Page 130 of Twisted Little Game

“Home. I can’t fucking wait.”

Finally, the nurse cracks a smile. “You’re a trooper. And your cousin and boyfriend have been very attentive while you’ve been out.”

“Mmm,” I hum, already feeling the sedative effect kicking in. “My boyfriend. Imagine that. Was always fond of that English word. Boy-friend. You like that, Tate? Sweet. My sweet… she would love you so much, Blondin. Ya tak khochu spat...”

I am so, so sleepy.

20

Tate

“Jesus Christ, you look so fucking sexy in that,” I tell Roman as he steps out in his Onyx Society formal cape, sliding his tattooed hands over the edges of it. “I mean, your normal fleecy denim jacket is hot, too, but this is another level.”

He’s still a little stiff as he moves in certain positions, and the wound on his stomach is very much in the process of healing.

But after three weeks, he’s able to almost live a normal life again.

Normal.

That thing that we’ve both never been.

“You realize how special you are,” he asks me, “being able to attend the Confessional even though you aren’t an Onyx Society member?”

Tonight is apparently a tradition for Onyx Society.

They call it the Confessional, and I’ve heard the guys mentioning it throughout my time here. All of them write down a deep secret, something they’ve never told anyone. They put all of the secrets into a box, shake it up, and read them out loud at random.

No one knows who each secret belongs to.

“I know I’m very special,” I murmur, walking up and running my palm over his chest. “God, I need you to fuck me while you’re wearing this, later.”

He hums. “What if I need you now?”

“You’re going to be late for the Confessional. You hate being late.”

Roman reaches out and trails his knuckles over my cheek, down to my jaw, looking over my face. He dips low and crushes his lips to mine in a slow kiss that quickly becomes hungry. His tongue pushes into my mouth and I part for him, and his hands moving to grip my wrists.

I reach low and squeeze my hand around the outline of his cock, and the moment I feel it, I moan into his mouth.

“The noises you make for me, Tate…” he murmurs, nuzzling hard against me and biting on my earlobe. “Fuck it. I’m allowed to be late. You need my cum.”

I’m already dropping to my knees in front of him. I rest my head against the front of his pants as he unbuttons, then I move back as he shoves his pants and lets them drop.

His cock bobs free, heavy and completely hard for me.

“I’m never going to get used to this,” I tell him, gliding my palm over his thick shaft. “It’s a work of art.”

“I don’t want you to ever get used to it. I want you to look at it like that every time you take it. Open your mouth, beauty.”

I look up at him, lifting an eyebrow. “Make me.”

His eyes widen like he wants to destroy me, and he’ll enjoy every moment of it.

I love seeing him smile.

For the past few weeks, he’s been doing it more.

Little by little, I’ve seen pieces of him emerge, like spring after a thaw. He always loved giving me his cock, obviously. But now… he’s completely present with me.