Twist Me

“Life is nothing more than a fucked-up roulette,” she says softly, “where the wheel keeps spinning and the wrong numbers keep coming up. You can cry about it all you want, but the truth of the matter is that this is as close to a winning ticket as it gets.”

gets up and walks toward me, still holding me with his gaze. He walks leisurely. Calmly. He’s completely sure of himself. And

Aristotle is by far the coolest club in the city. But Leah was right—there were others.

I can smell the clean, musky scent of his skin and feel something hard and warm against my stomach.
His erection.

He stands next to me, and I have to remember to breathe.

He will never come for me again.

I know he would kill for me.

I know he would die for me.

“Life is nothing more than a fucked-up roulette,” she says softly, “where the wheel keeps spinning and the wrong numbers keep coming up. You can cry about it all you want, but the truth of the matter is that this is as close to a winning ticket as it gets.”

Just the thought of another man touching you, kissing you, drove me crazy.

The devil does indeed wear a beautiful mask.