The Game: A Dark Taboo Romance

by LP Lovell

  If I leave, will they find me? If I stay, does it make me just as horrible as they are?

  And then I remember Tobias saying: They never last past day three… Maybe the choice is about to be made for me.

  11

  TOBIAS

  The clouds part, revealing a nearly full moon when I step onto the balcony, still naked. I feel bad for leaving our little lamb tied up like that, but self-control is of the utmost importance. We couldn’t risk letting her take care of her needs on her own.

  Resting my arms on the railing, I admire the twinkling lights of the sprawling city below. Blocks upon blocks of people, each with their secrets, own needs, and desires. I watch cars maneuver down the busy streets, wondering what darkness lies within the passengers, curious if they may one day end up as part of our game. The patio door slides open behind me. Preston catches my attention when he joins me at the railing and lights a cigarette on a grin. “She’s screaming.”

  How beautiful. I’m tempted to open the windows so we can listen, but I wouldn’t want to share her screams with anyone else. I take the cigarette from Preston’s lips and take a drag. “She’ll give up.”

  “She’ll lose it tomorrow.”

  I laugh. “Don’t they all?”

  We stand in silence, watching the city below as we pass the smoke back and forth. I do not doubt that Preston is relishing the way the day has turned out just as much as I am. The memory of how easily she moved from my cock to Preston’s, without an ounce of hesitation, the way she swallowed us both back and moaned, has my blood flow shifting. She nearly sucked me raw, but my cock still aches for her. And that says something.

  “She handled tonight well,” Preston says, tossing the cigarette over the railing.

  “She did.”

  He wraps his hand around my hardening shaft, pumping ever so slowly. “She is perfect. You know that though, don’t you?”

  He fists me tighter and I close my eyes on a groan. All I can think of is how innocent her blue eyes looked as she stared up at me, my cock in her mouth, Preston’s in her hand. “She’s just a woman…”

  Preston drops to his knees. His warm lips come around me, working over me to quickly bring me another release. I grab his hair, closing my eyes and swearing under my breath as I come in his mouth. When I open my eyes, he rises to his feet. “Don’t get attached, Tobias,” he says, wiping at the corner of his mouth before he turns and slips back inside the apartment.

  I watch him through the window as he crosses the living room and disappears down the hall. Don’t I know better than to get attached to pretty things? I want to say my little lamb is perfect, but that will all depend on how day three goes. It is, after all, the turning point of this game. As if on cue, my phone rings inside. I know what this call is about. And I know he’ll be shocked to know she’s still here. I’m tempted to let it go to voicemail, but instead, I step in and grab it from the coffee table. “Yes…” I answer.

  “She’s still there?”

  I smile. “For now.”

  “I thought she would kill her.” He almost sounds disappointed, and I’ll admit I wanted my little lamb to succumb to the dark urge for revenge. But there’s still plenty of time. And the show she put on was nothing short of art. Art that he was lucky enough to watch through a camera feed.

  Silence falls over the line. The flint of a lighter catches before the caller pulls in a long breath. “Everything is in place for tomorrow. Let’s hope she doesn’t throw herself from the Brooklyn Bridge like the last one.”

  And that makes my smile deepen. Tomorrow will be such fun. “Yes. Let’s hope...” And with that, I hang up.

  12

  Nightmares plagued my sleep—what little of it I had thanks to my arms being tied above my head. I’ve been awake for the past hour, staring at the soft morning light spilling through the window as thoughts whip through my mind at warp speed. What if when that door swings open, Tobias and Preston have another player, and this time, I'm Maria. What if I'm the one tied to the bed whose life depends on their sick game of fuck or die? And what if the person chooses to die...

  My heart rate ticks up at the soft thud of footsteps in the hallway. The lock clicks seconds before the door opens to Tobias in nothing but workout pants.

  “Good morning, little lamb.” He goes to the window and throws the curtains the rest of the way open. Bright sunshine fills the room. “How did you sleep?”

  “Like shit.”

