Page 31 of Ripple Effect, Vol. 4

“You didn’t think I was going to fuck you here, did you? I mean, I could, but all these assholes would want a turn, and I don’t think you want all these dicks in your face.”

“Maybe … this wasn’t a good idea.”

“Maybe you no longer have a choice, princess.”

“I didn’t intend to have sex with you.”

“Ah good. I don’t intend to have sex either. That would imply a mutual pleasure, and I’m not interested in your pleasure, dear. I intend to fuck you.” He looks to Malik and grins. “Be sure to pat her down thoroughly. We don’t want any mishaps along the way.”

“Yessir.”

“And London!” Dorian rises up from the couch and runs his index finger over the front of her dress before kissing her on the cheek. “Thank you for sending this one to me. I’ll be sure to give her the same service.”

She doesn’t bother to look at me as she lowers her head, hands me my purse, and shuffles out of the room. Perhaps Jörgen will fill her in later.

A kiss to the back of my hand tenses my muscles, and I turn to see Dorian beside me. He carries himself like a porn director from the seventies, only missing the aviator glasses and thick gold chain. Spirals of dark chest hair peek from his button-down and his pants are barely holding him in.

Malik steps forward, and before I know what’s hit me, he spins me around and pushes me forward until I’m bent over the coffee table. His hands grip my calves, sliding up my leg, and when he reaches the apex of my thighs, a finger brushes along my slit.

I jerk forward with the touch and hear him sneer before his rough hands settle me in place again. Fingers dig into both ass cheeks, as he massages me there, spreading me so invasively, I snap to a stand but my cheek hits the table when he pushes me back down.

“Ooh! This one’s feisty, boys.” Dorian laughs beside me.

This is molestation, not a pat down.

Keeping me bent forward, Malik snakes his hands along my sides and up over my breasts, dipping his hands inside where he gropes each of them and I feel his crotch hit my ass at the same time. His bulge is undeniably big, and he wants me to know it.

With a pull at my shoulders, he straightens me again and yanks my purse out of my hands, rifling through lipstick and powder, until he pulls one of my parachutes.

“You okay with this?” he asks from behind me.

“What is it?” Dorian’s eyes are on me now, and I tuck my breast back into my dress.

“Ecstasy,” I lie.

His brows wing up at that and he gives a nod. “Let her keep it.”

With a push against my spine, I stumble forward and it seems my security search is over. Sandwiched between Dorian and Malik, I’m led through the club.

When we push through the door, a car awaits. The young man standing beside it appears stiff and nervous, with his back straight, chin in the air, eyes shifting all the while.

“You’ve swept the car,” Dorian says.

“Yes, Sir,” he answers, opening the door. “It’s clean.”

With a glance back at me, Dorian smiles. “Just a precaution, my dear.”

Dorian climbs inside, and I purposely twist my ankle, falling to the ground. My purse opens and all the contents spill onto the gravel. Quickly scrambling for the lipstick that rolls away from me, I reach up under the car and nab the gun taped to the undercarriage, shoving it into my purse, then the tube of lipstick, before clambering to my feet.

Malik holds out the compact, his eyes watching me warily as I snatch it from him and spin around, shoving it into my purse beside the gun.

I climb into the car beside Dorian, whose hand goes directly to my scraped knee.

“Poor little princess hurt herself. We’ll be sure to take care of that for you.”

Malik squeezes into the seat across from us, and my eyes immediately go to the gun at his hip.

Seconds. I imagine it would only take seconds for him to pull it on me. Beyond him, a dark tinted window separates the front seat from the back, most of which is blocked by Malik’s pig head.