Page 93 of Dark Little Game
Rayne puffs out a laugh, his lips breaking into a smile. It gives him dimples, and I realize that right now I’m in bed with someone who endless people at Crimson College probablywishthey were in bed with.
“That’s the most Hunter Knox thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I’d count little knives as I imagined throwing them into a wooden wall. Toss after toss, knife after knife.”
“Did it actually help you fall asleep?”
“Eventually. Sometimes. Other times I’d get up andwalk around the house. I always felt like a ghost, walking around that big house at night.”
Rayne’s gaze dances over my face. “You probably don’t remember this, but there was one weekend I was having a sleepover with Weston, and I went out to the kitchen to get water?—”
“I remember it,” I tell him. “Must have been past three in the morning.”
I watch Rayne’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “I ran into you in the kitchen and you were there dipping Oreos in peanut butter.”
“Heard about it in the Parent Trap movie, and I’ve done it ever since,” I tell him. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”
“I wouldneverknock anything about peanut butter. It’s a major food group for me. Even that night, I wanted to come take a spoonful of it.”
“But you wereafraidof me. You still are.”
“I’m not fucking afraid of you, Hunter. Not anymore.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “You sure about that?”
“I believe that you aren’t trying to kill me. I mean that.”
I bring the back of my hand up to his neck, stroking my fingers along his exposed skin there and then moving up toward his jaw.
Sometimes, Rayne is clean-shaven, and other times he lets his scruff grow out, like he has it right now.
I let my palm rest on his throat for a moment, not applying any pressure.
“But I could hurt you,” I murmur.
I feel him swallow beneath my touch. “Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment. Maybe I don’t mind being hurt a little, sometimes.”
I press down on his throat. “You’re starting to sound likeme, Colson.”
“Maybe you just never knew me well enough,” he murmurs. “Maybe I’ve always been like this, and I’m just better at hiding it than you are.”
My cock perks up a little beneath the fabric of my boxer briefs.
He reaches up and pushes my hand off of his throat, like he’s purposely trying to deny me.
So that’s how you want to play it.
And I hate how well it works on me.
“When I couldn’t sleep, back then, I thought about Crimson College,” Rayne says. He’s still gripping my hand as he brings it low.
He moves my hand down toward my underwear and a moment later, he pushes my own palm onto my bulge.
His hand is draped over mine as he squeezes around my fingers.
Usingmyhand like a puppet of his own, gripping around my cock.
I moan softly at the contact. He keeps his hand on mine, gently kneading it on my erection as he keeps talking.
