I adjust my position in my chair by the window, exhaling smoke.
One of the graduated seniors is hosting his annual summer party at his parents’ lake house. His last party ever, by the size of it. Like a final hurrah before he goes off and does whatever the fuck he’s planning on accomplishing with his life. Because of that sentiment, it’s chaos downstairs. Everyone is getting riled up by the alcohol, drugs, music. There’s a free flow of all three.
This year, it coincided with my return from the summer intensive hockey camp. A month spent sweating and skating and working my ass off with some of my teammates—only to return to shocking news.
My dad got married on a whim. Almost three weeks ago.
So instead of going home, I’m here. Stewing on the woman who managed to steal my father’s common sense. Because it certainly isn’t love that has him captivated.
Is she a con artist? After his money?
But why did he do it? Does she have something on him? Blackmail? A golden cunt?
I take another hit and stub out my joint on the arm of the chair.
Getting high is a summer luxury. During the school year? Absolutely not. Hockey camp? Nope. The few weeks I’m free, though, I take full advantage. Dad would skin me alive if he knew I was ruining my body with weed. But it relaxes the constant worry in my mind. The part of my brain that never fucking shuts up.
Well, now it’s quiet.
Ish.
The door cracks open, and Finch sticks his head in. “Erik wanted me to round everyone up for his game.”
I raise my eyebrow, unmoving. Finch is a junior—well, fuck, he’s going to be a senior now, just like me—at Crown Point University. He’s one of my teammates. He’s always had potential to be a starter, and after what Coach saw at hockey camp, he might just make it this time.
He’s a good guy. Which is why we don’t hang out much.
Me and good don’t mesh.
“So…?” He shifts on his feet.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, standing and tucking the joint back in my pocket.
Except Finch steps farther into the room, twisting his hands together. “I don’t normally stay once Erik starts rounding everyone up. I’ve heard the stories. Is it… worth it? To stay?”
I focus on him, my lips pressing into a thin line. Erik’s afterparties, his games… there are rumors that float around, but it’s one thing to hear about it and another entirely to live it. To experience the rush.
He creates nightmares and marries them with fantasies, and somehow it works.
“Do whatever the fuck you want, Hudson, but if you do stay, don’t chicken out halfway through.”
No one ever calls him by his first name, and it startles him into moving out of my way. I pull the door open wide, letting light into the dark room. The music is ten times louder in the hall, but I ignore the way the bass vibrates my chest and assaults my eardrums.
Finch follows me down to the basement, where Erik stands amongst a relatively even split of guys and girls. My gaze zeroes in on a girl who I’ve never seen before.
Long dark hair. High cheekbones. Full lips.
Full figure.
Tits. Hips. Ass.
Her gaze slams into mine, and we just stare at each other. My heart beats uncomfortably hard. Insistent.
I move toward her like I’m being reeled in, almost against my will. Until I stop just in front of her.
“Hey, babe.” Amanda flips her hair off her shoulder. She’s a graduated senior, like Erik. “Are you playing?”
I ignore her, staring at the new girl. Taking in more of her appearance. Her tight white shirt, long-sleeved and off-the-shoulder. It’s cropped, exposing a slice of skin. Ripped high-waisted black jean shorts. Boots. Rings and thin necklaces, a watch on her slim wrist.
A sense of style and a pretty face.
“What’s your problem, dude?”
It takes me a second to register the guy who’s slung his arm around her shoulders. Her green eyes bore into mine, and neither of us acknowledge the asshole trying to claim her. I inch closer and reach for her, running my finger along the slice of skin between her shirt and shorts.
Her breath hitches.
I smirk at the reaction, although I’m troubled by my own desire to touch her. I shouldn’t want some random stranger in Erik’s basement. I shouldn’t want anyone.
I’m on hiatus.
“Back the fuck off, dickwad,” the guy growls.
I glance at him. It’s one of the football assholes. We had trouble with the quarterback last semester, and we sent him a nice little message before the end of the year. Maybe this guy wants the same treatment?
My gaze goes from his face right down his body. He’s built, stacked with a lot more muscle than me. A few inches shorter. But none of that is a deterrent if I decide to start a fight.
Which, honestly, wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Some pain might be just the distraction I need…
But then my attention is swinging back to the girl. She’s staring at me with these huge fucking eyes, like she’s never seen someone like me before. And I haven’t even done anything. But suddenly, I want to blow her fucking mind. I want to show her every shadow in my soul, just to get that shocked reaction from her again.
