Page 7 of Queen of Spades

“Just leave me the fuck alone!” he shouted back, wrenching the drawer away with his good arm and dumping the contents all over the floor.

“You need to stop, this isn’t going to help anything,” I told him, grabbing him before he could go for another drawer.

“What is?!” Anders snapped. “Nothing will help, nothing will fix it! It’s my fault, and I can’t make it right.” His hand tore at his hair, coming dangerously close to the fresh stitches by his temple.

“It’s not your fault!” I insisted, grabbing his hand and pulling him against me. “It’s not your fault, so stop acting like it is.” Anders fought my hold, his hand bunching up my shirt as I held him tightly against my chest.

When he stopped struggling, I loosened my grip, but his hand remained fisted around my shirt. Without warning, he pulled me down, smashing his lips against mine. It was aggressive and so out of character for him, I didn’t know what to do. My lips parted for him unbidden, and he deepened the kiss, his hips grinding against mine until I moaned into his mouth. He tasted like whiskey—at least that explained the chaos surrounding us.

Anders growled and shoved me backward without warning. I landed on my back on his bed, and in a heartbeat he was on top of me, straddling me as he captured my lips once more. I tried to sit up but he shoved me back down, his hand around my throat. “It is my fault,” Anders groaned,and I swore as heat flooded my core, my cock growing stiff between us.

“Anders, this isn’t a good idea,” I groaned, and he released my throat, reaching down to stroke me through my boxers. He was drunk, and clearly in some sort of self-destructive spiral right now. Sex was not something we should be thinking about. He jerked my waistband down and grabbed my cock, his fingers wrapping around me tightly as I bucked into his hand, my thighs pinned beneath his. His hand pumped again, and I swore as more blood rushed to my groin. I was as hard as steel and leaking as Anders stroked me, and I fought desperately to keep some semblance of rational thought. “Anders, we shouldn’t-”

“I want you to fuck me,” he stated bluntly, and I stared at him, his thumb smearing the precum over my tender head.

“Wha- Anders, I’m not going to fuck you while you’re drunk,” I replied, hissing when he squeezed me again, looming over me.

“Please,” he groaned, leaning down to kiss me again. “I need this, please, Levy.” He was begging me, actually begging. I didn’t know what to do, my head was actively fighting against every other instinct in my body. I swore again, and he could see me starting to cave, continuing to stroke me teasingly slow, until my hips were thrusting up into his hand, trying to get more friction. I had to, I needed him, I wanted him so fucking bad.

I grabbed him by the shoulders, mindful of his injury, twisting us until his back was on the bed and I was above him. His eyes flashed, and I smirked at him, tugging his sweatpants down his hips. His cock was hard and leaking, and I stroked it once, then twice, reveling in how he twisted underneathme. I leaned over and dug around in his nightstand, finding a small bottle of lube. I quickly poured some over my fingers and reached down between his legs, finding his tight hole. Pressing my finger inside, up to the first knuckle, I leaned over him, letting my cock drag across his stomach. “You still want this?” I asked, capturing his lips before he could answer. I plunged my tongue into his mouth as I added another finger, scissoring them. He clenched around me, moaning raggedly.

“This won’t be gentle,” I warned him. Not with my barely-there control. I wanted him so much I ached right down to my toes, and I knew as soon as I sank into him I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.

“Good,” he rasped. “I don’t deserve gentle.” I pulled away from him and poured more lube directly onto my cock, coating myself as I looked down at him. Anders pupils were blown, and he was panting as he watched me hungrily. I grabbed his hips and jerked him closer, lining myself up with his puckered hole. I held his hips still as I pushed past the ring of muscle, swearing a steady stream of curses as he clenched around my cock.

“Damn you Anders,” I muttered, pressing him into the bed as I seated myself fully inside of him. “Damn you for using me to punish yourself,” I snarled, pulling out nearly all the way before pounding back into him, smirking while he moaned, his hand grabbing hold of my shoulder as I buried myself in him, over and over.

As I’d promised, I wasn’t gentle, my muscles flexing as I drove him into the bed, each stroke more brutal than the last. A sick, familiar coil of dread was building in my stomach, reminding me of…before. I leaned down and nipped at thesensitive skin on his neck, leaving him a trail of bruises down his throat. “Damn you,” I groaned in his ear, slamming into him once more before I moaned my release, filling him as I thrust shallowly, pressing my forehead against his.

I pulled back and realized that he’d come at some point, making a mess on both of our stomachs. His eyes were closed, and he was panting heavily. I left him on the bed and went into the bathroom, turning on the shower so I could wash myself off. The post-orgasm haze was short-lived, and I felt sick to my stomach for what I’d done. The rift growing between us would never heal now, I was sure of it.

Chapter five

Jesse

We’d forgotten what it felt like to lose. Thanks to Erik’s luck, we hadn’t suffered a defeat like this in a long time, and never one that hurt quite this much. He was disconsolate. Our headstrong leader, drunk at ten in the morning because he couldn’t bring himself to face a world where he’d lost the one thing we all agreed was the best part of our little group.

I stayed near him, making sure he didn’t do anything stupid. He refused to answer his phone, even though he was now the ruling King of his father’s empire. I’m sure it wouldn’t please our associates to know that their new King was currently passed out on the couch with no shirt on, a half-empty bottle of scotch in his hand.

We should be moving, we should be planning.How could we avenge Grace from the damn living room?!I grabbed Erik around the shoulders and dragged him up until he was sitting, then I slapped him hard in the face.

“The fuck!” he snapped, his eyes shooting open. I glared at him and snatched the bottle out of his hand before he could drink anymore.

“We’re going out,” I signed, and he blinked at me, confusion evident on his pretty face. “Come on!” I hauled him up off thecouch, half dragging him out to my Jeep. I got him buckled into the passenger seat and sent a text to Levy that we were going out for a bit. Not that they’d even notice—both Levy and Anders had been hiding in their rooms for the last couple of days. All of us weregreatat dealing with loss, apparently.

I drove out to my spot, ignoring Erik’s attempts to get my attention, his hands moving in my periphery. I had a singular focus right now, and he would not deter me. Pulling up in front of the beach, I hopped out and rounded to his side. Erik looked a little green, and maybe I should’ve let him put on a shirt before we left, but oh well, we weren’t trying to look fancy today anyway.

Helping him out of the Jeep, I dragged him toward the ocean, ignoring the curious looks we got from the other beachgoers. I wasn’t as gentle as I had been with Grace, because Erik didn’t respond to gentleness. So I gave a hefty shove and pushed his dumb ass into the water.

There were some days when I wished I’d been born with hearing. Today was one of those days. I could only imagine what Erik sounded like as he emerged from the water, gasping and sputtering at the sobering chill of the ocean. It was cleansing, healing, and a damn good wake-up call. Stumbling to his feet, he waded back out, his jeans soaked and clinging to his skin. He looked great wet, I’ll give him that.

“You fucking asshole!” Erik signed, stalking toward me. I shrugged and shoved him back again. He was still drunk enough that I could catch him off guard, and he fell back in as a wave crested over his head. I watched him flail for a few moments, his head finally popping up from under the water as he coughed. This time he charged at me, and I backedup, my hands in my pockets as he stalked up the beach, murderous and dripping water.

“Ready to find Douglas and slit his throat?” I asked, and his chin lifted, some of the haze lifting from his eyes.

“Let’s fucking destroy him,” he signed back, and I grinned. That was more like it.

The ocean healed many wounds, but this one was a bit deeper. To heal this gaping, raw injury, we needed revenge.

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