and shove, and the pierced skinhead who’d launched it crumpled to the floor. Rob’s heel to the gut made sure he’d stay there for a while.
To his right, Jason was sinking his fist into the tattooist’s stomach, but that didn’t hold Rob’s attention for long. Because on the cot in the middle of the room the most perfectly shaped woman lay naked on her front, her peachy and flawlessly tanned ass cheeks glowing in the light of the overhead projector. Two parallel stripes of white powder marred the round contour of her right ass cheek. The projector’s light outlined the word SLUT on her upper back. Only the S and part of the L had been inked, Rob realized with relief.
Relief was not the expression she wore when she turned her head around to see what the commotion was about. The scowl on her face deepened when she saw Jason bent over the tattooist, and then she sat up, scattering the coke, and turned to the door. Her ice blue eyes locked on Rob.
“Amelie?” he whispered, his heart skipping a beat.
Chapter 3
Oh, Brother!
Amelie blinked and shuddered, making the light glint off her rainbow nipple rings. In the next moment, she launched herself at her brother’s back, screaming.
“No, no, no! Leave him alone, Jason! Get off him! Stop interfering with my life, asshole!”
Jason disengaged himself from her grip and shoved her back, but Amelie was not going to give up that easily. She twisted Jason’s forearm just enough to make him gasp, then she let go and slipped between him and the man he was punching.
The room spun, and she felt her balance waver. Arms open wide, she let herself slide to the floor. Something didn’t make sense. She couldn’t make her muscles work right. Why wouldn’t her fist tighten up?
“Amelie?”
Rob’s voice. She’d recognize it anywhere.
“Amelie, look at me.” A hand under her chin, tilting her face up. “Open your eyes. Amelie, look at me, please.”
She tried hard to focus, but the light was smudging his features. Then she found them – Rob’s eyes. His beautiful chocolate brown irises with wide dark centers like pools of desire, fringed by thick, long lashes. So deep, she could dive into their depths. She wanted to.
Voices were speaking in the background, fast and outraged. Before she could make sense of the words and place them into sentences, she felt herself lifted up and bent over. Then two fingers slid over her tongue and she gagged. No. She was not going to throw up. Eww. Gross.
Amelie shook her head, but the action only made the room spin faster. The fingers were on her tongue again, and this time she couldn’t hold back. She threw up all over the tiled floor, spattering the cot, the fallen ink gun and everyone around her in vomit.
The smell made her retch again and again. She had no strength, so she let the hands that held her take all the weight, and allowed her body to do what it wanted.
After a while, she felt the hands move to her armpits. A coarse, restraining papery garment was being fitted to her body by a second pair of hands. With the last ounce of energy, she fought against it, but her efforts were ineffective.
“Stop fighting or you’ll have to walk out of here naked,” Jason’s voice percolated through the fog of her brain, but his threat was pointless, because she couldn’t feel her fingers, or her legs, or...
There was movement, and the caressing touch of cool night air, and then only blackness.
Rob watched as Amelie launched herself at her brother, oblivious of her nakedness or any danger to which she may be exposing herself. He took two strides toward them, then stopped, hesitating. What now? Should he simply grab her and pull her away? She didn’t have a stitch of clothing on. How would she react to his hands on her body? More to the point, how would Jason react to his best friend brazenly manhandling his sister?
Amelie took that decision out of his hands when she collapsed to the floor. Her knees buckled and she slid
To his right, Jason was sinking his fist into the tattooist’s stomach, but that didn’t hold Rob’s attention for long. Because on the cot in the middle of the room the most perfectly shaped woman lay naked on her front, her peachy and flawlessly tanned ass cheeks glowing in the light of the overhead projector. Two parallel stripes of white powder marred the round contour of her right ass cheek. The projector’s light outlined the word SLUT on her upper back. Only the S and part of the L had been inked, Rob realized with relief.
Relief was not the expression she wore when she turned her head around to see what the commotion was about. The scowl on her face deepened when she saw Jason bent over the tattooist, and then she sat up, scattering the coke, and turned to the door. Her ice blue eyes locked on Rob.
“Amelie?” he whispered, his heart skipping a beat.
Chapter 3
Oh, Brother!
Amelie blinked and shuddered, making the light glint off her rainbow nipple rings. In the next moment, she launched herself at her brother’s back, screaming.
“No, no, no! Leave him alone, Jason! Get off him! Stop interfering with my life, asshole!”
Jason disengaged himself from her grip and shoved her back, but Amelie was not going to give up that easily. She twisted Jason’s forearm just enough to make him gasp, then she let go and slipped between him and the man he was punching.
The room spun, and she felt her balance waver. Arms open wide, she let herself slide to the floor. Something didn’t make sense. She couldn’t make her muscles work right. Why wouldn’t her fist tighten up?
“Amelie?”
Rob’s voice. She’d recognize it anywhere.
“Amelie, look at me.” A hand under her chin, tilting her face up. “Open your eyes. Amelie, look at me, please.”
She tried hard to focus, but the light was smudging his features. Then she found them – Rob’s eyes. His beautiful chocolate brown irises with wide dark centers like pools of desire, fringed by thick, long lashes. So deep, she could dive into their depths. She wanted to.
Voices were speaking in the background, fast and outraged. Before she could make sense of the words and place them into sentences, she felt herself lifted up and bent over. Then two fingers slid over her tongue and she gagged. No. She was not going to throw up. Eww. Gross.
Amelie shook her head, but the action only made the room spin faster. The fingers were on her tongue again, and this time she couldn’t hold back. She threw up all over the tiled floor, spattering the cot, the fallen ink gun and everyone around her in vomit.
The smell made her retch again and again. She had no strength, so she let the hands that held her take all the weight, and allowed her body to do what it wanted.
After a while, she felt the hands move to her armpits. A coarse, restraining papery garment was being fitted to her body by a second pair of hands. With the last ounce of energy, she fought against it, but her efforts were ineffective.
“Stop fighting or you’ll have to walk out of here naked,” Jason’s voice percolated through the fog of her brain, but his threat was pointless, because she couldn’t feel her fingers, or her legs, or...
There was movement, and the caressing touch of cool night air, and then only blackness.
Rob watched as Amelie launched herself at her brother, oblivious of her nakedness or any danger to which she may be exposing herself. He took two strides toward them, then stopped, hesitating. What now? Should he simply grab her and pull her away? She didn’t have a stitch of clothing on. How would she react to his hands on her body? More to the point, how would Jason react to his best friend brazenly manhandling his sister?
Amelie took that decision out of his hands when she collapsed to the floor. Her knees buckled and she slid
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