By the lockers, the team shouts to each other and talks shit, riled up from practice. Even worse after a game. As soon as I’m through the door, I try to sneak out without my father noticing me, but I should know better by now. There’s no getting anything past him.

  “Heard you made captain.” His hand lands on my shoulder, and his smile is just for show as we head out the door.

  My teeth clench. Like he’s not the one who blackmailed Coach into giving me the position. Pissed off most of the team, especially Valentine. All of them deserve it more—work harder, care way more about our time on the ice, but I got the spot they wanted. That I don’t give a shit about. “Funny how that worked out.”

  He glances around us before shoving my shoulder. Shit. He knows. He knows about the thumb and my plans. “Where the hell were you on Friday?”

  My brain scrambles. Friday? Where was I supposed to be on Friday? “Probably on the ice or in the gym. Or getting shitfaced at a party. Memory’s a little foggy. You can understand.”

  Father takes a dangerous step closer, voice dropping when a few of the Devils burst out of the door, laughing and shouting to one another. “So you weren’t at a carnival the same night a man was killed by one of those masked carnival workers? You wouldn’t know anything about that?”

  My spine stiffens. The flashing lights and laughter at the carnival, her back to me as she moved like a shadow in a bloody white dress toward the couple fucking in the maze of mirrors, his screams mixing with those echoing through the House of Horrors as she brought that axe between his legs, the decapitated head she tossed into the corridor, leaving what remained of his corpse to bleed out on the floor. A mask shielding her identity from anyone who might’ve noticed her. Spotting me, the only witness, before she fled. Fucking her against my bike, adrenaline and lust pumping through our veins as we chased our pleasure with each other’s bodies.

  How the fuck did he find out about my little trip? I should’ve known it would only be a matter of time. Somehow, he always uncovers every secret eventually. “Nope. Hadn’t heard about it. Don’t exactly keep up with the news. Sucks, though.”

  Craig’s girlfriend has been interviewed by police and media multiple times since she reported finding his body, all too happy to be in the spotlight while her scummy boyfriend’s body rots.

  She was so drunk that night, though, her memories are shaky. First, she was certain the masked carnival worker was wearing a wedding veil, and then in her next recollection, the culprit was a witch. Then a zombie or maybe it was a vampire. Her testimony is shoddy at best, and the police have interviewed all of the workers who were on the clock that night, but none of their fingerprints or DNA match what the police found on the body.

  Luckily, the media has been more interested in the gory details of his murder—severed head, missing thumb, mutilated genitals—and his fall from grace as a married, churchgoing man who was having an affair with a college student before his untimely death.

  And without any leads, the police are facing down a cold case.

  Unless my father gives them some ammunition.

  How the fuck he would manage to scrounge any up would be a mystery to me, but I wouldn’t put it past him.

  “Hey, Mr. Lamont!” Rockefeller shouts, cheeks still flushed as he saunters past with Vanderbilt, Valentine, and Ashby. “How’s it going?”

  Father flashes his best winning smile. All the Devils love him. So do all the puck bunnies. If they only knew. “Great, Rockefeller. How ’bout yourself?”

  Rockefeller beams. “Living the dream.”

  Jesus, he’s insufferable.

  Father’s smile is forced when he turns his attention back on me. “Your priorities are hockey and class. Don’t come home until you graduate. Got me?”

  “What about winter break, Papa? We’re not going to celebrate the holidays together?”

  He scowls at my sarcasm and turns on his heel to head back to his Rolls-Royce. “I’ll be in Dubai, and I’m certain you’ll be on some beach with your parade of puck bunnies.”

  At my age, that’s where he would’ve been. He never wanted a son—he wanted a clone.

  I didn’t mention the carnival to him when we ran into each other on the island. I turned off all the GPS shit on my phone. So how did he track my location?

  My pulse starts to pick up speed. I’m not the only one hiding shit.

  “Why would you think I was there?” I call after him. “At the carnival.”

  He pauses with his hand on the door handle, his flat brows and pursed lips giving nothing away. “Stay out of trouble, Trey.”

