Fold

I flash her some dimple. “Is that so?”

She nods earnestly, and I look down, gesturing to my erection that's now at half-mast.

“Then why don't you take care of this for me. Get on your knees and prove how sorry you really are.”

Her eyes go dark with lust and she kneels on the floor. “You didn't want this the other night.”

I tug down my zipper. “Things change. Now take it out and suck it. If you do a good job, I'll let you come back home. I may even fuck that dirty little cunt of yours in my bed.”

If she's offended at being so debased, she doesn't show it. Quite the opposite.

She goes in for the kill, eagerly taking me into her mouth.

I grab the back of her head and make her choke on it before I come to my senses. The last thing I need is to leave any room for doubt when Kit walks in.

I remove my hands and fold them behind my head. “Tell me how much you want me. How much you love me and my cock.”

Nausea twists my insides because I don't want this Venus flytrap anywhere near me. Not even for the privilege of sucking me off.

Becca must tell my interest in her isn't what it once was because she starts going at my shaft full force, gagging herself to the point of tears.

“I fucking love your big cock, Preston,” she says between long slurps that end with spit dribbling down her chin.

I close my eyes and pretend like it's not her mouth around me but someone else's.

A certain angry girl with a gorgeous scowl. The girl I've never been able to stop thinking about since the moment we met.

Which utterly baffles me because it's not like we were lovers or friends.

We were nothing more than two ships passing in the night.

And yet...I know without a doubt she's the one person I'd do anything for. Whether or not it makes sense to me or anyone else.

Kit Bishop is in my veins.

But unfortunately for me, she's the drug I'll never be able to indulge in and the high I can't chase.

She's nothing more than an illusion. It's all she'll ever be.

I grunt and thrust my hips, fighting like hell to keep my hands behind my head as a sick fantasy of Kit pleasuring me starts to play out in my mind.

It's impeccable timing too, because a moment later; two things happen.

One—Becca repeats her last statement.

And two—I open my eyes and meet a pair of devastated hazel ones.

Kit doesn't yell or start crying like I expect her to. Like I want her to—not even when Becca tilts her head to look at her briefly before going back to my dick.

Instead, she clutches the spot over her heart, almost like the organ itself is physically breaking—all while staring at me like I'm the culprit. The one who should be held accountable for the impact.

The person responsible for this crash.

Because I am.

The muscles in my chest draw tight with regret—but I ignore it, part my lips, and utter a low moan.

Kit's still staring at me, so I harden my gaze. “Fuck, you're go

Becca's response is to speed up her movements and I give Kit a sly smirk of satisfaction.

I want her away from Becca for good. I need her to finally see Becca for what she is.

She starts to turn away, but pauses, sparing me one last glance. This time, there are tears in her eyes. “Preston.”

My name comes out in a choked whisper, like a small wounded animal on their last breath.

It makes me hate myself for tarnishing something so goddamn precious.

Every cell in my body wants to shove Becca away and tell Kit why I did this, but I can't because she runs out of the room.

Leaving me with nothing but the mess I made.

Exactly like I wanted her to.

I look down in disgust at the Antichrist who still has her lips wrapped around me. Seething, I grab the back of her head and fuck her lying, cheating, whore mouth furiously.

The small hint of satisfaction I get from watching her choke so hard on my climax that it comes out of her eight-thousand-dollar nose does little to dull the contempt I have for her.

When she makes to stand, I snap my fingers and point to my scrotum. “Clean off my balls.”

She does as told and I'm torn between wanting to laugh at her pathetic ass, and wanting to ask if the jizz she's lapping off my nutsack tastes as acrid as my feelings for her now are—but I don't want to spend another second breathing the same air she is.

Fortunately for me, I no longer have to.

I tuck myself back in my pants and stride past her.

“Where are you going?” she calls out when I reach the doorway.

I bite back a smile. “Well, this is awkward.”

I look over my shoulder at her. “That was your parting gift. I thought our relationship should end the same way it began...with you on your knees.”

The smug look on her face throws me. “Guess we both got what we wanted then.” When I stay silent, she adds, “You wanted Kit to hate me. But unfortunately for you, you ended up playing right into my hand instead.” She stands up and wipes the corner of her mouth before licking her thumb. “I believe gamblers call it bluffing, right?”

My jaw works and I shake my head. I won't waste my energy going round and round with her anymore. For the first time in my life, I'm folding. I'm done with her and there's not a damn thing she can ever do or say to change that.

“Have a nice life, Becca.”

I'm one foot out the door when it happens.

“Preston,” she screeches, her voice shaky and sharp.

I'm about to tell Becca to dial down the dramatics and save them for someone who gives a fuck, but then she screams, “Help.”

When I make the mistake of turning around...the thing beating in my chest freezes before it drops to the floor.

Where the blood ru