Chapter Four: Drunk Sex

Nollie’s POV At The Brothel

“Get drunk. Get fucked. Forget everything.”

That was the plan.

“Don’t wait up,” I told the driver as I stumbled out of the car.

The neon light above the escort house buzzed like a dying bee. Red glow, cheap music, and the kind of smell that clung to your skin like bad decisions.

I tugged down my black lace dress. My heels sank into the cracked concrete as I staggered toward the door.

God, the vodka had hit. Finally.

Let them talk.

Let someone see me tonight—let the gossip fly by morning. "The widow of the mad Don caught at the whorehouse. Mourning who?"

I wanted them to choke on my scandal.

The bouncer didn’t blink. Just stepped aside and let me in.

Inside, the air was thick with perfume, sweat, and sin. Low lights. Laughter. Clinks of glass. The kind of place where names didn’t matter, just what you could give or take.

Eyes followed me.

Men. Women. Curiosity mixed with judgment. I kept walking. Straight to the bar like I owned the damn place.

“Your strongest,” I told the bartender, sliding onto the stool.

“Holy shit,” he muttered. “You’re that girl.”

I didn’t answer.

He gave me a long once-over. “Aren’t you that chick on the front page? The one married to the mad Veltrano son. The one they just buried.”

I lifted my glass. “What of it?”

He leaned closer. “You got a death wish walking in here.”

“Maybe.”

I smiled without warmth. “Is that gonna stop you from pouring, or do I need to find a new place to drink?”

He raised his hands. “Hey, I’m just saying—either you’ve got a death wish, or you’re the baddest bitch in this city.”

“Little of both.”

Then I felt it again. Heat. someone watching me.

Zorak? No. Couldn’t be. I was imagining him again.

He slid the drink toward me, raising a brow. “You’re a beautiful mess.”

“And you talk too much,” I snapped. “Pour the drink or fuck off.”

He laughed. “Fine. But for the record, I swing the other way. If I were into girls, you’d already be upstairs.”

I sipped. Bitter burn. Perfect.

He then leaned in. “There’s a guy watching you from the corner. Pretty face. Kinda looks like he could model for toothpaste ads. Wants to fuck you with his eyes.”

I didn’t even look.

“Is he breathing?”

He laughed. “Barely. I’d sit on his face if I had the right parts, but sadly, he’s into women.”

“Good,” I said. “I’m into forgetting.”

The guy approached two minutes later.

Boyish smile. Hair too neat. Shirt too tight. He looked nervous. Or turned on. Or both.

“You alone?” he asked.

I downed my shot. “Not for long.”

He smiled. “Want to?”

“Yes.”

I grabbed his collar.

“Take me upstairs before I change my mind.”

He led me up creaky stairs that smelled like mold The carpet was stained. The lights flickered. The kind of place no one came looking for angels.

Good.

I was done being holy.

The room he picked had a crooked mirror and a bed that squeaked when the door opened. I didn’t wait.

I shoved him inside. Slammed the door shut.

He grinned A little too proud of himself.. “You don’t waste time.”

I didn’t answer. I pulled the dress over my head and let it fall to the floor in a heap. Stood there in just my bra and panties, nipples already tight, body humming from the alcohol and everything I was trying to forget.

He stared. Eyes wide. Mouth open like a fucking cartoon.

“You’re… perfect,” he breathed.

“No, baby. I’m poison.”

I pushed him onto the bed. Hard.

He let out a little laugh, tried to kiss me.

I slapped his mouth away. “No lips. Just dick.”

I was drunk.  Hollow.

My fingers fumbled with the buckle. His jeans were tight—too tight for how drunk I was. I yanked. He chuckled, stepped in to help. His hands were shaking, just like mine.

“Fuck, okay.” He scrambled with his belt, hands shaking. He was too eager. I didn’t care.

We were both desperate.

“Shit,” I muttered when the belt finally gave. “You wear these like you’re hiding something huge.”

