Evil Boys (Spine Ridge University)
Evil Boys: Chapter 8

It’s stupidly easy to replace Lana’s sorority house. I guess those friends of hers really don’t mind spilling all the beans if it gets them a dance or two with a guy they think is horny for them. Lucky for me, I play the part right to ease them into telling more than they should have while I danced with them for just a few minutes. All I had to do was convince them I’d come visit them sometime. Which wasn’t an entire lie, but they won’t need to know that.

I walk into the back alley, trying to be as inconspicuous as I can when I jump up to catch the emergency fire exit and pull it down to the ground. I jump on and climb toward the top, where her room is, and I make my way across the narrow metal until I replace her window. It’s opened slightly, and I push my fingers through to release the lock and push it open so I can crawl through.

I close the window behind me so no one outside will be alerted to my presence before I head farther inside. I lift my mask over my head to look around. The room has a regal blue tint and gold foil lining the walls, and lots of expensive clothing brands like Gucci and bags from Hermes lie scattered around the room. The closet is stuffed with clothes and shoes practically falling out.

On the wall is a shelf with a ton of books, some of which haven’t been touched in ages, judging from the dust collecting on them. A ton of homework is piled on her desk, all neatly assorted, pens with pink fluff balls on them, just like I expected from a rich Mafia princess who’s been sheltered all her life.

But nothing like I’d expect from the vicious killer I met that night.

I smirk to myself.

Interesting.

After I’m done looking around, I zip open my bag and pull out the mini camera, then push it between the dusty books, making sure it’s not visible to the naked eye. Then I check my phone to see if it’s turned on and ensure I can access it from my account.

Perfect.

I go ahead and shuffle through her stuff to see if I can replace something interesting, like proof that she was going to that guy’s house to kill him, or future targets, careful not to misplace anything so she’ll never know I was here. Her laptop sits closed on her desk, so I open it, but it’s protected with a password.

Of course.

What could it be?

I type in some things that come to mind. She said she had a boyfriend, his name was …

“Jason,” I mutter as I type it in.

Error.

What then?

I try the brands in her room next, but none of them work. Maybe her full name? Or birthday? Which I don’t know, but I can ask Brooke or Irina next time I see them. If I can’t get into the laptop today, then maybe the next time I sneak into her room.

Suddenly, I hear someone come up the stairs.

I swiftly lower my mask again and rush toward the window, but when I try to pry it open, it won’t budge.

Fuck! Why the fuck won’t it open?! C’mon, you stupid piece of shit!

I groan in frustration, but the noise is getting closer and closer.

There’s no more time.

I turn around and make a run for the bed, sliding to my knees before I crawl underneath … just as the door opens.

“Hmm …”

I hear some smacking sounds.

Two, no, four feet.

I stay under the bed as they come closer while making what sounds like kissing noises.

“C’mon, it’s been too long,” a guy mumbles.

“You know I have so much homework to do tomorrow. I need to sleep.”

I’d recognize that voice anywhere. A smile erupts on my face. Lana. My little vicious kitty.

But the smile quickly dissipates as the guy’s feet hit the side of the bed.

“I can’t wait any longer. I need you,” the guy says.

“Jason …”

So it is him.

“But you’re still wearing that mask,” she murmurs.

“Doesn’t it make it extra spicy?” Jason replies. “Pretend I’m a handsome stranger whisking you away.”

They approach fast, and sweat drops roll down my face as they fall onto the bed.

Fuck. Too late to run now.

I can hear the smooches and feel the moans reverberate through the bed.

It’s almost like I’m … a part of it.

Clothes fly off left and right. Shoes first, hers clattering to the floor right beside my head. His shirt comes off next, then a pair of pants and a belt.

My teeth grind into each other so harshly I can hear it. Because above me, I can definitely hear them going at it.

Then a pair of panties drop to the floor. Newly worn panties that I didn’t rip apart.

