I’m the heart of almost every party that’s thrown on campus. My name is the one people use to invite everyone over.
That’s what Owen did tonight.
He turned his parents’ house into a club and even invited a trendy DJ that he paid a small fortune for.
That’s the thing about Blackwood. If you have money, you’re compelled to show it so you’re considered part of the IT crowd.
It’s common in our circle. My own grandmother tells me to throw parties just so she can brag about me in front of her friends. Her usual speech would be something along the lines of:
“Sebastian’s grades are so promising. His are even better than Brian’s when he was in school.”
“Football? Oh, that’s just a hobby he’ll quit once he’s out in the world. Sebastian…tell them how you got an A by just contradicting your professor.”
A story Grandma likes to retell over and over because, in her mind, it’s signed and sealed that I have the political genes that make a Weaver out of me.
So while everyone expects me to like parties, I loathe them.
The only reason I show up is to make an appearance before I disappear into a corner where no one can find me. Then my dark, twisted thoughts attack me and I usually force myself to participate in the mindless fun.
Not tonight, though.
Tonight, my blood is boiling and my fists are clenched around my phone as I search the crowd.
For her.
My toy.
I planned to make her run for it today. It’s been a week since I last chased her, even though she’s dropped hints in each of our conversations. She was asking me without words why I haven’t grabbed her and held her down.
Why I haven’t unleashed the beast on the prey.
She’s a masochist, my Naomi. Only a few days without our twisted game and she came out of her shell to implore about it.
I brushed off her subtle advances and pretended to be clueless, when, in fact, I’ve been plotting for tonight.
It’s not fun when the prey knows she’s going to be chased. Since I sensed that she started to expect it, I had to change gears.
I kept her on her toes all week long, barely touching her beyond a kiss or a dirty fingering as she watched her true crime shows while her mom was in the kitchen.
I didn’t always let her finish either.
She called me names and cursed me in both English and Japanese while I merely smirked.
I loved having her on the edge and seeing her flinch every time I got near. I loved her gasps when my fingers plunged inside her and the sound of her muffled moans as she tried her hardest not to orgasm.
But what I loved the most is the anticipation that’s been building inside her to the point of overflowing.
It took so much edging to reach that level of torture. I was even tormented in the process, giving myself blue balls. I resorted to masturbating violently, imagining Naomi’s cunt strangling me as I held her down. I fantasized about fisting her dark strands around my fingers, sucking on her dusty pink nipples, and clamping my hands on her hips as I fucked her against the ground.
I masturbated to the image of her sprawled out, fighting me as I ravished her tits until she sobbed and her cunt wept for me.
Or the image of her wide, dark eyes as she stared at me while gasping for her orgasm.
Or the image of her clawing and squirming beneath me as her cunt strangled my dick.
But that could only last for so long.
Tonight was supposed to belong to the beast and the toy. But I didn’t count on her coming to Owen’s party. Not when she’s adamant about destroying every form of her social life.
It wasn’t until I saw the selfie Lucy posted on social media that I nearly lost it.
I almost lose it again when I spot her in the crowd.
Naomi is wearing a red dress with a completely bare back. The material in the front hardly covers her tits and is bound at her stomach with a golden ring that reveals her belly button.
She looks hot and fucking sinful and I want to rip that dress off her and fuck her with it bunched in her mouth.
But those aren’t the only thoughts running rampant in my head. My gaze is zeroed in on every bastard who looks in her direction or licks their lips as they pass her by.
I inhale a deep breath.
I’m not the type who lets their emotions get the better of them, not since I was trained to be cool-headed and never show my intentions in public.
Being an open book is a sure way to become a target. And I was only ever meant to be a predator.
So why the fuck am I fantasizing about pounding every last fucker to the ground?
Owen, Josh, Prescott, and a few others from the football team and the cheering squad surround her like sharks in infested water.
There’s Lucy and Reina as well, but I’m blind to them. All I can see are dicks that need to be cut off for looking at my girl while she’s dressed like that.
My girl.
I pause at that thought.
Since when did Naomi become my girl?
All this time, all I’ve ever thought about was the game we played and the jackpot I hit for finding someone compatible with my darkest side. I never considered it anything beyond that.
That’s a lie.
I looked forward to spending time with her, to hearing her talk about stupid serial killers and the latest podcast she’s obsessed with. Even her rock music is growing on me.
Sometimes, when she falls asleep on the couch, I watch how peaceful she is. She has this weird habit of balling herself into a fetal position with her head lying on her hand.
In the span of a few weeks, I’ve learned more about her than I have any other human. Like her love for apple juice, her unhealthy obsession with true crime, her passion for rock music, her justice-oriented side since she volunteers for children’s organizations.
And most of all, how free she looks when she thinks no one is looking or when she sketches.
They say the more you know someone, the less you like them.
It’s the exact opposite for me.
I’m fucking infatuated with this girl. And the twisted sex only plays a small part of it.
Because even without the sex, I feel something is missing if I don’t see her for a few hours.
Maybe infatuated isn’t the right word, because I’m on the verge of becoming a criminal to ward any unwanted attention off her.
