by Ashley Jade
“I’m sorry,” I croak. My emotions have gone haywire and I don’t know which end is up anymore. He’s controlling every aspect of me. I’m starting to feel like a pet who is trying but failing miserably to please her owner. “I’m so sorry.”
Nerves bunch in my stomach when he spreads me wider. I’ve never felt so vulnerable before.
“Shhh,” he soothes, collecting my wetness on his thumb.
And just like that, my heart feels lighter. I’m basking in his warmth once more.
Until his thumb moves several inches and he presses a pearl to my puckered hole. I squirm, unsure what to make of the sensation. It feels amazing and scary at the same time.
My breathing hitches when he plants a kiss where the pearl is and his other hand comes around to cup my pussy.
Blood whooshes in my ears when he blows on the pearl and kisses me again.
And then he pauses.
I grow hot, my body sensing what he’s about to do next. It’s illicit and dirty and…
A guttural moan rips from my throat when his tongue replaces the pearl and his finger pumps inside my pussy. It’s so unexpected, so enjoyable, my brain scrambles. Unlike his slow torture from before, this is carnal. He’s eating me like the closet is the Sahara Desert and I’m the last drop of water that will ever touch his lips.
He groans, pushing his tongue in farther. God. He’s like a ravenous, filthy caveman with no limits or restrictions. Every part of my body is his for the taking and I love it.
With a snarl, he pinches my clit between two fingers and swirls the tip of his tongue inside my ass, causing little floaty things to form in front of my eyes.
There’s no way I’m going to last another minute with him doing this to me. My legs shake like trees in a hurricane. I can’t hold on. This is too much. It feels too good.
“Cain.” It’s the first and only word to leave my lips before a tremble starts from my toes and transcends, picking up speed along the way, like a boulder rolling downhill.
I’ve had orgasms before, but this one rocks my entire body from the inside out. It’s so extreme it’s almost frightening. It pulls me in fifty different directions, chipping away at my foundation until I finally shatter.
It’s so strong, it knocks the wind out of me. I don’t have the strength to stand on my own, it literally wipes me off my feet.
I go slack against the restraints, but Cain wraps his arm around my waist and holds me steady, like he has for the last four years.
“I love you.” I draw in a shaky breath. “I know that scares you and I know you don’t feel things the same way I do—but I need you to know my feelings for you are real. It’s not a crush, it’s not misplaced affection, and it’s not wrong.”
He stands, but I continue. I need him to know how serious I am.
“Talking to you on the temptation app is the best part of my day,” I whisper as he unties my wrists. “I’ve never been able to tell anyone the things I tell you and I never will.” I grab the bar when my hands are free, remembering what he said about not moving until I had his permission. “I know you’re worried about the election and you don’t think I have what it takes to do this, but I do. I’ll do anything in the world for you, Cain. I love—”
The sound of the door opening and closing cuts me off and I feel like a fool.
My heart twists when my phone vibrates a moment later. I pick it up with shaky fingers, petrified of what it will say.
Devil: Meet me on the dancefloor in five minutes.
And just like that, the organ in my chest takes flight. Cain was right…everything I wanted was here all along. All I had to do was reach out and take it.
Chapter 18
Cain
Past…
“There’s a fortune teller over there,” Julia squeals as we enter the school gymnasium for the spring fling. “Can we?”
It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes. “Sure.”
She reaches for my hand. “We’re gonna have so much fun tonight.”
Considering it’s our third date in two weeks and the only thing that’s been in her mouth are those half chewed pens of hers…I doubt it.
Plastering a smile on my face, I take her hand and walk over.
My smile falls when the fortune teller takes off her masquerade mask.
“Hi, Mrs. Miller.”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “Hi, guys. Are you kids having fun?”
“We just got here,” Julia answers, gesturing to the masquerade mask they handed her at the door. “I was hoping you could give me a reading.”
“Sure. Both of you, or—”
“Just her,” I say tersely. “I don’t believe in this crap. There’s no way a simple card can predict the future.”
Julia frowns. “Yeah, you’re right. This is stupid—”
“My grandmother used to say tarot cards don’t predict your future, they simply hold up a mirror to your subconscious.”
Julia’s mouth drops open. “Your grandmother was a fortune teller too?”
I look up at the ceiling. “Mrs. Miller isn’t a fortune teller, Julia. She’s just a teacher chaperoning a dance.”
She also happens to give one hell of a blow job.
Mrs. Miller points to her cards. “Actually, these were my grandmother’s cards. She used to do this for a living.”
“What a noble profession.”
Mrs. Miller turns to Julia. “Don’t let this negative nelly talk you out of it, it can be very enlightening.”
Julia bites her lip, her stare ping-ponging between us. “I don’t know.”
“Do it.” I shrug. “I think it’s bullshit, but it’s obvious you want to. Therefore, you should.”
Her eyes gleam. “Okay. Do I have to do anything?”
Mrs. Miller hands her the deck of cards. “Shuffle these and concentrate on what you’d like the universe to tell you.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot my brother talking with his friends. Or rather, they’re all kissing his ass and congratulating him for the millionth time on getting a full ride to Harvard.
