Page 9 of House Rules
My friends helped. She was a bitch, obviously. Not worthy of Titan dick. Because that’s what we were—Titans. From the time we’d entered high school and women began noticing us for our bodies, or our parents’ money, or our power, that’s what we were.
Titans.
Where did she get off turning up her nose at that? At me? She was nothing.
Women treated us like we were larger than life,like fucking gods, and we let them. We took advantage of it, bending them to our will and enjoying their company, their bodies, and everything else they gave us so willingly.
It held a certain appeal, as long as we kept them an arm’s length away. The last thing any of us needed were clingy women sinking their claws into us. Early on, there were enough close calls with crazies and stalkers that we learned fast to keep things casual…and maybe a little cruel.
I moved on from Phoenix, but I didn’t forget the lesson she taught me. Never again would I give another girl the same kind of sweetness and affection I’d given her. I don’t even know why I bothered trying.
Puppy love, I guess. I can still remember watching her when we were kids. Her mom was dead or gone or something, and her dad was employed at the resort in the maintenance department. A nice guy, but weak. From the time she was little, Phoenix accompanied him on the job. I guess he didn’t want to leave her at home by herself.
When he had the urge to gamble, though—which was often—he had no trouble leaving her to her own devices while he ran off to the casino. She had no money, no friends, and nothing to do. We’d see her wandering the halls, or shadowing Evelyn, head of housekeeping. As she got older, she got bolder and dodged the managers in order to head out to the pool.
Technically, she shouldn’t have been using it. She wasn’t a guest at the resort, and she had no adult supervision. If she had drowned in the pool, her dad could have and probably would have sued the resort. But we made sure no one bothered her.
I was never really sure why we had done that for her.
Maybe it was because we understood the pain of having parents who forgot we existed.
Maybe, as she got older, it was because we just liked the way she looked in that tiny bikini as she lay by the pool with a book and pretended that she belonged there.
Now she’s all grown up, and I know exactly where she belongs.
Under me.
Discovering Phoenix in my closet was like drawing a royal flush in some cosmic game of poker. Against every odd, fate has given me a second chance. Not at love—I’m done with that—but with breaking her heart and tossing her away, just like she did me.
I can’t help the smile plastered across my face as I grab my phone to let the others know who I had just found in my closet.
Con:Guess what I just did.
Maverick:The blonde you dragged upstairs. Congrats?
Con:No. Well—yeah, but she sucked. All bark, no bite.
Atticus:Not the one who asked to see your black card first? The coke whore?
Atticus:Shocked she wasn’t a goddess in bed.
Con:Smartass. No, guess who I found in my closet. Watching me rail her.
Maverick:Sounds kinky. Who?
Con:Phoenix fucking Jones.
Con:Spying from the closet, soaking wet. Dragged her out. Made her come on my fingers. She clamped down like she hadn’t been touched in years.
Storm:Bullshit.
Storm:Why would she spy on you?
Con:No idea. But she did. And after I slid a finger in her ass, she ran out of the room like I lit her on fire.
Con:Mark my words, boys—by the end of this summer, she’s going to be on her knees begging for my cock.
Atticus:Did it maybe occur to you she was in your closet because she panicked? Cleaning the room. Wrong time, wrong place?
