33. Blaise

“Mia? Really?” I punch him again, if only to see his face snap to the side. “You were going to fuck my ex?” One more hard hit. My knuckles bleed. I don’t fucking care. What’s a little more blood at this point? I’m pretty sure my nose is busted and that I have a cracked rib or two. “You left me on the fucking football field. You beat me up, and you fucking left me there.”

Cole flies off the bed and shoves me back. “You were going to cheat on me,” he shouts, fisting my T-shirt before pushing me back again.

“Cheat on you?” I stare at him in disbelief. Cole starts pacing, tearing at his hair and kicking random items out of the way, like Mia’s bunny slippers.

“I mean nothing to you,” he snarls, his eyes flashing with hurt.

“You mean everything to me. Everything!” My voice breaks. Fighting with Cole is exhausting. It doesn’t matter what the fuck I do; I can’t win.

I can’t fucking win…

Cole puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head. He laughs bitterly and lifts his eyes to the ceiling. “I mean everything to you, huh?” He glares at me. “Is that why you were meeting up with a masked stranger and letting him fuck you? I must be really special to you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Sucking on his teeth, Cole continues pacing back and forth. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You were supposed to be with me, but you were more than fucking happy to meet up with a masked stranger.”

“But it was you⁠—”

“You didn’t know that!” he shouts, shoving me. “You didn’t know it was me. No, you thought it was someone else, and you were more than fucking happy to screw around on me. Who did you think it was? Did you imagine Jackson? Samson?” He shoves me again, and I stumble against the vanity desk, knocking over a lotion bottle and a tub of makeup brushes. “Did you hope it was Keith?”

Fury rises inside me, and before I know what I’m doing, I shove him hard, making him fall to the floor. “I knew it was you all along, asshole,” I spit. “I found the fucking mask in your bag during the ski trip!”

Cole stills, but the damage is done. He doesn’t trust me, and he never will. We’re a toxic mess, and we’ll never be good for each other. Cole must see the defeated look in my eyes. When I turn for the door, he scrambles to his feet and intercepts me before I can leave the room.

He blocks the doorway, and I come to a sudden stop. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his hair standing in all directions.

“Step out of the way.”

“No,” he says, bruises forming on his jaw. “I won’t let you walk out.”

My heart thuds hard as I pause. “Excuse me?”

“I said I won’t let you go.”

I’ve never seen Cole this unhinged. The way he stares at me from beneath his dark lashes has my pulse quickening. “Please,” I beg, my shoulders slumping. “Let me out.”

When he continues breathing hard, I wince.

I clearly have no choice but to force him out of the way.

Cole grunts when I grip his T-shirt and haul him away from the door. He stumbles back several steps. I’ve never seen him this heartbroken. The sheen in his eyes is one of pure desperation.

I go to open the door, but he tackles me to the floor, and I crash against the fluffy white rug with an “oomph,” staining it red with blood. We’re fighting now. Cole is on top of me, surprisingly strong now that he’s running on pure adrenaline and aggression while desperately trying to secure my wrists. I won’t let him. How the tables have turned. Days ago, it was me who tried to stop him from leaving.

“Fuck,” I grunt, briefly managing to knock him off me. He throws himself at my ankles, and I fall right back down. I kick out at him, and he manages to dampen the force behind the blows by using his weight. He’s a heavy fucker. “What the fuck are you doing?” I growl when he tries to grab my arms again. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Calm the fuck down,” Cole says, his voice strained as he pins me to the floor. I’m on my front with my cheek pressed against the rug. I don’t know how the fuck he does it—and I don’t fucking like it—but he somehow gets the upper hand, trapping my wrists between our bodies, his breath hot on my ear.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growls, bearing down on me with all his weight until my fight begins to wane. “You and I are not done.”

“Fuck, just let me go,” I plead, choking on what sounds suspiciously like a sob. I’ve been through hell this last week. And when he walked away from that football field—when I saw the look of pure devastation in his eyes—my heart splintered, and fear clutched at the bruised organ. I can’t go through that again. I can’t keep doing this anymore.

“I told you,” he says as he fists my hair. “I’m not letting you go.”

“Will you at least tell me what I did wrong and why you didn’t want me touching you this week?”

