Page 52 of Hateful Games

Like it’s an everyday occurrence.

Or is completely inconsequential to her.

Striding after her before she can sit her ass down, I tug the plate out of her grip and grab her hand to pull her in the direction of my bedroom. She resists, pushing her feet into the ground.

I turn and throw her over my shoulder with one arm around her waist.

Still, she continues her silent treatment.

No insult. No threat. No fucking fists punching me in the back.

Flinging open my bedroom door, I dump her on the bed. She bounces on the covers, pushing her hair back. Then regally sits with her chin held high, expression serene as if she’s a queen sitting on a throne.

I don’t immediately give her, her breakfast back, making her gaze skitter to it once impatiently. During her stay, I’ve learned my future wife is a foodie. She’s tried more cuisines and restaurants in the last week than I have in my three years here.

I’m half tempted to leave her hungry until she begs me, but I remember we have a long day ahead of us. And I’m already running late.

She thinks she’s won the battle when I put the plate on the bed.

It’s in the way her eyes glimmer. Though, she tries her best to act unbothered.

Turning around, I stride toward her suitcases in the corner and start to unzip them. I check each one. There are six freaking suitcases now and they are all filled to the brim. Although she only came with four.

I have to commend her dedication because she still doesn’t utter a word.

Although I can feel her agitation and the daggers she shoots with her eyes at my back.

I finally find what I’m searching for, hidden underneath a pile of her black dresses, and straighten after zipping up her bags. Crossing the distance back to her, I wave in front of her face what I’m holding.

Her latest book porn.

The cover is discreet with flowers and rings, giving the illusion of something boring and innocent inside. She’s also halfway done with it. I open the page earmarked and lift one eyebrow at her when I read the first few lines, explaining very vividly how the man is eating his stepdaughter’s pussy on his office desk.

“My, my, Rose.”

Her cheeks turn a dark shade of red, even as she boldly holds my stare. Stubbornly remaining quiet, I watch her become flustered and squirm in her spot. While I skim the next few pages until the filthy-as-fuck scene is over and the heroine has come twice.

My dick is hard just imagining doing this word for word to Rose.

My mind travels back to the day I sneaked into her bedroom and read her book aloud. The way it caused her nipples to harden, even as my presence made her mad. I’m tempted to recreate the memory but I’m afraid I won’t be able to help myself from taking a bite. An addictive taste. Because no way my Rose doesn’t taste sweet.

Or potentially risk losing my dick.

“One hell of a scene to stop at.”

She pretends to check her nails, ignoring me.

“Want me to read it while you finish your breakfast?”

She looks away, as if it’ll make me magically disappear.

“Or would you rather I burn it too?”

Still no answer.

I slam her book shut and lean toward my bedside table. Yanking open the top drawer, I pull out my lighter. I have no intention of destroying yet another one of her precious books, I just want her to fight back.

I’m not giving up until she does, even if I have to miss my graduation.

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