  “Oh, why is that?”

  I narrow my gaze, biting back the urge I have to swear at him. “I can't feel my hands.”

  With a smile, he moves to the headboard and unties my wrists. I barely have time to feel relieved before Tobias grabs my waist and pins me to the mattress.

  “Where do you think you're going?” His fingers dance down the inside of my thigh and just like that, I’m burning up, electrified under his touch. Tobias is intoxicating, and although I know he’s dangerous and monstrous, that primitive part of me that evolution has yet to tame craves this. “I want you.”

  He grabs my jaw hard enough to bruise and peppers kisses along my throat while his other hand slides between my legs. The second his fingertips brush over me, need swallows me whole. Every thought that isn’t him leaves my mind in a rush. A single touch from this man has me at his mercy, a slave for him and him alone. I hate that he has this power over me because I hate him.

  Moaning, I grab a handful of his hair as though it's the only thing keeping me grounded. I get so caught up in the temptation, the drive for pleasure, that I forget this is merely a game and I am a toy. That when they have me right where they want me, they'll abandon me.

  “Patience, little lamb.” Tobias brings his lips centimeters from mine, then smiles. “Do you want me to fuck you, Ella?”

  I want him to fuck me, ruin me. “Yes.”

  “Then you know what you need to do. Beg.”

  I don’t hesitate even though I know, at the very least, I should. “Please...”

  A shadow of a smile creeps over his lips. “You can do better than that.”

  He's enjoying this, reveling in the power he wields over me, that much is evident. I consider telling him to fuck off. I also consider the money, but more than anything I just need to find release. What are words anyway? “Please. Fuck me, Tobias.”

  The ache between my legs throbs like an alarm on repeat. I want to know what it feels like to be utterly possessed by a man like him. In a sick way, I crave his brand of degradation. It’s a fine line, never knowing whether he'll make me feel worthless or vitally important. “Please, Tobias...”

  “So pretty when you plead. Now, bend over and spread your legs.”

  I do as I’m told. He presses down on the small of my back. Fingers trail my spine, slowly descending until he's brushing between my legs.

  “Such a pretty, pink pussy,” he groans. Without warning, he thrusts two fingers inside me. “And so fucking tight.” His fingers plunge in and out, slow but rough. And nothing has ever felt so damn good. That pressure settles low in my gut. Every muscle tightens in anticipation, and then he stops.

  “We have a visitor...” Tobias yanks my hair until my back bows, and I’m forced to look at the doorway. Preston leans against the frame, naked and every perfect line of his body on display. The hard outline of Tobias’s bare cock presses against me. So close. He's so close. And then in one sharp, violent thrust, he buries himself inside me. My entire body goes lax from the sensation, and I give in to it, closing my eyes as I back into Tobias, forcing his cock farther into me on a moan.

  “Sweet Ella.” Preston climbs onto the bed beside me and reclines back on the mattress, fisting his cock. “Are you happy you get to play with us now?” My gaze drops to his cock, the bead of moisture at the tip begging to be licked.

  Tobias buries his cock in me then shoves my head toward Preston’s dick. “Suck it.”

  It’s dirty and messed up, but the idea of having two of them thrusting into my body has my pussy clench
ing around Tobias’s unforgiving dick. I take Preston into my mouth, relishing in the salty drop of precum that greets my tongue. Each of Tobias’s hard thrusts forces Preston's cock further down my throat, and with each moan that bubbles up my throat, Tobias’s finger digs into my hips, and Preston groans. It's almost too much.

  And just when I'm about to come, Preston shoves my face away from him and pumps over his cock, coaxing thick streams of come out. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good.”

  Tobias grips my throat, pulling me upright until my back hits his chest, his cock still buried inside me. “Put your foot on the bed.”

  I do as told and, all the while, Tobias continues to bury himself deeper and harder inside me. From the moment I saw him, I lusted after him, but this is so much more. It’s raw and brutal possession. I don’t care that I’m his little toy, only that he can offer me the release I’ve been denied. Preston slides from the bed, dropping to his knees on the floor. His warm fingertips trail up my thighs.

