19. Everest

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Everest

I can’t seem to settle my nerves.

I’m shaking as I watch the numbers in the elevator tick higher and higher with each floor I pass, each rising notch making my breath hitch and my teeth chatter. After what happened tonight, I should be staying far away from Rhys. I should be livid, worried about Knox, and making sure my friend is okay.

But then why did I haul my ass home the second I received Rhys’s text?

It’s like I know I should have fought back and told him to fuck off, but something was calling me to bend to his will. Shit, it’s like…

It’s because of what he did. That’s it. I’m going home to rip him a new one. It’s what I keep telling myself. There’s no way I’d be standing here with a twisted stomach and sweaty palms otherwise.

Except…

Except I know I’m lying to myself. What happened tonight happened for a reason. You don’t just sucker punch someone for the fun of it, at least the Rhys I used to know wouldn’t. He had to have felt justified in doing it, driven by a need that maybe he himself didn’t understand. Christ, I don’t understand it either, but I know I’m going to get to the bottom of it tonight.

And why does the thought of that make my already racing heart flutter with the promise of what’s to come?

I exit the elevator once it reaches the penthouse floor, cautious of my surroundings, not quite sure how this is going to play out. Looking at the dark corners, I expect to find Rhys waiting nefariously to strike. When I don’t see anything, it sets me on edge. Like prey unknowingly walking into an empty lion’s nest.

“Everest…”

My name is almost sung, and like a siren’s call, I can’t fight it. Every step I take up the stairs is torture as I await my fate. My bedroom door is ajar, nothing but Miami city lights casting colorful shadows on the floor. I raise my eyes slowly, taking my time to meet Rhys.

He sits on my bed, head hanging low, elbows propped on his thighs. His back rises and falls with deep breaths, and I don’t dare take a step closer. I linger by the doorway, waiting, but he doesn’t acknowledge my presence, even though I’m sure he knows I’m here.

“Rhys…” I start, hating that his name comes out as a trembled whisper.

Ever-so-slowly, and with calculation, he raises his head. I’m not prepared for the onslaught of emotions that hit me when I meet his gaze. Frustration, fear, trepidation, and something else I can’t place that makes me shudder.

He still doesn’t speak, and I have to believe it’s a tactic on his part to make me feel unsettled. It’s working, because a little gasp leaves me when he rises and moves toward me. Despite being just slightly taller than him, it's like he’s towering over me. Every bit the mythical god I thought him to be when I was younger. He starts to circle me like a shark, waiting for blood in the water. I spin, trying to keep my eyes locked on him, but end up being herded back until I hit the glass wall behind me. The cool pane against my back makes me feel exposed, like the whole city is here to witness my downfall.

“What are you doing?” I try to keep my voice as steady as possible but fail miserably.

He leans in silently, trailing his nose up my neck, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Did you like it when he touched you?”

I’m confused for a second until my foggy mind remembers what he’s talking about. “This is about Knox. I?—”

“Answer the question, Everest.”

I lick my lips, watching as his eyes track the movement. The truth is ready to come out. That, while I’ve liked Knox’s hands on me before, they felt wrong tonight. But I don’t dare give him that. Like the idiot I am, I decide to push him. Or, maybe not idiotic at all, challenge him. “Maybe.”

“Maybe,” he repeats quietly with a nod. One hand rests on my hip, digging into the sliver of skin between my jeans and shirt. “How has he touched you?”

I want to shudder again at his voice. Smooth, commanding, so full of dangerous intent. It’s enough to have my knees buckling as it washes over me. But I don’t let that rattle my confidence. I ignore the heady implications of his question and square my shoulders.

“Why do you want to know?” I counter, helpless as his other hand starts to play with my belt buckle. “Rhys?—”

“Show me,” he demands, eyes not giving way to any sort of resistance. He reaches for my hand and layers it over his. “Show me where he’s touched you.”

I don’t know what overcomes me, but I do as he says. It must be the steady pressure of his skin against mine, the softness in contrast with his harsh tone. I start at my stomach, trailing his hand across my abs, then wander up to my chest. “Here.”

“Where else?” he bites out, his words fighting against the cage, stepping even closer. “Where else have his hands been?”

