Page 180 of Lessons in Cruelty

Haven makes an angry sound, and then sucks my fingers clean. I clamp down on a groan at the feel of her tongue as she swirls it against my sensitive fingertips as she lets her mouth fill with saliva before sucking again.

Jesus, now all I can think about is my cock hitting the back of her throat until she gags.

A bunny slipper thumps down on the carpet on the other side of the room, making both of us jerk in surprise.

“Fuck, yeah,” Melissa groans. “I needed that.”

I turn my head just in time to see her arm flop down the side of the bed, still holding the phone. She drops it a moment later.

“Asshole.” The bed creaks faintly as she gets up, her movements lethargic and uncoordinated as she tries to get her bunny slipper back on her bare foot. She gives up a second later and leaves the room, mumbling something about not having the energy.

A knife pricks against my throat. How the fuck did she get it away from me? She must have been waiting for just the right moment, because I swear I barely even relaxed before she’d twisted it out of my hand.

“You want to play with knives, Kai? Let’s see how you like being the one who fucking bleeds.”

Haven’s eyes glitter in the dark when I turn to look back at her. Slowly, I draw my fingers out of her mouth.

“There you are, Miss H,” I breathe. “I’ve been waiting for you to show up.”

Miss H. spits in my fucking face.

“Get out.” Her voice shivers with suppressed rage as the knife presses harder. “Get. Out!”

I scramble out from under the bed, and she rolls out a moment later like a fucking ninja. If ninjas wore slashed up dresses and had long, messy hair.

The hand holding the knife shakes as she stands, but it’s not with fear.

Fury. Indignation. A touch of feral glee. That’s what I see on her face, in her eyes.

“Jesus,” I whisper, shaking my head as I give her naked, cum-stained, blood smeared body a slow scan. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

She charges me with bared teeth, and I don’t risk hanging around to see if she plans to drive that knife into my ribs, or slice my throat.

I fucking run.

My shoes skid on the curb outside the GAZ house, and I spend a terrifying second cartwheeling my arms to catch my balance, hopping on one foot like a fucking idiot.

I blow out a breath, hands on my knees as I drag air into my lungs. I’m sure someone could have heard me racing down the stairs, but no one’s coming down them to investigate.

Still, better get the hell out of here before…

My gaze lands on Haven’s new Land Rover. Not that it’s new. It’s an ancient thing. I’m surprised she even knows how to drive it.

The interior light is still on.

Guess she didn’t close the trunk properly. Can’t blame her. I was walking away with her duffel bags. I plan to leave it like that, silently begging that the battery will be dead in the morning and she’ll need to ghost up a push-start, but then a sinister thought crosses my mind.

I check if anyone’s around, walking past, sticking their head out an upstairs window, that kind of thing. Haven would check to see if I’d left, but her dorm room window faces the backyard with its infestation of fairy lights.

All clear.

I slip silently into the Land Rover’s driver seat, pulling the door shut behind me, and then turn off the overhead light.

Darkness pools around me, but there’s just enough light from the street lamp a few yards away that I can make out some shapes in the dark. The gear shift, the emergency brake.

A white AHC tote bag lying on the passenger seat beside a pink gift bag.

I ignore the gift bag and go straight for the tote, pulling out an envelope with a few wrinkled bills inside.