Page 35 of Dark Horse

Truth.

Who do you think about?

Unfair.

Unfair was you trying to get multiple truths out of me in a row.

Zac’s mom.

All these years later, and you’re still jacking off to Zac’s mom?

You just said who. You didn’t say when.

Truth or dare?

Truth.

Who do you think about?

A nameless and faceless man who I can trust to give me my fantasies.

It was technically true. I did my best not to let that nameless, faceless man with the perfect abs and the bossy attitude,who liked to set his Stetson to the side and roll up the sleeves on his dress shirt before he manhandled me, turn into anyone I knew. It’s pure coincidence he also has icy blue eyes, thick dark hair that’s graying at the temples, and a hint of a smirk that always taunts me.

Truth or dare?

THE DEVIL:

Truth. I feel like we could skip these and just say we’re exchanging truths, you know.

I’m just waiting for you to get brave enough to say dare again.

I start to ask him who he thought about the last time he got off, but I don’t want to know who she was if she wasn’t me, and I don’t think I have good enough chances to risk it. For all I know, he wasn’t even alone. So I ask a safer question.

What were you imagining the last time you got off?

It takes him a minute to respond, and I’m half worried he fell asleep talking to me.

THE DEVIL:

I was imagining a woman sitting on top of the bar for me, legs spread wide while I sat on the bar stool in front of her. Her fingers in my hair while she whimpered for me and rocked her hips against my face, begging for more.

“Fuck,” I whisper out loud in the quiet room and bury my face in my pillow. My stomach flutters right along with my clit. He knows whathe’s doing.

THE DEVIL:

Truth or dare?

Truth.

What were you imagining the last time you got off?

I stare down at the screen, my heart skipping beats in my chest, and I sit up. I have to remind myself that the chances I ever have Grant Stockton on the other end of the phone in the middle of the night like this again are slim to none. So if I want to play this game, I have to act like I know what I’m doing.

A man waiting for me in the dark in my apartment before he kidnaps me and uses me however he wants. Tearing my panties off, bending me over while he wraps his hand around a fistful of my hair, and fucks me without asking.

The phone rings, and “THE DEVIL” flashes across the screen. I drop it onto the quilt and stare at it like it might bite me—or worse yet, manifest him out of thin air. As much as I think I might want the oldest Stockton brother, I don’t know that I’d know what to do with him if I got him. I might finally be out of my depth, which is equal parts terrifying and exciting.

I pick the phone back up and answer it.

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