Cards of Love: The Devil (Devil's Playground #1)(40)

And yet, I can’t seem to make myself stop hanging around Damien.

He gets me in a way other people don’t. Almost like he has the same sickness I do buried inside him. Only, he shows everyone who he is. He’s not ashamed of the things he likes…the things he does.

He’s free. Because he doesn’t give a shit about anything.

Then again, it’s easy not to care when you have nothing to lose.

Damien’s going nowhere in life. But me? I’ve got plans.

“Fuck me harder,” Mrs. Miller screams.

“Shut the fuck up, Kristy.” I yank her hair so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t tear right off her scalp. I’m getting tired of her demands. Tired of not hearing from Harvard. Tired of my father’s punches and my brother’s snickering.

So fucking tired.

Every day that goes by, I’m closer to snapping.

Mrs. Miller flinches and a sharp bite to my thigh makes me hiss.

Most of Damien’s face is covered because Mrs. Miller’s riding it while I fuck her asshole, but his eyes are visible.

And right now, they’re flashing me a warning. Be easy.

He’s such a goddamn hypocrite. He’s pulled her hair and told her to shut up plenty of times. Only when he does it, she doesn’t flinch like a little prissy baby who can’t take a dick.

There’s a certain level of trust between them that doesn’t exist between us. Which is fine by me, it’s not like I give a fuck about her.

It just pisses me off when he comes to her defense and has the nerve to give me shit for doing the same stuff he does.

I’m getting tired of being the third wheel in this little shitshow.

So fucking tired.

And if she’s going to cry like a little bitch, maybe I should give her something to cry about.

I yank her hair again, but she yells, “My phone is ringing.” She freezes. “That’s my husband’s ringtone.”

“Not my problem.” If she’s quiet, I’ll be through with her in five minutes. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“He’s supposed to be at practice. Something must have come up. I have to find out what’s going on.”

“Not.” Thrust. “My.” Thrust. “Problem.”

“Cain this is serious. I have to answer that.”

Ignoring her, I thrust harder.

“Please.”

“Say please one more fucking—”

A sharp punch to my thigh has me stumbling back. “What the fuck?”

Damien lurches up from the bed. “Let her answer her phone.”

“I wasn’t done yet.”

“None of us were.”

Venom rushes through my veins. A vision of me standing on the sidelines while he’s screwing my girlfriend until he comes flashes through my head. As usual, Damien’s a fucking hypocrite.

“She’s the whore who cheats on her husband, not me.” I point to my chest. “Why should I be punished?” I narrow my eyes. “And you’re one to fucking talk—”

The sound of a door slamming cuts me off mid-sentence.

“Did that cunt really just leave?” I charge for the door, but Damien pulls me back.

“Chill.”

“No.” When I try to punch him, he wrestles me to the floor. “I’m gonna drag her back here by her hair and make her finish me off.”

Seething, I bolt up, but he slams me back down and sits on my legs. “She’s already gone.”

The sound of a car starting in the distance makes me grit my teeth. I hate when he’s right, but I hate being revved up with nowhere to go even more. I need an outlet. I need somewhere to channel all this indignation bubbling inside my chest.

I look down. Damien’s hand is hovering above my throat, ready to strike at any moment. Like he knows I’m a second away from losing my shit entirely.

I hate the way Damien tries to control me. He’s starting to remind me of my father.

My ears ring with fury and I lunge for him. I want to scratch his creepy eyeballs out and feed them to his goddamn piranha. Hell, I just might.

As usual, I underestimated Damien’s strength, because he shifts his weight and pins my arms to the floor.

“Calm the fuck down.”

“Make me.”

My stomach sours when his eyes flash with heat, mistaking my exasperation as an invitation, but my cock thickens when his hips rub against mine.

Releasing one of my arms, he reaches between us, grazing my erection. “That for me?”

“Didn’t think you were the type to ask for permission. What’s next? You gonna paint my nails?”

Grunting, he licks a line from my Adam’s apple to my jaw. “I’ll ask you one more time, asshole.” The hand on my dick squeezes. “Is this for me?”

There’s only one way out of this. One solution at my disposal. One way to put an end to the torment.

“Only if you can make it come.”

He smirks. “We both know I can make it and you do whatever I want.” He licks the seam of my lips. “Open.”

When I refuse, he laughs.

The joke’s on me when I realize he’s securing my wrist.

I struggle against his hold. “No—” The moment my mouth opens his tongue strikes. Our mouths battle, dueling it out for control as he ties both my wrists together.