Jessica's body went rigid. The other men with Lawrence seemed all too familiar with this routine. They got up, one eyeing Jessica, the other leering at Emily.
"I've never been with a nursing mother before," the one staring at Emily said with a greasy grin, rubbing his hands together. "Look how big her breasts are."
"You're pathetic," the other man laughed. "Haven't you ever had milk before?"
"Not since I was a baby," the first man cackled.
"Remember to take pictures," Lawrence said casually. "We don't want to get sued."
"Right," they said in unison.
Jessica shot to her feet, but Lawrence yanked her back down. Her forehead collided with his chin, and he winced, his fingers digging painfully into her jaw. She kicked out at him. He dodged, his face contorting with rage. "Playing hard to get, are we? If you behave, this won't be so bad. But if you fight me, I'll make you scream until you don't even know your own name."
He shoved her back onto the sofa. Scrambling away, Jessica managed to grab her phone. She quickly dialed a number—she didn't even know whose—and gasped, "Help me! I'm at the club with StreamSphere. Call the police!"
Before she could say more, Lawrence snatched the phone from her hand and threw it out the window. "Not so clever now, are you? You want to call the police? Go ahead! You slut. A pretty face like yours has probably been with countless men. Tonight, I'll show you what a real man is."



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