Page 76 of Cruel Games

“You’d better not wreck me,” I growled, slinging a leg over my dirtbike with a grumble. “Get on, bitch.”

“Can I drive?” she asked plainly, tilting her head so that the high ponytail she wore slipped over her shoulder and teased the bare skin of her collarbone.

“No,” I snapped, growling to assert my dominance. “And put your fucking mask on before you lose it.” With that, I tugged her damn mask down over her face and shoved her behind me, waitingoh so patientlyfor her to take a fucking seat and get ready.

The urge to take off before she’d wrapped her arms around me was strong, but I resisted. Knowing her, I’d likely end up on a fucking medieval rack or something as payback.

Now why did my dick have to go and get hard over that idea?

“Hold on.”

The second her hands were secured around my torso, I took off like a bat out of hell, hoping to scare her. I wove in and out of traffic, being more reckless than usual. Hell, I wouldn’t even go this hard when I was alone, and yet?—

She drove me to madness and had me doing things that could very well get us both killed, all in an effort to unnerve her as she did me. I wanted her on edge, wanted her to feel the closeness of the ledge she stood us all on with this little jackknifed deal she’d conjured with Coyote.

Instead, when I leaned back as we sped through two red lights, narrowly missing two cars and a box truck, I could feelher chest heaving, her head pressed against my shoulder, her hands clenched tightly against my waist, her hips?—

Was she fucking rocking her hips?

Was this bitch fucking masturbating on my damn bike?

Oh, my god, hell to the no.

But also?—

Hell fucking yes.

“Does that turn you on, bitch?” I yelled back at her, groaning when she ground her hips into my ass, humping me as we flew over seventy fucking miles an hour down a main thoroughfare on a dirtbike that had no business traveling that fast. “Do you like the taste of near-death?”

She didn’t answer me, but the hip grinding ceased, and I felt her pull away just a bit, just enough to cause me concern.

I slapped a hand over her hands as I slung us into a knee-scraping drift turn, my back tire spinning out as I howled through my mask and straightened it out with ease. Her grip had been loose enough for her to have fallen off, and I could have even claimed I had nothing to do with it since it was her own shame that led her to release her hold on me.

Instead, I grabbed her hands and ensured she stayed on the back of my bike, which was?—

Odd.

Out of character.

Degrading.

But I really liked the way she’d ground her hips into me, seeking pleasure against my ass as the bike’s engine, and the associated horsepower, vibrated through her.

She was a whore, sure. But for tonight, she’d revealed a weakness. And if there was one thing I loved to do, it was exploit my enemy’s weaknesses.

She was just one more opponent, however close to the center of my world she might be.

We pulledup some time later to the site where our intel told us the target would be meeting a shipment from out of the country. It could be guns, drugs, or even humans, it didn’t matter. The goal tonight was to intercept the cargo, kill the man, and leave him for the fish to pick at until harbor patrol found his bloated body days later.

With any luck, the crocs would get to him first.

The man who’d taken the hit out on him was the brother of one of his former victims, a man who’d worked for him long enough to find out there was a side to the business he wanted no part in. But see, when you join a criminal organization, no matter what level you start on, there’s no easy way to get back out. Especially once you knew their darkest secrets.

So they killed his brother, dumped him off a boat at night, and his body washed up three days later, in chunks, more or less.

So, the man wanted him to suffer the same fate. We were told we could torture him as we saw fit before we dumped the body.

Ivy was about to get her first real taste of what it was like to live with real killers. Men who eliminated other humans without batting an eye. Men whose darkest fantasies were to torture, maim, and defile the bodies and memories of these filthy humans who fed off the back of society. Who treated other humans like their?—

---