  “You can't come until I do,” Tobias whispers in my ear, my personal torturer.

  I glance down as Preston leans in, flicking his tongue over my clit. My entire body reacts, pulling away from the pleasurable sensation.

  “Don't fucking move.” Preston glares up at me as he places his mouth back on me.

  And here I stand, Preston’s warm tongue against my clit while Tobias slams into me. With each soft roll of that wicked tongue, my knees nearly buckle. With each thrust, that flame builds, threatening to consume me. I feel as though I'm on the brink of something that will utterly ruin me. Tobias slaps my ass on a guttural groan before he stills behind me, burying himself deep.

  And Preston keeps going, sending me over the edge and forcing me to drown within the blissful wave washing over every last inch of my skin. It’s devastating, powerful, perfect. My body heats with a fire so hot I fear I'll be nothing but ash when this is over. My knees buckle, and if it weren't for Tobias’s arms wrapped around me, I'd fall to the floor in a string of moans.

  Preston swipes his tongue over me once more before pushing to his feet. “My sweet Ella, you taste so good with his come.” He gives me a kiss, the taste of my pussy mixed with Tobias’s come heavy on his lips. “Do you wonder what happened to her, sweet Ella?” he asks as he steps back.

  “To Maria, little lamb.” Tobias kisses my jaw.

  His words serve as a bucket of ice water on my blissful state. And I should know by now, I really should—they may give, but they always take right after. Anything good is always followed by bad. A manipulation or cruelty of some kind. That is, after all, the way the game is played.

  “Don't tell me you've already forgotten her? I can still practically taste her pussy on your lips.” Guilt settles into my gut. They’re right. They probably murdered Maria and here I am thinking about their dicks.

  “You let her go,” I say, as though I could convince myself that all is well and I’m not truly awful. “You said you would let her go...”

  Tobias and Preston both toss their heads back, laughing. “Wrong.” Tobias’s gaze pins me in place. “How does it feel to know you've had a murderer inside you?”

  My heart shudders, then goes into a full-on sprint.

  “Does it scare you, Ella?” Preston whispers.

  “Or does it excite you?” Tobias asks, trailing a single fingertip down the center of my bare chest. I hate the way my nipples pebble from his touch. I want to yank away from him, but I’m paralyzed, rooted to the spot. “Never take a man at his word, little lamb.”

  And with that, almost like a dance that has been rehearsed time and time again, they turn and walk out, leaving me alone with my shame and guilt, and an unsettling horror slipping through my veins.

  13

  Tobias and Preston have been gone for nearly an hour, and I've paced the length of this room at least a hundred times wondering what terrible things they are plotting.

  Last night Tobias told Preston that “they” never last past day three. Perhaps I should be worried about my fate today, but when I close my eyes, all I can see is Maria. I did what I was asked to do, and Tobias and Preston didn't hold up their end of the deal. I can't help but wonder if I hadn’t signed that contract, would Maria still be alive?

  I may need the money—desperately—but I can no longer do this. They killed someone. Because of me. I can’t handle the guilt.

  Taking a deep breath, I grab my purse and head for the bedroom door. The hinges creak when it swings open into the empty hall, and I pause, listening for Tobias and Preston. When I find the penthouse silent, I take off in a full sprint for the elevator. I repeatedly slam my palm over the button, praying that when the doors open, Tobias and Preston aren’t waiting inside. I need to get out of here. Away from them. Away from this madness.

  The elevator opens and I rush into the empty space. It seems like it takes an eternity to reach the bottom floor, and the second I set foot in the lobby, I run outside and into the cyclone of Manhattan activity. My stomach knots as I quickly make my way to the nearest subway, and it’s only once I’m on the train that I take a full breath.

  What the hell was I doing with them?

