Page 18 of Don't You Pucking Dare

Chapter 10

I press my fingers to my lips, remembering how she tasted in the garden. Three nights, and I still wake up hard, sweat-soaked, replaying her whimpers, the way she arched against the wall, how perfectly she broke for me. Lola fucking Kemper. She’s going to be easy to destroy— Rick Kemper's precious daughter, my ticket into the Reapers.

The late afternoon shadows stretch across campus as I track her familiar path to the library. She's a creature of habit, my little Duchess. Same route, same time, same perfect posture as she clutches her books to her chest. My phone captures every moment, every subtle shift of her hips, every nervous glance over her shoulder.

For the assignment, I tell myself. For revenge.

I’m just glad I get to play with this toy before completely destroying it.

I watch her disappear into the library before heading to O'Malley's. The bar reeks of spilled beer and desperation, hockey memorabilia covering every surface like shrine to violence. Perfect hunting ground for the Reapers.

Jackson and Noah already claimed our usual corner, nursing something that looks more like motor oil than beer. "Brother. Caleb's incoming. Jack's got fresh meat in the bathroom. Something about testing new equipment."

The casual way he mentions it sends ice through my veins. These guys don't just break rules— they obliterate them. And here I am, toying some innocent girl, pretending it's all for the greater cause.

Maybe I belong here after all.

I order whatever's on tap, knowing it'll taste like piss but do the job. Noah nurses his drink, that killer's calm settling over him as we wait for the others. Jackson is staring at the screen above the bar.

Jack emerges from the bathroom, tucking something into his pocket. The girl hanging off his arm has that glazed look they all get around him, like she's already forgotten whatever happened behind that closed door.

"Private conversation," I tell her.

She pouts, turning to Jack. "You're letting them dismiss me?"

He whispers something in her ear that makes her eyes go wide. She retreats to the bar without another word, sliding onto a stool like a good little puppet.

The door swings open and Caleb stalks in, looking murderous. "This better be worth leaving the Bradshaw triplets."

"I've got the Berkeley sisters' number," I offer, already reaching for my wallet.

His scowl transforms into a predator's grin. "Sacrificing fresh meat for me?"

"Consider it payment for interrupting your fun."

Jackson, Jack, and Noah watch our little transaction with dark amusement. These are the kinds of deals we make— trading women like baseball cards.

"Now," I lean back, "about my assignment."

"Assignment?" Jack's smile is all teeth. "Is that what we're calling that fresh tight pussy?"

"I saw you in the garden," Noah adds softly, his accent thickening. "With your little mouse."

"You fucked her already?" Jackson asks, but I ignore him, not wanting to hash it out.

I lean forward, beer forgotten. "I need eyes on her roommate. Kiah. Purple hair, combat boots, doesn't shut up. She's the only thing standing between me and Lola's space. Jack?"

Jack's eyes light up with that familiar gleam. "You want me to keep her occupied?"

"Just long enough for me to get what I need." The lie tastes bitter. Truth is, I want more than just access to Lola's room. I want to own every part of her.

"Consider it done." Jack's already plotting, that sick mind of his spinning possibilities. "Though you might want to hurry. My toys don't usually last long."

Noah nods, silent but deadly. Jackson’s nod is a sign of approval we’re moving onto the next step. Even Caleb's on board, probably thinking about his consolation prize with the Berkeley sisters.

"Test that number," I taunt him. "Make sure I'm not screwing you over."

"If you are..." Caleb pulls out his phone, threat clear in his voice.

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