Fake Game (The System #3)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

THIRTY-SEVEN

DEER

I regret this.

Jackson parks the car, but I don’t make a move to get out or unbuckle my seat belt. I just stare straight ahead at the movie theater. The tinted glass makes it impossible to see inside.

There could be dozens of people inside. They could recognize me. Take pictures. Post them online so anyone can come find me. So they can find me.

I really regret this.

“Deer?” Jackson’s voice breaks through the hum as he opens my door and leans over me, unbuckling my seat belt and grabbing my purse. My body stays stock still—I just look at him out of the corner of my eye. “Come on.” He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. My traitorous body seems to not be communicating with my brain because it follows him out of the car.

“Jackson,” I whisper, grabbing his bicep with my other arm. I’m clutching onto him like a small sugar glider that’s staring wide-eyed at its surroundings and shaking from the potential predatory threats. “What if people recognize me?”

“They won’t.”

I scoff. “You can’t guarantee that.”

“Trust me, they won’t.”

As we walk up the stairs, the tinted doors swing forward, a man in a suit holding it open for us. My steps falter as I take his large frame in, but my nerves steady as I realize I’ve seen him before. He’s one of the security members from the expo.

I give him a small nod as we walk inside, my nails gripping Jackson’s arm even harder as I wait to see just how busy it is.

“In and out,” I mutter to myself, taking controlled breaths through my nose like the therapist instructed me. The smell of buttery popcorn and salty pretzels wafts around me and I look up.

It’s…empty.

I mindlessly follow Jackson as my eyes dart around the theater foyer. There are two employees, one at the ticket office and one by the concession area. I note three more people in suits stationed throughout, whom I’m assuming are extra bodyguards.

I know it’s a Tuesday afternoon, but I still thought more people would be here. Maybe all the other movies just started…

“What do you want to snack on?”

“Hmm?” I blink up, noticing he’s led me right to the concession counter. “Oh.”

Candy, popcorn, pretzels, pizza, chips, slushies, ice cream, curly fries, mozzarella sticks, chicken tenders…my Gods, there are a lot of options. When did movie theaters get so complex? It is like a drive-through in here.

“A pack of fruit gummy worms and a large salty popcorn.”

“Drink?”

I hesitate, looking at the fountain machine. It’s not like someone could put something in that without drugging the entire theater. That’s what my rational brain tells me. I, however, am unable to listen to it.

“Nope.”

“Not even a bottled water?” He points to the mini fridge on the ground next to his feet that houses a few bottled beverages.

“Fine.”

I won’t drink much anyway—I hate getting up to use the bathroom at the movies—but this will appease him enough.

Jackson also orders himself popcorn plus a pretzel and then pays while the employee scoops up the buttery popped kernels and drops them into a plastic bucket.

“Here.” The girl’s smile is sweet, and she has blonde hair, not brown, but it still sets me a little on edge.

“Thanks.” I take my bucket and gummy worms, trying to smile back because I don’t want to seem like a bitch when it’s just my anxiety talking.

Jackson flashes his phone at the employee at the ticket office, and they instruct us to head to theater seven.

I scan the movie posters lining the walls as we walk to the theater, but once we get to the set of double doors with a bright, glowing seven above it, I halt. We haven’t seen anyone else so far, and it just makes me worried that everyone is already in the theater, crowding it with their bodies in the dark room.

Jackson opens the door, and I step in, bracing myself as I walk up the ramp. The theater is still dimly lit because the movie itself hasn’t started yet, so I’m able to run my eyes over all the seats.

It’s…also empty.

“What time does the movie start?” I’m not sure why I’m whispering when there’s no one else here.

“In a few minutes.”

I frown, following him to our seats smack dab in the center, sinking down when he motions to the correct ones. This must be one of those fancier movie theaters since the chairs are all plush with black leather and extra cushioning around the headrests.

“I thought this movie just came out?”

“It did.”

“Then where are all the people?”

Jackson shrugs, ripping off a piece of his pretzel and eating it.

That’s when I hear the doors open.

I knew it .

I whip my head around, ready to see a herd of people rushing in at the last minute.

My shoulders droop.

It’s just another bodyguard…

I turn back, slumping into the chair. Confusion rattles me as I rip open the packet of gummy worms and dump them into my popcorn bucket before giving it a careful shake to distribute them all.

“What are you doing?”

“What?”

“You just put the gummies in your popcorn.”

“I did.” I reach in to pick one out, popping it into my mouth. The chewy gummy is coated with some of the salty butter, making it delicious. “Want one?” I hold another one out for him.

Jackson stares down at me with uncertainty but opens his mouth. Surprise ripples through me, but it is laced with a small kernel of fire. My heart pounds loudly against my chest as I slowly bring the piece of candy closer.

He looks right at me as his lips close around my fingers, and it sends a bolt of lightning right to my core. The room feels like it notches a few degrees higher as we lock in place. But the heat in his eyes quickly dies as he continues to chew on the gummy worm, his jaw tensing up with every bite. I stifle a smile. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to know that he is not a fan of the flavor combo.

“Is it bad?”

“Well, it’s not good.”

Laughter spills out of me as he immediately twists open his water and takes a chug. I give the bucket another shake.

“Ya know, if you let it marinate for a little longer, the popcorn takes on some of the sweetness from the gummies as the heat melts them.”

“No thanks. I’ll just stick to my normal popcorn.”

The lights start to turn off, and I give the room another once-over to see if I missed anyone else entering while I was distracted. But nope. No one.

