Page 59 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
Dipping my eyes to my phone, I read Durga’s message.
Durga: Would you shoot your best friend in the arm for five million dollars?
As always, I wondered if Durga had a wiretap into my head.
Benkinersophobia: I don't have a best friend.
Durga: Color me as surprised as a cheerleader being chased down by a man with a machete five minutes into a B-grade horror flick.
I snorted before gunning a response I knew would make her laugh.
Benkinersophobia: I’d do it for twenty.
Durga: Twenty better include dismemberment, too.
Unraveling the notes on my table, I prepped for the design meeting. One where I planned on confronting Emery Winthrop, my little liar, and endeavored to make her life as miserable as she’d made mine.
She reminded me of the rat I accused Rosco of being, and though I couldn’t extinguish her without pissing my brother off, I’d happily trap her inside a box she couldn’t escape with a smile on my face.
And maybe, just maybe, I’d learn where Gideon Winthrop was hiding in the process.
Fitting.
I was the downfall of my family, and she would be the downfall of hers.
The morning after seeing Nash again came on the same day as the apocalypse. No floods full of dead marine life. No falling skies. No ground opening up and swallowing me whole. That would be too easy.
Ben leaned forward to kiss me, his nose nuzzled into the nape of my neck.
He whispered words of platitude. “Kiss me, Durga.”
When he leaned back, it wasn’t a faceless avatar I saw, but pitch-black hair and cruel hazel eyes.
Nash.
“Pathetic,” he drawled out, tracing my collarbone with the tips of his fingers.
I panted.
Needy.
Desperate.
Craving him.
Wetter.
He flicked my nose and tutted. “You don’t come before I do.”
Nash was straddling me, a leg on each side, not bothering to hold up his weight. He pulled himself out of his jeans and jerked off onto my chest. He was as long as I remembered him, thick with two veins I yearned to lick running down the sides of his cock.
Long ropes of cum shot onto my face and breasts, and I came with him, crying out his name as if I owned it.
“Nash!” I screamed it out, like I’d had a nightmare.
When I opened my eyes, I laid alone in the closet. Dark. Empty. Heaving for breaths. No Nash, just me and a brand-new stain on my tattered sheets between my legs.
Hunger whipped a hurricane in my stomach. Dizziness pinched at my vision until I coaxed myself back to sleep.
