4. Blaise

Unknown number: Because I own you now.

Istare at the text until my eyes burn while tapping my finger against the side of my phone. I’m restless, and I haven’t been able to let this go all day.

I need to figure out who was behind the mask. Whose cock I swallowed.

More importantly, I need to sort my fucking head. What the hell was I thinking, getting caught up and sending a damn video of myself jacking off to a stranger.

A fucking stranger—one of Cole’s insufferable friends, nonetheless.

A recipe for disaster.

But which one? Samson, Keith, or someone else? There were twelve on his team, and I don’t know the names of the other two, but one of them—a ripped guy with more muscle than brains—is known to swing both ways.

Fuck, what’s his name again?

Jack? Jackson? Whatever. He’s probably the asshole behind those texts who thinks I’ll just lie back and take his threats.

“Are you listening at all?” Mia asks.

I blink at her, then snap out of it and pocket my phone while she frowns.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve acted weird for days.” She hesitates. “First, you didn’t want to have sex this morning, and then you attacked your brother.”

I stiffen. “I didn’t attack him.”

“Blaise…you choked him.”

I snort, leaning back against the brick wall while watching students mill about. Of course, she takes his side. Poor Cole. He plays the part of the tormented soul so well that even my own damn girlfriend buys the act. It’s fucking stupid.

“You know he acts out. His father⁠—”

“What is he? Five? Stop defending him.”

“I’m sorry.” Worrying her lip, she slides her palms up my chest, but I refuse to look at her, or I might say something I regret. “I’m on your side. You know that, right?”

Scoffing, I cross my arms, and her hands fall away.

“Why are you pushing me away, Blaise?”

“I’m not having this discussion.” I grit my teeth, restless.

“You can be so cold sometimes.” Her voice drips with hurt, but I can’t find it in me to care as Cole and his friends turn the corner.

He walks with his head down, his broad shoulders swaying with every step. His dark hair falls in his eyes as he adjusts his AirPod in his ear.

My throat goes dry, and I swallow, hating the physical reaction he evokes in me by merely existing.

“I’m here for you, Blaise.” Mia slides her fingers into the hair at my nape, and I meet her gaze, but my attention soon skates back to Cole, who lifts his head.

Those blue eyes clash with mine. I’m fucking lost, unable to look away as the crowd parts for him and his friends. His gaze soon slides past me to Mia, and his jaw clenches.

Warm lips press against mine, and Mia’s sharp nails scratch my neck. She smells of coconut and vanilla, a warm and exotic scent I used to love. But that was before I took a fucking piss after Cole had a shower, and his citrus and leather scent assaulted me in the steam-filled bathroom.

Fuck. He was everywhere—his handprint on the mirror after he swiped it clean of condensation to look at his reflection, his wet toothbrush in the cup, and his crumpled jeans beside the laundry basket.

I let Mia kiss me, even as my eyes stay locked on Cole. My heart threatens to escape from my damn chest. What is this electric current running through my body when he looks at me like that? Why does it feel like he’s undressing me while also plotting ways to kill me? And why do I want him to unleash the fury behind those dark eyes?

Just like that, I’m hard.

Mia notices, nipping at my bottom lip and whispering in my ear, “Want me to suck you before class?”

I might have to take her up on that offer. Shove her to her knees on the dirty, piss-covered bathroom floor and pretend it’s my infuriating brother. I wasn’t interested in her offer earlier, and I’m still not, but I need release. I’m so damn pent-up.

Cole turns the corner, and I frown as I spot the guy trailing behind with a group of football players. Jack? Jackson?

“Who’s that?” I ask Mia while she trails kisses on my neck.

She peers over her shoulder. “That’s Jackson, one of Cole’s friends.”

So, I was right—Jackson.

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

Mia opens her mouth to reply, when her friends shout her name from across the hall. Distracted, she meets them halfway and they embrace as though they haven’t seen each other in years.

I study Jackson’s curly blonde hair and thick arms. For a guy, he’s attractive. I’m not gay, but I can appreciate a good-looking dude when I see one, and Jackson is definitely one of those preppy popular guys with cheek dimples and a rich dad who bails him out of trouble.

Could he be my tormentor?

I suppose there’s only one way to find out.

When he pauses to talk to a junior in a denim skirt and fishnets, I reach for my phone and type out a quick reply.

I study him closely as I press send.

Me: What do you want?

Nothing happens, not even a flicker of a reaction on his face, except for the megawatt smile he directs at the girl. If his phone vibrates, he’s unaware or ignoring it.

My heart stalls when my phone pings, and I snap my gaze to the screen.

Unknown: Wrong question.

I scan the hallway, wondering if he’s watching me.

Me: Why?

Mia throws her head back and laughs loudly, but the sound fades into the background as another message appears on the screen.

Unknown: It’s not about what I want from you. The question you need to ask is what I want to do to you.

I play along.

Me: Let me guess. Chase me? Make me suck your cock again so that you can blackmail me?

