Page 65 of Sick Boys


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He saunters to the red leather couch and flops down, still swirling that drink while staring me down. “Then tell me why you came here if not to be fucked by me.”

I’m trying to keep my composure here, but he’s making it damn hard on me.

“I’m still no further in trying to find the one who bullied my sister and made her jump.”

His grip on the glass tightens. “We already roughed up Nathan. You want me to kill him instead?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think he did it. It sounded like the truth when he said someone told him to do it.”

“I can cut off more fingers to make him talk,” he says. “How many fingers do you think it’ll take? Two? Four?”

He takes another casual sip like it’s the simplest thing in the world for him to torture people.

But I’m not surprised. I knew what I was getting myself into when I came to this university, to this frat house, to these boys …

“I don’t think he’ll talk. Whoever made him do it probably threatened him with death,” I say. “Why else would he protect the guy?”

Felix’s nostrils flare as he stares at the wall, his face growing darker with every passing second.

“I’m still no closer to finding out the truth, though. And I paid a heavy price with my face on those fucking posters.”

“You knew the price was high,” he says, his voice sharp, murderous.

Felix gets up and grabs one of the cues in the pool table, then lines up all the balls and shoots.

One shot is enough for him to put at least five balls in a corner.

Impressive.

“I need you to do more,” I say.

His eyes focus on me briefly before making another shot.

All of them disappeared into the holes.

Fuck, he’s really good.

“More?” His eyes narrow as he goes to grab the balls again and places them onto the table. “And have you ever thought about what this could cost me?”

I take in a breath. “I’m willing to pay the price.”

His eyes flicker with greed. “All right.” He holds out the stick to me, waiting. “Go on. Grab it.”

I finally cave and take it from him. When I turn around, he’s right there near my ass, feeling me up. And it’s so damn hard to focus on one of the balls let alone all of them as I struggle to place the cue without shivering.

But I’m still devoted to ignoring him as I hold the cue in front of the ball and shoot.

Right then, his finger jabs up my ass.

I miss. By a long shot.

And I jolt up and down from the sudden finger thrust.

“What the fuck was that?” I gasp.

His brow rises. “Have you played before?”

“Yes,” I reply.

“Doesn’t look like it.”

I grimace. “Not with a finger shoved up my ass. Of course, I’d fuck up.”

A filthy smirk forms on his lips. I don’t see that smile often, and I get the feeling he’s showing it more and more when he’s around me. And I have to admit, it looks good on him.

He leans in and grabs me by my ass, pulling me closer. “You should try playing with something else shoved up your ass.”

My eyes widen. “What?”

Did he actually say that out loud?

Before I can ask, he walks off to a cabinet in the back, only to return with a strange bottle and a sparkly diamond-looking butt plug.

Oh God.

“Bend over,” he says, his voice raspy, raw.

And I swallow back the lump in my throat. “You’ve got to be kidding me, right?”

He holds it up in front of my face as his hand lands on my thigh, possessively squeezing my flesh. “I don’t do jokes. I thought you knew that by now.”

“So what then?”

His eyes go half mast. “I do you.”

My cheeks heat, but I push back the embarrassment. “I’m not some—”

He plants a finger on my mouth. “Toy. Mine.” He hisses into my ear, “Now bend.”

He spins me around and flops me down onto the table with ease.

“I didn’t—”

He lifts my dress. “You agreed to our terms.” He bends over me, his bulge pressing against my ass as he whispers, “Now do you want to do it the easy way, or the hard way?” He holds up a bottle of lube.

I shudder at the thought. I’ve done some ass things before with a previous boyfriend, but I never went this far.

“Use your words.” His voice is commanding. Obsessive, almost.

“Easy.”

“Then beg for it,” he groans.

It takes every ounce of self-control not to pummel him in the face as I grit, “Please.”

“Good girl,” he says with a low voice, and I hate it.

I hate how it fucking makes my pussy thump.

He rips down my panties and slathers on the cold lube, rubbing it out before positioning the diamond plug against my ass.

“This is going to hurt …” he says, pressing the palm of his hand on my ass. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”

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