Wicked Little Game

by Ivy Porter

“The pendant says R, for Ruby,” she says, as if this is the most logical thing in the world. “And this one’s mine, S, for Samuel.” The grin on her face is diabolical and I swallow thickly upon hearing my name leave her mouth. The fucking dog tags. I’m the biggest moron on this planet, being so careless around her she now knows my real name.

And even worse, friends don’t do the things we do. Friends don’t do the things I want to do to her. Friends don’t tease you like that, friends don’t just grab your cock while you’re watching TV. At least mine usually don’t do that.

Usually don’t? So it’s happened at least once before? 👀

What is his fault though, are the faint hints of touches. Subtle enough to make me question them, obvious enough that they make my heart race. His hand on my waist when he walks past me, guarding edges when I turn around so that I don’t run into pieces of furniture. Or maybe I’m just reading something into it.

If he has a good day, I’m allowed to touch one part of him for half an hour. We came to that agreement after I completely obliterated him at Uno. I cheated, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Maybe I could shoot my shot with one of the bouncers. Bouncers and bodyguards, that’s almost the same thing and with the power of imagination, and a bit more booze, I could act like one of them is Sam.

What wasn’t fascinating was the way the other men in the club looked at her. Especially a scrawny one in one of the VIP booths. If one of those bastards had tried to touch her, I would have taken care of him in a dark alleyway.

The look on her face in the split second I saw it before I threw her over my shoulder was priceless, and the way her skirt rides up every time she tries to wriggle free is just a bonus at this point. Of course, I pull it down immediately. I’m the only one who’s allowed to look at that ass.

“Shut it, dipshit. I’m just here because your dad pays me to look after you.”

Max also likes to treat longer drives as a karaoke opportunity. But Max keeps his hands to himself.

We love Soap…I mean Max

“You don’t behave, you get tied up. Not that complicated.”

“Did you make up your mind about the bracelet?”

“I don’t want—I can’t wear it, darling.”

My father doesn’t like to see me sad, he doesn’t like to see anyone sad and says that it ruins his mood. Men don’t like women with a frown on their face, honey. “Smile, Ruby, looks better.”

It’s not like I can say: Look, Ruby, I want to fuck you. I really do. Hell, I want to fuck you on every surface this house, this entire world has to offer, but I can’t because I’m not even a real bodyguard. No, I’m here for a fucking mission that will probably end with me putting a bullet in your father’s head, and I don’t know if you would want to fuck me after that.

I got a hold of her phone to install a tracker. Just in case she tries to run off again. I had to move her head to unlock her phone, and she snuggled against my hand. She’s way too adorable when she sleeps and I felt horrible when I pulled my hand away.

Something about this whole ordeal rips open wounds it was supposed to heal. It makes me think back to the last woman who looked at me with a smile I couldn’t resist. The same one that a year and a half later insisted on coming to the cemetery with me to meet my mom. And also the same one that took the one remaining piece of my heart, ripped it out, and put a knife through it before she walked away.

There are reasons I don’t want a woman in my life, or anything resembling a relationship, or a short hookup. I can’t make an exception for this, not even for Ruby.

It drives me crazy and my tried and trusted solution of drowning my problems in booze isn’t working. I would call Max, but when I talked to Rockwell last evening, he told me he and the guys are on a mission for the next few days. Mexico again, and it’s better that they are going without me.

Helping Alejandro and Rodolfo? 👀

I don’t need a workout; I need a lobotomy.

I feel that, dude

Max had a rabies scare once. We were on a mission in Belarus when he tried to pet a raccoon and it bit him. Goddamn idiot. I don’t think I ever witnessed someone having such a hysterical outbreak before.

Why is it so easy to picture Soap trying to pet a raccoon and getting bitten 😂

“I know you’re going to turn into a misbehaved dog as soon as I pull my shirt off, and I don’t have a stick to keep you at a distance.” “Actually, you do have a stick.” “See, bad dog.” I roll my eyes at her. I think I adopted that habit from her and I’m not happy about the fact that she’s turning me into some kind of sassy monster. “You wanna put me on a leash?” She grins at me, and I can’t even blame her. I’m equally responsible for this bullshit. “It would definitely suit you.”

As if I hadn’t thought about how perfect she would look with my belt around her neck, forced to crawl to me while she begs for my cock like a good girl.

“Dipshit,” I grumble as I pull off my shirt and get into the pool, not wanting to give her too much time to ogle me. “You better keep your distance or I’ll be the reason you drown in this pool.”

She laughs at my words and I fear she thinks insults are my love language. Well, maybe they fucking are.

Samuel groans, and the sound sends tingles right to my stomach. I’m afraid I’m developing a kink for annoyed men because of him.

“You’re already mine, darling.”

“You’ll be the death of me,” he says while he lights up another cigarette.

I could do it the Logan way and just tie her up, pull a sack over her head, and haul her into the car. I don’t know if that would make a good impression, though.

Ruby ordered something that looks like a mountain of pepperoni and corn, and it’s glistening so much that it makes my tuna pizza look almost healthy.

I’m sorry, tuna pizza? 🤨