Page 217 of Powerhouse: Boxed Set
“I’m Lainey. Lainey…Marsh.” The lie was to protect him as much as me.
“Lainey Marsh,” he repeated. “I want a piece of your pussy, Lainey.”
I looked at him, illuminated by the flashing lights of the city through the windows. This was wrong. He wasn’t the right man.
Lucian.
Lucian Morelli could never be the right man. There were a million reasons that we didn’t belong together. My dark secrets and his cruelty. But the most compelling reason of all was our last names. The way our families hated each other. Something like that could never be overcome. My mother would never allow it. His parents wouldn’t either. They might be motivated by money, but they had their pride. I could never want him.
Tristan was all over Blue, both of them hands on and heated. I was jealous. Just like always, I was jealous. I wanted to feel hands on me. I wanted to be touched. Wanted.
I wanted to feel alive.
Stephen lowered his head and kissed my neck. Wet, warm lips that tickled. His hand slipped down my arm, and his fingers pushed their way inside my dress, squeezing. Squeezing my breasts hard enough to make me wince.
Lucian.
I found my back arching, seeking more. I wanted rougher. I wanted to hurt.
Why wouldn’t Lucian hurt me? I knew he wanted to. I could see the thinly veiled violence in his eyes. And I’d heard the rumors about his sexual predelictions. The whips and chains. BDSM shit. Except he hadn’t hurt me. He’s only made me come.
Was it because of my scars? Of course it was.
He saw me as a broken girl… and he was right about that.
The cab pulled up outside some house in the middle of a backwater city hovel, and there were lights on inside. Lights and open doors and bass thumping loud.
“House party, let’s rock!” Blue shouted, and both him and Tristan bailed out of the cab.
“Let’s go,” Stephen whispered, and tugged me out by my hand, offering me another swig of vodka as we went. “Can’t wait to show you off at this party, Lainey,” he told me. “You’re one hot little piece, you know that?”
Yeah, I did know that. It was my only skill in life. It had always been my only skill in life.
Even in my hazy state I felt the shiver of shame inside me, of wanting something dirty and cheap and forbidden, but there was more tension building along with the shame. That first tingle of knowing you don’t want something, even when your body is going along for the ride.
My body wanted Lucian Morelli. My heart wanted him, too.
Even though we were destined never to be together. We were star-crossed lovers, but I had no interested in a double suicide situation. That’s why I was here, at this party, pretending I could move on, pretending I could live without Lucian.
Pretending I could lose my virginity to someone that isn’t him.
The hallways were crowded with partying punks. People were getting it on everywhere I looked, that or dancing around to the beat or playing drinking games with ping pong balls and plastic cups. Stephen led me along after Tristan and Blue, right through a cluttered kitchen at the back of the building, where someone handed me a fresh beer.
I didn’t want it, but my body did. I downed it in one and took hold of another.
“Check out this song, Lainey,” Stephen ordered me, his voice in my ear. “This is me on vocals.Slay the rich, feed the poor, it’s called.”
I smiled to myself at that. It was a nice idea, but the rich controlled the world.
Stephen hadn’t noticed the diamonds in the ears he was talking to. He hadn’t noticed the designer dress I’d torn slashes into or the one-off stilettos on my feet. He hadn’t noticed the value of the clutch next to me on the sideboard, or the cosmetic sheen of my teeth, or the way I was as suited to punk rock as a feather was suited to a volcano.
My ear prickled when he spoke next, another growl right into my mind. “Come with me. I want that pussy. I wanna get my hands on you. And my cock inside you.”
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t find an answer.
“You want that, don’t you?” he said. “You want a piece of Stephen Fucking Cannon?”
I should tell the truth. I should tell him I didn’t want a piece of Stephen Fucking Cannon, that I hadn’t even known his last name until he said it.
