“Remember the last game you went to, Violet? Remember what happened to us?”
Me and her. Caught in a loop.
She nods, her lips parting.
I reach farther, sliding two fingers inside her. Her pussy clenches at me, and I stroke inside her. Then out, back to her clit. And repeat. She shifts her hips, trying to get more from me.
“If we win this time, what will you give me?”
She opens her mouth wider, then closes it. She doesn’t know what the fuck I want from her—I don’t even know. I wonder if her cut has scabbed over and begun to heal. I wonder if she’d let me slice her open again.
My cock is rock-hard, caught between us.
This sort of energy will get me through the game.
“What do you want?” she finally asks.
The song changes. Something a little faster. I rub her clit to the beat, aware that the music pounds in both of our ears. I want so many fucking things from her. I want everything.
“I don’t think I’m going to tell you,” I say. I move my fingers harder, and she shudders.
A tell. Another fucking tell.
“Maybe it’ll involve my team. Maybe I’ll let Steele watch me fuck you, so he’ll know there’s no way he can do better than me…” I catch her earlobe with my teeth. She’s more turned on now than she was a minute ago.Bingo. She’s just as depraved as I am. “You like that? Do you like the thought of other eyes on you?”
“In your dreams,” she replies.
I bite harder on her ear. Her breathing is coming quicker now, her hips moving just a bit. It’s causing agony across my groin.
“In my dreams and your fantasies, I think. It’s okay, baby. You can be just as twisted as I am, and I won’t judge you for it.”
She turns her face more into my shoulder, and she comes on my fingers. I relish the spasm of her muscles. That her release is tied to whatever fucked-up madness is running through my head just makes it ten times better.
I pull my hand out of her jeans. My fingers glisten.
She lifts her head and watches me lick my fingers clean. Her taste is sweet, unlike anything I’ve sampled before. I don’t know why she’s like a drug to me.
“Good girl,” I murmur in her ear.
We’ll return to normal tomorrow afternoon. And Monday, what I told the publicist will go live. Our destruction is imminent.
26
VIOLET
Willow gets me to Dr. Michaels’ office five minutes before my appointment time. Mia Germain rises from her seat in the waiting room and strides toward me. She looks the same, if not a tiny bit older. Time marches on for all of us, after all.
I hold my breath when she gets closer, convinced she’s going to make a comment on my physique.
Instead, she just spreads her arms and wraps me in a giant hug.
Her dark hair is streaked through with random strands of silver, giving it a tinsel appearance. It’s twisted into a bun on top of her head. Her oversized sweater makes her seem smaller.
“I’m so glad you made it,” she says, withdrawing.
I grin. “Me, too. This is my best friend, Willow Reed.”
“My parents are hippies,” she says, trying to explain away her name as she shakes Mia’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”