by Nikki Sloane
SORDID
Nikki Sloane
Text copyright © 2016 by Nikki Sloane
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents
Copyright
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Thank You
The Blindfold Club
About Nikki Sloane
Author’s Note:
I love to read and write books that are sex positive and even a little feminist. However, this book is a departure from not only that, but the light and sweet I typically write.
But I had to get this book out. It wouldn't shut up in my brain, and I put it down on the page so I could move on and get to writing the next book I wanted.
Please be aware this novel contains situations of non-consensual sex which may be triggers, and scenes which may make some readers uncomfortable. I understand this story is not for everyone.
This book is dedicated to anyone with a black or twisted soul, or those who get turned on by something when they feel like they really shouldn't.
Chapter
ONE
You look like a slut. This was the thought repeating in my head.
I tugged at the knee-high white stockings and smoothed down my plaid skirt. It was much too short. The blouse of the sexed-up schoolgirl costume didn’t have buttons to close above my bra. The white shirt gapped and showed cleavage. I felt . . . uncomfortable. Yes, I looked like a slut, but it was also the look I was going for.
Avery, my roommate, smeared on blood red lipstick, and although her gaze was on the mirror, I sensed she was watching me out of the sides of her eyes. She was waiting for me to chicken out.
“You’re going out in that?” Her tone did nothing to disguise her disbelief.
“Yeah.”
Perhaps I looked ridiculous, and perhaps my stomach had done a flip-flop when I looked at myself in the mirror, but I wasn’t bluffing. Avery had been forced into inviting me to the party at her boyfriend’s frat, but I was going. I hadn’t been out to a party in ages, and Halloween was the one night I could reinvent myself.
A reinvention was needed.
I’d spent my whole life driving toward a medical degree, and everything else had been neglected, including a social life. It was my senior year at Randhurst University, and I’d never gotten close enough with another girl to find a roommate. Avery and I had been paired together randomly by a student housing computer.
She wasn’t happy with the result. The spoiled sophomore was my opposite—she didn’t study. She didn’t care about her grades, her major, or have to worry about scholarship money. The International Bank of Mom and Dad was funding her pointless attempt at a college education, and it was likely she’d wash out by the end of the year. Perhaps even by the end of the semester. She wasn’t focused, and I couldn’t relate at all.
“You look different,” Avery said. “Nice.”
Her compliment threw me off-kilter. “Thanks. And thanks for letting me tag along.”
“It shocked the hell out of me when you said yes. I thought you were a Mormon.”
I blinked, confused. “Mormon?”
“Yeah.” She fluffed her long brown hair. “They don’t celebrate holidays and shit.”
My brain played loud static, my defense mechanism against stupidity. “I think you mean Jehovah’s Witness.” Not once had I mentioned church to her. I wasn’t even religious—unless you considered science a religion.
She continued to preen in the mirror and I was ignored, which was Avery’s typical response. It could be worse, I told myself. She’d never outright been a bitch.
Her phone rang, singing an obnoxious song, but it cut off as she answered it. “Hi, are you downstairs?” Her gaze flicked my direction. “Yeah, Addison’s ready, too. You remember she’s coming.” It wasn’t said like it was a question.
I held down the hem of my skirt as I ducked into the back seat of Brent’s car. He was my age, and hadn’t been dating Avery all that long. The two-door Mustang’s back seat was a joke. I had to position my knees to the side so I could sit, but the car was warm and clean, so I knew not to complain.
It was a short drive to the frat house. It’d be a hike back, but I could walk if needed. Although the campus was small, the city was a college town and relatively safe. Yet nerves fluttered in the pit of my stomach as the car parked behind the huge Tudor-style house adorned with the three Greek letters out front.
I’d never been to a frat party.
Would it be as wild as everyone made them out to be? I followed behind Avery and Brent, realizing now that their costumes matched. Batman and Catwoman. I tried not to stumble over the uneven walkway leading around the house and up to the front door.
Music thumped steadily, and loud conversation could be heard through the open door. I shivered in the October air. On Avery’s suggestion, I’d left my coat back at the dorm. There’d be nowhere to put it, and she’d warned the place would get hot with that many bodies packed inside.
On the front porch, a guy stood and checked IDs. I dug mine out, but Brent shook his head. “You’re good.”
“It’s fine, I’m twenty-one—” I started.
“Nah, Addison, you’re with me, that’s all my boy needs to know.”
I jammed the plastic card back in the tiny pocket of my skirt as a shimmer of disappointment flowed through me. I’d only turned twenty-one in August and hadn’t had many opportunities to use my new license. My birthday had been a sad affair. I’d spent the summer interning at the hospital, and a few of the other orderlies took me out. The evening had been over before ten p.m.