Cole stiffens behind me, and I stare at the closed door, the legs of the vanity table, an abandoned slipper Cole kicked out of the way earlier.

When he speaks, my eyes fall shut as tears threaten to fall. “I know what you did, Blaise. I know you drugged me and filmed me fucking your girlfriend. I know everything.” A heavy exhale fans my ear, and then his weight disappears. He climbs to his feet as though he needs distance from me.

I’ve ruined everything.

Turning my head, I let the rug soak up my tears. I don’t stand up. What’s the fucking point? My chest throbs. I struggle to breathe. Curling in on myself, I grit my teeth and fist my hands. I want to scream. Release a roar and never stop until my lungs are shredded, but I don’t.

“Why would you do something as sick and twisted as that?” he asks behind me, his voice thick with disgust.

The throb in my chest intensifies. I slowly push myself to my feet, feeling broken beyond repair. Every muscle in my body aches, especially my ribs, and I clutch my midriff as I glance at Cole. I’m unable to look him in the eye, so I focus on his throat, seeing it jump when my bottom lip trembles. I open my mouth to speak, to say something, anything. Nothing comes out. What’s there to say? He’s right… I’m sick, twisted, evil. Other people get their happy ending. Not guys like me.

I wet my busted lip, tasting the tangy blood. The door looks inviting right now. It would be so easy to walk out. I try so fucking hard to meet his gaze, but I can’t. I don’t want to see the damage I’ve caused.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my chin trembling. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

When Cole remains quiet, I drop my eyes to the floor and nod in defeat. I deserved the beating I received on the football field. “I’ll get out of your way,” I say, my voice cracking. Then I walk away, limping and holding on to my bruised stomach. There’s blood everywhere. I should go to the hospital, but fuck that. I just want to be alone.

The moment I open the door, Cole appears behind me and presses his hand to the wood. It shuts again with a soft click. I wait for him to talk, to chew me out, to tell me how much I disgust him, but he does neither. His breath caresses my nape for endless moments as though he’s warring with himself.

“When I think of you touching anyone else, I want to commit murder,” he whispers, close enough for me to feel his breath against my nape.

“I would never let anyone touch me but you,” I admit, swallowing hard. “You’re the only one I want.”

“Why did you do it?”

Why did I drug him? It all seems so far away, like it happened to someone else in a different lifetime. “I don’t know.”

“Not good enough,” he says and grips my hip.

My hands clench at my sides as my chin meets my chest. “I wanted to bury under your skin, but all along, you were under mine.”

“You made me fuck your girlfriend because you wanted to bury under my skin?”

“I wanted blackmail to use against you after you threatened me. I wanted to take back control. At least that’s what I thought,” I reply, my admittance floating between us. Cole puts his other hand on my hip, and I tremble beneath his touch. “I was intrigued. That’s why I took it so far.”

“Intrigued?” he asks, lifting my T-shirt to skim his fingers over my bare skin near my belt. “Why were you intrigued?”

“I was jealous.”

“I was fucking your girlfriend. Of course, you were jealous of me fucking your girl.”

His fingers trail over my contracting abs as I whisper a choked “No…” and inhale a trembling breath. “I was jealous that she was fucking you.” He grows still. I’m not even sure if he’s breathing anymore. “I let it go that far because my own emotions intrigued me. What you don’t see in that video is that I kissed you afterward.”

“You kissed me?” He sounds haunted.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so fucking long,” I admit. “Even before I realized it myself. I’m crazy about you, Cole.” I slowly turn around, the door at my back. “But I get it… I wouldn’t forgive me either.”

A muscle clenches in Cole’s stubbled jaw as I turn to open the door. I need to get out of here, or I’ll try to touch him again. We both need space.

“Where are you going?” His voice stops me in my tracks.

“I’m going home.”

“The fuck you are!”

I frown, but before I can turn around, he grabs the back of my neck and shoves me hard against the door. “Now, who the fuck is running away?” he asks, reaching around me to tear my belt open. “Who is hiding behind their walls?” His hand slips inside my briefs, and he palms my dick. My cheek squishes painfully against the door. I press back against the wood with my hands, and it’s all I can do not to turn around and take control.

Cole’s touch is different—more forceful, which is exciting and a little scary. He needs this.

