by Amo Jones
My eyes are dark and heavy with liner and smoke, and my lips are a blood cursing red.
“I think I’m going to spew,” Madison murmurs from beside me as our driver takes us toward a hotel in the heart of NYC where it’s being held.
“At least it’s not at his house again.”
“True,” Madison agrees, readjusting her mask. She’s wearing the same as mine, only red. Her dress is black and short. She wanted to go short, for obvious reasons. She has also been drinking since we started applying makeup.
“Will you be okay?” I ask her as she sips from a champagne flute.
“Yes,” she says, throwing back the rest.
This might not end well.
The driver pulls up to the front of a hotel in the Upper East Side and we both climb out, our heels clicking across the concrete. I squeeze my clutch in my hand and grab hers with my other.
“It’s going to be okay, Mads.”
She whimpers. “I believe you.”
The doorman opens the doors for us, and we step through the foyer, making our way to the ballroom I’m guessing where it’s being held, judging by the signs and people filing in dressed in similar attire.
My phone vibrates in my clutch, so I pull it out, just as we reach the woman who’s standing at the entrance with a clipboard.
She eyes Madison skeptically, and then her eyes come to mine and they widen. Interesting. Usually, people know who Madison is before they know who I am, but I’ve come to the realization that that has quickly changed, and it also depends on the people we are around. Riverside Prep kids who attended their school? Sure. But adults and grown people who are head deep in The Elite Kings world? No.
“Tillie Stuprum and Madison Venari.” I bite out her name harshly, somewhat offended for my friend. I wish I could have said Madison Hayes and watch the judgy bitch’s eyes pop from their sockets as she dropped to Madison’s feet.
I chuckle to myself at my thoughts, unlocking my phone and seeing a text from Nate. My heart beats in my chest.
We need to talk.
I look up at the woman who ticks off our names, her eyes still not moving from me. “Yes, please enter. Thank you, Miss Stuprum.”
I yank on Madison’s arm to pull her in with me and as soon as we’re inside, I’m taken over by the setting. Dim lighting, a live band playing on a makeshift stage, people talking amongst each other. They all pause slightly as Madison and I enter. I feel thousands of eyes on me and I know why.
“My god,” Madison whispers, leaning into me. “I mean like people know me in their circle and at school, but this is a whole new level. Everyone is staring at you like you built the fucking kingdom.”
“Not me,” I grumble under my breath. “Just my ancestors.”
“Princessa,” a voice says behind me, and I turn to see a young boy that I don’t recognize. “I’ll escort you both to your table.”
I nod my head, allowing him to take my arm and lead me to the front of the room with Madison in tow. When we get there, my eyes fly around the table to all of The Kings (my ones). Nate, Bishop, Brantley, Eli, Cash, Hunter, Ace, Chase. I know where Nate is instantly, glaring at me from across the table. I take the empty seat beside Bishop, and Madison sits on the other side of me, closest to her brother, Hunter, since Jase isn’t here. The lights are low, only intensifying the already potent atmosphere.
Bishop leans into me and my hand goes to Madison’s knee under the table.
“Pretty sure Eli stirred the pot this morning,” Bishop purrs into my ear. Okay. Alright. I mean, one look at Bishop and he owns your ass. I think the only reason why I’m immune to him is because I’m so loyal to Madison and he has always been hers. But don’t get me wrong. I totally, totally, understand where the hype comes from. Especially when he’s whispering in my ear.
My eyes go to Nate. There’s a girl beside him, wearing a pink lace mask. I feel bile rising up my throat. From what I can see from here, she has dark hair and tanned skin, with a skinny frame. She’s staring at me, smirking, but leaning into Nate.
I could kill her. That would be okay. I know that Brantley and the rest of The Kings would help me dispose of her body, so it’s fine.
“You can’t kill her,” Bishop chuckles in my ear, snapping me out of my plot of murder. “I mean you could, and none of us would detest it, but she’s pointless. The only reason he’s bringing her here is a pathetic attempt to push you away.”
