Page 20 of Runaways

"Hey, I think I might have found it!"

"Oh shit, she really did," Silas says.

"Are you fucking serious?" Tate shouts, turning toward the two of us. "Yes!" He pumps his fist in the air and jumps onto the bed. "Fuck yes! Fuck this guy! Fuck Calvin fucking Schaffer; he can kiss my fucking ass!"

He jumps down and scoops up the box, opening it before counting the contents.

"Noah," Tate says, "as an integral part of this mission, you deserve a reward." He lifts the jersey and stuffs a few hundred-dollar bills into the waistband of my thong. "How's that for what's in it for you?"

"Um, fair. Very fair."

"Now, I get to tell you a secret."

Tate brushes my hair away from my ear before leaning in, his cheek against mine and his breath hot on my neck. "I saw that wet spot on your panties when you were crawling around on the floor. It's not hard to figure out what someone's kinks are if you know them, and you know what to look for. I told you that you'd really like this game."

He pulls back, and I sit there, stunned. No smart ass reply or brush off comes to mind before someone pounds on Calvin's bedroom door.

"Calvin?" a female voice calls. "Are you in there? If anyone's in there, I'm giving you five seconds, and then I'm coming in.One…"

"Closet!" Silas says. Tate grabs the box, and we all rush toward the louvered double doors and into the corner of the small space. I watch Calvin's girlfriend, a cheerleader named Hailey, through the wooden slats as she steps into the room.

All the while trying to stay still, pretending not to feel Silas's hard dick against my backside.

"What…the fuck…happened in here?" she mumbles to herself, taking in the room's state of disarray. Then she freezes; something must catch her attention, because she gasps, then leans down and picks up my discarded tank top and miniskirt.

"Nice tits," she mocks before throwing them across the room. "That fucking asshole. I'm going to fucking kill him!"

Then she climbs onto the bed and, standing, pulls her underwear down, kicking them off before hiking her skirt up.

What the hell is she—

But before I can finish the thought, she squats just a little, and we watch her piss on the mattress.

Oh, my god.

I quickly slap my hand over my mouth, stifling a gasp. Behind me and at my side, Silas and Tate are silently laughing their asses off.

And she pees for a long fucking time.

When she's finally done, she dries herself off with his pillow, steps back into her underwear, and leaves the room.

"Oh, my god!" Tate says, still laughing and out of breath. "That was fucking awesome! God, I hate this guy so much. He's going to be pissed."

"Always better to be pissed off than pissed on," Silas says, and we all start laughing again.

"Mygod, it's like…a lake." My lip turns up as I look at the soiled bedding and mattress. "I can smell it."

"Girl really had to go," Silas says. "What about us? Are we leaving?"

"Not quite yet. Hold this," Tate says, thrusting the metal box into my hands. He crosses the room, picks up Calvin's laptop, brings it over his head, and then slams it against the edge of the desk once, twice, and then three times before casually tossing the destroyed remnants aside.

"Feel better?" Silas asks. He picks up his red solo cup from earlier and takes a drink.

Tate shrugs. "Yeah. Little bit. But I have one more job for Noah. And I'm going to need that cup."

"All right." Silas drains the contents and then hands it to him.

"Great."

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