Page 15 of Cruel Games

His eyes narrowed as I cracked the seal and downed half of it in one gulp. “Don’t drink it too fast, fucker. I’m not cleaning you up again.”

I slowed down, albeit resentfully, and resigned myself to another day of stupid jokes, whining, and monotony.

If this was life, what was the point of living?

FIVE

IVY

I staredat the man in front of me as if he hung the moon and stars in the sky, when really he was nothing more than food to me—a meal I’d have to chop up and cook soon enough.

Chop him up, I would, but only after I’d had my fun.

“So you’re telling me you’ve never been outside this shithole of a city?” His eyes twinkled slyly as I tittered like the airheaded floozie I was playing tonight. “You stick with me, sweetheart, and I’ll show you places you’ve never dreamed of.”

I knew his type. He thought if he took a girl on one trip and paid for a dinner or three, he’d have her eating out of his palm while his wife at home was none the wiser. Unfortunately for him, the copy of the contract the Guild had accepted on him this week indicated his wife wasn’t as oblivious to his proclivities as he’d like to think.

She even knew what he did to his girls when he got tired of them.

Right about now, he was probably questioning why I hadn’t succumbed to the three roofies he’d slipped in my drinks. Unfortunately for him, not only did I have a high tolerance, but I wasn’t actually drinking the shit he served me. The second he was distracted by my ass or another girl in passing, I dumped the shit into the ice bucket and ordered another one. If this kept up, the fucking bottle of expensive booze he had in the bucket would be floating in another round or two, and then my secret would be out.

I had to get creative. And fast.

My nails raked down his arm enticingly as I smiled like he was the hottest thing since sliced bread, and I couldn't wait to butter him up and eat him. I worked my lips into a pretty pout and made sure to give my voice a little of a slur, for maximum effect.

“Why don’ we go back to my place, baby? I bet a man like you knows his way ‘rounda bedroom.”

Gag me with a fucking spoon.The Neon Dogs would pay for the bullshit I had to put up with to get my revenge. Every unwanted touch of a man, every sideways look, every missed opportunity and every sleepless night. I would take it out on them when I finally had them in my grasp.

Roger Wells put his clammy hand atop mine as his smile widened predatorily. “You sure, sweetheart? We could always go back to my place and have some high-class fun.”

I knew why he wanted to take me back to his place, and I wasn’t that stupid. Besides, I had other plans for Roger.

“My place is . . .discreet,”I offered, winking slowly as I brought up one manicured finger to my lips. “And I’ve gottoys.”

Men were suckers for a whore. And for some reason, all men thought a woman with a toy or two in her bedside table was utter trash.

But how I felt about men in society wasn’t important here. The way he leaned in and sniffed my hair, the lump in his pants behind the zipper, told me he was past caring where we fucked, as long as he got to whip out his cock and use it.

Oh, he’d use it, alright. His wife had very clear plans for that particular appendage.

It took ten minutes for him to clear his tab, round up his two guards, and toss my coat at his driver, forcing me to totter along behind him in the chilly night air in nothing but a loose satin skirt, a bralette top, and heels that nearly reached the sky. I followed him to his car, taking note of the sunroof and the privacy divider.

I was never happier in my life that I lived in a shitty part of town with plenty of bars. With any luck, we wouldn’t have time from point A to point B for him to try anything funny. I wasn’t really keen on letting a man like this actually put his hands on me any more than he already had tonight.

He ushered me into the backseat and knocked on the divider, then instructed me to give him my address, which I did. Well,okay, so to be fair, it wasn’t really my address. I gave him the address of the building across the street, but he didn’t need to know that. And it was just one more layer of protection for me from retaliation. His hand snaked up my skirt twice, but I managed to teasingly bat his hand away, still maintaining my drunken ruse enough that he didn’t seem suspicious. When we finally rounded the corner and pulled up on the side of the street, I breathed a sigh of relief and giggled girlishly, fighting the urge to slam a knife into his fucking stomach right this minute.

“Why don’t you tell your guys to run along for a few hours while we have some fun? If they sit out here in a no parking zone, the cops will ticket them.” They wouldn’t, but I doubted he knew that. Men like him thought slumming it was a fun little side adventure. They didn’t actually familiarize themselves with the world they were visiting for amusement.

“Sure thing, baby,” he muttered, nodding to his men with a wave of his hands. Once they’d disappeared around the corner, I wrapped my fingers around one of his biceps and smiled up at him, forcing my ankle to wobble suggestively, like maybe I wasn’t so steady on my feet anymore.

“We should go in through the back entrance. I don’t want my neighbor to stop us in the hall. She’s the nosy kind.”

His lips brushed against the shell of my ear as one arm snaked around my waist, already too close to the dip in my hips. “I’ll go in whatever door you want me in, sugar.” The double meaning was not lost on me, unfortunately.

“Right.” I couldn’t hide the biting harshness of my tone, and had to cover it with a well-timed brush of my hand across the front of his pants.Ew.

By the time he was halfway down the alley and I was within reach of my newly-acquired trophy bat, it was too late for poor Roger. And the sap didn’t even see it coming as I bent over, pretending to be sick, my hands wrapping almost lovinglyaround the worn, smooth wood leaning against the side of the rusted-ass dumpster I threw my trash into every night. He barely registered the sight of it as I threw it over one shoulder like Babe Ruth lining up a homer in the seventh inning of a tied game with the bases loaded.

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