Mia returns, smiling brightly and swaying her hips, but I’m too distracted to appreciate the view. Jackson and his friends continue down the hallway, his gaze straying over his shoulder to watch the girl. His phone is nowhere in sight.

Mine pings and I know even before I lift the screen that my masked tormentor’s response will rattle me to the bone, but like an addict in need of a fix, I look down.

Unknown: Such simple-minded desires, Blaise. I’m disappointed.

The dots appear and disappear.

Unknown: I’m going to fuck up your world and everyone and everything in it. I’ll leave you so broken that you’ll crawl on your hands and bleeding knees, begging for scraps, begging for my cum. Begging for me to hurt you.

Unknown: By the time I’m done with you, nothing will be left for anyone else to salvage.

I nearly drop the phone when Mia pops up like a jack-in-the-box and fawns over me in front of her friends. We’re late for class, judging by the almost empty hallway.

Waving her friends goodbye, she steers me toward the bathrooms. I don’t stop her. I don’t object.

No, when she’s on her knees in the claustrophobia-inducing stall, I record a short video of my veiny hand in her blonde hair, twisting the strands, as her head bobs.

Me: Don’t tease me like that. Just look how worked up your cat-and-mouse game makes me. Maybe you want me to chase you instead?

Before he can respond, I send another message.

Me: You’re playing with fire.

“Okay,let’s see what we’ve got.” Ronnie rubs his hands together, eyes alight with excitement as Tiago puts the pizzas down on the table.

Seated beside Ronnie on the couch, Allie looks up from her phone and says, “I ordered a Margarita, a Neptune, and enough fries to feed an army.”

“How did you manage to escape your ball and chain anyway?” Luke asks her as he drags the footrest over and plops down.

Seated in the only armchair in the room, I chuckle when Allie preens.

It’s not like my stepbrother gives a shit about her. Not really. But she sure loves it when my friends pretend he does.

Why is he even with her when she cheats on him on the regular?

On the other hand, it’s easy to figure out why Allie set her eyes on him; he’s popular and has that bad-boy vibe that makes girls drop their panties.

Let’s just say, she’s not the first girl in our town to think she can change him, and she won’t be the last.

Why am I even thinking about this?

When Ronnie reaches for the pizza, Tiago slaps his hand and says, “¡Quita de ahí!”

Ronnie pretends to be hurt. “Dude, not fair. I wasn’t born in Spain like you.”

They banter back and forth, and Allie joins in, too, while Mia grabs us each a slice of pizza.

She sits back down on my lap, tucks her legs up beneath her, and watches me inhale my food. I’m never one to say no to something to eat.

“I don’t know where you put it all,” she points out, taking such a small bite that I’m sure even a mouse would be unimpressed.

Tiago looks over. Somehow, he got Ronnie in a chokehold, their food forgotten. “It’s all the football he did in high school. When are the tryouts?”

Oh, that.

As if I don’t have enough on my plate, I have to try out for a spot on the football team. Guess who’s their QB?

Cole.

Of-fucking-course.

Before I can muster a response, the door flies open, and Cole and Samson enter the living room.

When you speak of the devil.

My mood instantly sours.

The look I give Mia says, “You told me he wouldn’t be here.”

“I didn’t know, I promise,” she whispers as I grip the armrest with whitening knuckles.

He’s everywhere. I can’t even have an evening with my friends without him crashing.

Dressed in black combat pants and a hoodie, he saunters across the room as though he owns the place.

“Pizza,” Samson exclaims. “Hell yes!”

Elbow on the armrest, I rub my lips. Why the fuck is he here? Allie usually resorts to bribery to get him to show up to spend time with her friends.

As Mia plays with the wayward strands of hair at my nape, I try my hardest not to look in their direction, but it’s proving harder than breathing underwater or surviving a fall from the Empire State Building.

Cole drops onto the couch and pulls Allie onto his lap, his smile dark and devilish.

“Fries, anyone?” Samson asks around a mouthful, holding out the container.

“Just…help yourself,” Tiago says, and Samson dives in, oblivious to the sarcasm in Tiago’s voice.

“I promise, I didn’t know,” Mia whispers again when I show no sign of relaxing my tense shoulders.

I’ll wake up with a sore neck at this rate.

“Why are you here?” I bite out, directing the question at the asshole across the room who stops sucking his girlfriend’s face.

It takes him forever to slide his eyes in my direction, and when he finally does, I swear there’s a glint of something wicked in those dark depths. His nostrils flare, and then he smirks, but it lacks humor. It’s cold, just like his fucking heart. “Dad wants us to bond, remember? Thought I’d make an effort.”

“He’s not your dad.” I’m so fucking triggered that it’s difficult to breathe with him in the room. His presence sucks out the oxygen as his eyes burn brighter.

“Blaise…” There’s a warning in Mia’s voice, but I’m done with her. Done with this. She has defended him for the last fucking time.

Shoving her off my lap, I shoot to my feet and walk out, slamming the door behind me. As I stalk down the hallway toward the bathroom, my hands drag down my face.

Why the hell am I so wound up? I don’t even know.

