Every sexual encounter with Langston is hotter than the previous.
He didn’t even touch me until after I had already come, but rubbing myself while he was watching me, while he was stroking himself, while he was so close—fuck me.
Those words almost slipped from my lips so many times.
My body was screaming for Langston to fuck me.
Fuck me.
Fuck me.
Fuck me.
For the first time, I wasn’t sure if it mattered if I was in control or not. It didn’t matter if Langston tied me up and stripped me of all my power. It didn’t matter if he pushed his cock between my lips, in my ass, or in my cunt. All I wanted was his cock inside me. His lips kissing me. His hands touching me.
Every time I’m around Langston, I want more.
And every time I realize just how bad things would get if we were to cross that line into more.
Langston steps out of the tub and grabs a fluffy towel from the nearby shelf. He doesn’t grab one for me or help me in any way.
I stand and grab another towel. I dry quickly before grabbing the single white robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and wrapping it around me. I walk into the bedroom after Langston.
I don’t see him.
Did he leave?
My heart flutters at that. I both want him to have left and want him to still be here.
I turn to the right and see Langston out of the corner of my eye, sitting in one of the two chairs on my balcony.
I exhale.
He didn’t leave.
I hesitate before I walk over to him, trying to prepare myself for the conversation.
Langston wants me to lie. He wants me to give him another reason to hate me, to eventually kill me.
I’ll lie alright. But it will be closer to the truth than he’ll ever know.
I slide the door open and step outside. Wordlessly, I take the seat next to him.
When I glance over, I see he’s shirtless with only the towel wrapped around his waist.
Jesus.
How does he think I’m going to be able to focus on anything?
“So tell me, how does a girl who grew up with a whore for a mother decide the only way to make money is to whore herself out now?”
I slap him again.
He’s made comments like this before, but I’m not tolerating it.
“I am not a whore.”
He smirks. “Why did you enter this game, then? You’ve been here before. You’ve played before, won before. Why?”
I drag my eyes from him to the ocean. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to lie so I can fuel your sick rage to eventually kill me?”
He shrugs. “Ultimately, it’s up to you whether you tell the truth or lie.”
“Lie it is then,” I say.
His jaw ticks, but otherwise, he remains stone-faced.
“I’ve been living in hell since I was eighteen years old.” The year that Langston left me. That was the year my world changed. Since then, nothing has been the same.
“Liar. You thrived after I left you,” Langston says.
He has no idea what happened after I left, the deal I made. And he never will.
“Be quiet and let me tell the story. Otherwise, I’ll stop talking right now.”
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t speak again.
“As I was saying, I’d already been living in hell for years. My entire life has been dealing with the flames of the devil. Some years were harder than others, but then I met Duncan.”
“Who is he?”
“So impatient.”
“Duncan is the man who brought me here.”
Langston frowns. “Against your will?”
I laugh. “I don’t do anything against my will, not anymore. I wanted money—knowing it was the only way I could ensure that I never had to do anything against my will again.”
“So you whored yourself out?” he asks.
“Do you want me to slap you again?”
He chuckles and puts his hands up in surrender.
“I didn’t know I was whoring myself out. He brought me here. Told me there was a game he thought I’d enjoy, and I could feel in control. He said it would bring me enough wealth that I would never have to worry again.”
“Did he tell you what you were signing up for?”
“Yes and no. He asked how far I’d be willing to go to earn unlimited freedom. I said as far as it takes.”
I pause.
Langston’s body is hard as stone, and his eyes have rage spelled out in his pupils.
“I understood what he wasn’t saying. I could read between the lines. It was my choice to come here, to play the game.”
“And he demanded a cut?”
My eyes gloss over. Yes. No. I can’t think about that—about all of the fucking pain. I’d break more than I already have. I may not be able to get through tomorrow or tonight as it is.
“No, I took everything I won.” A sly smile spreads. “And I won everything.”
Langston’s lips turn up into not quite a smile, but I know he’s impressed by me.
“Where’s the lie?” he asks after a beat.
“That’s for you to figure out.”
Everything. Almost everything is a lie, yet not enough is.
We sit in uncomfortable silence for a while, both staring out at the ocean.
“So how much time are you taking off? Another month? Six months? You plan on killing me tomorrow?” I finally ask, not hiding the disdain in my voice.
He sighs, and there is an emotion on his face that I haven’t seen since we were kids—fear.
“What happens tomorrow, huntress? How do you survive if I don’t save you like I did tonight?” Langston asks, referring to him kicking Zeke out of the games.
I shake my head. “You don’t understand how different tomorrow’s games will be.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s not something I can tell. It’s only something you can experience.”
He frowns. “Huntress…”
“You can’t save me. No one can. And I don’t need you to. Only I can save myself.”
Langston gets up and walks to the sliding door.
“What happens when we both make it to the final round?” he asks as he pauses at the door.
I lose.
“I hope you make it