  For a few seconds, I wonder where the fuck I am and what the fuck is wrong with me.

  Mouth dry, limbs weak, spine stiff. Above me is my bedroom ceiling. I’m at the hockey house, the soft sheet of my bed beneath me, long overdue for a wash. But this is more than the usual fatigue and soreness from hockey.

  Something’s wrong.

  “Oh, good. You’re finally awake.” A figure saunters to the edge of my bed, dark leather clinging to her every mouthwatering curve. She’s wearing my mask.

  My cock twitches, and an unfamiliar twinge makes my eyes nearly bug out of my head. I’m naked, and beneath my torso, something glints in the darkness⁠—

  “You pierced my fucking cock?”

  “I did it while you were unconscious. I told you I would get my revenge.” Even beneath the mask, I can hear her smirk. Juliet’s finger glides up my shaft, making blood pump to my cock and an ache build in my balls. She stops at the piercing, tracing it. “This is for me.”

  I jerk, ready to get my hands on her and show her that every inch of her is for me, but my wrists strain against scratchy rope. She’s tied down my wrists and ankles, just like I did to her that night after the Sigma Chi party. She must’ve drugged me somehow too.

  She said she’d get her revenge. I was an idiot to think she wouldn’t find some way to one-up the tattoos on her arm and ass. She pierced my fucking cock. Jesus. At least I’ll make her scream with it.

  “Get this shit off me.” I jerk at the ropes again, but I hardly budge.

  She doesn’t obey me, which only fuels my rage. I fight against the restraints, accomplishing nothing more than rubbing my skin raw and tiring my already drained limbs.

  Juliet hums and finds my knife in the pocket of my jeans she picks up off the floor. She flips the knife open and trails the dull edge up my thigh, goosebumps springing up in its wake.

  She’s going to cut me, make me bleed. Who knows what else. My little demon is capable of much worse than I ever expected.

  I love that about her.

  My heart thuds, and a smile crawls across my lips. “Do your worst, demon.”

  “Trust me, devil,” she purrs. “I will.”

  “I’ll enjoy giving you your punishment for this.”

  She snorts. “So funny you still believe you’re the one in control.”

  But I never have been. Not with her. Since that night at the haunt, even when I was the one chasing her and pinning her down, she’s been the one in control. Controlling my cock, my mind. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. Dreaming about her. Following her. She consumes my every waking thought.

  “What are you going to do with me?” I taunt. “Come all over my cock?”

  “Maybe.” She shrugs, and the rage boils again at the possibility of her leaving me like this, aching and needing to come. The knife trails up to the sensitive skin above my pelvis. I bite back a groan. “Maybe I’ll untie you if you give me what I want.”

  “Anything.” I gasp out the word, fighting against my need to be inside her.

  Her little laugh behind the mask is music to my ears. “Such a needy boy.” She flicks my cock, making me yelp, and I try to break out of my restraints again. Useless. “Why did you pull me out of the corn maze that night? Why me?”

  Though she saunters around campus with a strut in her step, a vulnerability softens her words. She’s not used to being the girl who gets chosen. Not anymore. Not after those monsters forced her to hide beneath a hard shell, to gnash her teeth and claw at anyone who dared to get too close.

  “Overheard the Devils talking about how you couldn’t be scared. That you wanted to be. I knew if those idiots couldn’t do it, I could.” I grin, wishing she’d take off that damn mask so I could see her pretty face. Study those gorgeous blue eyes and never take my gaze off them. “I had no idea how much you’d like it.”

  At the innuendo, she trails the knife down to my thigh, the blade biting into the skin there. I hiss through my teeth, beads of blood rising to the surface beneath the sharp edge.

  “Why did you say I was the one you’d been searching for?” With the flat edge of the blade, she skims back up, over my tensed abdomen and up to my collarbone. My pulse hammers harder with every inch.

