It wasn’t special. Simply a well-crafted mask to keep people in their place.
My attention focuses on Blair once more. Her dark hair hangs down, forming a curtain around her bent head. Her shoulders are in a straight line, prideful even when she’s got the scorn of everyone in school, including me. She couldn’t put up more of a leave me alone vibe if she hung a banner in bold letters overhead.
Bishop’s holding court on my other side, his deep voice the only one that reaches me above the din of background chatter. Everyone’s eating out of the palm of his hand, their shrieks of laughter grating.
“So, Dev’s got this frat boy’s girl in his lap, right.” Bishop snickers into his fist. “The guy is jacked as fuck, but Dev’s like ‘No, you’re right. If your name’s on her ass, we should check. Fair’s fair.’ and the poor girl thinks he’s messing around. Legit, he stands up, and the frat boy is shitting bricks when he gets a load of how tall our boy is.”
“You’re so fucked up, bro,” Sean laughs, pushing my head from behind.
It catches me off guard. My shoulders go rigid. I was too busy watching Blair instead of keeping an eye on my surroundings.
“Hah, yeah, well.” My voice is brittle and chilly. Sean’s hand disappears. “I wasn’t going to pull her skirt up in front of everyone without her consent.” I shrug. “She was into it. She wanted a Daddy, if you know what I mean.”
I wink at Bailey.
In truth, that girl wanted something dangerous to excite her. I was mysterious and available when she found me smoking outside, and she liked the thrill when my hand slipped beneath her skirt under the flashing neon lights in the frat house. I didn’t touch her, but she acted like I was finger fucking her for anyone to see.
Bailey makes a small sound beside me. She’s blushing and wide-eyed. I can see the internal struggle in her expression, debating whether to move away from me or stay close, because being near me comes with a higher status on the chain of social hierarchy.
My lip nearly curls at her pathetic willpower when she moves closer instead of running away, even after hearing the story. It makes me want to stand up on the table and scream at all of them that I’m not good or nice or some tall, dark, and handsome knight.
If anything, I’m the fucking villain, the thing that lurks in the shadows of nightmares.
I take a second to focus on my breathing before anyone else notices the way I’m dragging air into my lungs. My fingers twitch. It’s a miracle I keep my knee from bouncing at this point.
I’m nothing without the vigorous control over my devious trickster mask. Everyone focuses on what I want to show them. While they see my distraction, I hide my real face inside, distorted and ugly and an unlovable terror.
Thorns encase my heart in a mess of brambles. My own parents don’t love me, so there must be something wrong with me. I belong in darkness.
Across the room, Blair pushes her empty lunch tray to the side and has her nose in a book. It rankles the burning itch making my skin too tight. She doesn’t get to relax and enjoy herself while I’m ready to crawl out of my body from everything locked up inside me.
Fuck that.
If I suffer, she’s going to feel my wrath tenfold.
“Hey.”
With one word, the table snaps to attention. All eyes are on me. Bishop and I might rule this school together as top dogs, but when I speak, they all fucking listen. I smirk at my unsuspecting target.
Bad move, my little toy. Rule number one: always be prepared. If you’re not, I’m going to wreak more havoc.
“Who wants to see a neat trick I’ve perfected?” I tip my head back to survey them, forcing my body to relax into a sprawl against the table.
The devil king is in session on his throne.
Bailey lights up first, as if I’ve personally offered to kneel between her legs. “Oh, yes, yes! What sort of trick? Magic?”
My mouth quirks up. “Sort of like magic. You’ll see.”
I slide my phone from my pocket and find my message thread with Little Thief.
Devlin: Come here.
Blair’s head pops up across the room. She frowns. I crook my finger and she stands with an eye roll.
The tasks have been far too easy.
It’s time for that to end and the real game to begin.
As Blair nears the table, someone behind me scoffs. “What do you want?”
Blair stops in front of me, arms crossed. There’s attitude in every inch of her posture as she cants her hip to the side. I let her hold on to that bit of headstrong independence, prepared to rip it from her with this command.