He yanks my jeans and briefs down my legs. Cool air licks at my exposed ass. I hold my breath, my dick twitching against my T-shirt. Holding his body flush against my back, he strokes my cock in languid, mind-blowing pulls. Before long, I’m thrusting into his hand while he unbuckles his belt one-handed.

“Why do you have to drive me so fucking insane?” he growls, angry and turned on.

“Cole?” I ask uncertainly, trembling when he spits on his fingers and applies pressure to my back hole. My entire body tenses up.

“Tell me no one has had this ass before. Tell me all of you is mine.”

Fuck, his dirty words make me throb all over.

Cole isn’t done. He fists my hair and pulls tight on the short strands, snarling in my ear, “Tell me you want my fat cock to fill your ass with cum.”

Jesus…

“You’re bleeding,” he taunts, removing his fingers and dragging them over a sore cut on my eyebrow. They come away slick with blood. He chuckles. “I fucked you up real good back there, didn’t I? You’ll need stitches.”

I suck in a breath when he circles my tight exit before reaching around me to jerk my cock with his free hand. He presses two slick fingers inside me, using my own blood as lube. I choke on my breath, my toes curling at the burn. My body hums with anticipation.

“Feel that?” he taunts. “Feel how tight you are.” He removes his hand to pull down his zipper. My heart rate spikes when he smacks his dick against my ass—once, then twice. His hard length prods my back hole, and I hold my breath. I’m not prepped enough. This will hurt. But if anything, my cock hardens even more at the thought of having Cole inside me. I want him to possess every sick, twisted part of me.

“Make it hurt,” I beg.

He hums, then says, “You like to bleed.” Grabbing the back of my neck, he holds up a pocket knife in front of my face—a knife I didn’t know he had on him. “Remember this? You made me use one on you.” His touch is bruising, his words are poisonous, yet I love every second.

The knife disappears out of sight. I try to look behind me, but he keeps me locked in place with his hand on my damp neck. A sudden, sharp sting burns my hip as he chuckles cruelly. I hiss, angling my hips away out of instinct, and he presses the bloodied blade against my throat.

“Stay still,” he warns, his cock digging into me from behind.

With the knife pressed to my throat, he swipes fresh blood from the slash on my hip and lubes up his dick. My mouth dries up. I feel him at my entrance—so fucking hard. “Tell me one thing, Blaise, when did you first screw around on me with Tiago?”

A cry rips from my lips when he rams his cock inside me and slaps his hand over my mouth to muffle my sounds while shushing me.

“Shut the fuck up, Blaise.” Thrust. “Did you fuck him all this time?” Thrust. “Did he feel better than me?”

I breathe through my nostrils. My ass feels as if someone poured gasoline over it and set it on fire. Cole snaps his hips, and the blade in his hand threatens to cut me with every powerful claim.

“I doubt he fucked you as good as this, huh?” He drags his wet tongue up the side of my neck and presses his lips to my ear. “I swear to fucking god, I will leave you bleeding and covered in cum, then I’ll hunt him down and kill him so fucking slowly he wishes he never put his hands on you.”

I sink my teeth into the fleshy part of his hand, and he hisses as he rips it away. “I never touched him.”

“No?” Thrust. “Have you already forgotten I broke his fucking nose in the cafeteria for kissing you?”

I groan with his next deep, savage thrust. He fucks me like he hates me and wants to brand himself on my soul. A tingle starts at my spine, and my balls draw up tight. His cock in my ass hurts so fucking good—his anger feels so fucking good.

“You don’t like it, do you? You don’t like that you’re jealous,” I taunt, just to get a reaction. “Tiago has the softest fucking lips⁠—”

He rams his cock deep, and it pulses as he snarls, “Shut the fuck up!”

Chuckles vibrate my chest. I can’t help but love how my dick leaks precum when he is this angry and possessive. I almost want to taunt him some more, but Cole is already at his breaking point, and he might snap if I do.

He presses the tip of the knife to my jugular, making my heart rate spike. “You’re mine, Blaise.”

“I’m yours,” I reply. “Only yours.”

My words seem to soothe the chaos brewing inside him. The knife falls to the floor, and he hauls me away from the door and slams me down on Mia’s vanity desk. Makeup products clatter to the floor, and the front legs lift off the ground with every hard thrust.

