He reaches into his cut and pulls out a flask, turning it up to his lips and swallowing hard. “Then let’s make this interesting. An answer or an item of clothing.”
I cock my eyes at him and that devilish smirk spreads across his face, daring me to play along. He passes the flask. I take a sip and hand it back, never breaking eye contact with him. I can spill my ugly secrets or end up naked. “Are you trying to get me out of my clothes?”
“I wouldn’t complain.” I can feel the flush rise up my neck and spread across my face. “I’ll start with something easy. How old are you?”
The laugh that escapes my lips is refreshing. “Legal.”
“That’s not an answer. Next question you evade, something’s coming off.” He takes a swig and passes it back.
“I’m twenty-four.” I tilt the flask to my lips and hand it off, “Your turn.”
“Thirty-Five. Does that bother you?” There’s an uncertainty in his eyes that’s almost as vulnerable as the look in mine.
Maybe the age difference should bother me, but it doesn’t. All I know is that my infatuation with him grows by the minute. Every time he brushes my skin with his hand, every time he closes his lips over mine, a need I’ve never experienced before grows stronger. “Should it?”
“Nope. With age comes skill.” A smirk graces his lips and he shoots me a wink that knocks me off balance. “What name did your momma give you?”
“No fair. That’s two questions!” I throw back, fighting the smirk growing on my lips.
“I didn’t promise to play fair. Drink up and answer the question.”
This time I take a longer drink, pulling the bitter liquid through my lips and swallow hard. He wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t already know the truth. I’m sure Adam told him everything and then some. I wonder how many lies Adam crammed in his head. “Raven James.”
He raises his brow and waves his finger in front of my chest, “Off with the shirt, little bird. Then tell me the truth.”
“I am not taking off my shirt out here.” He’s got to be out of his mind.
“A deal is a deal. You take it off or I’ll do it for you.” He reaches over and tugs at the hem of the black Krymson Destroyers tank top I borrowed from one of the girls at the clubhouse. I raise my arms in the air, daring him. His fingers graze up my sides, melting my insides into a pool of need as he pulls the shirt over my head. His eyes scan over my body, his tongue darting out, wetting his bottom lip. “Now answer or the bra comes next.”
I lean into him, my breast rubbing against his arm and whisper in his ear as if speaking it will summon a shit storm, I’m not ready to handle. “Tessa Jameson.”
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“You tell me... What’s yours? And don’t say Chainz or you’re starting with your pants.”
He considers my threat, teasing me with the rather impressive bulge in his pants. “I could use a little more room in here.” He grabs a hold of his cock, shifting himself, “Jude Scott, but never when I’m wearing this.” He tugs at his cut and I nod my understanding of his rules.
He takes another swig from the flask and hands it over. “Drink up, this next one is important, and I expect an honest answer.”
My heart launches to my throat and my hands tremble around the flask. The question I’ve been dreading having to answer is about to cross his lips. I tip the flask straight up, swallowing my heart back in place with a long guzzle.
“Tell me what I need to know about this asshole and his obsession with you.”
I look away, pulling into myself. “I don’t want to play this game anymore.” I stand, but his hands close around my waist, dragging me onto his lap.
With one hand behind my back, he cradles me. His other hand roams up my side, coaxing a soft moan from my lips. The hard bulge in his pants presses against my ass and my body pulses with an uncontrollable need. He lowers his lips to mine, exploring my mouth with his tongue, demanding my compliance. I give it to him freely, wanting his warm breath on my skin. His hand drifts higher, cupping my breast in his palm. Teasing my nipple through the fabric of my bra until it forms a hard peak. Fire shoots through my body and I moan into him, every part of me begging for his touch. Running my hands through his thick hair, I pull him closer. His fingers trail the length of my stomach and lower onto my thigh. He slips his hand higher under the opening of my shorts. My legs fall open for him, inviting him to inch higher. I ghost my fingernails up his back and around to his chest. Trembling in his arms as he explores my body with his fingers. His fingers trace a circle against my clit, and my desire floods through me.
“You’re so fucking wet. Can you feel how hard you make me?” I nod. He lifts his hips, rubbing his thickness harder against me, using the friction of my body to ease the pressure. I’d reach out and touch him if I wasn’t so spent from the sensations pulsing through me. His finger teases at my opening and I hoist my hips up, desperate to draw him in deeper. Greedy for his touch. When he slips one inside, I throw my head back, letting out a moan that echoes through the canyon below us. He thrusts in deeper and I push up into his hand, chasing the climax that threatens to ruin me. “Come for me, little bird.” He slips another finger in, his thrusts growing harder until I tighten around him. My body shudders, clamping down around his fingers as I lose myself in the bliss of my climax. “That’s my girl. Now tell me the truth and I promise he’ll never get near this sweet pussy again.”
I fall back into his arms, too weak to put up a fight. He withdrawals his hand and shifts me so I’m leaning against his chest. His heart thuds hard against my back, mixing with the rush of my blood pulsing in my ears. I let out a heavy sigh and spill my deepest, darkest secrets to the man that played me so perfectly. I should feel manipulated, but all I feel is exhaustion.
“It was supposed to be a night out with the girls. The same girls, the same club, the same Saturday night every month, no matter how many reasons I have to stay home. So you can imagine my surprise when I spot him watching me. At first, I try to ignore him because it pisses me the fuck off, but as the night goes on his presence becomes an intrusion. There one minute, gone the next. Constantly reappearing out of nowhere as if he were one with the shadows. His eyes growing darker. No man has ever made me feel so violated. The way he does with his eyes. The way they roam over my body sending a cold shudder through me. He doesn’t approach me. He doesn’t utter a word, just watches me dance. I should have left earlier. I should have confronted him.
I catch a glimpse of him again as I say goodbye to my friends and jump into an Uber. I should have never left alone.
I can still feel his eyes on me when I rush up the walk toward my door. His hands are cold and rough as they close around mine, fumbling with the key in the lock. With his hand guiding mine, the key turns and the door pushes open. My voice sticks in my throat as he nudges me through the door, his body flush with mine. The door thuds closed behind us, the lock clicks in my ears. He spins me around and when I come face to face with him, there’s a fire in his eyes that scares me to my core. The rage brewing within him is so dark, I don’t even recognize him anymore. I haven’t in a long time.
His large hand wraps around my neck with little effort. As his grip squeezes harder, my face burns and my body dangling in the air goes numb. I can barely hold my hands up in self-defense let alone fight him off.