“It’s part of the trick,” I murmur. Angling my head to peer at everyone, I allow a sinister smile to break free. “Watch this. I’ve got Raggedy Anne trained good. She’ll do anything I tell her to, like my little doll.”
Blair makes a choked sound and I give her a gloating look. I reach for a big canteen of water Sean carries around and hand it to Blair. It’s full to the brim. Her fingers are cold when they brush mine, accepting the bottle. Discreetly, I mouth how much she’ll earn—three hundred bucks.
“Dump it on yourself.”
My order is cold, hard, void of emotion. Bailey gasps beside me. Some of the packed tables around us are looking over, watching the scene unfold.
Blair remains still, jaw locked as she stares me down with fire burning in her eyes.
My hostile grin stretches wider. “Do it.”
Everyone around waits with bated breath, collectively leaning in. The tension and anticipation presses in from all sides. No one eggs Blair on, possibly aware of the same thing I am. The struggle is clear as day in the rigid line of her body and death grip on the bottle. I can guess what’s going through her head—pride versus how much money she needs.
To earn it, she’ll submit to my whims. She’s fucking crazy to do it, to willingly humiliate herself. But when she releases a small breath and inverts the water bottle over her head, the thrill that zips through me is undeniably satisfying.
In seconds Blair is soaked, her bra visible through the white shirt sticking to her skin. Her chest heaves and she tilts her head to let her hair hang in a dark clump covering her eyes.
A rough chuckle huffs out of me. “What a good girl you are, sticky fingers.”
Cheers and laughter erupt around the room. Jeers fly.
Blair stands there, dripping wet, shoulders trembling.
“You trained the bitch!” Trent crows.
“Good girl, good girl!” People taunt and shout amidst their raucous amusement. “Wet dog alert!”
“Something stinks!”
Several people at the next table over make kissing sounds to call to Blair like they would call a dog.
Blair endures it all in silence. She gave up on comebacks and reactions freshman year once she figured out people would go after her no matter what.
Her silent obedience is my reward to reap, the cruel laughter music to my ears.
“Dude,” Bishop mutters, plopping next to me on the bench. “What gives?”
I offer Bishop a secretive smirk.
My gaze sweeps over Blair, meeting the glare she gives me from behind her hair. The searing fury in those deep brown eyes tugs at my chest and lower, my stomach tightening. The room narrows to the intensity Blair directs at me.
In an odd sense of wonder, I look at her like this is the first time I’ve ever seen her.
With her attitude stripped back to this simple strength in her vulnerable state, I see beauty.
Blair is hot, if you can get past the fact she’s a criminal.
My fingers twitch for a different reason than the agitation I battled ten minutes ago, fingertips rubbing together to keep them from the sheer temptation of her perky, petite tits. Shit, if she moves a step, I might grab her.
“We have an arrangement,” I explain, snapping out of the weird bolt of heat that passed between us. Must be the see-through shirt. “This is part of it.”
Blair takes a bre
ath and hands me the empty canteen. “Lunch is almost over.”
“I’m not done looking at you yet,” I counter, leaning back on my elbows, taking my time studying her.
Bishop snorts. “You’re an evil dick, bro.”
“Don’t worry.” I waggle my brows and stick my tongue into my cheek. “She’ll get her reward.”
The guys at the table take my meaning to be sexual, reacting like a bunch of animals.
Blair sends another glare at the ground. The angry pinch between her brows is something I have the urge to trace and learn the shape of with my tongue.
What is this…
My head is more messed up today than I thought.
“Um.” Thea Kennedy comes up behind Blair with napkins. She offers them. “I brought you these.”
Bishop tenses, sucking in a sharp breath. I toss a questioning glance at him. His focus is completely locked on Thea, his expression like a hungry lion opening its maw to chomp on a rabbit.
“Thanks,” Blair mumbles, accepting them.
Thea hovers while Blair pats herself. She shoots Bishop and I a disapproving look. This goody-goody is a little buzzkill who probably thinks the world is sunshine and rainbows.
