RIOT HOUSE (Crooked Sinners #1) - Callie Hart Page 0,22

on the back row.

In The Dark…

“Pretty girl. So precious. So fucking spoiled. You think you’re untouchable, don’t you? You think you’re above punishment? You’re a dirty little slut, and all dirty little sluts are punished. You’ve seen that for yourself. Go on. Cry some more. You know it only makes me harder.”

Vile, evil, hateful words.

They slip through the little holes in the wood, making me flinch.

I can smell the alcohol on his breath.

I can hear the madness in his voice.

Through the tiny oxygen holes in front of my face, I can see what he’s doing. I can see how he’s touching himself.

When he comes, spraying my prison with his semen, then I can smell that, too.

6

WREN

“There have to be consequences, man. Without consequences, how will any of them know their place?” Dashiell hits the pipe I just passed him, holding the smoke in his lungs, lips pressing together as he frowns at the naked chick gyrating on his computer screen. Other guys might save their private sex cam sessions until they had a moment alone, but Dash has no qualms about enjoying the services he pays for in front of others. Dash has very few qualms in general.

His dick is hard, which isn’t out of the ordinary. He gets hard whenever he smokes pot. Some weird, fucked up wiring issue in his brain. The girl touching her pussy on the screen’s purely coincidental.

Exhaling, he lets out an insubstantial puff of smoke, most of it having already absorbed into his lungs. His preppy chinos and his grey sweater make him look like he’s about to head off to church. His blood shot eyes make him look like he just arrived, fresh off the boat from hell. “I don’t think Carina likes me.” He points the end of the pipe at me. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but whenever I enter a room, she always seems to be leaving it. If I were a suspicious guy, I’d think I might have upset her.”

Hah. Sick bastard. Yeah, Dash definitely upset Carina and he knows it. These mind games he likes to play are so deeply engrained in his very id that he sometimes forgets that he doesn’t need to play them within the walls of our home, though. I grab the pipe from him, angrily packing the weed down into the bowl. When I touch the flame of the lighter to it, I pull too harshly, sending a jet of scalding hot, thick and highly potent smoke scorching down the back of my throat.

I need to cough, but I won’t. I refuse to let myself. I force myself to ride out the maddening, desperate need with a sour-feeling grin plastered on my face. My eyes sting when I eventually breathe out. “Think you’d better give that one a wide berth before you decide to fuck with her again,” I advise. “Carina’s fiery. She’ll clip your balls for you if you’re not careful.”

“Aww. You worried about my balls, Jacobi?” Dash ruffles my hair, fucking up the hap-hazard, behind-the-ear tuck I had going on. I growl half-heartedly. There are certain things Pax can get away with, like eating on my fucking bed and getting food everywhere. He wouldn’t live to tell the tale if he tried to fucking ruffle my hair, though. I have very specific dynamics with both of my friends, and I don’t like one to bleed through into the other. That’s how shit gets confusing.

“Your balls are of no concern to me, jackass. They’re probably gonna rot and fall off of their own accord any day now. I’m more concerned about keeping a low profile. Last thing we need is Harcourt siccing her minions on to us again.”

Dashiell throws himself back against the couch, absently grabbing the end of his dick through his pants and giving it a squeeze. He frowns at the girl on his laptop, who’s now fully fingering herself, trying to incite some sort of a reaction out of him. He scowls, irritated. Snapping the laptop closed, he slides the MacBook across the coffee table, nearly knocking over a fake potted plant he bought last week in an attempt to ‘brighten up the place.’

“Fine. I’m bored of women, anyway,” he announces. “You ever fucked a guy, Jacobi?”

That’s none of his damn business. However, I have no reason to hide anything from anyone. I’ve been calculating and careful about every single move I’ve made since I was nine years old. It’s exhausting, having to plot and plan absolutely everything