7. Chapter 7

7

Dimitri

I glance over at Wren.

Blyat, I'm screwed. Fucking wrong move.

Because it's mesmerizing. Scratch that , she's fucking spellbinding.

The way her body moves in fluid undulations, sinuous like a snake, as she sways against the cold metal pole. Her skin glistens with sweat, the dim lighting of the club painting her in shades of red and blue. In that moment, I want to be that fucking pole, to feel her grinding against my hard body.

No, get the fuck out of here, D.

But my feet won't move, rooted to the spot like they're nailed down. And my cock is rock hard. Before I know it, her eyes open suddenly, and we lock eyes. Suka , I'm trapped.

I don't know how she does this. But zaebis', it's like a fucking electric shock, the way her gaze locks onto me.

I can't breathe, can't think. All I can do is stare back, my pulse pounding in my ears.

A slow, wicked smile spreads across her face.

My attention is drawn to her jaw, working the gum with a steady, rhythmic chewing that seems to punctuate her every thought.

She knows exactly what she's doing to me, the fucking tease. Her hands glide over her body, trailing down her neck, over her tits, down to her fucking crotch. It's obscene, the way she touches herself like she's putting on a private show just for me.

She grabs the pole, hoisting herself up with a strength that shouldn't surprise me, but fuck, it does. She's spinning now, her back arched, her legs spread. Her ass is a fucking work of art, round and tight and begging to be squeezed.

And then she's sliding down, slow and sensual, her eyes never leaving mine. Her hand dips between her legs, rubbing over her pussy like she's getting off on this, on me watching her.

I'm going to fucking explode.

My dick is so hard it hurts, straining against my zipper like it's trying to break free. I need to get out of here, need to get away from her before I do something I can't take back.

I'm moving before I even register it, shoving through the crowd with a single-minded focus. The music pounds in my skull, the lights flashing and strobing, making everything feel surreal, dreamlike.

I burst out the back door, sucking in lungfuls of cool night air like a drowning man. But even out here, I can't escape her. Her face, her body, the way she fucking looked at me… it's seared into my brain, branded there like a fucking scar.

With shaking hands, I pull out another cigarette, lighting it with a flick of my lighter. The first drag is like a balm, the nicotine rushing through my system, calming the jitters.

But it's not enough; it's never enough.

"Hey," a voice purrs from behind me. I freeze, the cigarette halfway to my lips.

No fucking way.

But it is. I turn slowly, and there she is. Wren fucking Davis, leaning against the doorframe like a goddamn wet dream come to life. She's got a sheer robe on now, but it does fuck all to hide her body, her tits, her fucking everything.

"Long time no see, D," she says, her lips curving into a smirk. "Enjoyed the show?"