Bishop explodes from his seat and gets in Thea’s face. It’s laughable because he’s a giant next to her, almost needing to lean over to reach her. Thea is shorter than Blair, even.
Thea freezes, clutching the napkins to her chest. “U-um, Connor.”
“Were you invited over here?” Bishop demands.
Thea blinks. “No. That doesn’t matter, though.” She tips her chin up. “Blair needed help.”
“Blair needed help?” Bishop mimics, circling behind her. He clamps his hands on her shoulders. “You hear that, Dev?”
“Sure did.” With a grunt, I rise to my feet and amble into Blair’s personal space. “Did you need help, Davis?”
I communicate what her answer better be with my hard gaze. Blair works her jaw, then sighs.
“No,” she mutters in a monotone.
The caged rebellious energy flows from her almost as if it’s a living entity, brushing against me like a lure. I want her disobedience and mutiny so I can take extra enjoyment from making her bend to my will. I smother the urge to brush wet hair away from her cheeks.
Thea’s big eyes dance between Blair and I with her lower lip tucked between her teeth. “Well—”
“You know,” Bishop drawls next to Thea’s ear, grinning at her flinch. He traces her shoulders, plucking at the chunky sleeves of the sweater she’s wearing instead of the school blazer. “The only thing a girl next door is good for is warming my dick.” He leans closer enough that her auburn curls touch his lips as he speaks in a sinister hush. “You offering, neighbor? You can leave your granny sweater on.”
I catch his words because they’re standing beside us.
Thea trips over her own foot as she stumbles out of Bishop’s grasp. “You…You—”
“Me,” Bishop declares with a proud sweep of his arms. “All me, baby.”
The way he says it hints at something more to the meaning.
Thea seems to understand perfectly. She shakes her head like she can’t believe her eyes. Her expression crumbles and she rushes off, dashing tears away.
Bishop watches her retreat with his jaw clenched. Darkness clouds his eyes. I glance from Thea to Bishop. I’m worried about what’s been on his mind lately.
When I turn back to the table, everyone’s watching the two-for-one show play out. There’s a thirst for blood in every face, the drama unfolding too good to ignore.
“Make the dog do another trick,” Trent suggests.
Sean and the others bust out in cackling laughter.
Thirteen
Blair
It’s fucking cold. And wet. Uncomfortable.
My clothes stick to my skin. The laughter isn’t so bad, but that douche Trent called me a dog.
Fuck. This.
“Ugh,” I snarl under my breath.
My shoulder crashes into Devlin’s chest as I leave the cackling assholes behind. The door bangs when I barrel into it, howls following in my wake.
This school is nothing but a rabid pack of hyenas.
Further down the hall, I catch the disappearing blur of Thea Kennedy as she rounds the corner in a rush. I could go after her and thank her for standing up for me, but I’m pissed off and stuck in wet clothes.
The heavy wooden door clanks open behind me. I whirl to find Devlin. Great. My savage master followed me into the hall.
Can’t a furious girl catch five minutes alone?
We stand there for a moment. My fists flex at my side while he props against the wall, considering me. He’s too focused on my breasts.
“Give me my money,” I demand, flinging my hand out expectantly. “I did it, so pay me.”
Everything about Devlin is sharp, cut and chiseled like marble. Cold. Hard. Unmoving.
Devlin strokes his chin, cocking his head
“The question isn’t whether you followed orders, but how quickly you obeyed.”
“What?” I breathe, stalking toward him. “Are you kidding me? You didn’t say I had to do it with a time limit. You called me over and told me to—” I lose my words, burned away by my anger. I fling my hands around to fill the space. “—in front of everyone.”
“Don’t fret.” Devlin hitches one shoulder, careless, unfeeling. “You don’t have a reputation to ruin in the first place. You’re only your labels to them. Gutter rat, trash, unwanted charity.”
My chest heaves as I drag in stinging gasps. My emotions are running away from me, slipping through my fingers. I work so hard not to let anything that happens in this hellhole get to me. Something inside is cracking in warning. The dam is splintering, threatening to unleash the torrent of everything I hold back.
