“You got anything?” the girl whispered in my ear, her tongue darting out to lick the sweat that beaded along my jaw.

I grinned wickedly and pulled her up against my front, thrusting in time to the music. “I’ve got exactly what you need,” I promised, getting off on the gleam of excitement that lit up her pale face.

“How much?” she breathed out, her movements becoming frantic in her enthusiasm.

“Come with me,” I said, grabbing her hand and dragging her through the crowd toward the hallway off the dance floor. We were practically running as I found a dark room toward the back of the house.

It was my job to find the spot for Compulsion every month. Call me the location scout or the Master of the Party. Whatever. But it was freaking hard finding a place that was big enough but far enough off the radar that we could get away with playing music way too loud and selling drugs way too blatantly.

This place had been a prize. It had been condemned a couple of months ago and was scheduled to be torn down in a few weeks. Gash, the club organizer, wasn’t sure about the safety of the old farmhouse, but he couldn’t deny that it was private and just about perfect for a night of barely controlled mayhem.

I had walked through the building several times before tonight, so I knew the layout pretty well. I also knew that where I was leading Smurfette was private enough for what I had in mind.

There weren’t any lights. I had to fish out my cell phone and use it as a flashlight while I dug for the baggie in my pocket. I shook out two small blue pills and held them out for the girl.

She practically salivated as she tried to grab them from me. I closed my fist and snatched them away before she could take them.

“Uh-uh,” I mocked, wagging my finger in her face. The girl hurriedly pulled a wad of cash out of her pocket and shoved two twenties in my front pocket, her fingers gripping my thigh through my jeans. Looking at her closely, I knew her type well enough, a sad little trust-funder looking for the express train to the dark side.

Lucky for her, I was all too happy to comply.

She opened her mouth, and I dropped the drugs on her tongue. She closed her mouth around my fingers and sucked as she swallowed, her eyes rolling back in her head in ecstasy. “Mmm,” she moaned, rubbing her hands down her body, while she deep-throated my digits.

My dick sprung to attention. I was feeling mellow and high as f**k, and right now I just wanted this girl to get on her goddamned knees. Enough with the tease, I wanted the main act.

I pushed her down by her shoulders, making it clear what I wanted. Her knees collided with the filthy floor, but she didn’t even notice. She was too f**ked-up to care, and I was too much of an ass**le to be bothered that she didn’t. I should have been disgusted at the way she willingly grappled with my belt buckle. She unsnapped my jeans and pulled down the zipper like a pro.

Hell, I should have been disgusted with myself for what I was expecting her to do. But I had moved past feelings of shame a long-ass time ago.

This was my world. And in this world I took what I wanted, when I wanted it.

The reality I faced on the outside was something else entirely. I didn’t have the freedom to call my own shots. I clawed through life with bloodied fingers.

But for right now I was a f**king god.

The girl looked up at me through her blue hair, giving me a glassy-eyed smile. I didn’t smile back. Before she could get started, I pulled out a condom. No way was that bitch touching my dick without protection.

When I was done getting ready, I pushed her head down, and she gave me exactly what I wanted.

I didn’t touch her. I didn’t put my hands in her hair or rub her shoulders. This wasn’t about affection. Or even lust. This was entirely about me getting what I wanted. I didn’t give a shit about who she was. I wouldn’t ask her name or try to find out her favorite f**king color.

I didn’t give a shit about any of it. It had been a long time since I allowed myself to care about anyone or anything at all. I just wanted to come in her mouth and then leave. Because it made me feel better. And that was all that mattered.

So I stood there while the bitch sucked me off like it was her job, almost forgetting it was an actual person with her mouth around my cock.

When she was done, she got to her feet and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She leaned up on her tiptoes and tried to kiss my mouth, hiking up her skirt as she climbed me like a goddamned tree, as if sucking my dick gave her the f**king right to expect me to put my c**k inside her. I had standards.

I shoved her away and removed the condom. I tied it at the end and threw it on the floor at her feet. “Do something with that,” I ordered as I zipped up my pants.

Without another word, or a look in her direction, I left the room and headed back to the dance floor.

I felt light as air, the drugs working through my system. I wondered if I closed my eyes whether I would float to the ceiling. I bet I could fly away and never come back. And that was exactly what I wanted.

To go far, far away.

“Yo, X, have you sold all your shit?” I opened my eyes in annoyance, pissed at whoever was interrupting my temporary moment of insane escapism.

“What the f**k do you want?” I snarled at the scrawny dude who stood before me, practically quaking in his crappy knockoff Dr. Martens. This piece of shit was now firmly on my bad side.

The guy grimaced in apology, and I knew he was wondering what I would do. I felt a perverse sort of pleasure at his wariness. I had a reputation for being temperamental and erratic. I didn’t give a f**k about those pesky things called consequences.