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His smile widened. “If you scream for me, I own you.”
Cocky much, Mister Deitrich?
“Time limit?” I raised both eyebrows.
“I have no limits.” He blazed at me, all darkness and sin and cold rage coiled within.
I didn’t doubt the truth of that statement for a moment.
“That door swings both ways. You’ll be my bitch, and…” I frowned.
I had a damn good idea of what being owned by him might be like, though there were some gaping holes in that caveat. I didn’t want to show weakness by asking.
“You’re wrong, you know,” he said conversationally as if mind-reading were part of his arsenal. “You have no idea what it would be like under me.” The corner of his lips crooked. He released my hair, his touch disappearing from my waist, and suddenly I was the cold one. “Deal?” He raised his head and looked around.
The remaining crowd frozen in a stasis murmured around us, their collective reverie broken as he studied each face, then brought his gaze back to mine.
“Well, Sutcliff? Will you play my game?”
I raised my chin, holding his gaze and had no idea what the fuck I was doing.
“Deal.”
His soft laugh followed me through the campus for the rest of the day.
Chapter Two
Maxom
Black hair with blue streaks swirled around Maddie Sutcliff’s taut frame where she ignored me across the library, as stoic as she had been for the past week. I made it my goal to be where she was as often as physically possible, knowing that the nothingness happening between us when she expected a head-on attack unnerved her.
Earning that little scream from her soft, pink lips would be so sweet, and so easy.
And so fucking rewarding.
Because she’d be on her knees when she gave it to me.
But for now I resorted to petty flirting, tormenting the edges of her psyche because I could. Hell, I even slid into her economics class for the perverse pleasure of twisting her mind around my needs.
She glanced up again, her brow furrowing as she stared at me through thick lashes. Our gazes connected, a flash of mutual need thrashing somewhere in the no-man’s-land between us.
She broke the look—again—her head going down to focus on the page before her. My own work sat untouched, and I wondered if she struggled with the words as much as I did when she was near. She had no idea the depths of my obsession to destroy her.
Maddie Sutcliff thought the first time I saw her was after she fucked my twin in my house—he had his own, for fuck’s sake, but rarely used it, preferring to bunk at mine—when I really had my sights set on her for a little while longer.
Do you remember a hen’s night at a seedy strip club, Maddie?
I sure as hell did. Her in a tight, white sheath dress that covered her neck to wrist, and stopped at her ankles. Her usual boots and white leather jacket slung over her shoulder, her black-and-blue hair flowing free down her back. I stared at her the way my brother ogled the stripper my uncle paid to lap dance for him. Like I wanted nothing more than to take her into the dimly lit hall and fuck her until we both forgot who we were.
She glanced in my direction once, her cheeks pinked as she watched the bikini-clad stripper grind her crotch onto my twin’s face. The twin she slept with the next week, ending with her in my kitchen searching for food like she owned the place at an indecent hour while that same brother slept upstairs in the room next to mine.
What does that say about you, Maddie? Did you get off watching him with her, or did you want it to be you?
If she wanted to play the exhibitionist, I’d give her all the chances she could ever beg for.
When she next glanced up at me I stretched my legs beneath the table, wiggling my fingers in her direction before I slid that same hand beneath the table to rub at my crotch as she watched. Her mouth fell open, that same stain rising in her cheeks she had while she watched the stripper do her thing.
Maybe you’re not an exhibitionist, but have some voyeur tendencies instead?
