by Jayla Kane
“But—”
“So you think because he’s alive, I should shrug off the lie you told me?” He gazed at me suddenly, his pupils contracting to pinpricks. “You think things should just… Go on?”
“I think if I can forgive you for making my life hell, you can forgive me for lying,” I said evenly, crossing my arms, but he stood up and flattened his palms on the desk, lowering his head so that we were eye level. The effect was unsettling.
“I’m sorry I did that to you,” he said softly, his gaze piercing me, pinning me. He waited a minute before a giant false grin cracked across his face. “Do you feel better, Bird? Did that erase it? Make it all go away—everything I ever said, everything I did, everything you felt—is it gone now? I’m sorry,” he snarled, the thorns in his words raking across my heart. “So sorry. So sorry I poured my life, my time, my energy into you. Do you feel better?” He slowly stood up and started walking around the desk. “Is it over, for you?”
“I didn’t say that, I just—”
“You still lied,” he growled, his voice like the snap of an avalanche, the warning before the disaster. “You are still a liar, Raven Keller.” Jake grew closer, and I took an involuntary step away from him, afraid for the first time that he might actually hurt me. He looked dangerous. Murderous. “You still broke me. Did you think we would hold hands? Be besties again?”
“I thought—”
“I’m assuming since you’re still here that you still want in on the Vault,” he said softly, and now there were only three feet between us. “You want something, have more to take, more to salvage from this wreck.” He grinned down at me while gesturing at his chest, letting his hand sweep over it. This wreck. He meant himself. “Is that it?”
“No, no I—” I swallowed again, then stood my ground and looked him in the face. “I don’t need to get in the Vault anymore.”
That threw him. “You don’t?”
“No, it’s… It’s not important now.” There was no use for fairy tales now. Tristan was alive. But Jake and I were… “I’m not here because of that.”
“Why then?”
Because I love you, I thought, staring at him. He had to know—how could he not know? How could he think I… “I knew we needed to talk, and—”
“Why are you in Ashwood?” His eyes bored into mine. “Why aren’t you at Harvard, Raven Keller?”
Because I love you, I thought again, tears welling in the corners of my eyes. I knew this would be difficult, but I thought, I hoped… “I don’t want to go yet. I wanted to be with you, to talk this out—”
“What if you can’t?” The circles under his eyes didn’t make him less lovely. He was just as handsome, just as much mine—more so, now that the climbing vines between us were so twisted, so overgrown and entangled—“what if this is all there is?”
Would that be good enough?
“I’m not done,” he said, watching me. “I’m staying here, I have to deal with this whole thing, this thing where my brother is still alive, and I am still Game Master.” Jake stood up a little bit taller, but his gaze was still trained on my face.
I realized he was asking me something. “I’m still your Sineater,” I told him, and he watched me for a full minute before replying.
“Why?”
“Because I am.” Because if that’s the only way you’ll let me be close to you, I’ll take it, I thought. Because I can’t for one minute imagine that this is how it ends between us—because I can’t leave you like this, Jacob Warfield. I can’t. “Like you said, you’re still Game Master.” I shifted on my feet, forcing myself to meet those remarkable eyes. “I’m still Sineater.”
“After what’s happened between us, how can I trust you?”
It was a good question.
I didn’t have a good answer, I realized. And trust was paramount, it was crucial between the Master of Games and his Sineater, the only way the system worked. I’d even read a couple of cases where the Game Master quit altogether and was replaced when his Sineater retired, or in one case, died. For us, given the twisted games the Society was playing lately, we wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything without trust.
“I know you don’t believe this, but I have only ever lied to you once,” I told him. It was the truth. “And that doesn’t mean that I won’t again—” I saw the gleam in his eyes already “—But I don’t want to. I want to… To serve you,” I said carefully, and watched his pupil blacken his eyes, wider by the second. “I want to do what you want to do… And maybe, in time, you’ll trust me again.” Please let him love me enough for that, I thought, and bit my lip, trying not to cry again. “I promise. I’ve forgiven you,” I said again, and he sharply inhaled. “Or at least I’m trying to. Can you?”
Jake stared at me for a long time, and I wondered if he was going to throw me out—through the door or the window, I wasn’t sure.
“Kneel,” he whispered, and I did instantly. I watched as he slowly walked towards me, his hands on either side of my head in a split second, that athlete’s grace showing itself again as he moved too fast for me to see. “You’re mine, then, Sineater. You agree?”
“Yes,” I told him, and just the touch of his skin on mine made me ignite. I had things I wanted to do for him, alright—I had needs and appetites and desires and I wanted him, suddenly, my god did I want him. My body ached below, my breasts grew tight as my nipples fought my bra.
“You belong to me, to use, to take my pain away, to do what I deem necessary,” he whispered, staring into my eyes. “You’re mine, Raven Kintera Divinity Keller. Say it.”
“I’m yours, Mas—”
“No,” he barked, and I realized what he wanted to hear and a shiver ran over my skin, making me tremble.
