Page 20 of Cracked Ice (The F*cked Up Players #1)

She squirms in my hold as she tries and fails to remove my hands from her neck.

“How would you know?” she spits.

“Because I know you .”

She scoffs, “You really don’t.”

“Oh, how quickly we forget,” I jeer.

Her glower is adorable. I think I like this side of Sydney.

“That wasn’t . . . that’s not me,” she explains, tripping over her words.

“Oh, but it is. It’s probably the most you , you’ve ever been.”

The roll of her eyes is fucking beautiful, especially with my hand necklacing her throat.

“You’re incorrigible,” she huffs, breathless as she gulps in more air that’s getting harder and harder to come by.

The fact that she still has the energy to spew insults is commendable. I know bigger men who’ve folded by this point.

“And you’re a little liar. Guess that’s why they say never meet your heroes,” I say.

“No, I’m not,” she whines, bringing her hands to my wrist in case I decide to squeeze even harder, but she doesn’t pull away.

“Oh, yes, you are. One look at you and I can tell you take a lot of shit lying down. But I can give you a real reason to take me if you’re going to be down there anyway,” I tell her, my tone a teasing threat.

Her pupils dilate and her blue nails pinch a little tighter into my skin, but I don’t take my focus off her for one second. I wanna see it, those frosted orbs begging me to give her what she really deserves. She’s not the only observant one among us.

I cant my head to the side.

“I’m willing to bet people look down on you.

The way you skate. The way you walk. The way you carry yourself.

You’re probably used to a certain way of life.

” I eye her up and down. “Yeah, one look at you and I can tell you were born with a silver spoon between those pretty lips. I’m betting that silver spoon cost a pretty penny though, huh?

You had to behave, move, and even breathe a certain way just to prove your worthiness of it.

I’ll bet anything when people turn their noses up at you, you just take it.

You probably think it’s easier to dish it back out, but only to those you’re already convinced you’re better than.

Those who have nothing to give you in return, who give you their boot to kiss, probably , have all of your respect, don’t they?

” Her mouth drops open, aghast. “Mmm, I’m sure you’d look amazing licking my boots.

” I bite down on my lower lip just thinking about it.

“Maybe you do get defensive, but I have a feeling when those other people turn their noses up at you, you just take it. Obedient Sydney. And now you’re wanting to take all that frustration out on me. Am I right?”

I squeeze the sides of her neck a bit and those ice blues betray her. Of course she wants to take her frustrations out on me. I know because I want to take my frustrations out on her .

“Respect isn’t bought Sydney, it’s taken. So cut the shit and be nice to me. You’re starting to hurt my feelings .”

She opens her mouth in protest, but no sound comes out. It’s her own lies she’s choking on now.

The front she puts on, I’ve seen it a thousand times and it doesn’t typically appeal to me. It’s how I knew she had to be different. Silver spoon or not, Sydney works hard. Between figure skating and stalking me I’ve grown to admire her dedication, but her attitude reeks of superiority.

Her body quakes with shivers.

“Do I make you nervous, Little Stalker Princess?” I ask, stroking my thumb right over her windpipe, flirting with the idea of crushing it with one little push. “Be honest or there’ll have to be consequences. You’ve lied to me at least three times now and I don’t like it one bit.”

“Consequences?” she rasps.

“Oh yes, liars get punished. And if you can’t tell the truth . . . then you don’t get to speak.” I squeeze tighter, trapping the air in her lungs until I’m sure they’re burning. “You’re not a liar are you, Sydney? I hope this isn’t a pattern of behavior for you. Honesty is always the best policy.”

She shakes her head . . . Well, she tries to. I loosen my grip, allowing her to suck in a ragged breath.

I raise my brows expectantly, waiting on her to answer my question.

“Words, Sydney. I want your words,” I coo.

Her stare hardens, challenging me even in the face of fear.

“No . . .” She clears her throat, sending vibrations through my fingertips. “I’m not a liar.” Her next answer is louder and more confident. “And, yes, you do make me nervous.”

My grin is wide with her admission.

“Good fucking girl,” I cajole.

Her lips curve at the corners and I can’t help but to wonder how good she’d be willing to be for me. But, of course, it can never be that simple with her.

“Permission to speak, Master ?” Her obvious condescension—even as she’s still trying to catch her breath—makes me laugh. Though her nickname for me makes my balls draw tight.

“Permission granted, Princess.”

Her eyes roll in response, but I suspect its real purpose is to avoid looking at me. I know those panties are fucking soaked for me.

If she’s even wearing any.

“Tell me why you’re really here,” she says.

I smile down at her. I’d think it was obvious.

“I’m not done playing with you yet.”