Madison pats my hand reassuringly as my phone vibrates. I lean back into Bishop. “I don’t care.”
“Really?” he answers me, but his eyes are on Nate.
“Who’s that beside him?”
Bishop answers, picking up his drink. “Billie. She was adopted into an Elite family when she was two. She and Nate fucked around one summer when they were kids and she was his initiation fuck.”
“So I’ve heard,” I answer, picking up my flute glass. I lean down and reach for my phone.
Madison—Thank you for looking out. I see what Nate is doing, though, so feel free to use Bishop however you want. I know he’s hurting, and I’d rather him use you than use someone else. If you know what I mean.
I reread over her words, and then another text comes through.
Obviously, you’re not allowed to do anything.
I smirk. There’s my friend.
Unless you both want to get shot.
My grin deepens, and a chuckle slips from my lips.
I love you.
I push my phone away, ignoring the next text, and then I lean into Bishop.
“Can you promise me something?” I say to him, even though he doesn’t owe me shit.
“What?” He doesn’t agree, but there’s no surprise in that.
“Don’t do anything stupid until you know the full story.”
He rests his arm over the back of my seat, his grin smug as fuck. “Yeah. Sure thing.”
He’s such an asshole.
“I’m trying not to be super weirded out about how it’s so easy for us all to switch partners…” Eli murmurs, leaning into Bishop but close enough so I can hear him too.
Brantley chuckles. “I rest my case.” What fucking case.
I ignore the rest of the banter, my eyes going around the room in search of Hector. I wonder how Bishop feels about this revelation, and I wonder what they hope to achieve by confirming this. They can’t kill him, can they?
A girly laugh comes from across the table and my eyes zip to Nate and Billie. She’s leaning into him, his lips on her slender neck and his hand under the table, presumably on her leg.
I clench my jaw.
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” a voice whispers from behind me. An unfamiliar voice.
I turn around in my seat, noticing a tall, masculine man who has to be in his mid-twenties. “Please do.”
His eyes drop to me, and vivid blue hues peer back at me through a bright red bone mask. “Want to dance?”
I smile at the stranger, eager to get the fuck away from this circle, so I stand and take his hand in mine. Tattoos sneak out of his suit jacket as he leads me all the way to the dance floor, then he twists my body against his, wrapping an arm around my back.
“Can you follow my steps?” he whispers, his mouth coming to the side of my neck.
I swallow. “Yes.”
He pushes me closer to his body as I fight the urge to ask what his name is.
“Listen to me very carefully, but smile and act like I’m telling you how much I want to run my tongue over your clit and make you scream my name so loud that Nate’s existence in your life is questioned…” His voice is low and sexy, and his words touch me in places I’ve been yearning to be touched.
My thighs clench.
He chuckles. “Good girl.”
I smile, though it’s not fake, it’s because of his dirty words and his hard body beneath the palms of my hands. Who is he?
“Your suspicions are not quite correct. Hector is, and is not, responsible for the death of your daughter.
My condolences about that, by the way.”
We dance around the dance floor as “Myth” by Tsar B starts playing. We move to the beat, like we were made to dance together. His lips move across my collarbone. “Things are moving at a speed that your Kings do not know about. We don’t trust them enough to set up a meet with them. Their loyalty is and always will be with The Kings.” He flings me out and then crashes me into his body again.
I lean back to get a good look at his eyes. So blue. Dark eyelashes and a shadow scattered against the edge of his perfect jaw. There’re tattoos everywhere on his skin and something tells me that if he removes that mask, my panties will melt away.
“Who are you?”
He tilts his head, his lips curling with a smirk and showing perfectly straight white teeth. His hand travels down my back and rests on my ass as he presses me into his crotch. I groan, dropping into the crook of his neck. He expels sex like no one I’ve felt before—except for Nate. I’m well aware of how this must look to people around us. His other hand comes to my chin and he tilts my head to face him.
