6

The sooner I get him to this garage, the sooner I can get peace. My head aches, and I need to either smoke a joint or lay my fists into something or someone. Maybe I’ll pull the car into an alleyway and knock him black and blue. I’ll certainly feel better.

He’s forever telling me I’m not good enough for Allie. Even though he cheated on his girlfriend with an unidentified guy, and then sent videos of his cock to them without even putting up a fight. And he has the fucking audacity to say this shit to me?

I stop outside the garage and wait for him to vanish. His presence is irritating me. My neck hurts from when he gripped it, and the smoke I’m inhaling is harsh against my throat.

“Asshole,” he mutters under his breath as he slams the door behind him, and I grit my teeth, desperate to throw open my door and punch him again.

Driving to Samson’s place, I pull out the second phone and nearly crash as I see the recording. He actually sent it. Multiple minutes long. And instead of laughing to myself and deciding how to use this against him, I pull off to the side and open the file without hesitation.

I click play and watch the way his hand strokes his thick, veiny cock. Not as big as me, but close. It’s long, even longer with the way he’s working it from base to tip and adjusting his seating position to widen his legs.

I’m with Allie. I don’t want Blaise. I’ll keep telling myself that too, because this is all to mess with my stepbrother. I don’t want him, and I definitely don’t check my surroundings and adjust my pants while I watch the full recording.

With sound. Fuck, there’s sound. His breathing is heavy, releasing soft groans that have me turning the volume up to its highest.

Who does he think this is for? Everyone who took part in that chasing game was a friend of mine. My fucking friends. Does he think I’m Samson? Keith? Someone else?

Who is he imagining while pulling his cock like this?

My body fights against the reaction I shouldn’t have, making me shift in place and shake my head. Eyes still on the screen, my breaths quicken. There’s heat crawling up my spine, a light sweat on my forehead.

A normal human reaction to sexual interaction, I’m sure. My therapist would be proud of me for trying to get in touch with this emotion. Well, they would be if I still went to see them.

When he comes, he moans deeply, and his cum spurts from the tip of his cock. I need to pause the clip – if I keep watching, I’ll grow more confused, and I hate being confused. It aggravates me.

Instead of watching the last few seconds, I type out a message.

Me: Poor Mia, thinking her boyfriend is innocent and straight. Does she know how much you love sucking cock? That you got so fucking hard having your control taken from you? I can still feel the way you were struggling for breath.

My annoyance hasn’t lessened, so I keep going.

Me: I think Cole would love to know what happened last weekend. I might even send him this video.

I sigh a relieved breath when I feel the tension wrapping around my ribs vanishing. That’s it. That’s the reason why I’m doing this. Not to get myself a reaction or randomly aroused. I need to stay on track.

The response is immediate, and I can feel his panic and rage through the screen.

Blaise: Why the fuck would you do that?

Smirking, I lean back into my seat, putting my cigarette between my lips as I type a reply.

Me: Because I own you now.

Unknown number: Because I own you now.

I stare 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.