“Fuck,” I grunt and curl my fingers around the edge for something to hold on to. The vanity crashes against the wall, more items toppling to our feet. Blood smears the white surface.

Cole fists my hair and yanks my head up. Our eyes meet in the mirror. His are heavy with heady lust, a jaw clenched tight. A light sheen of sweat dampens his forehead.

“I’m gonna come inside you so fucking hard,” he says, watching my ass swallow his cock.

Moaning, I study my face and flushed cheeks in the mirror. I never thought I’d see the day I took a cock in my ass. I always thought of myself as a topper, but I’ll bend the rules for Cole. I’ll let him unleash his inner demons on me, if only to see the pure erotic sadism in his eyes.

“Fuck me harder,” I plead, my dick pulsing and throbbing.

He smacks me hard, and I groan at the sharp, sudden sting on my ass cheek. Fuck… Cole is ruthless.

Three more thrusts. “Fuck…fuck, fuck, fuck.” He buries his cock deep and grabs my neck while his cock pulses his release. A guttural groan rumbles in his chest. The feel of his hot cum spilling inside me has me moaning his name and trembling.

Before we can catch our breath, he drops to his knees behind me and spreads my ass cheeks. “I love seeing my cum drip from this perfect ass.”

“Jesus Christ,” I choke out when his wicked mouth descends on my back hole. Holy fuck.

“Fuck yourself,” he orders, lapping up his cum as it leaks out of me. “Make yourself come.” His tongue circles my entrance, and he groans as he grips me tighter and forces his tongue inside me. He slurps and licks before biting my ass cheek while I jerk my length almost frantically. My panting breaths steam up the mirror in front of me. There’s a photograph of me and Mia at the ski resort taped to it. She looks so fucking happy in my arms, beaming at the camera. I break out in a cold sweat—so close, so fucking close.

“Such a filthy little brother.”

I can hear the smile in his voice before he sucks my balls into his mouth. “Fuck, that feels good,” I grunt, and he sucks harder. A hiss escapes through my teeth. I’m right at the edge.

My arm is cramping up. I groan and bite my lip. The sound of slapping skin mixes with my heavy breaths.

I’m just about to fall over the edge, when Cole pulls me up by my arm. He guides me over to the bed and lines his chest up with my back before reaching around to circle his fingers around my dick. “Hands at your sides,” he whispers against the curve of my neck where it meets my shoulders. “Now…” His damp lips find my ear. “You’re gonna be a good boy for me and leave your ex a parting gift.”

Shuddering, I fist my hands. His touch feels out of this world. He works my dick like a pro with firm strokes that drive me wild.

“I want you to come all over her pink sheets, fluffy cushions, and teddy bears, got it? You gonna come hard for me? Harder than you ever have?”

My head falls back against his shoulder. I can’t think about anything but the sensation of his big hand on my cock.

“She could never make you feel this good, could she?”

I shake my head and wet my lips. “No…”

“That’s right. No one can. You’re mine. Only fucking mine. From this moment on, no one, and I mean fucking no one, touches this dick except for me.”

He bites down hard on my earlobe, and I fall over the edge. My muscles tense. Ropes of cum rain over the pink sheets in quick spurts. “Cole,” I moan.

“Look at all that cum,” he breathes, smiling against my skin as another squirt spills onto the blanket. “What do you think she’ll say when she comes back here later to see how hard I made you come?”

“I didn’t know how possessive you could be,” I reply and turn around on shaky legs, out of breath. We put our dicks away in silence, glancing at each other. The moment I’m done tightening my belt, he pulls me to him and drops his lips to mine. I fist his hair and force my tongue into his hot mouth. Heaving breaths and deep grunts. Cole curses before biting my lip, assaulting the tender flesh. I grab his stubbly chin and suck on his tongue. Then something changes, and our touches turn reverent, gentle.

Cole breaks away first and presses his forehead to mine, fingers hooked in my belt hoops. “I’m sorry I ghosted you… I should have talked to⁠—”

“Shut up.” I shake my head. “I’m the one who should apologize. What I did…” My throat jumps. “I drugged you and… Fuck…” I can’t even finish the sentence. Guilt gnaws at my insides. I wish I could turn back time and talk some fucking sense into myself.

