Page 71 of Cracked Ice (The F*cked Up Players #1)

thirty-two

“ D o you know what drives a stalker? Psychologically? Do you know what makes them . . .” I bird whistle, swirling my finger in a circle around my temple.

Sydney’s heated glare is adorable. “I didn’t at first. My mental issues stemmed from a different tree, so I admit I didn’t quite get it, but my psychiatrist explained it to me.” I continue, trailing around the front of her. “Wanna know what she said?”

She tries to answer, but I place the blade to her lips to shush her.

“She said they’re blinded by the idea of an unfulfilled fantasy. And I thought to myself, well what’s so bad about that? If our fantasies are one in the same . . . then I can fulfill your every one.”

She whimpers a pathetic moan against the steel and my balls draw tighter.

“So, Little Stalker Princess, did you fantasize about me? Make yourself come to the thought of me? Because I did. I fantasized about you every day. What I would do to you. How I would fuck you. You were all I thought about.”

She nods and I move the knife away. “Yes, I fantasized about you.”

“Did it look a lot like this?” I skate the knife along her collarbone.

She nods again. “Yes.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

The blade nicks her skin when I skim it over her sternum, but I keep going.

She shakes her head, moaning. “This is better. So much better.”

I rub my cheek with hers, her skin smooth and buttery to the touch. “I want you to remember you said that,” I murmur against her.

“What?” She’s in a haze, an adrenaline-filled rush spurred on by fear and lust, she’ll either be coming or screaming by the time we’re done here. Or my personal favorite: both.

“Ready, Princess?”

“For what?”

“To be claimed.” I sink down into a squat until her quivering thighs and firm ass are at eye level.

“So beautiful,” I muse.

“What are you doing?” Sydney asks, voice trembling as her body sways from the canopy, her bodyweight pulling her shoulders back from the strain.

“Left or right?” I ask, my tone giving nothing away while I present her options.

“Left or right, what?”

I open my mouth to answer, but she interrupts.

“Fuck, these things are tight, can’t you loosen them some?”

“No. Left or right ?”

“Lucien, you’re being super vague,” she whines.

“And you’re being super disobedient. You wanna get fucked? Wanna prove you can take it? Then stop thinking so much and just answer the question, Princess. Follow me and I’ll open up a whole new world for you.”

“Is that an Aladdin quote?” she huffs, pulling at her restraints uselessly.

“Uh, probably. Hey Trev,” I ask over my shoulder, “did I just quote Aladdin ?”

“I have no idea, but there’s a huge butt plug in my ass and I shouldn’t be punished just because Princess chose to be bad,” he pouts.

“Don’t you worry your big biceps about it. My good boy will be rewarded for everything he does.”

His dick leaks as he moans, his balls already drawn tight as one of my bigger anal plugs sits in his ass. He’s good and primed for me, which leaves one last order of business.

“You promise? Because, fuck, Lucien, I need you, man. Nothing else helps . . . just, fuck . . . Can I please touch myself?” He whimpers for release, but I can’t have him distracted. He has a job to do. He needs to make sure I show restraint.

“No. Not yet.”

Trevor’s whines sound more like a groan as he says, “Fuck, Sydney, please make a choice. He’s not going to give you more information. Just turn off your brain and cease all thoughts. And if you can’t, let him do it for you.”

Sydney sighs.

Just then her phone rings from somewhere nearby and she blanches, her eyes bugging when she peers over to me. “I need to answer the phone.”

I get up and move to face her again. Tapping her lips with the knife I was about to carve her ass with. “You answer that phone, and I’ll make you regret it.” My gaze shifts from her lips to her eyes again.

She says nothing.

Tilting my head, I give her one last chance. “Just say the word if you don’t wanna play anymore. I won’t make you play with me.”

I expect her to hesitate, to break that final straw, but she doesn’t. She shakes her head, her hair bun flopping side to side.

“Okay,” I nod, moving behind her again to squat into my position.