  I pause outside my apartment door, fumbling with my keys as fear creeps through my veins. What if they come after me? After all, they have access to so much. It seems like the entire city has a secret side that Tobias and Preston control. They know how utterly alone I am. They know that if they killed me, there’s no one to miss me. No one to care. No one who loves me...

  Tears sting my eyes as I shove the key into the lock, but it won’t turn. I try again, but it doesn’t budge. The landlord couldn’t have changed the lock. I still have a few days left before the eviction date… Frustrated, I rest my head against the door, and the lull of voices drifts through the wood. Someone’s inside.

  I knock without thinking it through. What if it’s Tobias and Preston in there, waiting. I take a step back, but before I can take another, the door swings open, and my heart plummets to the pit of my stomach. “Saw… Sawyer?”

  His chiseled expression falls flat. On a groan, he swipes a hand over his face, the way he always does when he's annoyed. “You have some nerve turning up here, Ella.”

  “I live here. What are you—”

  “Jesus Christ.” He scrubs over his jaw. “You don’t live here, and you’re fucking crazy.”

  He’s lost his mind. I’m certain of that until my gaze slides past him to the inside of the apartment. The walls are beige, not Serenity Blue like I left them. His painting is back over the couch. But it's only been a few days since I left. There should still be a dirty coffee cup in the sink. My unfolded laundry should be on the couch—a couch that has somehow since been replaced. How could he have done this? Why would he do this? I open my mouth to speak, halting when I catch movement to the side of the room.

  Maria—oh my god, Maria—is to the side of the room, a cold stare on her face as she peers around the corner of the kitchen wall.

  Confusion clouds my mind as Sawyer crosses the threshold and softly shuts the door behind him. Frowning, he pulls his phone from the pocket of his slacks, dials a number, then holds it to his ear. “Yes. My name is Sawyer Levine, I made a call last night about the kidnapping of my fiancé.”

  His fiancé? My gaze darts back to the closed door. Maria is his fiancé? Kidnapped… Panic fires through me, spiking my adrenaline and telling me to run. I go to turn, but Sawyer snatches my wrist. “I have the suspect here,” he says into the phone, eyes narrowing. “She came to my apartment.”

  His apartment. It’s not his. It’s mine! I attempt to jerk free of his hold, but his grip only tightens.

  “Yes, yes. Thank you,” he says, then hangs up.

  There’s a moment where we stare at each other, a moment where I try to make sense of this all. “What is going on?”

  “What do you mean, what is going on?” His jaw tics, his deep voice booming off the walls. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I don'
t know what you're—”

  “You paid two men to kidnap Maria.” He’s in my face, cheeks reddening, and nostrils flaring. “You made her fuck you! You’re sick, Ella.”

  “I don't...” My head spins. Nothing makes sense. I glance at the door again, 3B. That's my door. Complete with the dent I made in it when I moved the couch in. I look back at Sawyer, his face rippling with anger. “I...” But I can't finish that sentence because I don't know what to say.

  “I've tried to be understanding, Ella. I really have, but you've gone too far this time.”

  This time? “Sawyer, I haven't even spoken to you since you left.”

  He tosses his head back on a laugh that fills the small corridor. “I feel sorry for you. You're a fucking basket case. Where did you get the money to pay those pieces of trash, huh? Did you fuck them for it, you little whore?”

  I fight back the tears. I'm disoriented— terrified of what is happening to me. The past few days flip through my head like a tattered movie reel, and then, suddenly the anxiety and fear are replaced with anger. Anger. Regardless of whether I’ve lost my mind or not; regardless of whose apartment this now is, it at one time was ours. Why would he want to build his and Maria's life in the same place we were meant to build ours? “Why would you move back here?” I whisper.

  “I didn't, Ella.” He squeezes my wrist. “You’re the one who left. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  I shake my head. This is insane. I didn’t leave. He did. I pull against his hold and when he doesn’t let go this time, I scream. I thrash around, kneeing Sawyer between the legs. On a grunt, he drops my hand and doubles over, and I run.

  I clamor down the stairs and outside of the building, freezing when I notice the two police cars stopping at the curb.