With a gulp, I dare to lower our hands. Low, low, lower, until they hover right over my crotch. “Here,” I breathe, eyes fluttering shut when he brings our joined hands to cup me. “ Fuck .”

“Did you like it?” he questions, eyes sharp, so full of hatred. Disgust, almost. Something close to resentful bitterness. “Did you like it when he played with your cock? What did it feel like?”

I nod almost imperceptibly, mouth dry as I croak out my answer. “It felt good.”

Because it isn’t a lie. Everything I’ve done with Knox has been consensual. He was a good time when I wanted him to be, both of us taking no-strings-attached fun from the other.

Rhys doesn’t like that answer. He growls, gripping me harder and causing my cock to jerk in his hold. He presses his forehead against mine, raspy breaths hitting my lips. “As good as this?”

“I…” I can’t lie to him. Not right now. I hate the bitter truth, but it’s what leaves my lips. “No.”

Unlike Knox, Rhys’s touch is electric, waking something inside me that’s been dormant for so long. It’s not just physical pleasure he’s giving me, but something deeper, hotter, needier. Something I’m craving. Like something I know I shouldn’t have. It’s a whirlwind that leaves me both simultaneously in control and reeling. It’s addictive.

“Has he been inside you?” he questions as his other hand wanders to my ass. His fingers slide under my pants and into my underwear. His touch there is familiar now. Pulling one cheek apart, his thumb fingers my sensitive hole. “Has he had this ass, Everest? Tell me.”

“Yes,” I admit, shivering when he presses firmly against me. I’ve tried my hardest to hold myself steady, but the brush of his knuckle against me has me collapsing into him. My hands fly up to grab his shoulders, and he takes advantage of that and establishes himself as my lifeline, holding me up against the glass wall with nothing but his body. But still, I try to fight it, fight him . “Why do you care?”

He shakes his head, a humorless dark chuckle leaving him as his eyes flick up to mine. “It’s not happening anymore. He’s going nowhere near you. He doesn’t get to touch you like this again.”

I’m momentarily knocked out of my daze, and I shove at his unmoving chest. “You don’t get to tell me that.”

“Yes, I fucking do,” he snaps, then his hand leaves the inside of my pants to wrap around my throat. He forces my head to the side so my cheek glides across the glass window, all of Miami privy to this brutal moment between us. His lips hover over my jaw until he bites down hard, causing me to whimper. “Because everything about you is mine now.”

I gasp, trying to wiggle out of his hold. “I’m not yours.”

“Wanna fight me?” he teases. Deftly unbuttoning my pants, he forces them down and over my thighs, my clothed cock straining toward him. “This is the way shit is going to be from now on, Everest. Whether you like it or not, the only one getting a piece of this sweet ass is me .”

“You hate me,” I argue through gritted teeth, trying my hardest to not purr as he pulls down my underwear and my cock is hit with cool air.

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re mine. Mine to torture. Mine to hate.” His hand encircles my cock with a confidence he shouldn’t have as his lips graze mine. “Mine to fuck.”

I shake my head slowly. I’m too distracted by his hands on me to think straight. It’s unbelievable that his cruel words are turning me on this much, making me sticky and fumbling with need. He’s playing the game so beautifully, and I’m too weak to resist. “This isn’t fair.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he says, working the hem of my shirt up. “Get naked. Now .”

“Why?” I ask breathlessly, but I’m already lifting my arms over my head so he can slip off my shirt.

“Because I’m going to fucking ruin you tonight,” he tells me as he pulls me by my throat and shoves me onto the bed. “Ruin you for that fucker Knox and ruin you for anyone else.” He crawls over me, almost breathing me in, hovering just above my bare skin. “Gonna make it so that the only name you scream out when you come is mine.”

“Rhys…”

“Tell me I can,” he whispers, walking his fingers down my chest. “Tell me you want me.”

I raise an eyebrow. Even though every part of me feels like melting into this, screaming out for him, I still try to resist. “And what if I don’t?”

He snickers. “Then you’re a damn liar.”

I would be a liar. I’ve wanted even just a piece of Rhys since I was a kid. Not like this, but something that claimed some sort of ownership. Something that made me special to him like no one else was, not even Elton. Now it’s different. It’s like I want to claim him as mine. Fight tooth and nail for his attention, whatever way I can get it. That brutally wicked and devious attention that demolishes me. That magnetically cruel praise that tempts all the darker parts of me.