I lean closer to her, ignoring the football dick’s grunt of protest. “What will you give me to make him go away?”
Her breath stalls again. Her eyes are light green, like sea glass. Her tongue flicks out, sweeping across her lower lip, and I fight back a groan. My cock stiffens, immediately on board with the fucked-up thoughts running through my head. The ones that say she’d look stunning on her knees in front of me.
“What do you want?” Her voice… Fuck. It’s throaty and raspy and deep.
I fight my smirk. “Pick me for the game.”
Her eyebrow rises, then smooths back out. The only indication that I’ve surprised her. “Okay,” she agrees.
“Babe,” the guy protests.
I shove his arm off her shoulder. “You heard her.” I slip between them, grinning at him like I’ve lost my fucking mind. And honestly… I probably have. It’s like I didn’t smoke at all, wound tighter than ever. “She picked me.”
The football guy squares up… and just as quickly looks away. He can see that I’m spiraling. Maybe he knows my reputation, and that of the whole hockey team.
Erik claps just as the dick shuffles off and finds another place to stand. I turn back around, my front now almost touching mystery girl’s back. I put my hand on her hip, and her body jolts. I run my thumb along that sliver of skin again, eliciting another reaction.
A shiver.
My cock throbs, and I shift so she can’t feel it stiffen against her ass.
“Tonight’s game is all about our dark desires,” Erik announces. “Guys have already drawn a card. Ladies… it’s your turn.”
He motions to one of the girls beside him, and she reveals a deck of cards. She spreads them faceup, letting us see what we’re going to be picking.
Erik continues, “The higher the card, the more excitement you’re willing to have and the darker your fantasies run.”
“What’s the joker?” a girl calls.
“Anything goes,” Erik replies. “And aces are high.”
My heart pounds harder. The card he made me choose when I entered the room is burning a hole in my pocket. The fingers of my free hand twitch at my side, wanting to pull it and shove it under the mystery girl’s nose. So she knows exactly what to pick.
Erik hasn’t unleashed this version of the game before, not with the joker. With the lack of restrictions. There’s a new restlessness in the air as everyone leans in toward the girl with the cards. Amanda and Paris both choose cards, surrounded by other girls.
The mystery girl in front of me hasn’t so much as shifted, though.
“Having second thoughts?” I whisper in her ear.
She shakes her head, her jaw set. “Hardly.”
“Pick high, sweetheart.” I release her hip.
Automatically, she steps forward. Away from me. The loss of contact is sudden and chilling, and I grit my teeth against that feeling. I watch her like a hawk to see what she’s going to pick. Partly curious, partly insane.
The girl with the cards swivels toward us, and my stomach drops when mystery girl’s fingers drag along the remaining cards. Over the two of hearts, the seven of clubs. Pausing on the ace of hearts… then continuing on.
I bite my tongue.
“Steele,” Amanda says, nudging my arm.
I glance at her. She’s holding her card to her breast and smiling at me. When I look back at my girl, she’s already drawn. And I missed it.
Wait. My girl?
I ignore that slip up and scowl at Amanda. “What did you choose? Let me guess… a four of diamonds?”
She frowns.
Amanda’s one of the dance girls. She’s nice, but she’s very fucking vanilla, which is a damn shame. We had one experience that nearly made my dick limp before I could finish—and that’s saying something. My mind just keeps getting more and more screwed up, wound tighter until I don’t know which way to spin to release the tension.
It’s not that I don’t think she’s pretty. She is. Nice tits, eyes, smile. She checks the boxes of what I should want—so I flirt with her. Or, flirted, until things got awkward. After that, I just avoided her. And hopefully this party will be the last time I have to fucking deal with her.
“Ready?” Erik calls. “Show your cards and find your partner.”
He flips his own card, grinning at the king of spades in his grasp.
My heart skips as I try to find my mystery girl.
Amanda shows me the seven of spades, her scowl lodged in place.
I shrug at her. “Close enough to a four.”
In truth, I don’t even know what the fuck the difference between the four and seven is. My tastes run dark—which is why I picked high. The card is still in my pocket, and I slide my hand in to cup it against my palm.
“What did you choose?” Amanda demands.
