Page 27 of House Rules
I stare at the knife, still quivering in the wall. Not aimed at me, but close enough that I know it’s a warning.
I’m not welcome. Not safe.
I swallow and retreat. Slowly, I let myself slide down the wall until I’m sitting, knees hunched before me. Until one of them tells me what to do, I guess my job is to sit here and watch this debauchery.
The party keeps going like I’m not even here. But they saw me. I saw them see me.
I guess this is what it means to belong to the Titans.
I don’t get to speak. I don’t get to move. I don’t get to want.
I just wait. Until one of them decides I’m worth noticing.
9
Conrad
I feelher the second she steps into the room.
It’s always been like this with her. A magnetic shift I can’t explain—like the air sharpens, gravity shifts, and every fucking sense I have zeroes in on her. She hasn’t said a word, hasn’t even crossed the threshold, but I know she’s here. My whole body reacts—tightens, tunes, waits. It’s disgusting, really, how easy she makes it to lose control. Even now. Even after everything.
I want to drag her straight to the floor. Peel her clothes off with a knife. Fuck her until she remembers why she should’ve never left in the first place. But I won’t. Not yet.
Not when we finally haveher caged.
The game is better this way. Slower. Hungrier. We agreed to rules, and for once, I’m glad we did. It’ll make it even sweeter when she’s the one who breaks.
The urge to run to her, to start the game immediately and demand that she get on her knees for me, is almost overwhelming. But I can’t.
That would break the rules.
Earlier today, over lunch, the guys and I had a long conversation about how this was going to play out. We all want her—I knew of my friends’ interest before Phoenix and I ever got together. It didn’t matter then, and it doesn’t matter now. None of us are opposed to sharing her, but we want to take our time. Savor her and this twisted arrangement we’ve locked her into.
We don’t have her for just the summer. We have her for an entire year.
We want to make the game last and keep things interesting.
The objective is the simple: the first one to get her begging for their cock, desperate and wet, comingto him on her own and begging him to fuck her, will be the winner.
It was Atticus’s idea to put in the contract that she wasn’t allowed to masturbate unless one of us was watching. The consequence would be an immediate dismissal without pay. I have to hand it to him—that was genius.
Though, I don’t think any of us have any intentions of following through with that consequence. The threat hanging over her head makes the game all the more interesting, because if we catch her touching herself, we can punish her.
I really, really want to punish her. I’m overdue. This contract we’ve locked her into…it makes things so much easier.
We don’t really expect her to follow all of the rules we had her sign off to…it would be next to impossible. If she breaks a rule—like masturbating—it creates a loophole where we can punish her and absolve her of her crime.
Brilliant.
As the sons of casino owners, games are our turf. We know how to keep them interesting, how to keepthe players hooked, and most importantly, how to win.
Poker no longer challenges us, blackjack is a joke, craps are annoying, and slot machines are a waste of money. But this kind of game…this could hold our attention for some time. Especially given our history.
Since we agreed on taking our time breaking her, we also agreed that no one would speak to her this first night. No one would touch her. We’ll make sure she knows exactly where she stands in this arrangement.
We are in control.
It doesn’t matter that she was paid to be our minder, our glorified babysitter. I snort a little, making the girl on my lap lean back and toss me a look. I tip my chin, and she gets back to work, grinding on my junk.
