Page 244 of Lessons in Cruelty

Clean up’s gonna be a bitch…for the pledges.

Damn it, her lip is back between her teeth. Melissa didn’t even think to get her some gum or something?

I seize her chin, tugging down until she lets go of her lip. But she doesn’t even seem to realize she’s doing it, because a second later she’s got her poor bruised lip caught in her teeth again.

“Jesus, here,” I mutter, dragging my sucker out of my mouth and sticking it in hers. “Suck.”

Her eyes slide closed, and she moans so loudly I can hear it over the music.

Either she can’t recognize my voice, or she doesn’t give a fuck that it’s me babysitting her. I’m clenching my jaw so hard, it’s possible she might not even know it’s me.

“Yeah?” I lean in close. “That taste good?”

“Mmm…”

Haven puts her hand on my shoulder, eyes still closed as she slides her fingers up and down the side of my neck.

Well, fuck, that feels good.

Molly makes you love everyone. Makes you forget why you were supposed to hate someone. Maybe that’s why Haven lets me touch her.

The drugs have stripped away three years of anger and hate.

Or maybe she never hated me at all.

Either way, we’re still those kids in the woods. Just in adult bodies, with adult consequences.

I mimic her touches, one hand propped on the tree above her head, the knuckles of my other one gliding along the side of her neck. Her eyes flutter open, and she stares at my mask as she slowly drags her fingers down my chest.

I follow suit.

She caresses my pec, eyelids slowly lifting so she can peer into the sockets of my mask as she tweaks my nipple through the trash bag.

I don’t know which possibility is worse. That she thinks I’m a complete stranger…or that she knows who the fuck I am and she’s playing coy.

Fuck it.

Wherever my drugged-up lamb leads, I’ll follow.

She moans when I rub my knuckle over her nipple sticker.

Her teeth clench around the sucker stick as she smiles, her hand sliding down my stomach.

I mimic her, my body tensing. The lower she goes, the lower I go.

But I stop her when she tries to grab my cock, because right now, there’s nothing to grab. And she resists, so I slam her wrist into the trunk above her head.

Just like I did that day in the gardens.

Just like I did under the bed.

She likes it when I trap her. Always has.

And then, in case she still wants to get handsy, I do the same with the other, trapping both her wrists in one hand, my other free to roam her body.

Down her arm, slow.

Skating over her throat and having to fight the urge to seize it. Down her torso instead, rubbing the sticker over her nipple until she’s moaning. Her trash bag rustles, chips of dried paint peeling off inside.