Page 37 of The Games We Play

“X,” I plead.

“Trust me, Puppet. What we’re about to do is nothing like you’ve ever experienced.”

Twenty - Tess

X leads me backdown to the party where everyone is grinding with their heads down and asses up. Guys grope whoever they want and nobody seems to question it.

“Do you dance?” I ask X. His hand runs up the leg of my dress and he squeezes my bare cheek.

“How about another game?” he asks in a whisper below the music. “This is our hunting grounds. There are no rules, except one—don’t get caught.”

“What?”

He doesn’t stick around to explain. I track his every step as he dissolves into the crowd and dances with other people like he belongs in this frat house.

My jaw falls open behind my mask as I watch him stop behind another woman. She wears a black tube top and short black skirt with fake blood at the corners of her mouth that runs down her front. His hands run down her bare ribs as he encourages her back into him. Her ass grinds onhis crotch and jealousy courses through me so hard I’m reaching for my blade. X shakes his head at me and backs away to the wall with the girl, secluding her from the crowd. He pulls a knife from his back and traces her jaw and neck with the tip. The girl is so far gone she doesn’t even know what’s happening. He points the knife at me and flicks it toward Jackson. I have to peel my eyes away from her wandering hands to spot my prey across the room.

Don’t get caught.I repeat his rules in my mind.

Attract my target, steer them away from prying eyes, and kill them.

Only problem is Jackson already has another girl against his dick. I straighten and shake out my shoulders.

I’ll just have to make her move and take her place.

X’s eyes burn into my back as I leave him at the edge of the room. I tap on Jackson’s shoulder and he spins around, abandoning the girl in front of him.

“Hello, sexy,” he purrs, staring at my exposed cleavage and short dress. He nods like he approves and jerks my hips into him until I’m firmly pressed into his chest. We dance in time to the music. His thigh wedged between my legs and my pussy grazing the costume. I take small steps until we eventually are on the edge of the crowd, working my way to the wall. He grabs my ass roughly and steps on my feet the entire way, but I’ve made it this far. X is close. I can feel him.

“How about you keep the mask on and we go upstairs?” he slurs.

I hide my cringe by gripping the elastic of his Thor suit. Angling my head to the side, I admire the pulse of his carotid artery and drag my nail down his jaw and across the sensitive skin. His smile grows, and he fists my hair, pulling my head back. His vile tongue licks up my neck and his teeth graze my flesh.

“What’s upstairs?” I coo. It’s convincing even to my ears. He leads me up step by step and I let him. I even go as far as faux stumble and he catches me. Theatrical maybe, but I want him caught totally off guard. He thinks he’s the lion leading the lamb to slaughter, but I’m a wolf disguised as a sheep. By the time he realizes something is wrong, it’ll be too late.

Jackson opens his bedroom door and I fall into him, pushing him further inside with the door remaining open. He lands on the bed and stares up at me with a drunken lust.

“Why don’t you get him worked up?” He palms his crotch and I lean to hover over his body, grinding my hips down into him and sliding my hand under his costume. His hands run up my legs and he pulls my dress up over my back. He slaps my ass, then grips it tightly.

“You’re a needy little slut, aren’t you? Making my job way too easy. You’re practically already naked on top of me.”

I whimper for show and he slaps me again.

“Do you like it?” I ask, while lifting my foot. I reach down until I grab the hilt of my knife and tease my fingers across the top. “Do you like to play games?” I whisper, and he runs his hands up my back, pulling me down harder onto him.

“I love games,” he slurs and I smile wider.

I lean back, pulling my knife free, and run the tip down my torso and back up again. “Let’s play a game then. Who is popular, plays sports, but can’t now because he’s dead?”

Jackson blinks like he’s trying to focus. He laughs, then reaches for the knife, grazing the X carved into my chest instead. “Role playing? Did you get that at Party City?”

I grab the waist of his costume and, without care, twist my knife and cut his pants free from his waist.

“What the fuck!?” he screeches and tries to roll me off. But he’s drunk, which gives me the upper hand. I pull my mask off and recognition flicks across his glazed eyes.

Leaning down, I force his body back, putting my hand over his mouth and pressing my knife against his throat. “You shouldn’t touch what doesn’t belong to you,” I whisper. He stills, but any questions or pleas die in his throat as I bury my blade. Hot blood flows down my hand and squirts across my chest. Even with his life waning, he fights to get up. I straddle his body and twist the knife, taking a deep satisfying breath, like the air itself is laced in an aphrodisiac.

It isn’t until he stops moving that I gaze down and admire my artwork. Blood decorates the wall and the floor as it soaks into his black sheets. I pull my blade out with a squelching sound and wipe it clean on the God of Thunder’s costume.

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