I summon my mask as I stride toward the group. I make sure to creep up from Naomi’s back because I like the sound of her small gasp when I startle her. It’s similar to when I thrust my fingers inside her tight cunt.
“Are you sure you won’t change your mind?” I hear Josh ask her when I’m near. “It should’ve been me instead of Captain, anyway.”
Naomi’s brows scrunch in that soft way that makes her tiny features even tinier and her pale complexion paler. She looks like a doll sometimes.
Maybe that’s why I’ve been on a mission to break her.
And keep her.
“What do you mean, it should’ve been you?” she asks, and it takes all I have not to pummel Josh into the ground. Looks like the extra training I’ve made him do lately for payback hasn’t been enough.
I need to up my game.
Josh darts out his tongue—that will be soon cut off—and licks his lips. “It should’ve been me.”
“You say that as if you would’ve ever stood a chance.” I slide to Naomi’s side and subtly wrap an arm around the small of her back. Her pink lips slowly part and I revel in the shiver that takes over her body as I stroke her bare skin with my thumb.
But I don’t look at her for long. If I did, I’d want to rip this thing off her here and now, and then I’d need to put that fucker Josh—and everyone who has a similar thought—in their fucking place.
So I fixate him with my neutral expression that makes people intimidated. “You think you’re a match for me?”
He releases a nervous laugh that no one returns. “Look, Captain. I was just joking around, man.”
“You weren’t. I saw the glint in your eyes when you were licking your lips while you were ogling her cleavage. Do that again and I’ll jam your teeth to the back of your skull, then use them to rip your balls off your dick.”
A collective gasp echoes in the air and then a multitude of clearing throats follow.
They don’t know me as the type who threatens. I didn’t in the past because I didn’t need to. I merely got things done in the background, whether by using forms of manipulation or secret violent incidences that I could get away with.
But I had to put the fucker Josh in his place so he doesn’t look in her direction again.
Naomi stiffens by my side, but she remains silent. It’s Owen who nudges me and whisper-hisses, “What the fuck was that for?”
I ignore him, still directing the full blow of my hostility at Josh. “Is that fucking clear or do I need to start acting on those threats?”
“Go act like a caveman someplace else,” Naomi bites out and elbows me. It’s hard and sudden enough that my hold loosens from behind her.
Her cheeks are red and her stomps are harsh and unmeasured as she shoves through the crowd.
I grab Josh by the collar of his shirt and his eyes widen as I whisper, “Next time you look at what’s mine or run your loose mouth, it will be your last. Watch your fucking back.”
I shove him away and ignore Owen’s protests and Reina’s coy smile as I follow the path Naomi took.
The crowd of people is so large that it’s impossible to find her. Even when it must be hard to run in her skimpy clothes.
I make a whole round before my mind goes in the opposite direction.
I’ll chase her, but not through a crowd.
Retrieving my phone, I type.
Sebastian: Go around the pool area and into the west wing.
The tick that indicates she read my message appears immediately. Her reply is back in a second and I can almost imagine her scathing tone if she were to say the words.
Naomi: You don’t get to treat me like a piece of meat in front of everyone, you fucking asshole.
Sebastian: He was a problem and I had to take care of it.
Naomi: By being a caveman?
Sebastian: If need be.
Naomi: That’s not how it’s supposed to be.
Sebastian: None of this is how it’s supposed to be, baby. Now, stop making this a fucking event and go where I told you. I’m going to tear through your ass until the whole campus hears your screams tonight.
Maybe that will douse the fire that’s been burning inside me since I saw the way that fucker was looking at her.
The dots that indicate she’s typing appear and disappear, then reappear again before her reply comes in.
Naomi: What if I don’t want to?
Sebastian: You clearly do or you would’ve broken the spell.
Naomi: You’re still an asshole.
Sebastian: Stop tempting me with yours. Now, go. Walk toward the west wing and keep going.
I’m heading there myself, my strides long and purposeful as my breathing deepens with the promise of the hunt.
Owen’s parents’ house is big enough that they have a few wings. The loud music slowly fades away as I step out of the populated area and stalk in the shadows of the vast garden. The small light coming from the few bulbs gives me a restricted view of the place.
This part of the property is rarely used by Owen’s family and is only taken advantage of when they need to ride the horses in the stables.
But that’s not why we’re here.
The sound of neighing echoes in the air and soon after, I spot the red fabric of Naomi’s dress.
She’s walking slowly, her gaze shifty as she watches her surroundings. There’s nothing I love more than that look of both fear and excitement etched on her beautiful features. The way her lips part and her eyes widen. Even her nostrils flare the slightest bit, but it’s not visible in the semi-darkness.
The horses neigh again and Naomi flinches, slapping a hand to her chest.
My dick grows rock fucking hard as I stalk in a parallel line to her, remaining in the shadow of the stables so she doesn’t see me.
It’ll be fucking worth it when I finally jump her, then tackle her to the ground and take her like the caveman she described me to be.
The light of her phone casts a glow on her face as she types with stiff fingers, her gaze shifting at the slightest sounds.
Soon after, my phone vibrates.
Naomi: And then what?
Sebastian: And then you run.