“I’m with the Rebels, sweetheart.” His lips crash against mine and I let them, his tongue slipping across my bottom lip as I reach up to his hair to pull him back, only I end up pushing him closer. He stops and then smiles at me. “You’ll get a text.”
He lets me go and leaves me breathless on the dance floor with hormones raging all over the place.
Well.
Then.
Call me a rebel because I want to be fucked by one. But as soon as he’s left and taken his energy with him, I start to fill with guilt. Not about kissing him, screw Nate. But about kissing a Rebel.
I make my way back to the table, Madison grinning at me with another glass in her hand.
I take it from her and shoot it back, sitting back in my chair.
I don’t even bother looking at Nate, but Bishop leans into me. “Good girl, play the game. But can I trust you?”
I turn to face Bishop, searching his eyes. “You orchestrated that?”
Bishop doesn’t answer, his eyes searching mine. “What do you think?”
I sip from my glass. “Were all of you in on that?”
Bishop smiles. “Look at Nate, he’s about to rip everyone to pieces. You really think he would sign off on that? No. Just me. You wanted to play?” he asks, his eyes darkening. “Then it’s time to play. Get rid of Madison.”
Shit.
“Mads?” I lean into her, whispering in her ear as the music dies out and Hector takes center stage. I’m sucked away from what I’m supposed to be doing as the lights cut out and a spotlight beams down on Hector.
My breathing gets heavy, anger simmering to the surface.
He smiles, the wrinkles on his face only making him more attractive. His tattoos sneak out from beneath his suit, his hair shaved close on the sides and long on the top. There’s evil, and then there’s Hector Hayes. There’s a reason why he is the way he is, and that’s because he rules with a soulless body. He’s old school and doesn’t care for any other loyalties but The Kings.
“Does he know about Abel?” I ask Bishop through a whisper.
Bishop grins. “No.”
My phone vibrates and I pull it out from under the table. There’s nothing from Nate, but one from a random number.
I’ve left with your moans echoing in my ear. Wanna finish what we started?
I smirk, my lips curling in. Is this the text I’m supposed to be waiting on?
I wait for a text but end up putting my phone back in my clutch when someone kicks me under the table. My eyes fly to Nate, who’s glaring at me.
I don’t look away, I don’t budge.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I mutter, not giving a shit that Hector is mid-speech.
I stand and quickly dodge through the tables and chairs, heading straight for the little hallway that has the restroom sign illuminated. Rushing through the ladies’ room, the only girl who is in there quickly leaves, and I lean over the counter, my hand resting on my stomach. What am I doing? Could I sleep with someone else? Even though Nate has hurt me in ways that I have never been hurt. I need to pull my shit together.
I turn the tap on just as the door swings open and Nate is standing there, glaring at me.
“Get out,” I say, flicking my eyes back to the mirror.
He’s behind me in a flash, spinning me around to face him. His hand comes to my throat as he shoves me against the wall roughly. “Who the fuck do you think you’re playing with, Tillie?” he asks, his fingers flexing around my throat.
“I’m not playing with you, Nate!” I yell. “I’m fucking tired of your back and forth!”
I shove him, but he doesn’t budge. He spreads my legs with one knee as his other hand comes to my leg, his fingers gripping around my upper thigh. My eyes close as I internally talk myself down from the heat he’s thrashing into me. His mouth touches the side of my neck as his hand goes all the way around and his fingertips brush against my pussy. He dips one finger inside and I lose my footing, but he releases my neck and catches me, wrapping my legs around his waist.
He chuckles, but it’s low and dark. “You’re fucking wet for him?”
I freeze, fear slipping into my bones. “No—” I start to say, but he brings the finger that was inside of me to my mouth, shoving it between my lips. I bite his finger and his eyes slant as his other fingers wrap around my cheeks forcefully.
“Bite it again and see what happens.”
I bite it again.