Jealousy snakes up my spine. I turned in my application two weeks before he did, and I still haven’t heard back.
I wasn’t worried until a few days ago when my friends on the debate team mentioned they all heard from their first and second choice schools.
Unlike them, I have no second choice. Harvard is it. It’s where my father and all his friends went.
I’ll never be able to live it down if my brother gets accepted, and I don’t.
“Oh my God, that was so awesome,” Julia screeches beside me, bringing me out of my thoughts. “I got the three of pentacles for my future and Mrs. Miller says that’s a sign of great things ahead.” She claps her hands. “She’s right because I got my acceptance letter from Dartmouth today. It was my first choice.”
My hands clench at my sides. The girl who ingests the ink from her pens several times a week got accepted to her first college of choice and I didn’t.
I glance at my brother again and our eyes lock. I think he’s about to call me over, but he nudges one of his friends who looks at me and winces.
Right before they start laughing their asses off. Assholes.
“I want a reading.”
If Julia the pen whisperer’s future is bright, then mine should be the motherfucking sun on steroids.
Mrs. Miller smiles. “Okay, sure.”
Just like with Julia, she hands me the cards and tells me to concentrate while I shuffle them.
I give them back to her when I’m finished, and she turns over three of them. “These cards represent your past, present, and future.” She gestures to the first card. “Your past is the king of swords. It represents a very forceful and opinionated man in your life. An authority figure who made you who you are today.” Her brows knit together. “You learned to be responsible at a very early age and you take the lessons he instilled seriously.”
Sounds about right. “Great. What’s my future?�
��
As usual, it’s my primary concern.
“Let me read your present first.”
When she turns over the second card, Julia yelps, latching onto my arm for dear life. “No. Cain can’t die.”
Several heads turn to look at us.
I don’t show it, but the ominous death card is a little unnerving to see.
“Relax. The death card doesn’t mean Cain’s going to die.” She looks at me. “But it does mean you’re going through a deep transformation and you’re currently at a crossroads. But the thing about death is, just like the inevitable kind, it’s impossible to fight. The only thing you can do is let go and allow the changes to happen.”
I raise a brow. “What changes?”
She points to the final card. “The future will give you more insight.”
“Doubtful,” I mutter. “Considering this reading hasn’t been all that insightful to begin with.”
“Oh,” Julia says when Mrs. Miller turns over the final card. “It’s…”
“The Devil,” Mrs. Miller finishes for her.
Julia bends down for a closer look and blushes. “Um…are they—”
“Naked and bound?” Mrs. Miller nods. “Yup. The Devil is all about bondage.” She clears her throat. “Metaphorically speaking of course.” Her expression turns serious and she looks at me. “It’s also a huge warning. When this card shows up in your future, it’s cautioning you that something will go horribly wrong if you continue down the current path you’re on.” She starts ticking things off with her fingers. “Obsession, control, addiction, manipulation, temptation to evil…you’re a slave to all of them.”
“Nice cards,” Damien interjects, walking out from behind the fortune teller booth. “Want to do me next?”
This time it’s Mrs. Miller who blushes.
“Speak of the devil,” I mutter, not surprised to see him at all.
“Hey, Julia. You’re looking lovely as usual.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Well, minus that ink spot on your dress.” He leans in. “It’s right—”
I smack the hand that’s headed for her chest away. “Leave her alone, asshole.”
Julia looks down at her shoes. “Can we go dance now, Cain?”
“Sure.” I start to turn, but something hits my shoulder.
“Don’t forget your mask,” Damien taunts. “It is a masquerade party, after all.”
Glaring at him, I bend down to pick up the mask. “Why are you here? I don’t recall ever seeing you attend one of these.”
Licking his lips, he puts on his own black mask. “What can I say? I’m all about new experiences.” He jerks his chin toward the dance floor. “You guys have fun.” Those creepy blue eyes land on me. “I’ll just stand here and watch.”
My ears get hot and I’m pretty sure they’re about as red as the ink stain on Julia’s dress.
I should have known Damien wasn’t done with me yet.
Grabbing Julia’s hand, I lead her out to the dance floor.
I feel Damien’s eyes on me the entire time.
“Hi, Cain.”
I inwardly groan at the sound of Katrina’s voice. I can’t even take a piss without her following me.
If I thought Damien was being a stalker, it has nothing on Katrina.
Monday, she called to say she was dropping off a box of my stuff.
Tuesday, she called to say she forgot to put a sweatshirt in the box and she’d meet me at my locker after school.
When I told her to keep it, she said she’d leave it on my porch instead.
Wednesday, she called to tell me her cat missed me.
And yesterday…she called to say she found a pencil of mine.
If she keeps it up—the next time she calls it will be to tell me she got served with a restraining order.
“Hi and goodbye.” I go to walk past her, but she presses her hand to my chest.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ve said that about a hundred times since we broke up.”
“Why are you being so mean to me?” Her eyes narrow. “Is it because you’re dating Julia now?”
“I don’t even know how to answer that.”
