Crave Me; Big Brother

Rain. At the club, the bass thumps so hard I feel it in my teeth. The air is hot and smells like sweat, perfume and spilled liquor. "Rain!" Emma shrieks as soon as she spots me. "I thought you were dead," she chirps, sounding offensively cheerful. Her eyes scan my face like a worried mama bear. "I hate the frown lines on your face. Come on, let's get you something to drink so you can forget all about him." "Em, I know I promised, but I can't right now. I'm..." I trail off. What am I? Pathetic? Emotionally drained? Tired of breathing? Oh fuck you, Colt! "I'm just not feeling it. Colt broke up with me. Again." "No. Absolutely the fuck not. I'm not letting you come all the way to mope about that asshole. He doesn't get to win, Rain. He doesn't get to ruin your Friday. You are going to get drunk, and you are going to get fucked. You will forget he exists. This is not negotiable." Sometimes I can't argue with her. I listen to her rant, and part of me knows she's right. But the other, larger part of me just wants to dissolve out of existence. "He...he was talking about getting engaged, Em. He's engaged to Lila." "He's a narcissistic child, baby. He always leaves. He just- wait what? Lila? Isn't that incest? What sick family accepts that?" "He lied to me. It was only today he told me that she was adopted by his parents and..." I rub my eyes, weary, "something about it being easier that way. I don't know, Em." "Oh, that lying son of a bitch. I'm sorry about that, honey, He'll be back as always, worming his way between your legs and you'll let him." A thud sounds in the background. "I really don't know how you let such measly-" I sigh, not ready for her sermon. "I'm already miserable, Emma." I know he'll fuck a dozen other girls, realize his adventure is empty, and come crawling back with expectations that I'll be right here waiting. But this time...I hate to be wrong. *** "I just want a drink," I yell over the music, pulling my hand back when Emma tries to drag me into the carelessly drunk crowd, now buzzing with energy. "I'm not in the mood to dance." She pouts but nods. "Okay, fine. But we are getting hammered." Together, we locate the bar. I shoulder my way through the pumping throng, dodging groping hands and spilled drinks. The bar is packed, still we manage to find two empty stools and claim it fast. I feel like a ghost, watching everyone else laugh and live while I question my early death. I'd barely gotten comfortable when a guy to my left leans in. "Can I buy you a drink, beautiful?" I roll my eyes so hard I'm surprised they stay in my head. "No. I'm not interested." He looks offended. "I'm just being nice." "And I'm just being honest. HELLOOO. I just got back from a breakup. Leave me alone." He mutters something about pretty girls being the most arrogant and how I'm not all that. Thankfully, he slides off the stool and disappears, leaving me to my thoughts once more. "Ouch!" Emma winces with a mock look of pain, hand over her heart. "How are you supposed to get over Colt if you keep turning everyone down with that frown?" "Oh please," I mutter with an eyeroll. I turn to the bartender, who is currently wiping down the counter and wait for him to look up. When he does, I open my mouth to order, and the words just...die. "I'll have a..." My brain stutters as I swallow deeply. He is, in a word, distracting. Dark hair, a jaw that looks sharp enough to cut through my gloom and eyes that seem to see right through me. He's noticed my pause. A slow, wicked smirk spreads across his face. "Ooh, so the bartender suits your palate perfectly?" Emma pipes from somewhere in the background. "Let me guess," he says, his voice coming out a low rumble that I feel more than hear. "A vodka soda. Double." I blink, recovering quickly from my daze. "How did you-" "You look like a woman who needs to get straight to the point tonight." He turns to grab a glass, and I watch the muscles in his back move under his tight black t-shirt. He jokes with the lady serving next to him-not flirtatiously. Just easily. As colleagues would. She laughs and rolls her eyes. He turns back and slides the drink in front of me, leaning in so close that our fingers brush against each other. "I have to be blunt," he says, his voice dropping even lower, for my ears alone. "You are, without a doubt, the most absolutely breathtaking thing I have ever seen walk into this place. It's actually a problem. I'm messing up everyone else's orders." My cheeks heat up like they've been shoved straight into a hot oven. It's so direct. So...audacious that I'm momentarily speechless. I squint at his name tag. "Um, Rhysand? Yeah...thanks, but I'm not interested in whatever it is you're offering." He winks in a deliberate motion. "I'm not offering, sweetheart. I'm just stating a fact. But if you were...I guarantee you'd leave satisfied." It's the kind of line that should make me cringe, but coming from him, it makes me want to bite my lip. Before I can think of a reply, Emma flutters out of nowhere, slamming her palm on the bar. She wiggles her eyebrows at me, having clearly seen every single part of our exchange. Now she'll never let me live it