She didn’t dare lift her gaze.
“Truth or dare, Cleo?” Sebastian’s voice was soft as the breeze itself.
Every time he spoke her name she wondered why it should sound like an indecent proposal. Everything about him, even the way he spoke, distressed her somehow.
“Dare.” She didn’t think twice. It simply had to be dare. If she opted for truth, he’d want to know private things, personal things, and Cleo would rather die than confess anything about her life to her longtime tormenter.
“Are you sure you want me to dare you, Cleo?”
His voice was low, and Cleo finally forced her gaze to meet his. He was probably enjoying every second of this, the jerk. It seemed like he lived only to taunt and tease her mercilessly, but she couldn’t let him know how he affected her. She was certain that casual coolness was the smartest way to go. “Of course. You don’t scare me, you big bully,” she teased, grateful for the fact that she sounded more convincing than she felt.
His smile was wicked, as if he were enjoying a private little joke. Which she next learned, he actually was.
“I dare you to let me fuck you any way I want to.”
Chapter Two
Cleo froze for a whole minute, uncertain if he was toying with her or serious. His expression was unreadable, his jaw set firmly. Cleo was certain she heard a thump when her heart dropped to her toes.
“I’ll fuck you Bas,” Luella instantly volunteered.
Sebastian’s magnetic black eyes didn’t flicker from Cleo’s face, now growing whiter by the second. “Thanks baby, but I want Cleo.”
At the moment, Cleo’s main mission in life was to not die of asphyxiation. Her throat was closed and dry and she felt lightheaded and nauseous from lack of oxygen. She drew in a small little breath while her mind reeled with thoughts. Bad boy, mean-looking, cussing, drinking, whoring Sebastian wanted her. He could have—no, he had had—every available female, student and faculty, on the University of Miami campus. Why he had chosen her as his little private sex toy, not the siren Luella or the spirited Haley, was as inexplicable to Cleo as why her pulse had quickened at his words.
“You’re…you’re joking,” Cleo said when she was finally able to speak. And though she’d hoped it wouldn’t, her voice shook drastically. This had to be one of thousands of Sebastian’s demeaning, not-funny-at-all, revolting little jokes.
“I’m very serious, Cleo.”
He said it so calmly, so casually, as if all he had to do was ask and he’d have any woman for the taking. He didn’t seem to know for some reason that Cleo was not his toy and that she was not a whore.
If Cleo wanted to hone her self-assertion skills, now was a good time to do so.
She shook her head firmly, not caring if she was breaking some unmentionable rule of this stupid, silly game. She was not going to participate in anything like this, especially if it involved Sebastian Russo. “No,” she said.
“No?”
“No, Sebastian,” she repeated.
Sebastian looked only mildly concerned and with his eyes still fixed on hers, commanded, “Hold her, guys.”
The guys obeyed him as if he were the boss of them, as if he were the king and they his subjects, leaving Cleo completely speechless as David clasped one of her wrists and Jason forced the other behind her back. “What are you doing?” she screeched, fighting to free herself, only to have them both none-too-gently lock her arms behind her. Jason winked at her, as if this were all just fun and games. Jason thought everything was fun.
“It’s no use fighting, Cleo. You wanted a dare. You got it.” Rising to his full six feet, two inches of intimidating body mass, Sebastian crossed the circle toward her with a wide, pleased smile on his lips.
“No,” Cleo said, trying to break free from her captors. “No. Let me go. This is not funny.”
“It’s not meant to be funny.” Sebastian’s voice was dry and humorless.
Wide-eyed, she watched him approach, as big and dark as a shroud of blackness. Cleo felt like a virgin girl about to be sacrificed to the Lord of Hell. He walked toward her deliberately, slowly, as if he wanted to punish her, make her suffer with every step he took. The lone diamond earring he wore in his left ear sparkled blindingly in the lantern light. She wanted to tear it away and fling it at him, see if she could wipe that infernal smirk off his face. Her pulse drummed against her temple, making her head pound, nearly deafening her.
“You’ve always been a chickenshit, haven’t you, Cleo?”
“No, Sebastian,” she said firmly, her eyes blazing as she met his steely black gaze.
“Let her go, Bas, she doesn’t want you—but don’t worry. I do,” Cleo heard Luella say. Her voice sounded oddly distant, as if Luella were speaking from somewhere else, somewhere far away.
Sebastian’s gaze bored into hers, bottomless and fierce. And when he spoke, she knew his words were meant for her only. “Of course she wants me. She’s always wanted me.”