“You don’t have to. Just tell her it’s over and we can pick up where we left off.”
“With you screwing someone else behind my back? Nah, I’m good.”
I try to leave again, but she stands in front of me. “I never should have cheated on you.”
“And I never should have eaten four-day-old pizza last week. Shit happens, move on.” I start walking toward the gymnasium where Julia’s waiting for me. “I have.”
Julia is the one thing in my life as of late that my father approves of and I’m not letting go of her. Not until I get my acceptance letter from Harvard and tell my brother and everyone else who doesn’t believe in me to suck it.
“Ouch,” Damien says when I pass him. “That was harsh.” His voice lowers. “What do you say we take her out to the shed, bend her over, and teach her a lesson?”
I ignore the tightening in my groin. “Fuck off.”
“I’m gonna go to the little girls’ room. Can you grab me some punch?”
I’m already halfway to the table. “Got it.”
I’m starting to wish I had a few pens to shove in her mouth so she’d shut the fuck up. How one single person can be so infuriatingly annoying is beyond me.
“Trouble in paradise?”
It’s so bad I don’t mind talking to Damien. Then again, it’s not like I have much of a choice. He’s one of the only few people still here.
I set two cups on the table. “She wants to stay until the end to help clean up…and then go for ice cream after.”
“Is ice cream code for blow job?”
“I wish.” I wince. “On second thought, I take that back.”
Damien smirks. “Not that brave, huh?”
I pick up the ladle. “Not that desperate.”
“Let me help you out.” He opens his jacket and takes out a bottle. “It’s only vodka, but it will take the edge off.”
Before I can object, he pours some in the cups.
“I’m driving.”
He shrugs, typing a message on his phone. “So give them both to her.”
Not a bad idea. Maybe now she’ll be quiet.
Leaning against the table, I study him. “Not to be a dick, but why are you here? You didn’t bring a date. And the only people I’ve seen you talk to tonight are me and Mrs. Miller.”
He takes a sip of the drink in his hand. “Been watching me, have you?”
“No.” I bring one of the cups to my lips. “And even if that was the case, you’re one to talk.”
His lips twitch. “Well, unlike you I’m not a hypocrite who runs from something that intrigues him.” He tucks his phone in his back pocket. “And according to the very extensive reading I got from Kristy tonight, I can be very persistent when I want something.”
I roll my eyes. “Please don’t tell me you believe in that crap.”
“I don’t know.” He looks across the room. “She’s into it.”
I follow his gaze to the fortune booth where Mrs. Miller’s packing up shop. “So, what…is she your girlfriend or something?”
The corners of his eyes crinkle. “Or something.” He places his cup on the table. “I don’t do girlfriends. But she is my favorite.”
“I can tell.”
When he raises an eyebrow I mumble, “The texts.”
“What can I say?” His lips curve into a smirk. “I like things I shouldn’t. The more taboo, the better.”
“Do you ever get nervous?” I take another swig of my drink. “You know, about her husband finding out.”
“No. That’s her shit, not mine.”
Fair enough. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Julia enter the gymnasium. “My date’s back.”
He salutes me. “Only thirty minutes left.”
“Thank God.”
I start to leave, but he taps my shoulder. “You n
ever asked me what my plans are after the dance.”
I blink. “What are your plans after the dance?”
He crooks a finger. When I lean in, he whispers, “I’m going to tie Mrs. Miller to my bedpost and cram my dick down her throat.” His lips ghost over my ear. “And then I’m going to fuck her so hard she squirts all over my two-thousand-dollar sheets.”
My balls tingle and I hate him for telling me this. “Good for you, man.”
“You’re welcome to join us. We can double team her. I take the back, you take the front.” He jerks his chin toward Julia. “Or you can eat ice cream and pens with pica girl.” His gaze drifts to Mrs. Miller who’s almost done packing. “I’m leaving in ten.”
My palms grow damp. The fact that I’m already thinking of ways to ditch Julia speaks volumes. But I can’t. It’s bad enough I jerk off several times a day while reliving what happened in that classroom. If I fall down this rabbit hole, there’s no coming back. I can kiss my future goodbye.
“Pass. Thanks for the offer though.”
“That’s too bad.” He looks at Mrs. Miller and grins. “Fortune favors the bold.”
“Do you think Kim’s new haircut is weird?” Julia questions as we sway to the music. We’re one out of three couples left on the dance floor.
“Do you think it’s weird?”
I’ve learned the best way to answer her questions is to direct them back to her.
“A little. Her bangs are kind of short.” She purses her lips. “Then again they’ll grow out, so I guess it really doesn’t matter.”
“Nope.” Nothing about this conversation matters.
In my peripheral vision, I spot Mrs. Miller leaving the gymnasium. Damien hangs back by the bleachers, looking between me and his watch every so often.
“What did you think about the dress Stacy Saxton wore on Tuesday?”
I grit my teeth. “What did you think about the dress?”
I scan the bleachers. My blood quickens when I realize he’s no longer there but moving toward the exit.
Julia scrunches her face, pondering. “I’m not sure.”