down. "He is a really handsome looking chap, Rain. One night won't hurt." I'm about to feel bad, to protest that I can't just jump on another man. But then I remember Colt's casual cruelty and the ease with which he shattered my heart. Again, I shrug. I still don't have the heart to do anything rash. "Rhysand!" Emma calls out, sounding all business. "Seven shots of vodka. And line 'em up!" He raises an eyebrow at her, then at me, and turns to pour the shots. Emma shoves one into my hand. "To forgetting useless ex-boyfriends who don't deserve us!" And just like that, she coaxes me. The first shot burns like acid. The second is easier. By the fourth shot, the heavy, suffocating blanket of my sorrow begins to lift. The music gets louder, the lights get brighter and suddenly, Emma is dragging me to the dance floor. Unable to resist, I let myself be pulled along. In a little while, we are screaming lyrics at each other, our bodies moving in sync and laughing with reckless abandon. I actually feel...okay. In the middle of a song, a tall handsome stranger taps Emma on the shoulder. She turns, they exchange words and she is whisked away. She doesn't even wave goodbye. She's off for some action. And just like that, I feel lonely again. The alcohol high wavers and the room starts to feel a little too loud. Okay, I'm officially drunk. Before I can say more, or even think more, a solid presence is by my side. It's the hot bartender guy. His shift must be over. "This hot bartender guy just wants to let you know that his offer still stands," he says, his rumbling voice sending chills cascading down my arms. "If you want him." Fuck me, I must have said that out loud. Pushing back my mortification, I look at him. Going home to an empty bed after the horrible day I had suddenly feels like a wrong idea. I think about Colt who's probably already with someone else. I look back at Rhysand who cocks an eyebrow as he waits for my decision. "Fuck it," I decide. "Lead the way." The uber ride on the way to his apartment is a blur filled with wandering fingers, messy kisses and breathy moans. The moment we cross the threshold to his apartment, I throw my hands around his neck and pull him in close. I...need...this. He laughs, it's deep and warm against my mouth, before kissing me softly on the nose. "Slow down, beautiful. You're wasted." "The hell I'm not," I snap in defense. "It was just a few shots." "You are," he counters softly, pulling me closer by the waist. "And I want you wide awake when I drive you into ecstasy." My knuckles brush his chest as I grab him by the front of his shirt. "I'm sober enough," I hiss, yanking him down to my level. "And I'm sober enough to take exactly what you're about to give me." His eyes darken. In one smooth motion, he wraps my legs around his waist, taking powerful strides into his bedroom and dropping me onto the plush mattress. Just as we begin to kiss, my phone which he'd pulled from my pocket, buzzes on the nightstand. It lights up. The name on the screen makes my heart stutter and guilt overwhelm me instantly. Colt. That was fast. Fuck, what am I doing with someone else? It's a text message: Hey, crazy day. Just wanted to formally invite you to my engagement party tomorrow night. No hard feelings, right? It's at the family house. 8 PM. Bring a date if you want. The way I go from guilt-laden to agonizingly hot and then freezing cold. Rage, pure and undiluted, burns fast and hot inside me. How dare he? He'd been with me for all my years. I gave him the best of my youth. "Bastard! Fucking bastard!" I swear vehemently. All those years I gave him waiting for him to grow up and choose me, he never bothered to even engage me. And now he's getting engaged tomorrow? To some hoe he said was his cousin? Fingers tug my face away from phone. "Is everything alr-" Clouded with anger, I lunge at Rhysand, kissing him with renewed fervor, pouring every ounce of my betrayal and fury into it. I shouldn't be using him as an outlet for my emotions, but fuck the entire male species. I only need this for tonight and then I'm done! I rub my body against his length, needing the friction to get my release. I'm still intoxicated but this...this is a new kind of clarity. In seconds, we are both naked with our clothes discarded every which way. In that haze of drunken high and building pleasure, as Rhysand poises himself above me, a BRILLIANT inspiration of revenge hits me. I grab my phone. My fingers shake and Rhysand tilts his head at me but I manage to dial Colt's number. I leave it on high speaker. It rings twice before he picks up. "Rain?" Comes Colt's voice, confused. "It's late. Is everything-" I look up into Rhysand's dark, questioning eyes with a sardonic smile. "Fuck me." He doesn't hesitate. He plunges into me so powerfully it shakes me to my very foundation. A scream tears from my throat. Half agony and the other half, extreme ecstasy. Over the sound of my own moans, I hear a strangled noise from the phone and angry mumbling before the call disconnects with a beep. As Rhysand begins to move with a deep powerful rhythm that I meet with equal force, one thought stays through it all: Revenge is best served drunk.