Page 57 of The Killer Card

Rowan’s nose wrinkles in time with Cristian. “Aye Dios…. You like that she’s mean to you, don’t you?”

I sigh like only a man desperately in love for four fucking years can. “Yeah, I really fucking do.”

Cristian gags.

“Okay, wait,” Elias holds up his hands. “Does she know you’re in love with her?” I shrug, bobble my head. “So, what’s going on? You slept together for how many years and…. Nothing? Why aren’t you together?”

Because I begged her to stay with me and she left anyway. Because I offered her my help a dozen times and she kept insisting she was fine. Because I couldn’t continue watching her fall victim to the same sickness that nearly killed me when I was exactly her age. Different substance, same illness. I can handle a lot, I could have handled pulling her out of it.

I couldn’t handle enabling her.

The guilt was eating me alive. Every drink I mixed, every glass of wine I poured. Every time I watched her pick up a glass and had to fight the urge to rip it from her fingers—

“Wrong time, I guess…” I mutter, because I can’t tell him. I can’t tell any of them. Naomi’s issues with alcohol are for her to admit on her own. “She didn’t love me back. She left,” I remind them, neither of which is a lie. “We just didn’t see things the same way.”

The pity in my friends’ eyes makes me want to crawl under the fucking table and die like the little worm I am.

“It’s no big deal, really.” I shrug as if my heart hasn’t been in literal pieces for the last four fucking years. Picking up my beer, I take several long swallows that do not at all make me look less like a broken man.

Even Cristian watches me with a hint of pity having picked up on what Naomi and I were putting down apparently not as subtly as I thought.

“Stop it. All of you. Now.” I stand, taking my glass and Rowen’s. “I’m getting us another round and then we’re going to go back to celebrating Elias and his marriage! Sí?”

Raising his glass Cristian forces a smile. “Sí!”

Rowan nods in agreement. Only Elias continues to watch me with a hint of concern as I turn away from the high-top. My false smile falters just a little as I lean against the bar, waiting for a bartender to be free. I sweep a hand through my hair, regretting when I look over my shoulder and find Elias muttering to Rowan in serious hushed tones.

It’ll be fine, I tell myself. So long as Naomi doesn’t find out, everything will be totally fine.

I’m not even thinking about how Elias tells Poppy everything. And I’m certainly not thinking- as I take our next round back to the table- about how Elias’ future wife has the restraint of a fucking bull in a China shop when it comes to secrets. Or her friends.

4 Years Ago

Chapter Eighteen

Graham

“Are you going to be a good boy for me, Graham?”

“Jesucristo…” I whisper, breathless as she looms over me, knees planted on either side of my chest. “Sí, mi reina. I’ll be so fucking good for you.” My fingers tighten around her hips. “Por favor, mamí, let me be good for you.”

She runs her fingers deep into my hair as she lifts her hips, scooting forward until her wet heat hovers inches from my face. “So eager, you’re behaving so well now,” she coos. “Make me come and I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”

Honestly, I could just do this forever and die a happy man. Eating Naomi’s pussy is a religious experience, purely existential, and more than once I’ve finished just from feeling her quiver on my tongue.

She surprised me today by showing up at my door with a bottle of vodka already chilled and no panties. Apparently Clara was out with Rowan and Poppy was of course busy with Elias, so I was her next option for her Sunday morning. It’s an honor I take very seriously. Two shots later I had her undressed, riding my fingers. She’d forced me onto the bed and threatened to suffocate me with her pussy if I didn’t stop whispering nasty things in her ear.

I, of course, did not, because I’m a fucking brat and there is only one way I want to die.

“Come on, mamí,” tilt my chin up, trying to draw her in with my tongue. “Take a seat.”

Naomi plants her knees on either side of my head, gripping my hair a little tighter. “I love it when you beg me,” she moans.

I love you, I think only just stopping myself from saying it out loud. That would certainly end this amazing day and likely this entire affair. And I’m not ready for this to end, if I have to keep my feelings bottled inside for the rest of my life I will so long as she continues letting me go bananas on her any chance we get.

I desperately start trying to pull her hips down until a sharp thwack makes me curse. I forgot about the riding crop. That had been a very interesting thing to see her pull out of her purse. Apparently it wasn’t new either, she used to ride show and had the full ensemble- crops included- stashed away in her dad’s garage.

We haven’t officially gone over our hard limits yet- really bad form on our part- but I think the drooling told her enough about my… Inclinations. After all, it’s not like she hasn’t spanked me before, her hand is just not as effective. This crop, however, works very well. Exactly what I need out of her today. I was pacing around my apartment like a rabid racoon before she showed up, a literal goddess here to focus my brain and end my misery.