Page 19 of House Rules
“Uh…this is Phoenix you’re talking about.” I couldn’t keep from pointing that out, strangely irritated.
Aside from the fact that if we were placing bets, I was going to win—I didn’t lose, ever—he was talking about Phoenix like she was one the whores who lived to ride his dick. Like he hadn’t once been head over heels in love with the girl.
His attention whipped to me. “And?”
“And I can’t see her tripping all over herself to fuck you. She did that once, and ran like her ass was on fire.” Con’s expression darkened, and I kept going. “You never know…she could’ve had a change of heart. But here’s the thing…if I’m playing, I’m winning.” I smirked to lessen the impact.
“Fair enough,” he conceded. “But who’s to say there will only be one winner?” he added, pulling my attention back to his smug face. “We play this the right way, she’ll be begging all of us.”
That caught my fucking attention.
The idea of sharing her sets something sour in the back of my throat. Not because I’m above it—I’ve shared before. But this is Phoenix. And no matter how many times I tell myself she’s fair game, there’s a piece of me that wants to keep her to myself. Lock her down. Fucking own every gasp she makes.
And yet…these were my brothers. I would never keep anything from them.
I decided the second he proposed this devious little wager of his that I was going to win. No one else would fight for that little firebird (Phoenix had always been a firebird to me, from the first time I discovered the meaning of her name) the way Iplanned to. In spite of how she broke his heart—or hell, maybe because of it—I’ve had a thing for her for fucking years, and damned if I was going to waste this opportunity to have her.
But the idea of sharing her? That was even more appealing. I’ve always liked to watch, and this little slip of a girl has captivated far too much of my attention—attention that she’s been ignoring—for far too long. It’s the same with the others.
I’ve watched us all quietly, stealthily pant for this girl for years, when it should have been the other way around. We are the Titans. She should have come to us on her knees a long time ago, crawling and begging for whatever scraps we’d give her. The idea of being able to break her down, having her serve all of us the way she should have been doing this entire time, was simply delicious.
But I was for sure going to be the first to make her beg.
So here I am, waiting around the corner from our parents’ offices, lurking like a fucking creep. After several minutes, I hear the snick of the door opening and closing, and the wheels of the cart.
I can hear Samantha…Susan—whatever the fuck that annoyingly chipper maid’s name was—talking to my little firebird. I can’t help the smirk that covers my face when she refuses to gossip and dismisses the twat, the ding of the elevator moments later announcing her exit.
She doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t give an inch. It makes me wonder what it would take to break that calm right in front of everyone. Make her drop to her knees in this hallway, eyes locked on mine, defiance flickering beneath obedience. Make her beg so prettily the whole fucking casino would know she belongs to me.
Seconds later, I hear the boom of Masterson’s voice. “Let me know immediately when she calls back. I’ll up the damn amount if I have to.”
“Yes, sir.”
I should have known that Phoenix wouldn’t give anything up so easily.
Hell, it might not be as easy as Con thinks to get her on her knees begging for us. I should be annoyed by that fact, but the thought of a challenge is…exciting. My cock twitches with interest. Finally, a woman who will make me work for it. It’s been far too long since I’ve had to put any effort into getting laid.
The maid comes around the corner. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Sandra says in a low voice, sticking out her bottom lip in a pout that she probably thought was adorable. “Please, I’m really sorry. I tried so hard, and like…it’s just Pheebs. She’s impossible. Nobody likes her. She doesn’t talk to the other maids; she doesn’t do?—”
Hearing this nobody reduce my firebird to ‘Pheebs’ is like nails on a chalkboard.
“So, you failed?” I ask, even though I know the answer. I lift an eyebrow, feigning irritation.
“I’m so sorry, baby, let me make it up to you. Please.” Her fingers trail across my abdomen, and I back away a step.
Baby?Who the fuck was she calling baby?
“How the fuck are you going to make it up to me?” I scoff. “You’ve already proven that you’re pretty fucking useless.”
It’s too easy. A few words, a half-smile, and they’re falling over themselves to please me. It used to feel like power. Now it just feels…empty.
She thinks she’s the first to offer everything for nothing. She’s not. And I’m not proud of what I do with girls like her. But pride doesn’t matter when you’re starving for something real and know damn well it’s not her.
I turn to walk away from her, but she reaches out and snags my hand, halting me.
“I can be good at other things,” she says, pushing her tits together and leaning forward as if I was supposed to be excited by a B cup. “Please, I’ll do anything. Let me show you how good I can be for you.”
“Fine,” I say, rolling my eyes.
