Bully King - J.A. Huss Page 0,48
her hair and wind it up in my fist. I tug on it. Not hard, or the boys might get the wrong idea. “Why are you doing this?”
She stretches her long, slender neck, her soft cheek right up next to my scruffy one. She looks me in the eye and says, “Why are you doing this?”
I’m instantly angry. “Because I belong here,” I growl. “And you don’t.”
She lets her cheek move away, releasing me. And instead, she presses it up to Dante’s neck, urging him to pick up where I left off.
They kiss.
And I rage inside.
Calm down, Cooper. She’s playing you.
And she’s not allowed to play. She’s just a pawn.
Remind her of that fact.
Oh, I plan on it. The fun is just getting started.
We’ve made her feel good—that’s for sure.
But we haven’t made her laugh yet.
I poke her pit with one stiff fingertip and she squirms and giggles. I do it again, and this time she tries to get away. “Hold her, Ivan.”
He looks confused for a moment, but then nods and holds her still.
I poke her again and again. In the ribs, in the pits. Dante starts making grabs at her knees. She buckles, laughing hysterically, squirming, and writhing, and wriggling as poky fingers come at her from all directions and make her jerk and squeal until she finally just collapses on the ground.
They don’t stop. They keep going. Grabbing at her ribs now, her armpits, her knees, over, and over, and over again.
She’s not laughing anymore. She’s screaming. Her legs kicking. Her back twisting. Her hands tied behind her back. Helpless.
And then she’s crying. Sobbing.
Ax is sitting on one of the loveseats with his hand in his pants, jerking off. Lars is leaning up against the wall, arms folded across his chest, wearing a frown.
I bend down and grab Cadee’s hair, make her look at me as they tickle her. “Say stop, Cadee. Say stop and walk away and that’s exactly what will happen.”
She manages to spit at me. “Fuck you.” It hits me on the lips and I wipe it away and just watch her cry as they torture her with tickling.
I just. Watch.
It only takes another minute before she loses control and pisses herself, the dark stain spreading between her legs.
“What the actual motherfucking fuck is going on in here?”
Everything stops—the poking, the wriggling, the laughing, the jerking, the frowning, the watching... and then the only noise left in the Glass House as we all turn to look at Mona Monroe standing in the doorway is the sound of Cadee Hunter’s jerky sobs.
“Fuck you,” Dante says to Mona. “This is none of your business.” He leans down and puts his mouth on Cadee’s nipple, greedily grabbing at her breasts.
Cadee doesn’t move. She just cries on the floor, tears streaming down her already stained cheeks, great heaving, blubbering moans coming out of her mouth.
But Ax does move. He’s up from the loveseat, his foot pulling back—and then he’s kicking the living fuck out of Dante Legosi. He pulls him up off the floor, screaming at him. “Did we tell you to suck her fucking tits? Did we give you permission to put your mouth on our Fugling?”
Ax throws Dante down on the floor, sits on his chest, and starts pummeling his face with both fists.
“You,” Mona roars, “are a bunch of sick fucks!”
Ax is still screaming at Dante. Dante has his hands up to his face.
“Shut up, Mona. Go back outside and wait for us. You’re next.” Then I pull Ax off of Dante and point a finger in his face as he backs up. “Calm down, Ax. Right now.”
Then I turn to look at Mona. Wait for her to tell me to fuck off.
She wants to. Oh, hell, yeah, she wants to.
But she knows what that means. She will be the next target.
We all know Mona doesn’t want to be here. Would do just about anything not to be here. But Mona is here.
And that means she has to be here.
She was put here.
She can’t quit.
I don’t know what will happen to her if she doesn’t cooperate, but it must be something pretty bad if she showed up to play the game in the first place.
She turns her head away and leaves.
Slamming the door behind her so hard, the whole Glass House trembles.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - CADEE
I just lie on the floor while the boys file out of the Glass House. I do not move. Not one inch.
I pissed myself. But it’s OK. That’s why I packed