He drops me to the floor and spins me around, pressing me into the bathroom counter.
He lifts my dress from the bottom and slaps my bare ass. Grabbing at my hair, he yanks my head up.
“Look at yourself in the mirror, Tillie.”
I feel as his fingers slip into me again from behind. I blush at the invasion. Not because it’s embarrassing, but because it feels so good. “Next time you think you want to get your pussy wet for someone else, I want you to remember this moment…”
I tense around his fingers, and he grins from behind his mask. He unzips himself and rubs the tip of his cock over my opening before sinking inside.
I moan, finding something to grip onto on the counter but failing and reaching for the tap. His other hand comes to the front of my throat. “Is this what you wanted? To be fucked in a bathroom like a cheap bitch looking for fresh cock?” His words sting, but I block them out. “Then I’ll fuck you in a bathroom like a cheap bitch.”
He thrashes into me relentlessly, his cock hitting my cervix with every movement. I feel my stomach curl, my orgasm so ashamedly close. My muscles tense briefly before my tension releases, my cum dripping all over his dick. He slows, emptying himself inside of me. He pulls back, and now that the tension has changed, I stand up straight, smoothing out my dress. Shit. What have I done? My throat throbs as I realize I’ve just let him have his way with me, but I don’t have to be a victim to my feelings, because I’m not a fucking victim.
I run the tip of my finger over my eyebrow and turn to face him as he zips himself up. “You’re right, Nate, I was wet for him.” He stills, but I remain strong. “And you fucking me in a bathroom like a cheap bitch isn’t going to stop the fact that I might fuck him too. Excuse me.”
I shove past him, but he yanks me back by my arm and slams me back against the wall again, with his hand pressing against my throat. I don’t give him anything.
“You go near anyone else and I’ll kill them.”
I smirk. “Fine by me. Just make sure it’s after I’ve fucked their brains out.”
Then I shove him out of the way and straighten my shoulders. Time to get back to why I’m really here, and the answer to that is—I stop once I reenter the ballroom, seeing Madison and Bishop gone from the table.
“Fuck’s sake.” I quickly make my way back to the table and grab my clutch. Stopping, I lean down to talk with Brantley.
“You smell like sex and I’m feeling left out.” Brantley smirks
behind his glass.
Hector is no longer talking shit, now it’s another man dressed in a suit and looking like another rich fucker in this world.
“Where’s Bishop and Madison?” I ask, ignoring his jab.
Brantley shrugs. “Madison ran out and he chased her, I think.”
I see Nate take his spot back at the table, but I ignore him, standing and making my way back to the main lobby of the hotel. I dial Madison, but her phone goes to voicemail.
“What the fuck!” I bring my phone back down just as Madison’s name flashes over the screen. “Thank god!” I answer. “Whe—”
“—Tillie. I need you to help me.” Her tone is impassive, which is a contradiction to the words she used.
“Done. Where are you?”
“Take the elevator to the twenty-first floor. And come alone, okay?”
“Okay… are you alone?”
“…No,” she answers, and I hang up quickly when I catch Nate and a few of The Kings coming my way.
I quickly run to the elevator, pressing the ‘up’ button one-thousand times in a second.
“Come on. Come on.”
Bishop must be with her, that’s why she’s not alone.
The doors ding and open in the slowest time ever. I turn to the left to see Nate and Brantley glaring at me, and then jogging fast. I quickly push level twenty.
They’ll know if I stop on the twenty-first floor. I’ll have to take the stairs up to the next level. The soft music does nothing to calm my erratic thoughts. What the hell is going on? The elevator dings and I dash out hastily, scanning up and down the long hallway until I see the stairway exit. I rush through and yank the door open, climbing the stairs while picking up the hem of my dress. My phone starts ringing again, Nate’s name flashing over the screen. I hit ignore. It starts ringing again just as I reach the door to level twenty-one.
When I see it’s Madison’s name flashing over the screen, I hit answer. “I’m here!”