The entryway was dark and packed with people trying to hold conversations over the loud music. Most were in costume and gripped a plastic cup. There were large rooms to the left and the right, a staircase ahead, and a hallway leading to the back of the house, lined with picture frames of past pledge classes.
“Let’s get drinks,” Avery yelled in my ear.
Relief washed through me. I’d expected her to ditch me the second we were inside. I wouldn’t cling to her, but I was grateful not to be abandoned immediately. Brent led the way as we threaded through the crowd, down the hallway and into a kitchen where lines had formed at the two kegs.
I took my place
, standing behind a guy dressed as an astronaut. He turned, gave me a glance, then his head swiveled forward with disinterest. It was a reaction I was used to. I wasn’t homely, but I was incredibly average. Nothing . . . special. Normally, my dull brown hair hung listlessly to brush my shoulders, although tonight I had the front section pulled up into two high ponytails to complete my naughty schoolgirl look. My skin was pale. I’d forgone sports in high school because I wasn’t coordinated, or fast, and that way I could focus on my advanced placement classes. My days were spent at a desk, rather than outside in the sun.
The line crept forward. The astronaut stepped up to the keg, but abruptly shifted to the side, slipping a hand behind my back. “Ladies first.”
I went rigid under this stranger’s hand. He gave me a friendly smile, but I got the feeling he expected me to be impressed. Like this was a grand, chivalrous gesture. A sacrifice, and not just polite courtesy. My gaze went from the astronaut to the empty red Solo cup extended out to me.
“Thanks,” I said to both the astronaut and the guy handing me the—
It was him.
My breath stalled in my lungs. He wore dark navy pants, a matching dress shirt, and a gold badge clipped to his chest. At his waist was a supply belt with a holster. The gun looked terrifyingly real, but it was also covered with the holster, and could just be part of the costume.
Or maybe Luka was a cop now. I hadn’t seen him in two years. Although he had the perfect serious demeanor to match the uniform, I doubted my TA from Calculus 220 had gone into law enforcement. My gut said no, and a closer look at the badge proved it was fake.
I gripped the plastic cup so fiercely, it crinkled, drawing his focus.
His dark gaze swept over me and sharpened, cutting me bare. I felt naked under his assessing eyes. There was a flicker of recognition in him, which was surprising. We’d never spoken. I didn’t know him and he didn’t know me, but I’d spent countless hours of class studying him when it should have been the whiteboard.
Like me, Luka rarely smiled. He’d sat in the corner at the front of the room and faced the class while the professor demonstrated equations. Luka’s head of espresso brown hair was always tipped downward, grading our worksheets. Every once in a while, he’d cock an eyebrow and circle aggressively with his red pen, as if the student’s wrong answer had offended him.
I’d grown to love watching his subtle cues, so much so, I’d considered purposefully answering one of the questions wrong, just to get a rise. Yet, I wouldn’t do a thing to screw up my scholarships. Luka’s fun, displeased reaction would last a moment, but a bad grade could destroy everything.
With heels on tonight, I didn’t have to tilt my head up as much to meet his gaze. His eyes were the color of onyx and framed with long, thick lashes. His nose was straight, his jaw defined. Tonight he was clean shaven with his hair styled casually. Two years ago he’d looked like an average grad student—well, better. Most looked like they’d just rolled out of bed and barely made it to class, but he’d seemed more pulled together. Always a coffee cup in hand for the early class.
So this version of Luka was downright intimidating. He’d been cute before, but this man was handsome. In fact, he was so attractive, my knees softened and my stomach trembled. He’d changed so much in the last two years. Perhaps it was the implied violence of the gun at his hip, but he seemed . . . dangerous now. It was a rush just to look at him.
The hand in the small of my back moved, causing me to jolt.
“He can’t fill up your cup if you don’t hold it out, sweetheart,” the astronaut said.
Of course. I’d been standing frozen beside the keg, clutching the plastic cup tight to my stomach. It wasn’t much of an invitation to pour me a drink, was it? I tried not to bristle at the sweetheart comment, and also not to stare at the man before me who had one hand on the tap.
Luka’s gaze dropped down as I held out the cup and he filled it. His expression was total indifference.
“That’s good, thanks,” I said.
He rewarded me with a quirk of his eyebrow. I watched as it lifted into a perfect arrow, just like the mathematical symbol for a logical conjunction. How ridiculous was it I’d waited two years for this exact response? My knees grew weaker.
“You waited in line for a sip of beer?” The astronaut laughed and turned his focus to Luka. “Fill her up.”
“No, thank you.” I pulled my cup away. “I’m not much of a beer drinker.”
