Author: Rachel Van Dyken
Category: Christian
Go to read content：https://readnovelfree.com/p/19792_18
Our foreheads touched, my chest heaved with exertion like it was hard to breathe when he was so near, but really it was the promise that killed me, a promise that he wouldn’t enjoy touching me ever again, that I was more curse than cure, and yet, I knew it was all we would ever get, these fleeting moments where we did our job too well. “Then make it hurt, baby.” My voice cracked. “Make it hurt.”
His lips parted in a groan as he spun me into his arms and crushed his mouth to mine. It was part pain, part pleasure as he pulled my hair then slid a hand up my shirt like nobody was watching when everyone was.
We broke apart, mouths swollen, my lower lip was bleeding.
A reminder for both of us—this was no cease-fire, this wasn’t real, it was all a carefully constructed show.
“Mmmmm…” I smirked. “Looks like Junior’s not playing around tonight, ladies.”
Whispers: Interactive StoriesMake your own choices and decide what happens next!
Screams went up as Junior grabbed my ass and squeezed so hard, I knew I would bruise later. He roughly pulled me against his chest and nipped at my neck.
I told my body it didn’t feel good.
I told my heart we were safe.
And I forced myself to believe the lie every single time we touched.
Because to do otherwise—would destroy me.
We broke apart again.
Junior’s eyes were wild.
I wanted to capture that look in his depths, keep it all for myself, unleash it on my person with wicked abandon.
But he wasn’t mine to keep—he never had been.
“All right,” I called out. “Let’s see, who needs to get laid the most?”
Chuckles erupted.
And then I pointed at headband girl. “You, you’re new.”
She lifted her chin a bit. “I’m a nursing student at the campus across the fence.”
“Nursing… perfect.” My smile was so fake it hurt. “Think you can nurse poor Junior back to health?”
She gulped, looked back at her friends, and nodded her head.
Breaker helped her up the stairs.
And Junior gripped her by the hand. “Like what you see?”
“Y-yes.”
“What about…” He pressed her hand to the button of his jeans. “…what you don’t see?”
She straight-up paled but still nodded.
“Strip poker it is then,” he announced, earning cheers from everyone around us. Tables from the sides of the building were moved toward the middle, and our game of the evening was ready to begin.
“Now for our Queen,” Junior announced. “Who’s going to get stung tonight?”
I wanted to throttle him.
Instead, I smiled and pointed at the harmless looking guy who’d walked in with headband girl. We didn’t have his picture, but he was with her, which meant he knew her.
“Name?” Junior asked.
The guy leered at me like I was half price steak. “Mitchell.”
“Well, hope you brought a cup, Mitchell. Let him in, Breaker.”
Ash and Claire took our positions and picked the remaining two; each of us played our part brilliantly as they joined us at the main table.
The one with all the alcohol you could possibly want and the company people would kill to be around.
Mafia. Fucking. Royalty.
“Texas Hold ’Em?” I asked the group, already shuffling.
“Brat.” Ash huffed. “Are you really still pissed about last year?”
“I had to walk pantless in stilettos back to the car!” I punched my cousin in the arm while he rubbed it as if it actually hurt.
“Dad was so pissed.” Ash grinned. “Worth it.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re lucky you’re my favorite.”
“Hey, what about me?” Junior teased.
“Kissing cousins does kind of have a ring to it,” Claire said under her breath, making me nearly drop the cards in my lap.
It was a low blow.
One that made me want to launch myself across the table.
Instead, I started to deal.
“So…” Mitchell rubbed his hands together. Great, a talker. “Are you guys for real, like in the mafia?”
“Yes,” we all said in bored unison.
I could practically feel them deflate around us.
Junior mumbled, “killjoy” under his breath.
I caught it, just like I caught the gaze he gave me before looking back at his cards.
Let the games truly begin.
“Ugh, it’s hot.” I started fanning myself, Mitchell’s eyes immediately shot below my neck then stopped at my mouth. “Y-yeah.”
“Drink?” I offered him my cup.
Idiot took it and drank with wild abandon.
Sigh.
If he was De Lange, he got all the stupid.
“And what’s your name?” Claire tilted her head and shot a flirty glance at the other guy we’d invited.
“Tank.” His voice was low; he was wearing a black beanie and a tight black shirt. He had a full sleeve on his right arm, and his left was bare except for a Rolex.
Money. But the De Langes were fresh out of that unless they found someone else to partner with, which would be impossible since most the adults were dead.
The kids might as well be poor orphans trying to survive in the wild.
But that didn’t explain the school next door.
Or the marketing with our pictures.