Page 59 of Wanna Play A Game?
“Okay, hello?” Miles pipes up. Instantly, I’m released, and the monster of a man grabs Miles’ hair, yanking his head all the way back. He grins down into his mouth. “Hello.”
Miles laughs. “Let go of me, you brute.”
“Tsk, tsk, Miles. You know better than to make demands.” Ryder descends on Miles’ mouth and kisses the hell out of him. When he lets him up for air, Miles looks up at Ryder with puppy eyes.
Ryder chuckles and releases him. “Let’s get out of here.”
I opt to let Ryder drive, and he pulls us out of the lot.
“Goddamn, it’s good to be free,” Ryder rumbles.
“You want to stop for food?” Miles asks.
“Nah. Let’s just go home. I desperately need a shower and a shave.”
Home. With our bunny. And our game.
Ryder is staring at me in the rearview mirror. His tone changes to a demanding one. “Something you want to tell me, Sawyer?”
Like that I have a hot piece of ass captive in our home? Who fights so beautifully that it makes me want to hurt her more? Who makes Miles want to curl up under her skin and save her from everything, including us?
You love playing your sick games. You’re fucked up.
I shrug.
Ryder doesn’t buy it. He goes silent, then glances over at Miles. Miles’ jaw is so tight I see the muscle twitch.
“No one’s gonna tell me what’s going on?”
“That’s on Sawyer,” Miles grits. “It’s his mark.”
The car goes deathly silent. We’ve never picked marks without the others involved. For years, it’s been a group effort.
You’re no better than me, Sawyer. You always hated me, but look at you now.
My abuser’s voice is so loud I almost hear her right next to me. I squeeze my eyes shut.
Ryder jerks the car to the side of the road. A small thrill of fear runs through me.
My door is yanked open. Ryder’s voice is so soft I almost miss it. “Get the fuck out.”
I do. Ryder grips the back of my neck and shoves me to the other end of the car.
“Open both doors, Miles.”
Ryder shoves me against the seat where Miles sits, between the doors, so no one can see.
His huge body hovers over me, his breath ghosting the back of my right ear. “Did you forget how this works, Sawyer?”
I clench my fists.
“I ask questions, you answer.” I hear the whisper of his belt being taken out.
A delicious shiver runs through me. He’s going to hurt me. I want it. I need it. I need it to chase away the voices.
“I don’t care if the question is what you had for lunch or what your greatest fear is.” In a violent move, Ryder rips my jeans down. “I ask. You answer.”
I drop my head onto the leather seat and grab Miles’ thigh, bracing for what I know is coming next.