“You want something different?” The astronaut said. It was unavoidable that my gaze connected with Luka’s. Yes, I thought. I’d like something different than the stranger at my side who still had his hand on my waist like he’d laid his claim. I wouldn’t mind something more like the quiet man before me. I shifted my weight to my opposite foot, easing myself away from the hand.
“They’ve got blackjack shots in the game room.” Luka’s voice was so deep it was startling, and froze me in place.
I tried to sound confident and unaffected. “What kind of alcohol is Blackjack?”
“No,” Luka said. “They’re playing blackjack. You do a shot of tequila if you lose.”
“Oh?” It came out sounded eager, even when I didn’t mean for it to.
He cocked his head to the side, as if noticing something interesting about me, although I couldn’t fathom what. “You know how to play?”
I pressed my lips together. “I do.”
“I got too fucked up on tequila last week,” the astronaut interrupted. “If I smell it, I’ll hurl.”
A beast of a guy appeared beside Luka, grunted a thanks, and instantly Luka handed over the tap, abandoning his job of dispensing beer. It left the astronaut, Luka, and me standing awkwardly in a circle. His black-eyed gaze swept over me once more. “I’m heading that way, Addison. You want to play?”
Oh my God. He knew my name? My throat closed up and I dry-swallowed. The question rang in my head. You want to play? Since I couldn’t find words, I nodded quickly.
He jerked his head toward the doorway. “Come on.”
I didn’t even look back at the astronaut as I followed Luka. I watched his broad back while we wormed through the crowd into the darkened hallway where both the noise and the music grew louder. It was hot and humid from the bodies packed in the house, and the air in the game room was thick.
House parties were more intimate than the bars. You had to lean close and shout your conversations in the other person’s ear to be heard over the pulsing, frenetic beats. It drew Luka up beside me and his lips hovered beside my neck.
“It’s Addison, right?” he shouted. “Your name?”
He smelled like woodsy heaven as I leaned forward. “Yeah. You’re Luka?”
I pulled back just in time to see the pleased look flash in his eyes. It only lasted a second, but it was exciting. He nodded as we continued toward the back of the room. When there wasn’t a party going on, I assumed the couches that lined the walls were probably staggered in the room. The ping pong table in the corner was in use for beer pong, and opposite it was a green felt-covered poker table.
Luka didn’t seem like the type to belong to a fraternity, but then again, what did I know? He’d always been aloof during class. Isolated from anyone else. Perhaps it was why I’d found him so attractive. We seemed a lot alike.
There was a deck of cards at the table, and beside it, two bottles of cheap tequila with pourers capped in. A small crowd watched the guys playing a round, and when it was over, the loser picked up the bottle and poured a stream of tequila into his open mouth.
Well, I thought, at least that’s sanitary.
“I need to watch for a minute,” I said, when Luka motioned toward the table. The corner of his mouth curled upward. Was that a smile? It vanished instantly.
I loved card games in all of their forms. I’d spent many nights volunteering at the emergency room hospital, and played with the other orderlies and nurses during the quiet times. We’d gambled for money or snacks from the vending mach
ine, and usually I cleaned up. Blackjack was my favorite. I’d learned from the internet how to count cards so I knew when my hand would be most favorable.
After a few more rounds, the two guys at the table cleared out and a new pair moved in. Luka’s gaze drifted to me, but I took a sip of my beer to stall. I still didn’t have a good read. I’d assigned a point value to each card I’d seen and kept the total running in my head.
“You keep drinking that,” Luka’s voice invaded my ear, “and you won’t have anything to chase your shots with.”
Tonight I was determined to be my opposite. By God, Addison, you’re going to attempt to flirt. I peeled my lips back into a confident and unfamiliar smile. “Who says I’m going to lose?”
There was no change in Luka’s expression, and yet the air seemed to shift around us. It closed in.
“You’re right.” His hand curled gently around my elbow and urged me forward. “You can’t lose if we don’t play.”
We. I tripped over the word in my head. His hand was warm against my bare skin, and the hairs on my arm lifted in response to his touch. It wasn’t cold in the humid game room, but I had to fight to hold back the shiver.
I’d never gotten flustered when it came to boys, but Luka wasn’t a boy. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties, and his eyes . . . he seemed older. I wasn’t surprised at my body’s reaction, though. I certainly hadn’t forgotten him in the last two years; in fact, I’d fantasized about him. I’d also compared the guys I dated to the fictitious Luka I’d created in my head, and always found them lacking.
The real-life Luka wouldn’t be anything like the one I’d crafted, I was sure. The man with a hand on me was probably like every other guy. Too focused on sex. Average intelligence. Boring. I hoped I was wrong.
Luka pulled out the chair for me and I sat, and in my head I issued a sigh when he abandoned his hold and moved to the other side of the table. Had my sigh been audible? His dark eyes hinted at a smirk as he lowered to sit across from me.