The trailers begin rolling, and as each minute ticks by without some last-minute viewer rushing in, my nerves begin to calm. And by the time the movie starts, I’m able to tune out and just focus on the screen before me.

Around halfway through the movie, Jackson lifts the armrest separating our seats and pulls me into him. I snuggle against his side, relishing in his warmth as we watch the Devil Nun eviscerate one of the witch hunters in the underground catacombs. This unrated version really is taking the gore to a whole other level.

“That was interesting,” he mutters under his breath as one of the hunters gets bitten by the nun, the wound quickly turning a poisonous purple.

“What was?”

“That. It wasn’t in the theatrical cut.” He looks down at me, the lights shifting on his face and highlighting the strong cut of his jaw.

A horror movie isn’t supposed to feel intimate, but with each passing minute, I find myself sinking deeper into the man next to me. His calloused fingers rub circles on my arm, causing my attention to split between the movie and him.

“What?” He gives me a wry smile.

“Nothing.” I try not to grin back, but I can’t help it, the apples of my cheeks tightening.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

Our smiles continue to grow, matching one another beat for beat until I have to bite my bottom lip to stop it. Jackson’s lids go hooded at the action, gaze flicking from my mouth to my eyes. He brings his hand to rest beneath my chin, thumb brushing over my bottom lip.

I take in a stuttering breath, completely mesmerized by him.

Jackson dips down, closing his lips around mine. His hand comes up to cup my jaw, and it angles me right into him. I reach my arm out, searching for purchase, and land on his shoulder, using it to pull myself closer to him. When I’m with him, it’s like nothing else exists. He quiets the hurricane in my mind, soothing it into a gentle breeze that licks over my skin.

Kissing Jackson feels like looking through a telescope for the very first time and noticing all the stars in the sky—it’s bright and all-consuming, drowning out the world around me. His tongue dances with mine and I moan into it, craving more.

We’re like teenagers, our hands swimming over each other’s bodies, desperate for touch as our panting gets louder and kisses more frenzied.

“The things you do to me, Deer,” he growls against me.

I love the way he talks; it makes me feel like the most desirable woman in the world.

His hand palms my breast, and I arch into him, wishing there was no fabric separating us. I trail my hand down his chest, letting my fingers rake across his T-shirt until I hit his jeans. I tamp down my smirk as I continue going lower, my hand rubbing down the hard evidence of his want.

“Someone’s playing naughty,” he grins against my lips.

“Oh?” I grin back, giving it a light squeeze before I continue to rub up and down.

He groans. “You better stop doing that unless you plan on taking responsibility for it.”

My stomach swoops. “And what if I am?”

He pulls away, eyes darkening as his hand rests on mine, and he pumps us together along his length. “You want to suck this cock? Then beg me for it.”

“Please,” I breathe, slipping off the seat and onto my knees. “Please let me suck your cock.”

I fumble a little in the dark, working to get his jeans unbuttoned. My fingers close around the band of his briefs, pulling his cock free. His hands close around his length, and he looks at me as he pumps himself.

“Open your mouth.”

My lips part, and he guides himself into my mouth. The tip of his cock hits my tongue, and I taste that salty bead of precum, my eyes lighting up.

“Now, suck.”

I close my lips around him, letting my tongue mold against his dick as I suck. My cheeks hollow out and I look up at him, watching his reactions as I begin to bob. I move one of my hands to his base, twisting it in motion with my mouth. Jackson’s brows crease and he threads a hand through my hair, gripping it lightly. A thrill shoots through me as his force increases, and he uses me to pump a steady rhythm as he begins to fuck my face.

“Such a good little cocksucker, aren’t you?” His deep voice courses through my blood.

Jackson’s hips buck up, and it pushes his cock even farther down my throat, causing my gag reflex to kick in. But I refuse to stop, eager to please him. His grip around my head tightens as I choke, taking him deeper and deeper with every bob of my head. Tears begin to bead and then fall free, trailing across my cheek.

“Look at those pretty tears slipping down your whore face as you choke on my cock.”

I’ve been with some men before who used degradation, but none like Jackson. The way he utters those words has my pussy clenching and aching, desperation leaking free.

I work faster, suck harder, not caring about the sloppy noises that only seem to spur him on. He lets out another groan, his hips lifting again, and I move my hand to cup his balls, giving them a light squeeze.

“I’m about to come.”

His words fill me with satisfaction, and I swirl my tongue, letting him thrust against me until he groans. He lets his grip loosen just enough so I don’t totally choke, his hot cum shooting down my throat. “Fuck,” he breathes, pulling back to look at me. And the post-orgasmic adoration in his eyes as he swipes a thumb across my cheek to clear my tears has my heart skipping a beat.

He tucks himself back away and guides me onto my seat. I squirm a little, clenching my thighs together at the tingling that won’t go away. Jackson rests his hand on my thigh, his fingers squeezing in a way that only exasperates the sensation.

“If you can wait, I have a gift for you later.”

“Gift?” I tilt my head.

“Yes. The fun kind.” There’s a dark promise in the way he raises his brows and smirks, and I can’t help my curiosity.

“I can wait.”

“Are you sure?” His fingers trail higher.

“Yes,” I hiss, trying to ignore the way I want to shift my hips so his fingers can give me some relief.

“Good.” He removes his hand, and I’m both grateful and woeful for its loss. Jackson tugs me closer, nestling me against his chest. “I can’t wait to see how pretty you’ll look.”

The words themselves sound innocent enough, but the wicked gleam in his eyes vows depravity.