Our game.

No more white flags. No more cease-fires.

Let’s go to hell.

“I want you,” I say, and the combination of terror and excitement is so incredibly erotic. He shoves my hips up so I can shimmy out of my jeans, a victorious smirk on his plush lips when I start on my underwear. “I fucking hate that I do.”

He scoffs as he gets up and walks to my nightstand to grab my lube, tossing it onto the bed. For a moment, he just stares, and I think the sight of me naked and waiting might change his mind. At least, it looks like it.

He looks at me with nothing but lustful disgust because he hates how much he wants me. Because he loathes himself for what he’s about to do, but he can’t control it anymore. We both know this is wrong, and we’re willingly falling into madness.

“Me too. Now, get yourself nice and loose for me.”

It’s almost comical how quick I am to comply. I messily coat my fingers, keeping my eyes trained on him as I pull one knee up to my chest to open myself up. With each piece of clothing he sheds, I push my limit even further. It’s erotic torture watching him as I touch myself. The hard expanse of his chest that’s dotted every now and then with dark beauty marks. His thick thighs dusted in dark hair. His hard cock jutting out proudly, eager for me. I stretch myself to the brim, never escaping those hooded eyes that only watch my face, as if he’s getting more pleasure seeing my reaction than the act itself.

He gets a condom from his wallet, putting it on with careful and purposeful fingers. All the while I’m fucking myself, but my body is screaming out for him. I’m ready, but he just stands there. I don’t know what he’s waiting for until he smirks when I let out a choked groan.

“Do it.” Stroking his angry cock, he tilts his head in complete mockery of me. “Beg me.”

“No,” I spit. I refuse to. I’d rather make myself come just like this than give him the satisfaction.

There’s an almost feral tilt to his lips, a split second of silence before he’s on me, hauling me by my hips and flipping me over. With one hand pressed against the small of my back, he traps me against the mattress, teasing his cock through my crease.

“I won’t fuck you unless you ask me nicely,” he taunts, driving me mad by his smooth strokes, the way he fits me perfectly, the tease for more.

But I hold my ground. I grit my teeth and thrash under him. “Never. You’re going to be the one begging.”

“What did I tell you, baby?” he chuckles. Biting down hard on my earlobe, his hum of amusement courses through me. “I always win. This needy hole needs to be filled by a fat cock, and I know you won’t be happy until it is. It’s just three words.”

Yeah, three words that’ll mark my defeat. Three words that’ll show I’ve caved to his will, not the other way around. I decide I can play this game too. I start rubbing against his cock, reaching back to spread my cheek so it prods against my waiting hole.

“Don’t you want to be inside me, Rhys?” I question, wiggling and squirming and making him moan when he accidentally presses against me. “I’ll bet I’ll be the best you’ve ever had.”

“Fucking doubt it,” he snaps, continuing to fuck against me. Everywhere but where I want him. “I’m not giving in.”

“Well, neither am I.”

We’re at a stalemate. Both of us want this, our bodies craving the other, this matching need inside us growing more and more desperate by the minute. But we’re both too stubborn and proud to be the one to break.

“You think you’re so tough,” I mock, throwing my head back so I can graze my teeth against his neck. “You’re just as gone as I am, aren’t you? You’d do anything to get inside me.”

“Shut up.”

“You want me so much you can’t control yourself.”

“Everest…”

“You say you want to ruin me?” I nip at his skin, licking away the sting, mumbling against him. “You’re the one who’s going to be ruined by the end of this.”

I don’t know what about my words makes him snap, but he does. Without any warning, I’m flipped over again. I’m not prepared for the anger in his face, the blood-curdling desperation, the sheer want for me. It makes me feel powerful, special, and I bask in it. I’m so sure he’s going to be the one to break, that I’ll win this final game, but when he brings two fingers into his mouth and sucks…

I know I’m the one who’s going to be a goner.

“That’s not?—”

I’m shut up quickly when he presses his fingers into me, not giving me any time to adjust as he scissors me open, probing and searching until he finds my prostate. “Fair? Is that what you were going to say?” He practically cackles, relentlessly thrumming at my most sensitive spot. “Guess what? I don’t play fair. I’m playing to win.”

