The Games We Play

10. Nine - Tess

Nine - Tess

Something startles me awake. I peel my cheek from the open textbook. I fell asleep reading in my bed. I check my phone to see it’s barely four in the morning. It’s been a week since Seth showed up here. The cops asked questions around campus. Apparently, they found a note claiming he left to explore his options in life. His parents clearly don’t believe it, but the cops seem inclined to when no further information comes about.

Professor Brady waived the whole test debacle. Claiming he just couldn’t imagine putting a student through something with no evidence it was true.

It was odd, but I wasn’t about to question it.

Rolling over, I place my phone on its charger and close my books and laptop, setting them on the floor. I grab my blanket and pull it up to my face, but it’s ripped from my hands. I scream, flashes of every horror movie playing in my head. A deep chuckle comes from the foot of my bed, and I make out the figure of him .

He’s wearing the same dark black mask that covers his entire face.

“Who are you? How did you get into my house?” I removed my spare key after he left, punishing me by choosing to stay away.

With a click, his mask lights up. Neon blue Xs are the eyes, and a smiling mouth with what poses as stitching as if it’s sewn shut is all I can see. I wait for a response, but I don’t get one. The mask blinds me from anything else in the room, like a spotlight shining directly on me. He grabs my ankles and yanks me toward him. I try to kick free, grabbing at the bed to pull myself away.

“Are you going to fight me tonight, Puppet? After you were so willing to get fucked at the party. I didn’t expect you to care who you spread these beautiful legs for.”

I freeze. He was at the party? He saw everything between Ryan, Seth, and me? Did I look at him and not even realize who he was? His words land a punch to my stomach, and my hackles rise to fight back.

“You know nothing about me,” I spit and reach up to grab the mask. His hands tighten around my ankles until it’s painful, and I fall back into the bed, trying to find relief.

“I know with one touch, you’ll be soaking wet for me.” He clasps his hands under my knees and pulls me down until my legs spread around him, my ass flush with the edge of the bed. His jeans scratch the inside of my thighs, his belt digging into my thin cotton shorts against my center. He’s not wrong. My body responds to his touch, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s right.

“You left. What makes you think I want anything to do with you?” I growl, clawing at the slightest bit of repulsion for this man to cling to.

I dig my nails into his forearms until I draw blood. He hovers over my body, his mask inches from me. I don’t back down; the blue lines permanently brand into my vision when he moves his attention to my breasts spilling out of my tank top.

“Hmmm,” he hums, and my nipples pebble. My entire body betrays me. “You’re my slut now. I’m the only man you’ll be spreading these legs for or baring your pussy too, understand?”

“Fuck you,” I snap. Totally losing all sense of self-preservation. This man is here to kill me. Why else would you be sneaking into my house and stalking me? It’s all a game of fascination, and when he’s over it, my life will end… just like he killed Seth. He did it with such ease. I bet there is a list of names he’s taken attached to his damned soul.

He chuckles, and there’s madness in it that flips my stomach. Leaning back, he runs a finger along the inside of my leg, avoiding my center and tracing down the other one. My toes curl in anticipation of him touching me, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stave the craving.

Maybe I am royally fucked up. Even with what happened to me, I still want him. I want sex and to know what he tastes like. This is part of the mystery of it. There are no strings, no commitments, just a chaotic obsession that fuels us both and keeps him coming back.

“I’ll only fuck you when you’re on your knees begging for it, Puppet,” he states evenly and pushes himself away from me completely. The room is freezing compared to the heat that was building between us, and disappointment hits me like a wave. I want him to use me. Destroy me. I want him to leave me broken and staring at the ceiling. At least then…I’d feel something. But I can’t give him the satisfaction of hearing me beg. He’ll have to take it if he wants it.

“Like I’d ever get on my knees for you,” I seethe and push up from the bed to stand toe-to-toe with him. Where this power play of a woman is coming from, I have no fucking idea, but this is the third time he’s been in my house, and he needs to realize I’m not a fragile girl who will cower underneath him. He’ll need to find new prey if that's what he wants.

I really hope he doesn’t.

“Careful, Puppet. I’m beginning to think you like our little game. Oh, and if anyone touches what is mine again…well, we know how that’ll end. Behave.”

Before I form a retort, he backs out of my room and closes the door. Leaving me heated, horny, and fucking confused. And already I’m wondering if I’ll ever see him again.

X, for the neon Xs, he’s burned into my memory.