The Games We Play

15. Fourteen - Tess

Fourteen - Tess

I glare at X.

In one night, my masked stalker confirmed what I always knew about myself. He’s pulled the monster out of me I’ve kept stuffed down. I jerk the blade out and stab again…again…again until the whore’s body is still, and she’s silent.

I’m panting, her blood coating my hand and the hilt of the knife. I look up to find X hasn’t moved. Her blood glistens on his skin and soaks into his jeans and shirt.

The bitch’s lifeless body lies on the floor, and I climb on top of him, sliding my hand up to grab his throat and squeeze around his windpipe. “There’s my Puppet,” he says. His voice is full of adoration, and his hands lay still at his side like he’s not the one in charge here. “What will you do if someone touches what is yours?” he asks.

I glance at the dead person on the ground. My soul feels sated. The adrenaline that coursed through me all night intensified and morphed into something euphoric with each stab through her fragile skin that cut like paper.

I look back at the mask that mirrors my own and lean closer, slipping mine off and letting it fall to the floor. My blood hums with satisfaction but also a want for him. “Kill them,” I purr, and his cock presses against his jeans as it jerks up. Grabbing his wrist, I slide his hands over his head, pressing my chest to his. “I’ll always find you.” I flick the blade at the hem of his neckline and slide it down his body, cutting away the material. The muscles in his arms flex and tense, but he doesn’t move.

Tracing a circle around the left side of his chest with the tip of the blade, his body shudders under me, and his chest stops moving. My breaths are shallow as I fixate on his soft flesh. It would be so easy. Just an ounce of pressure and a slight flick of my hand. He moves his free hand down and lays it over mine around the hilt of the blade.

“Do it,” he rasps. “But know that I’m the monster who will haunt your every movement. I’ll be there for every orgasm, and you will be the person I bury my cock in whenever I want. I’m not a prince or a knight sent to slay your demons. I will be your demon. A killer who will do whatever to protect what is mine.”

Does he know what I’m thinking ? I glance up at the blue X’s of his mask. His words draw me in, grabbing my soul and tethering it to his.

“Claim me, Puppet,” he nearly begs, his voice breaking at the end. “Prove to them I am yours and no one else’s.”

I stop circling his chest. With his hand holding mine, I sink the tip of the knife into his skin, and he hisses as it cuts into his first bit of flesh. He forces me to push harder, cut deeper. To leave a permanent scar over his heart. I make one line vertical along his pectoral muscle, then lift the blade back to where I started. X lifts his hips, his cock pressing into my leggings through his jeans. He moans as drops of blood bead from the slice of his skin.

“Yes.” His head falls back into the reclining chair, and he releases my hand, panting and gripping the edges like he can’t contain himself.

Fire burns through my veins at the sight of him. His body trembles underneath me, the monster’s appetite barely curbed under the surface. I take my time in completing my mark, then sit back and study my work of art. Blood runs down his toned abdomen from the P I’ve carved.

His chest rises and falls in deep breaths, his mask muffling his sounds. “My turn,” he whispers, and he slides my ripped shirt off my left shoulder, blood already staining the fabric.

He tsks when he sees the mark slashed across my chest, running his thumb across the cut. I flinch from the pain, mesmerized as he places his thumb under the mask, and I make out the sound of him sucking my blood off.

“Delicious,” he purrs, his chest rumbling with the deep, satisfied sound. My core tightens, and my hips writhe, begging for more. He plucks the knife from my hand and places his palm flat against my sternum. I shudder at his touch, this moment more intimate than what I plan to do before the night ends.

My breath picks up as he brings the tip of the knife to my chest. I gasp as he cuts into the mark that’s already there, dragging the blade until the end. Fresh blood mingles with the dirt smeared on my skin. “Fuck.” I bite my bottom lip and grip his jeans, pressing my clit onto his crotch until the pain subsides.

“Who did you let get too close, Puppet?”

“I left him bleeding in the first room,” I say breathlessly.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he praises, and the knife cuts into my chest again. His cock hardens to the point it has to be painful, and I bear down on him, pressing his zipper into my clit and moaning as he finishes his mark across my chest.

“You’d kill for me,” he murmurs more to himself, like he’s shocked, and pulls the blade away. I glance down to see a freshly carved X on my skin. He places his hand over the dripping blood and smears it up my throat. “I want to fucking worship you.” His slick hand moves to my nape, and he pulls me flush against his body. Our blood mixes, linking us permanently to each other.

Lifting my hand to his collarbone, I glide it across the fresh blood on his skin.

My lips part, and I skim the bottom side of his mask. His breath catches, and his legs shift slightly from under me.

Is he…nervous ?

