The void in her eyes alerts me to the fact that she’s high. Higher than high, actually.
She’s wasted.
Fuck.
Searching the ballroom, I spot Ling leaning against the wall in the shadows, smirking at the sight of Lexi. Walking with a purpose, Ling spots me a few seconds before I get to her. Smile now gone, fear shines brightly in her eyes.
She should be scared.
If someone approached me looking the way I do right now, I’d shit my pants.
Walking harder, I don’t stop until we’re toe-to-toe. Leaning down into her face, I ask in perfect calm, “What did you give her?”
Eyes wide, Ling opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
My eye twitches. The rage starts to alight the blood in my veins.
Raising my hand in slow motion, I place it on her collar bone at her neck, resting it there.
A warning.
“What did you give her?”
Ling replies in panic, “She took it herself! I just offered it to her.”
The hand at her throat tightening, I hold myself back. Dipping my chin, my eyes close as I breathe deeply, trying to get myself under control.
Releasing her, I stand tall, straightening my jacket. “What’d she take?”
Ling remains silent. I keep my eyes on hers.
My scowl is enough to make her whisper, “Blow. Two lines.”
My jaw steels.
That’s a lot of cocaine for someone who doesn’t do drugs. No wonder she’s putting on a show.
Ignoring Ling’s terrified expression, I turn to the space that’s been cleared for Lexi’s performance.
Under the spotlight, I see the perspiration on her forehead reflect the gleaming light. Her hips sway from side to side, flowing like the rolling waves of the ocean. Her hands splayed on her hips slide slowly up her ribs to cup her breasts.
She looks beautiful. Like the angel I always knew she was.
An angel…
I hate her for that. Why couldn’t she have been an asshole? It would’ve made things so much easier for me.
The hands on her breasts squeeze gently for a few seconds before they trail higher up her chest. Eyes still closed and swaying sensually, she uses one hand to squeeze the side of her neck, while the other slithers up past her ear to slide into her hair. She tangles her fingers into her dark locks, and her hips jerk suddenly.
The vision of Lexi in a sexual trance is enough to give me hardcore wood.
Her lips part in a silent sigh.
The hand squeezing her neck glides down slowly across her breast once more, then lower still. When the hand sliding down her body halts low on her stomach, my cock twitches.
My eyes trained on her face, I watch her closed eyes and parted lips with only one thing in mind.
I want her. Now.
I’m snapped from my thoughts when I hear cat calls. Looking around, my body turns rigid when I spot Lexi.
In the middle of the ballroom. Under the spotlight. In a haze.
Her hand disappears under her dress, rubbing her pussy through the tiny white G-string. The other hand gently pinching a nipple through the silky white fabric of her dress. Mouth parted, head thrown back in ecstasy.
Swallowing hard, I openly stare.
She’s fucking beautiful.
No reticence. Just living through the beat of the song.
A tall guy I’ve met a few times before lingers at the edge of her space before walking across the ballroom.
My brow furrows.
He walks up behind Lexi, wrapping one arm across her stomach, pulling her back to his front. I can’t hear it, but I see her mouth part a little more in what looks like a moan. She leans back into him, taking his hand, pulling it down her body and replacing it with hers at her mound.
My head pounds.
She starts a soft circling motion with her hips, and I know she’s rubbing her sweet ass into his dick.
The thing about my brain is that it’s damaged. Thoughts don’t get processed the way other people’s do.
In fact, the term think doesn’t apply to me.
Stalking across the ballroom, I reach Lexi’s front. Gripping her forearm, I pull her away from the fucker. Hard.
She stumbles, but I don’t notice.
I don’t notice, because tall guy is already on his back.
My fists pound into his face continuously. Hard and fast. Face contorted in anger, my chest heaves with every heavy breath I take.
A spatter of wet warmth spurts across my face.
Blood roars through my ears. I don’t hear the screaming and shouting for me to stop.
I can smell his fear.
His arms come up. He tries in vain to block the blows. Clenching my teeth, I lift my arm over my head, then bring my elbow down on his cheekbone full-force. The feel of it shattering beneath me brings on a wave of euphoria.
His body trembles and jerks as if being electrocuted.
Strong arms come around me from behind. I vaguely hear, “Fuck, Twitch! You’re killing him! Stop!”
Struggling, I’m lifted clean off the moaning, bloody mess in the center of the ballroom floor. More clearly this time, I hear, “You got him, bro. You got him. He gets it. You’re good now. It’s time to stop.” That comes from Happy.
Panting heavily, I shrug him off me.
Turning, my eyes scan the room, coming into contact with the terrified faces of my guests.
Happy hands me something. A handkerchief.
Taking it and wiping at the blood on my cheek and forehead, I say through heavy breaths, “Get out. Party’s over.”
But no one moves.
Stilling, I watch them a moment before stepping forward and booming, “Get the fuck out of my goddamn house! Anyone still here in three fucking minutes, I’ll escort out myself. In a fucking body bag!”
They scramble, finally getting that I could actually do it, and not taking their chances in finding out.
Smart.
Stalking over to a still-dancing Lexi in the corner of the room to no beat, I grip her upper arm and all but drag her behind me. Halfway up the stairs, she stumbles and bursts into laughter, as if it’s the funniest thing she’s ever done in her life.
And it makes my blood boil.
I hate myself for craving the state of high she’s in. Like a petulant child, I’m taking out my jealousy on her. Pulling her up much too tightly, she yelps in surprise; I pull her along all too quickly. Once in my room, I open the door to the bathroom and throw her in. She stumbles and ends up on her knees on the bath mat. She giggles, and rage coils in my gut. Reaching past her to the shower, I turn the cold water on and spit, “Wash his smell off you. Now.”
Then I shut the door and pace, balling my fists tight, jaw ticking.
Once I think I’m no longer homicidal, I breathe deeply and sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for Lexi to finish her shower.
Five minutes pass. I hear her singing, so I give her some more time.
Another five minutes pass and my brow furrows. The singing has stopped.