Page 59 of Ruthless Chaos

Cars whiz past below, the noise from their engines mixing with the rustling breeze. The air here isn’t as fresh as it is on campus. It’s stuffy and tainted by city life. It reminds me too much of London.

I’m itching to get back to the rustic Swiss countryside.

The ice cubes in my glass clink as I tip the drink to my head. I’m not sure how long I’ve been up here.

Vance is part of the Kingmaker Council, so attending the Devils’ first game of the season was recommended but not mandatory.

In the end, I decided to come because he’s my best friend.

The game was great. We won as expected.

That’s the only bright spot in this experience for me.

Everything else has beenshit.

Though this hotel is the only five-star hotel in the entire town, the bartender doesn’t know how to make a good drink.

I asked for the top shelf, but the whiskey still tastes cheap. The first glass I got had smudges on it. I wouldn’t be surprised to find toenails in my bed at this point.

It’s a miracle I could find some peace and quiet on the roof.

I’m alone up here.

Everyone else—Vance and Ezra included—went to party at a nightclub a few blocks over. At first, I was just coming back to the hotel to freshen up and join them. But when I stepped into the lobby, I realized I didn’t even want to go.

It would end up being the same as every party I’ve been to recently.

Shewon’t be there, but I’ll still spend my night looking for a familiar head of flaxen curls and that shy smile.

I clench my fists.

I shouldn’t be thinking of her.

The past few days, I’ve fought the memory of Allie at every turn—the feeling of her lips on my cock, the way she swallowed my load like it was the most delicious thing she ever tasted, and most hauntingly, her tears.

It’s all seared into my memory.

That afternoon in the lecture hall, I couldn’t stop myself.

In the moment, it felt like what I should have done.

After all, she dared to stand up to me. I never back down from a challenge.

The way I feel about her didn’t make any sense to me—to be honest, it still doesn’t—and in my mind, forcing her to suck my dick seemed like the perfect way to balance the scales.

It was supposed to help me get over her.

It should have reminded her that I’m the one in charge.

But I didn’t expect it to affect me that much. I’ve had hundreds of blowjobs in my life, but that one is easily my favorite. She wasn’t even particularly good at it.

I fucking loved it.

I fucking loved it and I can’t get it out of my head.

We’ve crossed into new, uncharted territory. It affected her too—I felt the distinct moment she moved from being afraid to enjoying it—and now, I’m more unsure than before.

I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve jerked off in the shower to thoughts of her huge, scared eyes and soft, tight mouth. I feel like a horny teenager.