One
Ella
What the hell is this place?
“Come out,” she said. “It’ll be fun,” she said.
Naomi. My best friend. The girl who bends anyone to her will. Including me. And although I know her ability to sway decisions, I fall for her pleas every single time. Sales is in her blood, whether it is cars at her father’s car dealership or last year’s wardrobe to the desperate-to-be-cool freshman class—well, now sophomores.
Somehow, Naomi convinced me to tag along to some mysterious underground club. The kind of “club” that is never in the same location twice. The kind you have to know someone to receive an invite. The kind you only tell trusted people about. Yeah, that is where we are.
Except this underground party is not just loud music, influential substances and gyrating bodies. “It’s like an old-school rave.” Lies. Bald-faced lies.
“What is this, Becky?” Her fake name rolls off my tongue in a hiss.
Naomi and I have been frequenting clubs since before legally allowed. Some guy she dated junior year knew someone who made fake IDs. We never used them to drink, only to get inside. For a year and a half, she has been Becky and I have been Hazel. Additionally, no guy ever gets our actual name. Less worry in the creepsters department.
She spins to face me, trying her damnedest to hide her wicked grin. “I swear.” Naomi holds up her right hand. “I had no idea.”
I roll my eyes. “Your cheeky smile says otherwise.”
“Swear.” She dons a more serious expression. “But it is funny.”
What the hell is funny about walking into a room that basically looks like a porn studio?
By no means am I a prude. Walking in blind to a secret party thinking it is music and drinks and dancing is one thing. Walking in blind to a secret party and seeing sweaty bodies slapping skin while other people watch is a whole different ball game. More than anything, it just would have been nice to know.
Huffing out a breath, I shake my head and hook my arm in hers. “Fine,” I grumble. “But you are stuck with me all night.”
She jerks away and meets my eyes. Slams her tight fists on her hips. “No way.”
“Afraid so.” My lips tilt up in a wicked smirk. A smirk that vanishes seconds later.
“Alright then. You want me at your side all night.” Her eyes roam the room until she lands on something that makes my insides twist. “Let’s go.”
If anyone hears this… save me, please.
When my best friend suggested we party to celebrate graduating high school, an elusive sex free-for-all was not what popped in my head.
One… who visits sex parties with their friend? No one, that is who. I love Naomi, but not on that level.
Two… what does she expect to happen? I easily picture her thinking it would be okay for us to go our separate ways and do our own thing while between these four walls. To spot a hottie and ditch me to hook up with him.
Too fucking bad. She should have given her plan more thought before dragging me into the unknown.
We reach the other side of the warehouse space and Naomi weaves us between a crowd. As they make room for us, two women on blanket-covered pallets come into view. It isn’t obscene or grotesque. Actually, watching them pleasure each other has me clamping my thighs tighter. As weirded out as I was when we walked in the door, the sight of these women pleasuring one another has me entranced.
Too entranced.
Sexual preferences have never bothered me. I have always been more attracted to people for who they are, not the genitals between their legs. Naomi, on the other hand, has always given off the vibe that she is straighter than straight.
Looking to my left, I open my mouth to ask Naomi about her sudden interest in women. But… she isn’t there.
You have got to be kidding me.
Not only did my best friend covertly lure me to a supersecret sex party. Now, she ditched me.
Super.
Fucking.
Shitty.
I pull my cell from my back pocket to text her, but I already have a message waiting.
Naomi: Sorry, E. A hottie was throwing signals.
Ella: You suck!
I can and can’t believe she ditched me. She will grovel for weeks to come, I will make sure of it.
Winding my way through the crowd, I locate a makeshift bar and buy a bottled water. In the corner of the room, several tattered couches sit in a circle around another blanketed pallet bed. Thankfully, one couch remains unoccupied.
Parking myself on the couch, I sip my water and stare at the couple in the middle of the circle. A man, his pants shoved to his knees, sits leaned back, palms on the floor behind him. His erection thick and red and veiny. On her hands and knees, a woman bobs up and down his length. Her skirt too short to cover her bare slit, and her top long since removed.
Much as I don’t want to be here alone—hello, unwanted weirdos—I can’t seem to make myself walk out the door. Tonight wouldn’t be the first time I called a cab because Naomi found someone to hook up with. I shouldn’t have expected tonight to be any different.
But this place is not like the other places we partied. Bars with nothing but drunks I can handle. This place is not that. Not by a long shot.
A man sits next to me on the couch and I stop breathing. He doesn’t say anything, but I feel his eyes on my profile. The heat of his stare as he waits for me to look his way.
Why did I sit at the end of the couch? Damn it.
Minutes tick by and nothing happens. The guy sits next to me, eventually looks away to watch the woman giving a blow job, and squeezes his own cock through his jeans. Awkward as the situation is, at least he keeps his hands to himself.
A moment later, as if he heard my thoughts, his calloused hand rests on my thigh.
Fuck. My. Life.
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Copyright © 2024 All Rights Reserved
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
