Page 18 of Vile Boys

“Oh … I didn’t realize,” I lie.

I swallow back my pride.

But as we head back inside, my whole body feels like it’s about to combust.

And when I turn to throw a final glance at him, he’s turned around to face me. A devilish smirk adorns his face as he brings his fingers, the fingers that were just inside me, to his lips and actually licks them off while staring right at me with those smoldering gray eyes.

My eyes begin to twitch.

I hate him.

I’ve never hated anyone or anything, but I hate him more than anything in the entire world.

CALEB

“C’mon, let’s go home. You’re shaking,” some girl tells Crystal as they hurry off through the front door while I watch them from a chair in the lobby.

Interesting.

I tap my lighter against the table and fiddle with my cig until finally Ares appears from the kitchen.

“What did you do?” I ask.

He’s got his hands down his pants as he casually strolls to my table. “What needed to be done.”

A filthy smile forms on my lips as I look up at him. “You played with her, didn’t you?”

Without responding, he grabs a cig out of the package lying on the table, puts it in his mouth, and steals the lighter from my hand to light it up.

“We’re inside,” I say.

He just stares at me while he takes a whiff and blows it out in my face. I inhale the leftover smoke like it’s a gift. God, I love it when he’s his usual sadistic self.

“Let’s go.”

“What? Already?” I frown. “But we just got here.”

“I got what I was after,” he replies. “We’re done here.”

“But the party—”

He pushes his own cigarette into my mouth. “Stop moping around.”

I take a big drag, my dick twitching from the fact that this cig was just in his mouth.

He takes off his jacket and throws it over his shoulder. “This place is musty. Where’s Blaine?”

“Upstairs banging some randos, probably,” I say, snorting.

“Typical.” Ares pulls out his phone and texts him. Then he flicks his fingers at me and holds them out until I hand back the smoke so he can take another drag.

“Hey, you can’t smoke in here. Take it outside. There’s a designated smoking area.”

Some Phantom fucker with a white mask approaches us with folded arms. I don’t know who it is, and I don’t fucking care. And seeing as how Ares blows the smoke out in the dude’s face, neither does he.

“Okay, you’re done. Leave. Now.”

“Already planning on it,” I respond, walking off.

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