And after only a few moments of him abusing that magic spot inside me, I crack. “Rhys…”

“Say it,” he growls, pressing harder against it and making my toes curl. “Fucking say it.”

I’m shaking my head, gripping the sheets with a grip so tight I’m afraid they might tear, my entire body thrumming as I try to fight the feeling.

But it’s useless because that fucker wins.

“Oh, fuck. Please fuck me— Yes !”

The words are barely out of my mouth before he’s slipping his fingers out and thrusting in all at once. The sheer size of him takes my breath away and makes me feel faint. I need to cling to something, so I grab onto his shoulders, but he wastes no time doing exactly as he promised.

“Look what you’ve done to me,” he bites out, punishing my ass with every ounce of hate he holds for me. He curls himself over my body and owns every inch of my skin. “Fuck, baby, you turned me into a goddamn monster.”

I mumble an incoherent reply, lost in bliss and pleasure. Every snap of his hips is brutal and the way he growls in my ear, simultaneously hating this as much as he loves it, spurs me on. I claw at his back, digging my nails into his skin, sure to leave angry red marks in my wake. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

“Not stopping until I fuck the cum out of you,” he pants, leaning back on his haunches and hauling my hips up at the perfect angle. “Not until you’re a mess. Fucking dirty as hell for me.”

I feel dirty but in the best way possible. He’s treating me like his cocksleeve, wanting only to get off, using me as the source of his pleasure. But when I look up at him, finally able to peel my eyes open, I find his locked on my face. His eyes are bright in the darkness, teeth bared as he pounds into me, fury transforming his features. But there’s lust, there’s longing, there’s a desire so deep it carves itself into my very soul and confirms what he already knew would happen.

I’m ruined for anybody else.

This passion—overwhelming and all-encompassing—I know I’ll never find with anyone else. Now that I’ve had him, I’ll treat him like a drug, getting my fill until it kills me.

“Come on,” he groans. Taking my leaking cock in his hand, his thrusts grow sloppy and uncoordinated. “You’re gonna come and you’re going to scream my name when you do it.”

I laugh, damn near delusional, as my head lulls side to side. “Never.”

He growls again, somehow leaning down so that his free hand is pressed against my throat. His lips hover over mine, heavy breaths fanning against me, hot sweat mixing in the air. The erotic sounds of our fucking filling my ears.

“You’re going to come because I told you to,” he says, not leaving any room for argument. “But you’re going to cry out for me because you want to.”

I gasp as he nails my prostate again. “N-No…”

“Who’s fucking you so good right now? Whose cock is destroying this hot little hole? Who’s claiming what’s his?” He pinches my cheeks together, licking a stripe across my mouth that makes my eyes roll to the back of my head. “Who is it, baby? Tell me.”

It’s all too much. His dirty words, his relentless thrusts, his perfect grip. I go somewhere else. I float. I soar and crash and freefall and the only thing I can think of is?—

“Oh God, Rhys !”

“Fuck yes!” he shouts, moaning when my cum coats his hand, nearly roaring as his hips flex one more time before stilling. I wish he was taking me bare. I wish I could feel his cum filling me, heating me, claiming me.

He holds himself there for a second, chest heaving with deep breaths, before pulling out of me and rolling to the side. We lie next to each other, not touching, but our bodies buzzing with what we just shared. I’m still a bit delirious as I turn my head, watching his blissful profile and the satisfied smirk on his lips. “What happens now?”

That look of peace vanishes in an instant. When he turns to look at me, cold hardness is all I’m met with. He doesn’t say anything as he gets up, pulling the condom off his still half-hard cock. He stands there, tall and proud, regal as ever, like a prince.

No, like a victor.

After a moment, he comes close and leans over the bed, face inches from mine. He searches for something, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed, before he smirks once again. “Now you’re going to lie here and think about the fact that you may have won a few battles, but I won the fucking war.” Pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, he winks at me with devilish promise when he pulls back. “Sleep tight, baby.”

And then he leaves me just like that. My mouth is agape as I watch him go, and a flash of regret hits me.

I let him inside me. I let him manipulate me to his will, take me, and annihilate everything I ever knew.

The fucking bastard won.