He laughed. “Am I?”

Then his pants hit the floor.  His cock flopped out—small, hard, like it had something to prove.

Well. He wasn’t hiding much.

I stared at it for half a second. Blinked once. Twice.

“Okay,” I said out loud. “It’ll have to do.”

“Get on the bed,” I said, walking over. “Now.”

He moved quick, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe his luck.

I wobbled as I climbed on, knees slipping on the sheets. One shoe was still on, the other God-knows-where.

“Don’t… talk,” I slurred, voice thick. I ground against him, sloppy and off-rhythm. Didn’t care.. “Just fuck me.”

He nodded like he was about to win the lottery.

But before I could even line him up, he grabbed my waist and flipped me.

He tried to flip me. I shoved him back. “No touching. No kissing. Just fucking. That was the deal.” His cock was hard, but his hands were shaking. He was a toy. One I could break if I wanted.

He leaned down, tried to kiss me. His mouth was wet. His breath smelled like whiskey and mints.

“Ugh,” I pushed at his chest. “Don’t kiss me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t pay for that.”

He laughed, but it was nervous now.

Then the doorknob rattled.

Hard.

“Holy shit, is this part of the service?”

Bang.

The door burst open.

The boy on the bed flinched so hard he nearly fell off. His pants halfway down, dick standing at full attention, eyes wide with panic.

I didn’t move.

I knew that presence.

Knew it by the heat that rolled through my skin like lava.

Zorak. For a second, I thought I was hallucinating again. I blinked. Golden eyes. Oh fuck, it’s really him.

His sleeves rolled, forearms flexing as he stood in the doorway.

“What the actual” the boy stammered.

Zorak didn’t speak.

He just crossed the room, grabbed the guy by the throat, and yanked him up with one hand like he weighed nothing.

Crash.

The boy hit the wall so hard the cheap painting fell. He scrambled, half-naked and terrified, pulling his jeans up with one hand.

It crashed against the wall. My heart flew into my throat.

“He was yanked off me like a ragdoll. Tossed aside, pants halfway down, dick flopping.

And standing in the doorway, fists clenched, chest rising and falling like a beast

Zorak.

Golden eyes. Face hard. Rage boiling off his skin like steam.

I sat up, legs still open, chest heaving, bra strap down one arm.

I looked at Zorak. He looked like he could kill and fuck in the same breath.

““Touch her again, and I’ll pull your spine out through your cock,” Zorak growled. His voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.

The boy ran. His cock still out. Shoes untied.

The door slammed behind him.

Silence.

I sat on the bed bra slipping, panties damp, legs still open your face but somehow, under his stare, I felt more naked than ever.

I let my eyes trail down his body. Slow. Hungry.

And then I smirked.

“Sheesh,” I breathed, biting my lip. “You didn’t have to kill the poor boy.”

Zorak didn’t move.

I leaned back on my elbows, legs still parted, black lace riding high on my hips.

Then I crooked a finger at him.

“Come here, baby.”

He blinked once. His eyes darkened.

“You done playing with toys?” he asked.

I tilted my head. “You broke mine. You’re responsible now.”

He stepped forward. “You wanted to get fucked . Like this. Drunk?”

“Not your business.” I replied

His jaw twitched.

I stood. Walked right up to him. Close enough that my breasts brushed his chest.

His jaw twitched.

Then I slid to the edge of the bed, spread my legs a little wider.

“You gonna f-fuck me?” I slurred, swaying slightly, eyes glassy, or do I need to find someone else with the balls to finish what I started?”

He grabbed my chin. Tilted my face up. his breath hot. “You’re not ready for the way I’ll ruin you

His mouth hovered over mine.

“Careful, little flame,” he whispered. “Ask me again, and I’ll give you something you’ll never forget.”

I grinned. “Good. I want to forget everything else.”

His lips didn’t meet mine. But his hand did. Between my legs.