The men around them grew rowdier, their catcalls and whistles piercing the air. One reached out and tweaked her nipple through the flimsy top, eliciting a squeak of surprise from her lips. The fabric was soaked now, the outline of her hardened peak clearly visible. Jax leaned in closer, his beer-soaked breath hot against her ear. "You like that, don't you?" he whispered, his teeth grazing her lobe. "You like being our little plaything."

Her cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. She tried to push his hand away, but it was like fighting a tide of need. The room swam before her eyes, the strobe lights playing havoc with her vision. The smell of lust and sweat was intoxicating, and she could feel her body betraying her, growing wetter and more receptive to their touch. "N-no," she stammered, the protest weak, almost non-existent.