“I’m yours, Jacob Knight Warfield,” I whispered.
He nodded once, and let me go.
We stood there, staring at each other for a long moment; my body was hot, practically steaming with the current of need that screamed through my nerves, the singeing touch of his skin on mine making me sweat. I wanted him in my mouth, I wanted him in me. I needed it.
“Take off your clothes,” he rasped, “and get on the desk.”
I obeyed.
Chapter Twenty Two
Jake
Maybe I was possessed.
Maybe all this creepy Society shit was real. My brother was back from the dead—who knew what else might happen?
This whole week I felt like my mind was slowly devolving, was convinced I was going crazy several times—I hadn’t been able to sleep for two days and by the end of that stretch I was hallucinating.
And I craved her.
I craved her to the point of madness. Past it.
Raven stripped and went over to stand at attention at the desk in the same position as before; I could see that she was shaking.
With fear, probably. That made sense.
I was to be feared, now. I was afraid of myself.
But… I could smell her, too. Smell that delicious, addictive scent, the sweet cream between her thighs as intense and powerful to me as any aphrodisiac ever created. She was ready.
Ready to be mine. Ready to be used.
I knelt behind her and buried my face in her precious slit, indifferent to the grind of my stubble against her delicate skin. Raven rocked back against me, just like I knew she would, and in another thirty seconds both of us were clutching the edges of the desk with white knuckles, her pushing further, for more, harder, me doing the same, both of us wracked with need. Her moan brought me back to my senses and I stood up, flipped her over on her back and pinned her knees to her shoulders, pulling my cock out and plunging in without preamble.
And I fucked her.
Hard.
The woman I hated. The woman I loved. The wicked, wicked creature that was swallowing my soul from the inside out—that I had welcomed in, beckoned towards my heart like a fool.
Every part of my humanity, my identity, my soul ached. Ripped. Ruined.
/> And my body sang.
I watched in agony, my whole body reeling with pleasure as her tiny pussy swallowed my cock, milking it, the pink flesh stretched to capacity, her clit swollen and hot. Raven’s pale skin was infused with pink, so beautiful it took my breath—I’d never seen her so open before, so exposed in the bright daylight. Her hands gripped the desk, holding on tight, her magnificent breasts rocked back and forth as I fucked her, a damp sheen of sweat all over her exquisite body. I held her legs tighter, pushing her open further, and sank in to the hilt; Raven moaned so loudly I wondered who would hear us. Somebody would. “You like that?”
She bit her lip and nodded, her nipples so hard they turned from their sweet pink flush to scarlet at the tips.
“Say it.”
“I like it,” she whimpered.
“What do you like?” I fucked her harder, slower, watching as her head fell back, banging on the desk, when I sank all the way inside. Her tunnel quivered around my cock, preparing to cum, and I slowed down again. She opened her eyes, her mouth open and breaths shallow, and looked me in the eye.
“I like it when you… When you fuck me,” she whispered. I nodded at her in approval—that’s right. That’s what I was doing.
“You like it when I use this pussy?” I slammed into it again, watching her eyes widen as she gasped, the moan that left her mouth making me want to fuck her like an animal. Instead, I slowed down even more, tightening the grip I had on her white thighs.
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I like it when you use my pussy, Jake,” she whispered, and I almost finished then. I slowed down, reluctantly, and looked at her opening again, watched her take it all in, inch by inch, her body so small in comparison to mine. But strong, and definitely willing.
She was trying to fuck her guilt away. I didn’t know how much of this was actually to please me—to assuage me. I think Raven might have been too sexually innocent to understand how her body affected me, to know how to manipulate it; she just controlled me naturally, by being exactly what I craved, all of the fucking time, whether I wanted to or not. I craved being right here, buried in this sweet little hole, the pink flesh so tight and wet that I could see a froth developing as I pumped into her again and again. She looked so delicious that I jerked my cock out and leaned down to taste her, peeling her swollen folds apart so I could savor her juices. I let my tongue wander lower, licking the forbidden hole below, and almost groaned—she was so damn tight, her body compressing even further with the barest pressure. I bit her ass cheek and stood up, then quickly shoved the first knuckle of my index finger into her damp asshole. She gaped at me, fear and desire mixing together on that exquisite face as she tensed at the sudden intrusion. “I’m going to cum here,” I told her matter-of-factly; “and I want you to cum while I’m in your ass, and no sooner. Do you understand?”
