No Love

Chapter 5

Trey's full lips twisted into a mesmerizing smile as he offered to buy you a drink. "I'm good, thank you." You replied, as you locked your eyes on him and replayed the moments that just occurred in your head.

So, he was just going to feel up on his best friend's girl and act as if nothing happened?

"What was that all about?" You questioned, carefully eyeing him as he sat next to you.

You held your drink to your chest.

Trey was on some other type of shit right now, and you weren't trying to fuck around and get drugged. You had to make sure that you didn't allow yourself to let your guard down- no matter how charming he was.

"What was what all about?"

He inquired, raising his eyebrows as he smirked.

You huffed, lifting yourself off of your chair. "I don't have the time or the patience for this, Trey. Have a nice night." You heard him suck his teeth as you stepped away.

"(Your name), wait." He murmured, gently tugging you back by your arm.

He placed his hand against your lower back, and used his other one to guide your fingers onto his shoulder. Trey ran his velvety eyes over your features. Tilting his head to the side, he gazed at you, sliding his tongue over his bottom lip, before softly biting into it. Then, he leaned in towards you, pressing his lips to your ear. "Forget about him," he whispered, lowering his head so that he could leave a kiss on your collarbone. Your body shivered, while you fluttered your eyelashes, slowly closing them. You could listen to his tender, relaxing voice all day. "August? He runs around this city fucking every woman that he sees." Trey pulled your body closer to his. You bit your lip as you drowned in his warmth and cologne. "But I wouldn't treat you like that.. I would give you the affection you deserve."

You could feel his fingers sliding down your dress strap.

"Let's take this somewhere else."

He purred, releasing you from his grasp, as he took your quivering hand. You opened your eyes, and jerked away from him. There was August, standing in the corner of the club, hands clamped into a fist, inspecting the both of you.