I slide the material up his chin. Short stubble from his facial hair brushes against my fingers. He exhales slowly, and I stop lifting the mask, memorizing the shape of his lips and the contours of his jawline. His tongue swipes out to wet his bottom lip, and I can’t pull my eyes away from the glisten.

“You put me through hell,” I say and slide off his body. He pushes up to his elbows and reaches for his mask. But I turn my back before I can see his face. The minimal lights filtering through the walls around us go out, signaling Haunted Nights has ended. My blood runs hot as he steps off the chair and stalks over to me.

“I had to make sure you had what it takes.” His breath blows across the nape of my neck, and I angle my head to the side, desperate for his touch but refusing to cave like a lust-drunk child .

“Takes to do what?” I ask.

His fingers graze my arms, and his chest presses against me. “To bring me back from the brink of my personal hell when I need it.”

His words stun me, and he nips my neck. The pleasure shoots straight to my clit, and I grind my ass back into him.

“What about you?” I quip and turn, cupping the crotch of his jeans and squeezing his balls. He immediately fists my hair and yanks my head back. “How do I know you have what it takes?” I ask, glancing up at him, even though I can’t see him through the pitch-black darkness.

His low, rumbling laugh vibrates against my breasts. “I’m your new addiction,” he says. “I’m your fix. Your drug. Your god.” His nose brushes across mine. I tilt my head back and push to my toes, finding his lips with mine. I squeeze my hand tighter, and his fingers wrap around my throat.

“My damnation,” I gasp. I’ll gladly follow him into the pits of Hell.

X shoves me back and slams me into the barely-there wall. I raise my leg and hook it around his hip, gripping the waist of his pants to bring him closer.

“On your knees, and suck my cock like it’s the last drag of a cigarette,” he demands. I drop obediently and unbutton his pants, dropping them down his legs. Gripping his freed dick with both hands, I pump him and force him to brace himself on the wall. Just weeks ago, I swore I would never get on my knees for this man…but here I am. And as I gaze up in the darkness, I imagine what he looks like. Are his eyes a moss green that is as rich as the green woods banked with heat as he stares down at me? Is he biting on his bottom lip at my challenge, filled with excitement ?

“Make me,” I purr.

“I’ll fuck that cunt until you can’t stand to walk, Puppet. Is that what you want?” My stomach flips, and I squeeze my thighs together.

“Yes,” I admit. More than anything, I want him to demolish me.

“Then take my cock between your lips and swallow.”

I lick my tongue from the base to the tip before taking all of him into my mouth. I gag as he plunges to the back of my throat, but I don’t pull away.

“Fuck, yes,” he groans.

He’s right. He is my new addiction, his smell, his taste, his touch. I’ll never get enough. I’ll never grow immune, and I’ve sold my soul to the devil and am at his mercy.

“I’ve been holding out for this—for you,” he groans. “I knew you’d look perfect on your knees with my cock down your throat.”

He fucks my mouth faster, his balls tightening in my hand. As he comes, he grabs my cheeks, forcing me to hold still. I swallow him down as he strokes himself until his cock stills.

He pops from my mouth and continues gripping my cheeks, guiding me up to my feet with his hold.

I’m soaked between my thighs, and a painful ache builds in my lower abdomen. Getting myself off isn’t enough anymore, not after this. I need him to fill every one of my holes and leave me a sopping mess on this grungy floor.

“I’ve watched you,” he says, holding my chin firm and not letting my gaze drop to his dick between us. “Dipping your fingers between your greedy cunt.” He cups my pussy with his free hand through my leggings, and my hips rock of their own volition, begging for friction. “Tell me what it is you look at after you drench your vibrator and go to take a hot bath? ”

My heart leaps up my throat, and I force a swallow as he waits for my answer. He’s been watching me, not just around campus or in public. He saw me in my room while I— oh shit .

“You were in my room?” I imagine a smile curving his lips as he leans in closer to me. His mouth brushes against mine.

“I’m everywhere, Puppet. And this,” He pulls his hand away from the apex of my thighs only to bring it back again with brutal force, slapping against my leggings. “Belongs to me.” The sting travels from my pussy through my body, and X swallows my surprised cry by molding his mouth around mine. He works his hand back and forth in tandem with his tongue, dancing with mine.

His taste is intoxicating, and something about knowing his cum just filled my mouth that he’s kissing sends a thrill through me. His hand isn’t enough. His tongue isn’t enough, even as my hips rock, and he’s practically holding me up by my tightening pussy.

X’s rock-hard erection presses against my abdomen, and I drop my hand to grip it firmly at the base.

“Take me, X,” I beg, my words come out more as a mewl than a coherent sentence.