Page 33 of Chokehold
The white mask and black hoodie I got from Samson sit on my bedside cabinet. I had a plan. But now I think I might kill him instead.
Fuck it.
I type out the message I’ve been desperate to send.
Me: Wanna know who I am? Meet me at the college’s swimming pool at 7 tonight or everyone will see our text messages. I’m sure your girlfriend would be thrilled to know how much you love sucking dick.
Sighing, I toss my phone down and get dressed. He won’t refuse. He’ll shit himself and demand answers. He’ll probably try to find out who I am, but I won’t let him figure it out.
My phone buzzes, a ding following right after, and my heart ricochets when I see it’s a response from Blaise.
Of course it’s from him. He’s the only number I have in this piece of shit burner.
Blaise: Fine.
I snort at his blunt reply, a ball of excitement growing within me as I finish getting ready, hearing him and Mia arguing as they bypass my bedroom door. He’s trying to get her out so he can play a game of tag with his unidentified stranger, readying to choke on his cock again.
I harden at the thought and stare at my bulge, frowning. Why do I keep getting rock solid at the thought of my stepbrother? I want to fuck with him, not fuck him.
Regardless, I pulse at the memory of his throat tightening around my engorged head and the sounds he made as he gagged, and I have to adjust myself into my waistband.
I hear Blaise walking back upstairs and down the corridor, slamming his room door loudly. I smirk, knowing he’s angry, but he’ll love the way I make him feel when I make him run for his fucking life.
When it hits six, I pack my bag and tell Mom I’m heading to Samson’s. She kisses my cheek, and I ignore my stepdad as I leave.
The drive there is short. I go over the speed limit, adrenaline coursing through my veins and making my heart race.
I pull on my hoodie and slip the mask over my face, parking my car between two buses so he doesn’t recognize it.
The school is closed, and I don’t bother turning on the lights while I find my way to the room filled with all the sporting equipment. Using the light on my phone, I hunt for a weapon, settling on a hockey stick.
My phone buzzes.
Blaise: I’m here. Did you pussy out?
Rolling my eyes, I leave my bag in the room and grip the hockey stick tightly, cracking my neck side-to-side. I make my way to the offices, scouring the screens and communication devices until I find the Bluetooth settings that’s connected to all the speakers in the school.
My teeth capture my bottom lip, and I grin as I pull up my playlist, click on a rock song, and wait for it to filter through the entire building. I turn the volume all the way up, grab the hockey stick, and make my way to the pool.
When I get there, he’s got his back to the door, head lowered, staring at his phone in his hand. Since the blaring music muffles the sound of me approaching, he doesn’t get a chance to look up before I swing the hockey stick, smacking into the side of his head and knocking him into the water.
He splashes, sputtering out breaths as he breaches the surface, glaring at me, my face hidden beneath the mask.
There’s a trickle of blood-stained water down the side of his face, and fuck, my balls ache to empty at the sight.
He climbs out, tensing his jaw, holding the side of his head.
“Run,” I say, loud enough for him to hear over the music, but muffled enough he doesn’t realize I’m Cole Carter.
My chest tightens some more as he steps back, then again, and again. He could easily fight me. He could rip the mask off and see who I am, but instead, Blaise, soaked to the bone with blood down his face, turns on his heels and runs.
I wait ten seconds before I give chase.
Out in the corridor, within the darkness, I can see his shadow in the distance. I forget sometimes he can run like fuck, but unlucky for him, I’m faster.
I catch up to him just as he pushes open a door to a closet in an attempt to hide, throwing the hockey stick at his feet, causing him to hit the ground.
I’m getting flashbacks from when I chased him in the woods. I lower to my knees beside him, snatching his nape to restrain him enough he can’t get up. I’m throbbing in my pants, my precum already leaking as I see the blood soaking his hair.
