Page 47 of Revelry

Knowing I can’t stay in here forever, I sigh, wrap my towel around my body and steel my nerves, preparing to find anything on the other side. I push the button, but the door judders and groans in protest. When I glance up, I see why. The bastards have duct-taped me in here. With a frustrated kick from me, the partition finally slides back into the wall, but I’m still trapped by hundreds of pieces of silver tape blocking the doorframe. They’ve been nice enough to leave me a window though, a square of duct-tape-free space about the size of my fist, at eye level. And through it, Cooper is smirking.

“Don’t you smirk at me, Ryan,” I snap.

Coop is shirtless now, showing off all of that beautifully muscled torso and the ornate tattoo sleeve running the length of his arm and the left side of his chest. He casually leans one elbow up against the doorframe, bringing his nipples right into my line of sight.

“What’s the matter, Ali-Cat? You don’t like to be kept in your kitty cage?”

“Screw you.”

“Well I would, but I’m afraid you’re locked in there, and I’m out here.” He grins like a freaking maniac. “Do you see the predicament we’re in?”

“Let me out of here.”

“That’s it? That’s all you got for me?” He arches a perfect, black brow. This boy enjoys playing with me far too much. “You’re not even going to try and sweeten the deal?”

“What? You think I’m going to let you win that bet? Or offer to suck your cock if you let me out?” I say with a mocking smile. Coop’s eyes hood with desire and I frown when I realise I haven’t rattled him at all, but just given him fuel for his already raging fire.

Fire. Boner. Same thing.

“Let me know when you want out of your cage, kitten,” he says, and the motherfucker smirks as he’s walking away.

At least an hour after they taped me in there, I cut my way free with a pair of Deb’s nail scissors that she’s left in the bathroom. I’ll likely get my arse chewed out because of it tomorrow when she finds the sticky residue all over her precious scissors, but I don’t care. The bus is quiet, the main lights are off, and I can see a little light playing peekaboo with Coop’s curtain around his bunk. I tiptoe so as not to alert any of them to my escape, and I head into the back room.

I’m still wrapped only in a towel, but I could kiss the boys for losing their shirts so often. I pick up a worn Misfits shirt from the floor and throw it on. I know it belongs to Cooper because it smells like him, and I gratefully, pull it over my head. It covers the important bits, so that’s all that matters, because no way am I sleeping naked around these guys.

Pulling the blankets from the drawers beneath the bed, I press the button and the mattress slides out. I lie down, more than happy for the extra room to stretch out. I can’t sleep though, and after twenty minutes of tossing and turning I get up and put the Xbox on. I’m maybe twenty minutes into aDead of Nightwhen Coop startles me from the doorway, making me die in the game and loose about ten health points in real life.

He leans against the doorframe, his arms casually folded over his chest and one of those stupid vapour cigarettes hanging from his mouth like a sailor with a pipe.What is he, Popeye? Sadly, he even looks hot doing it.Screw this guy for being so damn good looking. Screw him to hell. Um … yes, please.

“Uh oh, pussy’s roaming free,” he says.

“You just killed me, you butt munch.”

He shuts the door behind him and comes closer, jumping up on the bed beside me and wafting his vapour in my face. It smells kind of nice, like gingerbread, but I still shoo the vapour away as though it were smoke. “Your mouth is such a turn on, Ali-Cat.”

“Oh, my mouth has plenty more where that came from.”

Coop grins and I’m sure there’s a response on the tip of his tongue but when he lifts the corner of the blanket, preparing to tuck his legs beneath it, that response is snatched away by the sight of my naked legs.

“You boys got come on my clothes, remember?” I remind him, though I’m not really sure why he needs an explanation as to why I’m not wearing any pants.

“I’m beginning to think I’m going to get come on my T-shirt too.” I frown at him in confusion and he clarifies, “You’re wearing my T-shirt.”

“Oh, that’s cute, you’re doing that Alpha-hole thing again. Like me wearing your T-shirt is some big fucking deal.”

“I am not an Alpha-hole.”

“Yes, you are,” I say, poking him in the side as he slides back onto the bed and tucks his legs under the blanket. “You’re so cute when you pout.”

“I am not fucking pouting. I don’t pout. Grown men don’t pout.”

I love these exchanges between us—it’s like tennis on crack, volleying insults back and forth, each of us throwing down our racket in a rage when then tension becomes too great. Half of the time I want to punch him in his pretty face. The other half I want to rip his clothes off and run my tongue over every inch of his body.

I chuckle, because I can’t help sinking the hook deeper. “Aww, don’t worry, Tyke, you’ll grow up to be a big man someday.”

I ruffle his hair and he reaches up and wraps his hand around my wrist, squeezing just hard enough for me to feel how easy it would be for him to overcome me. He slides his thumb over the inside of my wrist and I swear my vagina pulls out her skipping rope and starts fucking jumping up and down at the prospect of that simple touch becoming more. Coop surprises me by sliding our joined hands over his cut stomach and down beneath the sheets, over his hard cock.

“I think it’s big enough, don’t you?”

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