Page 49 of Brutal Game

Until finally, with a loud roar, he came. I felt him, felt the wetness of his release fill me up, and the heat of it, the rawness of it, made me explode again, one last time.

I would’ve collapsed against the table, except his big hands caught me around the waist and pulled me backwards with him still inside me, me on his lap, him still hard, even though he’d just come. He bounced me on top of him, his cock sliding in and out, and this was familiar, too. I curled against him and let him use me this way, content to be nothing more than…

My little fuckdoll.

Yes.

My little sextoy.

Yes.

Mine. All mine. You hear me, Aviva? You’re fuckingmine.

Yes!

I came again, one last time, and he came with me, and I couldn’t tell who was who and where he left off and I began, and once again, I reveled in the tangle of the two of us together, the confusion of all of it.

He softened inside me, and my pounding heart slowed. His arm was around my waist, and his other hand was holding my breast.

My bare breast.

My bare…

It came back to me.

Why I couldn’t be bare on top.

My scar.

He could feel my scar.

They could see my scar.

It was like I’d been drowning, and the realization pulled me above the surface. Blinking, I looked around me.

Jack had me cradled in his arms, resting his chin on myhair. Surrounding us were men, so many men. Three I recognized: the rest of the Core Four. The others, from his hockey team.Oh god.Was Coach Jensen here?

And they could see all of me. They could see?—

I screamed, the animal I still was wild with anger and grief and shame. The one thing I’d hidden, I’d kept to myself, and now they all knew. Now they all knew, and it was Jack’s fault, all Jack’s fault, and he’d done it because he hated me, and he wanted to punish me, and I hated him, hated him, hated him.

“What the fuck?” Jack growled, sounding confused, as his arms wrapped around me. I fought him, scratching and hitting, completely feral with my rage.

“That’s some scar,” someone said.

I cowered in on myself as I sobbed, but I had nowhere to go.

Behind me, Jack stilled. Squeezed.

“What scar?” he asked through gritted teeth.

17

Jack

Iwasn’t the type to make mistakes. The decisions I made were clearly motivated and my plans were prepped and well-executed. But I’d sorely misjudged this situation. After Aviva had physically rejected me, I’d been angry, and so I’d carefully planned my retaliation.

There’s nothing you do that’s loveable, and there’s nothing about you that’s loveable, Jack Feldman. I wish I’d never met you, and I can’t wait for the day you’re finally out of my life for good.

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