  How could I not? She grinned when I told her to run, told me if I caught her, I’d fuck her. Let me dry-hump her in the haystacks and whispered sweet nothings in my ear about how she wanted to be chased and fucked by a masked man in the dark, wanted to be asleep and taken advantage of, held at knifepoint and taken against her will, cut before the blood was licked off her skin.

  Those were her fantasies, and she was mine.

  Now that I’ve managed to get my hands on her again and again, she’s better than I ever imagined. I fight against my restraints, needing to touch her. “You told me all your darkest fantasies. Every depraved, unhinged thing you wanted me to do to you. I knew my girl would love the pain. The fight. We were made for each other.”

  She goes quiet, trailing the blade over me gently. Letting my words sink in. With every silent second that ticks past, the panic bubbles that this dark, twisted passion is one-sided. With the panic comes a simmering fury. I can’t be the only one who knows how perfect we are together. I won’t let her believe anything less.

  “Take the mask off.” To my surprise, she obeys my command, the pressure from the knife never lifting as she discards the mask and drops it to the floor.

  Her cheeks are flushed a soft pink, the piercings in her brow and nose glimmering. Those striking blue eyes combing over every inch of me like I’m the devil from her dreams. “You saw what I did at that carnival. I have much worse planned for the rest of them. You don’t want to be made for someone like me.”

  Frustration builds in my limbs. She actually believes that. Believes someone as beautiful and twisted and brilliant and scarred as she is couldn’t possibly be someone worth wanting. “You’ve seen a fraction of what I’m capable of, little demon. If either of us is broken beyond repair, it’s me. But you don’t have a choice in the matter now. I’ve found you, and you’re mine. I’m never letting you go.”

  “You’d have to catch me first.” A coy smile plays on those delicious lips. I’m going to devour them.

  “As soon as I break out of this little trap,” I grind out, “I will.”

  Her laugh makes more blood pump to my erection. So hard it’s nearly painful. A reminder of the fresh piercing, the skin at my tip still red and swollen. “Good luck, devil.”

  “Since you pierced my cock, I’ll pierce your tongue. Can’t wait to feel that when I’m fucking your mouth.”

  Without a word of retort, she presses down with the knife on my chest, and the pain is red-hot this time.

  I try to flinch away from her but can’t get anywhere. “Fuck.”

  She’s fucking crazy. Psychotic. Unpredictable.

  She thinks that’s enough to make me run. She has no clue that only makes me want her more. Makes me more convinced how right we are for each other.

  “Finally, a woman insane enough for me,” I pant as she cuts down, a little curve to the tail at the end. A J for Juliet. “Carve your whole name into me. I hope it doesn’t heal. I hope I’m scarred with your name forever.”

  My little demon shakes her head. “You’re nuts.”

  I grin. “That’s why you’re crazy about me.”

  She turns and drops the knife shiny with my blood back on the desk. My chest twinges with disappointment. The pain made me come to life. Connected me to her in a way only two dark, scarred souls could be.

  “I told you everything you wanted to know. Now untie me.”

  She tsks, a smile sliding across her face. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

  Juliet slowly shakes off the leather jacket, revealing a leather corset barely containing her incredible tits. My wrists strain against the rope, my palms aching to grab them and squeeze. To twist her nipples until she cries out as I slam inside her.

  Next to go are the skin-tight pants. When she’s down to her corset and panties, she grabs the knife and climbs onto the bed, swinging a leg over me and settling onto my lap. Between her legs, my cock jerks, the warmth of her pussy through her panties enough to drive me wild.

  She leans down, still grinning, and I’m not sure which I’d rather stare at—her face or her tits—until her mouth gets dangerously close to mine.

  I turn my head, and she freezes, smile slipping away. “What⁠—”

  “I don’t kiss.”

  She frowns. “Why not?”

  With my mask, the issue hasn’t come up before. “It’s pointless. It does nothing for me.”

  “It’s because of her. Isn’t it?” The Dominatrix persona slips away to reveal the softer part of Juliet, layers beneath her hard shell. The part she doesn’t like to show to anyone.

  I’ve confessed too much to her now. She can sense my lies just as well as I can sense hers. “Yes. She’d make me kiss her.”