“Hey…” Cole catches my eye. “Look at me. Let’s just…” Wetting his lips, he inches closer. “Forget about the past. Forget about all the fucking bullshit.”

Instead of replying, I cup his face, and his stubble scratches my fingers. I brush my lips over his and whisper, “I love you.”

His trembling breath fans my mouth. He kisses me, a soft press of lips. “I love you too⁠—”

The door flies open. A police officer enters the room. His gun is drawn, and his beady eyes bounce between us. The world slows to a stop. Beside me, Cole’s face drains of color. I shove him behind me and square my shoulders.

“It’s good to see you again, son,” Cole’s dad says, skirting the length of the room and circling us. “You should answer your phone once in a while.”

“Don’t fucking talk to him,” I snap, and he swings the gun in my direction. Cole tries to barge past me, but I whip my arm out to keep him back.

“Would you look at that,” Cole’s dad taunts, cocking his weapon. “My pathetic son is a faggot.” His harsh laughter turns my stomach. My jaw tightens as he flashes his yellowed teeth that look like nubs. His pores reek of alcohol, and his greasy hair hangs limply over his forehead. How he hasn’t lost his badge yet is beyond me. The man is a fucking mess—a corrupt cop, if there ever was one.

“You’re drunk,” I say. “Put the weapon down.”

“You don’t make the fucking rules here, faggot. I do.” He jostles the gun. “Step out of the fucking way. Let me talk to my boy.”

Cole puts his hand on my arm. “Blaise, let me talk to him⁠—”

I cut him off with a single glare. Fuck that. I’m not letting his dad anywhere near him.

The gun is aimed at my head. It would be a quick death if he decides to pull the trigger—over in a heartbeat. One moment, I’m here, defending Cole’s honor and then…nothingness. Sweet oblivion. Only death doesn’t seem sweet if it means losing Cole, but if I have to die to protect him, then so be it.

“Step out of the fucking way,” he spits, saliva droplets flying from his mouth.

I glare at him.

“I’ll blow your fucking head off.” He can barely stand up straight, swaying and hiccupping. “I’ve had enough of this shit. Cole is my son. His mom is my fucking wife⁠—”

“Ex-wife,” I point out, and he narrows his eyes.

“She’ll always be my wife.” He sniffs, his mustache twitching. Then he roars, “And Cole will always be my son!”

I swear I hear Cole choke out a sob behind me, reminding me of a wounded animal—a terrified dog shying away from its owner.

My heart thrashes. Adrenaline rushes through my veins.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he says, sweating profusely. “I’ll count to three. If you haven’t moved out of my way by the count of three, I will put a bullet between your eyebrows, understood?”

When I remain silent, he counts “One,” and a sly smile spreads across his lips. My heart slows to a dull thud. I zero in on the barrel. This is it. I’ll die at the hands of Cole’s crazy father—murdered in cold blood for loving his son.

“Two.” His eyes gleam with sick excitement. He’s enjoying this. He wants to pull the trigger. In his mind’s eye, he visualizes blood spraying over the walls. I swallow hard, resigned to my fate⁠—

Cole shoves me out of the way, and I crash against the vanity table. A shot goes off. Cole clutches his stomach. His eyes lift, and the confusion I see there breaks something inside me. He looks at me, his dad, and the blood pouring between his fingers.

“Look what you fucking did,” Cole’s dad snarls, gripping him by the arm and hauling him across the room. I dash after them, but come to a sudden halt. The gun digs into Cole’s temple. His father inches backward toward the door, kicking a stray bunny slipper out of the way. “Don’t follow us. I will kill him if you do.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You want to test me on that, boy?” With the gun pressed to Cole’s head, he opens the door.

My mind spins. What the fuck do I do? I need to phone the cops. Tell them that one of their colleagues shot and kidnapped his own son.

The deep red stain on Cole’s T-shirt is slowly spreading. Nausea ripples through me. I tear at my hair as they exit the room. What the fuck do I do?

Spinning around, I search everywhere for my fucking phone. I need to call for help. Where the hell did I put it earlier? I find it on the floor beside the bed and throw myself at it. It takes me three attempts to unlock the screen and dial the cops.

With my phone pressed tightly to my ear, I wait for it to connect as I run into the hallway. Mia’s gone, probably to her friend’s house nearby.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”