The phone stops ringing and she relaxes again. Or at least as much as she can while strung up on my bed like she is.

“Left,” she breathes.

I grin, grabbing a handful of her left ass cheek, pinching it until it’s taut and all the blood is pushed from the surface, turning it white. Then I start carving.

Her screams are beautiful and bright crimson blood streams down her thighs, down my hands as I lay waste to any alternate reality where she thinks I don’t own this ass. Where she thinks she’ll let anyone take this away from me after all we’ve been through.

“Fuck, Lucien!” She screams, but there’s quite a bit of blood and I have to lick the open flesh to continue my work.

Mmm, she’s a gusher.

She hisses at the contact.

I only have letters L through C written and already I’m falling victim to the lust.

More.

I want more .

I spread the remaining blood that leaks over her ass, tempted by her virginal back hole seeking my attention. She gasps between what I now recognize as sobs then moans when my tongue licks between her cheeks, a filthy mess of cum and blood smearing her folds.

“I told you I would catch you. I told you the right question wasn’t being asked.”

She hiccups between gasps, but I keep going.

“How will you get me to stop?” I goad.

“I d-don’t want you to s-stop. Please . Keep going,” she says.

Thank God Trevor’s here. I can’t help but look over to him, noting that he’s barely holding it together himself, but his resolve is stronger than us all. He’ll call the whole thing off if he has to, but he holds, letting me have this. Knowing what it means to me.

I want to make this permanent. I want her ass wrinkled with age spots at the ripe old age of fucking ninety still sporting my name like a brand on her soul.

Sydney whimpers.

“Aww, what’s wrong, Princess? You don’t like it? You don’t like me laying my claim, carving your ass and tasting your come?” I ask.

“N-no,” she stutters. “I love it.”

“Then why are you crying, baby?” I suck on her clit, rewarding her as I dot the I .

“Because it hurts .”

“Is it too much?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to take it anyway?” I push.

“ Yes ,” she screams.

“And why is that?” My tongue sweeps across her ass cheek as I place the final curve on the N .

“Because I’m a good fucking girl,” she growls.

“Yes”— kiss —“you”— kiss —“are.”

I stand at my full height once more, rounding the front of her body.

“C-can I please have my reward now?” Sydney whimpers.

My eyes dip to her trembling lip, her teeth sinking into the bottom one as she contains her pouting.

“Trevor, unhook the bar.” As soon as her legs are free, I reposition her body, sliding her back down to the bed and flipping her on to her knees. Leaving her arms tied to the lower frame. I slide between her arms, my body between her and the bed, her face right by my cock as Trevor holds her taut.

“Let’s start with ten,” I say.

Sydney’s face twists in confusion, but Trevor understands what’s happening.

Leaning forward, he whispers to Sydney. “Eyes on him or we’ll both be punished,” he says, kissing her temple. “Don’t be mad at me, okay?”

Her forehead creases, but it’s the only warning she gets before Trevor’s large hand slaps across her unscathed ass cheek. When she opens her mouth to scream, I shove my cock so deep in her throat, her screams get caught.

I pop her off with a loud suction and saliva pools from her lips.

“One. Say it,” I instruct.

Those cracked-ice eyes darken and hellfire blazes in them. But when those lips part, she growls.

“One.”

I follow the same pattern and by time we get to three, tears are streaming down her face. I lick each one away.

“Isn’t this so much better than getting fucked?” I tease.

She glowers, mouth clamped shut, probably out of fear that she’d only make things worse.

I desperately want her to, because they can. They can get so much worse.

“I told you I didn’t need to fuck you to have fun with you.

” More tears stream down her face and her eyes close, pained by the very idea of not getting fucked.

I mean, this could just be the male ego talking, but her need for me just makes me want her that much more.

Shame, she probably has no clue just how badly I need her too or why I’m going through all of this trouble in the first place.

Because if she survives this night with me, I know I’ll never need to let her go.

She’ll be with me, always. And I’ll never have to be alone again.