  Every time a girl has kissed me since, the memory of Rachel’s slimy lipstick smearing across my lips has turned my stomach. Now the only place I want a girl’s lips is around my cock.

  Before, most girls whined when I refused to kiss them, but Juliet doesn’t say another word. She only nods, straightening and planting her hands on my chest, the cool metal of the blade pressing against my skin as she continues to clutch the knife. What other plans does she have for that fucking thing? Before I can ask, she grinds her pussy over my shaft, careful to avoid the tip. I hiss through my teeth, wishing I could dig my fingers into her hips.

  This, we both enjoy. This, we could do all day.

  “Fuck,” she breathes. My little demon grinds her clit against me, tipping her head back as her eyes fall shut and small moans escape.

  “That’s it, pretty girl. Use me. Just like I’ll use you. Come over and over on my cock.”

  “I’m going to. I’m going to use you and leave you begging for more.”

  “Make me beg then, baby.”

  She’ll never make me beg for her, beg for anything. But I’ll love watching her try.

  Once I can feel the dampness through her panties, she drops the knife on the bed beside us and strips out of the corset, tossing it to the floor. My mouth waters when her tits drop and swing in front of me. She gets on all fours like she’s materialized straight out of one of my wet dreams and pushes her tits in my face. “Suck.”

  Even though I’m dying to obey her command, I can’t help but taunt her. “What happens if I don’t?”

  The sting of the knifepoint digs into my arm, back in her palm. “You don’t want to find out.”

  I bite back a laugh. It’s actually cute, watching her pretend she’s the dominant one here. Without another word of protest, I wrap my lips around her nipple and suck it into my mouth.

  She groans, arching further into me and forcing me to suck her deeper. I lap at her sensitive skin. I want her soaking for me. Want my cock dripping as her pussy swallows me. Want her eyes bugging out when the tip hits her cervix and she’s still got more to take.

  “Now the other one.” She’s already breathless.

  I suck her other nipple, trying to lift my hips so I can grind against her, relieve the building ache, but her body is too high above me. Just out of reach. I growl and suck her nipple harder, making her gasp. “Ride my cock now.”

  “I will,” she snaps. “When I’m ready.”

  “You are ready. You’re dripping for me.”

  “By the time I’m finished with your mouth, I better be.” She stands, the mattress shifting as she slides the panties down her legs and kicks them off.

  She climbs back onto me, but instead of grinding against my cock this time, she slides up my body, leaving a trail of arousal up my torso. Getting me back for the night I let my cum dry on her. Too bad she has no idea how much I fucking love it.

  When she finally reaches my chin, she stops. “I’m going to ride your face, and you’re going to make me come with that tongue, devil.”

  “Then get the fuck up here, demon.”

  She doesn’t hesitate. The next second, she’s planting her pussy on my mouth. She’s not gentle about it. Not self-conscious and timid the way most girls are. I’d laugh if her thighs and pussy weren’t suffocating me.

  My tongue glides up her slit, the wetness already rubbing against my chin. Her moan is sharp as I hit her clit, flicking my tongue against it as her back arches and she rests her weight on me. Fuck, I never thought I could be this into a girl riding my face before.

  I slide my tongue between her tight walls, groaning as her sweet taste floods my taste buds. She’s always so wet for me. Can’t hide the effect I have on her every time.

  Her hips sway back and forth as her ass cheeks graze my chin. She rides my face like my tongue is her own personal sex toy. That’s it, baby. Ride my tongue. Get your orgasm and then give me mine.

  Waiting to get my cock inside her is a worse punishment than when she was digging that knife into my flesh. I’d rather she cut the whole alphabet into my skin than make me wait another second to come inside her.

  “Suck my clit.” She pops her pussy off my tongue, returning to drag that soft bud against it. “Make me come.”

  I flick the tip of my tongue against her clit instead, soft grazes that make her jerk and cry out before she half-screams in frustration, fists striking the bed on either side of my head.

  “Say please, pretty girl.”

 

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