“Yes Jacob,” she said, and I slid my cock back and forth across the slippery skin, the taut underside of her body, watching the fat head of my shaft get caught first on the tiny, resistive hole below and then the eager one above. She bit her lip, her eyes closing in ecstasy as I pushed back inside and began fucking her dripping tunnel again. I leaned back, letting go of her legs for a minute to slap her tits a little bit, just enough to make them rock into each other as she moaned, the skin pink, and then I squeezed those perfect nipples… I could feel myself growing stiff while I listened to her moans as she grew closer and closer, overwhelmed by the sensations raging through her body, the pleasure tinged with pain, the submission and desire to please and her pride, mottled with need. Her whole chest was pink now; she was about to go in that trance state women experience, where the arousal takes over and everything seems to make them cum. But I wanted her to go right over the cliff, screaming, that sensitive clit singing as I thrummed it and buried myself in her asshole; I wanted fall with her—it only made sense, given who we were, what we were. I reached down and ran my thumb in a circle over the swollen button above her entrance and watched as her eyes popped open, the sound that came out of her so raw I once again had to fight off the urge to fill her with my seed. I did it again, swirling my fingers as I pumped away at her, and her eyelids fluttered and her head fell back. It was time; I was going to finish if I did this for even a minute longer, and she was right there, perched on the precipice.
“I love you.”
What?
“I love you, Jake, I’m so sorry—”
“Stop talking,” I snapped, and she raised her head, her eyes locking on mine.
“I wasn’t—I didn’t—” She looked genuinely puzzled, and I fucked her hard—meanly, roughly—and her mouth dropped open, her face startled.
“Don’t fucking lie to me,” I hissed. My cock was getting hungrier, in spite of myself; she tightened around me.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and I did it again, punishing blows that rocked through her entire body and made her eyes roll back in her head. She was going to cum if I did it again, so I pulled out and positioned myself by her ass, using one hand to guide the head against the tiny hole and the other one to lightly tease her clit. I listened to her hiss of breath as I pushed hard, the head fighting past the almost impenetrable ring of muscle, but the moisture from our bodies let it slide in. Jesus Christ, I was about to pop. I couldn’t help watching as I fed her tiny ass more of my cock and listened to her moan helplessly as I teased her swollen clit—
“I love you so much, I’m so sorry, so sorry—”
“Shut your mouth,” I growled, finding her stare again, her surprised expression, beads of sweat appearing on her forehead as her body worked to accommodate me below. “Don’t say it again, Raven. Don’t.”
“Okay,” she said, and I could tell from her voice she had no idea what was going on—maybe she was so distracted by her oncoming orgasm she just didn’t realize what was coming out of her mouth? Was that possible? I stared at her face, pushing further in, and watched her bite her lip and moan in a mix of pain and pleasure at the same time, the effect making me instantly stiff. I wanted to cum inside her, in this place forbidden to everyone else, forever, this little hole, this sweet shiver of pleasure and pain, this was all mine. “I love you,” she said again, and I…
I was staring at her mouth.
She hadn’t spoken.
I heard her voice in my head.
“Jake I love you I love you I love you---” She opened her mouth and a long, low moan came out as she came on me, her body unable to hold back any longer as I swirled my finger over her clit and opened her sensitive hole. But she hadn’t said a word. She was biting her lip until she moaned, and then I heard them both at the same time.
My body began to leave my wishes behind, unable to fight off the orgasm that was clawing through me as my balls tightened and prepared, as she squeezed me so hard, the rhythmic pulse of her orgasm impossible to deny as my body sought release. I head myself grunting—once, twice, three times—and then I was filling her, mindless, reckless, the white-hot heat of our joining rocking through me so hard my knees almost buckled.
When I was done, I could taste ashes in my mouth; I could taste how much I wanted to hate her, this creature, this woman that had broken my heart. And I kept hearing those words, over and over, but this time I knew it was just an echo: I love you, Jake. I’m so sorry.
Was I actually going crazy?
Did I just want to hear them that badly? I’d never imagined anything so real before—certainly not stone cold sober, in the middle of sex. I stared down at her spent face, her chest rising and falling as she tried to recover her breath. Her whole body shone like an opal in the sun, the sweat glistening on her white skin; I wanted to lick it. I wanted to bite her; I wanted to cry and punch something and scream; I wanted to tell her I loved her too. Her eyes found mine and stared into me, and I could’ve sworn she heard what I was thinking.
And then something landed on my shoulder.
Something cold.
A snowflake drifted past m
y nose, then another; I looked down at Raven’s impossibly beautiful skin and watched a white snowflake land on her belly and steam into oblivion, the heat of her body making it disappear almost instantly. She sat up, her eyes widening as she gazed at the ceiling over my head, her chest abruptly freezing as her breath held tightly in her throat and her pulse raced. I slowly turned and looked up.
It was snowing.
Inside the Office. Thick, fat snowflakes, mid-winter flakes, flakes that belonged to the longest, darkest night of the year.
And we were inside, in a room with locked windows, in early September.
The snow drifted down by my head, Raven’s face now blanched and staring in abject terror at the impossible vision. I wasn’t imagining this.
This was real.
A chime sounded, and I glanced at the screen of my phone, now precariously balanced on the very edge of the desk, the rhythm of our bodies having pushed it almost over the side.
This is Tristan, I read. I know you have a lot of questions. I’m at the station.
“Get dressed, Sineater,” I said, my voice raw. “We have to go.”
Yeah, I thought. I’ve got some questions. Just a few.
This will be continued in Deny Me, the next in the series, Legends of the Ashwood Institute.
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