Page 20 of Brutal Game

Giving into impulse, I grabbed her hair, tugging herhead back, and kissed her. It was brutal, punishing, and at first, she resisted. I bit her lip as a reminder, and she opened her mouth. Taking advantage, I licked at her mouth, exploring her taste and reveling in her reluctant submission. I wanted to roar in triumph.

Instead, I broke the kiss. I had early morning practice, and besides, I was too tempted to fuck her pussy now, when what I really wanted to do was build the anticipation for me and the fear for her. I had all the time in the world.

“This is gonna be fun,” I told her, releasing her and retrieving my shirt and the ID card she’d stolen from me.

Aviva stumbled backward and fell on her ass, and I had to force myself not to catch her.

Instead, with one long last look at her cowering, half naked on the floor, I turned to go.

“See you soon, princess,” I promised, and, her panties in my pocket, I opened the door and exited, letting it swing shut on her furious sobs.

8

Aviva

Deviant Psychology and Divergent Behaviorwas my favorite class this semester. As a transfer, it had been hard to get into the senior seminar, but being a double major in premed and psychology had helped—as had my advisor.

It was taught by Dr. Dylan Johnathan, a psychologist rumored to be the cousin to three billionaire brothers—one of whom had died recently under mysterious circumstances. You couldn’t tell he was grieving, though. He was charming, brilliant, and, if I had to be honest, attractive, with black hair that fell in his eyes and horn rimmed glasses he took off when he got really excited about a discussion topic.

As I walked into class on the Monday after Jack had caught me in the locker room, I wasn’t thinking about class—or the fact that we were being assigned our semester long project and project partner today.

No, I was thinking about sex blackmail. The party, the locker room, Jack’s interrogation, my confession—it hadplayed on repeat in my mind all weekend. I swore I could still feel Jack’s head between my legs, feel his cock in my throat.

After he’d left me in the locker room, I’d quickly dressed—without my underwear, because he’d stolen it—and snuck out of the arena. I’d called Tovah and she’d left the party to come get me. When we got back to the apartment and she’d seen me with my makeup all over my face, Jack’s come drying on my top, she’d been near apoplectic, although she waited until I got out of the shower to start her own interrogation.

“What the hell happened to you?” she’d asked. “You were dancing with Jack Feldman, and then you disappeared. Did he do this?”

I hadn’t been able to stop myself from crying.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” she said fiercely. “We need to go to the police.”

But if Jack were telling the truth—and I figured he was—going to the police wouldn’t solve anything. He had them in his pocket, and they wouldn’t listen to me. Instead, Jack would fulfill his threat to tell said policeandReina University’s administration that I’d broken into the hockey arena. I’d lose my scholarship, and the mark on my record would mean no grad school, no future in psychology. What was worse, he’d make sure Asher had no chance at a future as well.

I couldn’t let that happen. I pleaded with Tovah, begging her not to tell anyone, aware that I was falling into the trap so many sexual assault survivors fell into, including my brother, but unable to do anything about it.

And that helplessness made me hate Jack most of all.

After she’d agreed to keep quiet, I’d gone to my room and stayed in bed for the remainder of the weekend.

But now it was Monday, I had class, and I was determined not to think about Jack Fucking Feldman. I hadn’t heard from him, so hopefully he’d forgotten about me. I was going to focus in class, and then I was going to go to the tech support center, make friends with someone who worked there, and trick them into helping me figure out how to hack Joshua Jensen’s login on Google drive.

Taking my usual seat at the conference table, I smiled distractedly at Dr. Johnathan. He looked up at me, slowly taking off his glasses and rubbing them on his shirt.

“Aviva! How was your weekend?”

How the hell did I answer that without blushing?

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

This time, my smile was a little forced. Dr. Johnathan seemed like a nice enough man, but he was in a position of authority—and I didn’t trust men in positions of authority. Besides, I could hardly tell him what had happened to me in the middle of his classroom. “Just fine, Dr. Johnathan.”

He rolled his eyes. “How many times can I ask you guys to call me Dylan?”

This time, I smiled for real. “Just fine, Dylan.”

As I pulled my old and dented laptop from my bag, I felt heat at my side as someone dropped into the seat next to me. Dr. Johnathan—Dylan—cleared his throat.

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