After splashing ice-cold water on my face and spending an eternity bracing my hands against the sink while staring into the mirror, I push off and walk out.

I’ll grab my coat and leave. There’s no point staying if I have to watch Allie dry-hump Cole all night. Just the thought makes my stomach churn.

I’ve barely opened the door before a hand grabs me by the throat and shoves me back into the bathroom.

Surprised, I stumble against the bathtub, barely catching my fall.

What the hell?

Cole locks the bathroom door, then looks at me over his shoulders. His mussed-up hair bears the proof of Allie’s wandering fingers.

Fingers I want to break.

The raging storm inside me makes me see red, clouding my vision. Striding toward him, I shove him up against the wall and fist his hoodie.

Not one to back down from a fight, he fists my T-shirt fiercely.

We size each other up.

Staring.

Breathing.

“What are you gonna do?” he taunts, flashing a hint of fang.

My eyes fall to his mouth, and my heart rate speeds up.

I swear he can feel it hammering through my T-shirt. Swear he can feel the whisper of breath that escapes me when he drags his tongue across his bottom lip—teasing, taunting, driving me fucking mad with forbidden desire.

Why the hell am I burning up?

I flick my gaze to his, getting lost in those heavy eyes, and hold my hips out of reach so that he doesn’t feel how hard I am for him.

“Why are you here?” I snarl, my fingers twitching on his hoodie.

The urge to flatten my palm and soak up the heat emanating from his clothes makes it hard to think. I can smell him.

Smell the citrus and leather on his clothes.

His minty breath.

Those tempting lips spread into a blinding smile that nearly buckles my knees.

How I stay upright is a miracle.

I stare, unable to breathe, while he uses his free hand to retrieve something from his pocket.

A phone.

Confused, I look down.

“Funny you ask.” His voice rumbles around me like a summer storm. “Someone sent me an interesting video.” Holding up the screen for me to see, I watch the clip I recorded of Mia on her knees. “Care to explain?”

“Who sent it to you?”

“Anonymous number,” he explains, then looks pointedly at my hand on his chest. “Are you going to stop touching me any time soon?”

“Not until you let me go.”

Chuckling, he drops his hand, and I reluctantly let mine fall from his warm body. Though my hand tingles. I’m still rattled.

“Why did you send this?”

I frown, confused by his harsh tone. It almost sounds like…jealousy. Rubbing my face to clear the damn haze, I dismiss that silly notion. “It’s none of your business.”

“No?” Tsking, he takes a step closer. “I can always make it my business.”

My heart stutters. “Excuse me?”

“You said it yourself. Your dad isn’t my dad, right? From what I’ve seen, you’re the golden boy—always have been.”

Gritting my teeth, I watch him smirk.

“Don’t you think it’s time we shatter that illusion?”

I surge forward, slapping my hand on the wall behind him. Fury heats my veins, and it’s a miracle I don’t choke him to death. I’m in his face, baring my teeth like a feral animal. “What the fuck do you want?”

“There you are.” His smile is manic. “I knew you were in there somewhere, just waiting for someone to come along with a stick and poke you.”

Our chests brush with my harsh exhales. He keeps smiling, waiting for me to do what? I don’t fucking know.

Reaching out, he pats my cheek, and I whack his arm away with such force that it smacks against the wall behind him.

“Do you know what’s interesting?” he asks, flexing his knuckles.

When I remain silent, he levels those intoxicating eyes on me and then trails them down my body until they pause on my straining bulge.

“You claim to hate me so much, yet you’re hard as a fucking rock.” He reaches out to touch me, but I snatch his wrist, twisting it at an unnatural angle.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch me!”

“Why so rattled, little brother? Scared your secret will get back to Mom and Dad?”

I snap.

Moving forward, I press my forehead to his, realizing too late that his body is now aligned with mine, and all I can feel is him. I dig my fingers into the tiled wall as our breaths dance in the small space between our lips.

The need to grind my cock against his crotch makes my mouth go dry, but I force down the urge, whispering, “Stay the hell away from me.”

“Scared your dad will find out that you’re not so perfect, after all?”

My eyes fall shut and my chest heaves on a ragged inhale. The pull—his pull—is too strong. I don’t stand a damn chance against his current.

“Scared they’ll find out you’re dying to touch me?”

My eyes fly open.

Stumbling back, my hand shoots out, and I punch his face.

It all happens so fast.

One minute, he’s taunting me, bringing me to the brink of madness, and the next, my knuckles connect with his cheekbone.

His face whips to the side, and he bursts out laughing.

Disheveled hair shifts forward over his eyes, hiding his own descent down the rabbit hole.

I don’t think I’m ready to see the look in his eyes.

Instead, I stare at my bleeding knuckles.

Straightening up, he leans back against the wall, his hoodie creased from my grip. “Break up with her, or Mom and Dad will see the video.”

When I finally let my eyes lift from my cracked knuckles to his bruised cheek, he shrugs. “Let’s see how proud they are of you then.”

He walks out without another word.