With a frustrated sound, I shove Devlin. “Pay me, damn you!”
“No.” Devlin grins, arrogant and mean. “Earn it next time. Those are the rules.”
“You haven’t told me all the rules! You keep changing them!”
He grabs my wrist when I go to shove him again. “Yes, I did. My rules are what I say goes.”
Devlin releases me with an unimpressed scoff.
The crumbling barrier inside of me fractures in another spot.
I hate him! Why did I think I could trust he wouldn’t go back on his word? He’s a man, of course he’s going to trick me.
Getting in Devlin’s face, I hiss, “I knew I couldn’t trust you. I should’ve known your word was fucking worthless!”
Something malevolent crosses Devlin’s eyes, a flash of truthfulness behind his pristine veneer. The hatred I spew in his face is a distraction. While he’s focused elsewhere, I slip my fingers into his pocket with practiced deftness and dexterity, plucking his wallet. I’ll pay my damn self what I’m owed.
“Your mother must be so proud to have such a lying snake charmer for a son.”
Devlin growls and moves so fast I don’t have time to process. One minute my hand is seconds from liberating his wallet, the next he has my wrist in his hand, wrenching it above my head.
I gasp. “Wh—”
“Still want to keep running that mouth? This is the most you’ve ever spoken to me, I think.”
There’s a dangerous undertone in his voice, a jagged sharpness that pricks at my nerve endings and makes my heart race. The scent of leather and ginger surrounds me, intoxicating my senses. My skin feels hot as he leers at the outline of my breasts, the wet shirt plastered to my chest thanks to a full canteen of water.
Devlin looks to my trapped wrist with a predator’s precision. “You want to get in my pants?”
Heat throbs between my thighs and embarrassment spears through me.
What the hell?
I shift slightly and Devlin’s grip tightens on my wrist.
“If you wanted in my pants so badly, all you had to do was ask.”
He crowds me, shoving my body back against t
he chilly tiled wall. It bites through my shirt, seeping into my skin, juxtaposed by the heat that rolls off him when he steps into me. My heart pounds in time with the throb in my clit.
I bring my other hand up to push him off me, but as soon as my palm lands on him I freeze.
Devlin’s chest is hard, muscled, and…warm.
He slaps a palm next to my head, making me stifle a startled jump. His eyes slit, keeping me pinned in place with his body and his piercing gaze.
“I’ll make you earn your nickname for real, sticky fingers,” Devlin murmurs in a rough undertone. He releases my trapped wrist in favor of touching my waist, teasing his thumb up my rib cage until he grazes the underside of my breast. His nose touches my clammy temple. “I’ll come all over them and leave you a mess.”
My insides start a riot, melting and exploding left and right. I press further into the solid wall and Devlin follows, not allowing any relief from his body heat or the feel of his abs. He inhales, tracing his nose down the side of my face.
“What are you doing?” My voice is edged with a tremor. I clench his crisp shirt in my grip. “We hate each other.”
I should hate him for this. I have to find it before this gets out of hand. But searching inside for any scrap of logic, I turn up none, only the insane spark of attraction.
How can I be turned on by the wicked look in Devlin’s eyes as he holds my waist and breathes against my skin? This is crazy.
I need to stop this. Need to retaliate. I want to slap him across the face, but I’m afraid of breaking one of his arbitrary unspoken rules. What if he ends our arrangement with some bullshit breach of contract? Losing the only cash flow I have isn’t an option.
“Haven’t you ever heard of hate sex?” Devlin chuckles into my neck, and, oh, fuck, that shouldn’t feel as good as it does. I’m mortified by the way I claw at his shirt with both hands. “If you try that shit again, I’ll have you on your back with your hand or mouth around my dick so fast you won’t be able to catch your breath.”
His lips skim against my neck when he speaks. It sends a rush of tingles across my skin, the burst of hot and cold rippling. I shiver, unable to muffle a small sound as I clench my thighs together in an attempt to relieve the pressure coiling tighter.
Tempting Devil: Sinners and Saints Book 2 Page 8