Page 33 of Ruthless Game

I spat in her mouth instead.

“Swallow it,” I said, voice gruff to disguise the frog in my throat.

Staring at me with anger and grief in her eyes, she swallowed. As she did, her body jerked—the pain and degradation had turned her on again. I hated it and exulted in it at the same time, because if I couldn’t do anything else, at least I could make her feel something. Anything.

“Don’t you fucking come,” I said. And then, because I couldn’t help myself, I pressed one hard kiss to her closed mouth. It was a claim, not a courtship, but then there was nothing sweet about what we were doing here.

On that thought, I unzipped my jeans. My cock needed relief, and I wanted to defile the goddess underneath me until she lost all her power.

I jerked my cock one, two, three times. On the fourth, I came with a groan, painting her stomach and breasts with my cum.

“Fuck,” I sighed. “You might be a bitch now, but that pussy was worth the wait.”

“Asshole,” she said, voice broken, as the rain washed away the stain I’d left on her skin.

I hated the rain in that moment, hated that it had rinsed off my stamp on her.

Forcing myself not to apologize, I fisted my hands so I didn’t grab her and pull her bare body into my arms. I couldn’t let myself care for her physically because I’d start caring again, and she’d already destroyed me once. I wasn’t ever going through that again.

“You might want to put your clothes on,” I said as casually as possible. “Rain’s supposed to get worse. I’ll text you when I want you again.”

“Well, that’s convenient … for you.” Her voice was hard.

There was nothing convenient about the way I felt about her.

Forcing myself to turn away, I fought my body, step by step, everything in me wanting to go back to her, everything knowing I couldn’t. I walked slowly, pretending I wasn’t waiting for her to dress in her wet clothes and make her way back up the trail safely, pretending to ignore her when we reached the entrance. But I followed her home in my car, waiting in the dark to make sure she got inside the house safely before I drove away.

And as I drove, one thought plagued me.

Earlier, when she wouldn’t kiss me, had her cheek been wet from the rain?

Or had she been crying?

And why the hell did I care?

11

Emma

(Then)

“Hey.”

I jumped, slamming my locker closed—almost on our new houseguest’s hand. David—Max, I reminded myself. He wanted me to call him Max—caught it easily, easing it shut. He grinned down at me. He was so tall. I was short, had always been short, and according to my doctor, would always be short, so everyone was tall compared to me, but David—Max—was just tall.

And gorgeous. Brown hair, blue eyes, chiseled cheekbones, and a small, endearing, earnest grin.

It had been painful, trying not to gawk at him during meals or just hanging out at the house. Fortunately, he wasn’t around much. The team had him training and practicing almost every hour of the day he wasn’t in school with us. I resented his coaches for it, because even if he was too pretty to look at, he was nice to be around. Easy. Quiet, but not in the way I was—like if I didn’t keep an eye on everyone, I’d do something wrong, and it would all come crashing down. According to the therapist my parents made me see, it was a “trauma response” to the abuse the nuns had subjected me to, and the abandonment I’d suffered early on. But I never felt like I had to watch myself around Max. He always made me feel accepted. Safe. Well, mostly safe. When he was close, even just watching TV with his arm slung over the back of the couch, my stomach bubbled and tumbled and I felt tingly and anxious, but not in a bad way. In a, something big could happen if he would only move his arm slightly higher on the couch and brushed my back and⁠—

“Hey,” Max said again, more quietly this time. It pulled me into the present, and I tilted my head back. His grin had softened into a concerned smile.

“Everything okay?”

He smelled so good. Why did he smell so good?! Like the salt of the ocean, and something garden-y. Sage? I tried not to sniff him. Failed.

Oh god. Had he noticed? My face was on fire.

“I’m fine. Good. I swear,” I said.