Chapter Twenty Five
Blair
Ismash my hand into the bathroom wall with a scream. How dare she say his name? How dare she? He’s not a dirty little secret, but God, just his name has my heart aching. I want to march back down there and rip her to pieces. I want to see her fall the way I did, to see her hurt and almost die—
I punch the wall again with another shriek and the door opens. I turn away, holding my aching knuckles. “Fuck off.”
“No,” Cyrus snaps, and the door shuts. I jolt at his voice, expecting Asher or even Bray, but not him. “Did you break it?” he asks.
I flex my hand, not looking at him. “No, I’ve had worse.”
“Let me look,” he murmurs softly.
“Get out. Why the fuck don’t any of you listen to me?” I almost yell and spin. His eyes narrow as he steps closer, grabbing my arm none too gently and jerking it out. I try to fight it, but he turns my hand and prods at my split knuckle, ignoring my hisses and threats.
“It’s not broken, but you’ll need to clean it,” he says and lets go. I tug it back and step away.
“No shit, Sherlock. Now get out,” I order.
“No,” he replies with an arched brow. He crosses his arms as he runs his eyes over me.
“What the fuck is your problem?” I snarl.
“You, it seems.” He smirks, focusing on my heaving chest.
“Fuck you,” I snap. I’m not in the mood for their games or shit right now. My head is screaming at me, and my pain is almost palpable as I fight back the memories.
“If you’re offering.” He grins, running his teeth along his lip as if imagining it.
“Was that a fucking joke?” I almost choke. “Fucking hell, what is it? Backwards day? Fuck off, Cyrus. I mean it.”
“Or what?” he taunts, stepping closer. “What are you going to do, princess?” The word is sardonic, and I jerk. All of my pain and anger contract on him, and before I know it, my hand is lifted, ready to strike. He catches it mid-air, grinding my bones until I gasp. The pain slams through me, mixing with my fury, and for some reason… it turns to desire.
The electricity that’s been building between us explodes through me until my heart slams, my pussy clenches, and all the hair on my body lifts.
“Wrong move, but if you want to fight…” He wrenches me around and smashes me into the door. The force knocks my breath from me. I glare up at him as he reaches down and lifts me, holding me in place as our eyes meet from inches away. “I’ll happily oblige, but that’s not what you want, is it?”
I don’t speak, the objection to his suggestion caught in my throat. I choke on it, and he smirks, running his eyes across my face and landing on my lips. “You fucked her.”
“Huh?” I say stupidly, caught off guard from the whiplash of the conversation.
“You fucked her,” he repeats, and it finally clicks. He means the blonde who chases him around.
“So?” I snap, dragging my eyes from his lips.
“So…” He leans in. “The next person you fuck is going to be me after you taunted me with that little cunt.” He slams his lips onto mine. I groan, fighting back with my lips, giving as good as I get. He wants to play? So be it. I pour all my anger into him, and he takes it. I grab onto his shoulders and dig my nails in, but it only makes him groan as he presses against me and grinds his hard cock into me.
Did he mean it?
He’s going to fuck me?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for that, especially with Cyrus knowing it won’t lead to anything more… but isn’t this wrong? Fuck, why does the thought only make me wetter?
I rip my lips away to suck in deep breaths, and he nudges my head to the side and bites my ear. “I tasted you on her, like rain and fucking sin.” He groans and grinds against me as I moan. “I want your taste all over my tongue and cock. All those teasing touches… I want you to dance on my cock like you did on the table that night for me.”
“I knew you wanted me,” I taunt as I kick him back. He drops me, and I lean against the door as he watches me.
“Want you?” he growls, grappling with his belt.