Page 33 of Twisted Little Game

I could cut off his air for a moment, show him my control, and stop him from saying these intensely distracting things to me that confuse my cock when there are serious things to deal with.

You don’t know what I can do with good bondage, boy.

He still has no clue about my family.

The things I’ve endured.

I give him a cold stare, imagining every knot I could fasten around his strong arms to restrain him; to show him exactly how good I am at getting people to do what they’re told.

I could have him begging me.

Pleading and desperate, within minutes.

Fuck him so hard he screams, make a mess of him with my cum, and leave him tied up and begging for release I wouldn’t give, and fuck, I really am losing it, because I want to see him like that. Tied up, just for me.

In the back of my mind, I’m aware that I’m having these thoughts about a man… but he’d look so good in rope. His skin. His muscle.

I breathe deeply and evenly, watching his eyes dance over my face.

“Yo,” I hear from behind me.

Weston and Sev appear at the side of the picnic blanket, both of them carrying to-go sandwiches in their hands. I exhale, smothering my rage like I’m dousing a fire.

Back to myself.

Composed.

Numb.

In control.

“Hi,” Tate says with a radiant, warm smile that he seems capable of instantly summoning onto his face.

“Mind if we join?” Wes asks, as he and Sev are already sitting down on the blanket. “We were going to go sit somewhere on the quad, too. It’s perfect out today.”

The truth is that I want to get the fuck out of here.

Tate just dropped information on me that we need to investigate, and I am itching to look up whatever symbol he saw on that rock.

Who the fuck else is tailing him, other than me?

How could I not have noticed?

“Please join us. More the merrier,” Tate says, sliding over on the booth.

We will stay for a while.

Then I’m leaving, and Tate will stay by my side.

“Weston and Sev, this is Tate,” I say. “He transferred in.”

“Whoa,” Wes says, doing a double take and looking at Tate more closely, like he just saw a mirage. “You’re Tate Landrey. What the fuck? When did you get here?”

“A few weeks ago,” Tate says, reaching out to shake his hand. “I went to an Onyx party, but I left after a grand total of ten minutes. Pleasure to meet you both.”

“This is awesome,” Weston says. “You’ve always been my favorite Landrey brother. I mean, shit, Luke’s an awesome QB, but no one has style like you.”

Tate smiles. “Too kind. I try my best. Roman, you want these?”