I show her my card. Her eyes go wide, and I smirk. She moves away from me, her cheeks flushing.
“Anyone without a partner has to leave or redraw,” Erik calls. He’s got a girl looped under his arm.
Across the room, Paris has paired with Finch. A surprising match. And I’m mildly impressed that he chose to stay, after all.
The football player I scared away from my girl is with a junior with big tits and a short skirt. I peruse the room, glancing at the cards, and stop in front of the mystery girl. She brushes her long dark hair off her shoulder, eyebrow raised.
“Let’s see it,” I murmur.
She shows me her card, a small smile on her lips.
Fuckable lips.
The red joker stares at me.
I show my first true smile, revealing the other joker.
“Anything goes?” Her throat moves when she swallows. “What does that mean to you?”
There’s a beast roaring under my skin to show her exactly how tonight is going to go. My dick is hard, throbbing against my zipper, in anticipation of what we’re about to do.
“I’m going to take what I need from you,” I tell her in a low voice. “And then we’ll focus on the twisted shit you crave.”
Her nod comes fast, her lips parting.
First… a public claiming.
Because I still feel eyes on her. The football player, pissed he didn’t get her. Some of Erik’s friends, their gazes lingering on her ass. Erik himself, only two cards off from her.
She’s the bombshell in the room. Fresh blood, too, makes her all the more attractive.
Couples have already broken off, but others are lingering. Talking, discussing. Boundaries and all that. The sort of thing healthy relationships thrive on.
I wouldn’t know.
I undo my pants, my fly going down and immediately relieving the pressure. Now all that’s shielding my dick is my boxers, the thin fabric doing little to hide my length.
She eyes my groin, her lower lip working between her teeth. Bite any harder, and she’ll cut it open. She doesn’t make a noise when I force her to her knees and take hold of her hair.
It’s embarrassing how hard I am for her. And how much I want to prove to everyone who wants to look at her that she’s mine.
“Take it out,” I order, my voice dark. “And I’ll make sure no one ever looks at you twice.”
She swallows and nods once. Her silky hair pulls through my fingers, and I fight the urge to tighten my grip.
Her lips part, and her gaze flicks back up to mine. There’s dare a written there.
“Is this all you’ve got?” she whispers.
And then her mouth is on me, and it takes everything in my power not to physically react.
I brace my hand on the wall, leaning forward as she swirls her tongue around me. Tasting me. I push my hips forward, testing her reaction, and her throat closes around my tip.
Fuck.
She gags but keeps going, her hands creeping up to hold my thighs. That damn card is still in her grasp, her palm pressing it into my leg. It’s taunting me, urging me to take whatever the fuck I want from her.
My hold on her head tightens, controlling her pace. Thrusting so deep she chokes again, then withdrawing. Relishing her little gasps of air before it’s cut off again, the way her saliva drips down her lips.
And when her eyes flutter closed, I glance over my shoulder at the remaining people in the room. Erik is watching us—and he’s not the only one.
The girl on my cock, however, seems to have read my mind… or maybe she likes the idea of an audience. Because her movements get more exaggerated, a moan humming through her throat. Her hands move higher. She digs her nails into my ass.
It turns me on, too. I meet Erik’s gaze and sneer at him. His girl stands at his side, her focus on him. Waiting.
“Kind of busy here, asshole,” I grunt, flexing my hips forward and eliciting that lovely choking noise from her again. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“She…” His jaw works.
He’s annoying. And a bastard. But he’s not as sick as me or my friends. Greyson or Knox would’ve enjoyed the show. Probably.
Or maybe I’m the only sick one in that regard.
He shakes his head and turns away.
Doesn’t matter—she’s got a magic mouth. And as soon as I turn my attention back down to her, my grip on her hair tightens. I take over control, fucking her face. I half expect her to tap out, to shove me away, but she doesn’t.
I come in her mouth. My balls tighten, my muscles tremble, and the release is mind-blowing.
“Swallow,” I order.
Her throat works, following my directive automatically. It’s either that or choke, I suppose. When I pull out of her, she sits back on her heels. I let go of her hair and trail my knuckles across her cheek. I wipe the corner of her mouth, then step back farther. I tuck my cock back in my pants like we don’t still have an audience.
Instead, I take the joint out of my pocket and relight it with a flick of my lighter. The flame bursts to life in front of my face, and I inhale the smoke. It sears my lungs but lessens some of that extra weight on my shoulders by the time I exhale.
“Satisfied?” She climbs back to her feet.
Her voice scratches an itch deep inside my brain. I don’t understand it.
In the dim lighting, up close and personal, I get more of her details. Her red lips are puffy. Her messed-up mascara illuminates her eyes.
I smirk at that. Everyone will know what sort of game we play in the dark.
She doesn’t object when I loop my finger in the waistband of her shorts and reel her in. Her chest hits mine, and she steadies herself by gripping my upper arms. Her touch is electric, but I focus on my mission of dissecting her.
She plucks the joint from my hand while I unbutton her jean shorts. She takes a hit, and I run my finger along the lace top of her panties. They’re purple. Cute. Like she wasn’t expecting to get laid tonight. She shudders at the sensation.
“Your hand is cold,” she whispers.
I smirk. “Every part of me is cold, sweetheart. Better get used to that.”
Her lips part when I slip into her panties. She’s smooth, shaved, and the heat between her legs is unbearable. My cock twitches again, waking up for a second round, but I ignore it. I run my fingers through her wet center, over her clit and then farther down, until I am cupping her entirely. The heel of my palm rests against her clit. Two fingers push into her. She’s tight, and her muscles squeeze at me.
She’s going to feel fantastic when I fuck her.
“What was it that woke up your sweet little cunt?” I ask in a low voice. “The people in the room who watched you choke on my dick? Or me ordering you around?”
Besides the barest brush of her chest against mine, and my fingers inside her, we’re not really touching. She’s got her hand on my biceps, her legs spread to let me in. But other than that, she barely even looks at me.
I don’t like that.
“Eyes,” I demand.
Her gaze swings back to me slowly, a pendulum that crashes into my guard with enough force to rattle me. Her eyelids drop, until she’s only looking at me through little slits. Her lips part as I rub her G-spot with my index finger.
I shift my hand, digging the heel of my palm into her clit. While she’s distracted, I pluck the joint and inhale. I hold the smoke in my mouth, then grip the back of her neck and pull her to me. Her lips touch mine, and I blow the smoke into her mouth.
She inhales, trying to stifle her reaction to my fingers. But I can’t help but picture her at my mercy. On her knees again or tied to my bed. Struggling.
The noises she’s making, the way her cunt is clenching around my fingers—suddenly, I don’t want her to come. Our game isn’t over yet.
So I pull out of her entirely, cutting off her pleasure before it has a chance to spiral.
Her eyes pop open—and then her brow lowers.
Even her glare is gorgeous.
I put my face right in front of hers, my hold on the back of her neck strengthening. Anticipating her withdrawal.
“Your dark fantasies,” I remind her. “You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”
Her gaze moves away from me.
Embarrassed.
“Tell me.”
“Force,” she whispers.
Oh?
I take her hand and pull her up the stairs. There are people in the living room and on the second floor. The furniture in the bedrooms above us is thumping. The whole house will smell like sex by morning. We go outside, where we can see the lake. It’s a calm night. Perfect for a midnight romp…
“I need more information, sweetheart,” I say in a low voice, backing her into the railing. I cage her in. “Tell me what you want.”
She swallows and stares at my chest. “I keep having these dreams…”
I wait.
“I want to feel like I’m out of control. Afraid.”
Fuck.
This girl is going to kill me.
I shift and twirl a lock of her dark hair around my finger. “You want me to make you submit?”
She closes her eyes.
And nods.
I’m not going to lie. Her words are Christmas morning and my birthday and winning the fucking national hockey tournament all wrapped up in one. If only I could fulfill her wish to the extreme—but I can’t. The mere fact that she’s told me tonight, and that she already knows the taste of me, ruins it for her.
“I’m going to give you a two-minute head start,” I say softly, still pinching her hair in my fingers. “And then I’m going to hunt you down. You’ll know I’m coming. When I catch you, you fight me. Do your worst. And I suppose you should pick a safe word…”
I pause and wait for her to fill in the blank.
“Fire,” she says.
I draw back and stare down at her again, then take a step away. Her chest is heaving, her hands gripping the railing behind her. She’s gorgeous like this. Anxious, captivated.
She’ll look better when she’s my captive.
“What are you waiting for?” I bark, my voice suddenly loud and cruel. “Run.”