Sick thoughts fill my mind with obsession as they kiss and roll around on the mattress. The filling of the bed dents downward, almost into me. My hand instinctively rises to feel the mattress bump, wondering if it’s her body. If I can feel her indirectly, touch her the way I did when I danced with her or when I cornered her in our pool room. When I made her come on her own goddamn blade.

But then the mattress begins to thump.

Fuck.

My hand inches toward my pocket, where I’ve grown increasingly aware of the knife poking into my body. I pull it out as the mattress dips and dips, and his grunts become more obvious with every passing second.

I take out my knife and point it at the mattress, my heart rate picking up as I’m hovering dangerously close to ripping everyone to shreds.

I would kill that motherfucker if we were alone.

But I don’t know who I’d hit first if I strike now. If my blade would penetrate his body … or hers.

And for some reason, the thought of my knife being thrust into her stomach is worse than his dick penetrating her as we speak, the same pussy I fucked with a knife mere hours ago.

That fucker … he’s still wearing one of our masks like he’s fucking one of us, and that doesn’t sit right with me.

Suddenly, Lana groans. “Are you finished yet?”

“Not yet,” Jason murmurs, teetering on the edge, and fuck me, I could gut him for even suggesting he’s going to burst inside her.

Lana sighs. “Hurry.”

“Ahhh, almost,” Jason says.

“Can you be a little more …?”

“More what?”

She sighs again. “I don’t know. More aggressive?”

More aggressive?

My eyes narrow, and a hint of a smile tugs at my lips.

Now why would she suggest that?

It’s quiet for some time while he’s pounding away like some lumberjack without giving a second thought to her needs and wants. But I don’t think that’s what she meant by aggressive.

“Fuck, I’m so tired,” Lana says.

“Just a minute more,” the fucker moans.

And the tip of the knife hovers so close to the mattress I’ve almost severed a strand.

It’s taking every ounce of self-control not to burst out and kill that motherfucker for trying. For making her sit through this mediocre, yawn-inducing self-absorbed meat slapping.

Jason sighs out loud too now, and the mattress dips less, then I see his feet appear next to the bed. “You know what, never mind. I’m gonna go take a shower. You go rest,” he says, and he marches off, socks and all.

Fuck that motherfucking leech.

I swallow away the rage and focus on her. She’s still in the bed, doesn’t move, doesn’t make a single sound. One single sigh follows before it goes quiet.

I retract my knife slowly.

Has she gone to sleep?

Color me surprised.

I would’ve expected her to get angry when he just made a mad dash for the shower after not getting his fill. Even though I didn’t hear her moan, didn’t hear even a semblance of pleasure coming from her. But maybe she was too tired to care.

Or maybe he just couldn’t fulfill her needs.

I suck in a breath and touch the mattress, which is far less bent than before, and I can almost feel her through the fabric, her movement, hear every small sound and every breath she takes. And for a second, I can’t even do anything but feel, wondering if she can feel me too in her dreams, if she’s thought of me the way I’ve thought of her. Because this little killer kitty has invaded every corner of my mind.

I slowly crawl out from underneath the bed, carefully checking if anyone is in the room before I get up. I can hear the shower running down the hallway, which means that fucker is still here.

I look at her lying in her bed, one hand above her head, her legs parted, hair splayed, as though the last bit of energy was siphoned away by a guy intent on solely meeting his own needs.

Fishing my knife from my pocket, I hover over her, trailing the knife across her skin.

I could kill her right now. Stop both our secrets from getting out. Puncture her skin and end this game of cat and mouse we’ve got going on.

But this is the first time I can finally have a good look at my pretty little killer, and now that I’ve finally gotten close enough without her trying to kill me, I want more.

With the knife, I push away some of her neatly combed black hair, and she moans, rubbing her pretty plump lips together before she turns her head sideways into the blade, almost like an invitation to cut her again and make her bleed. But that skin is so pristine. I can see her veins pulsing with heat, throbbing with an unquenched desire.

A desire that makes me lick my lips and swallow as the animal within me comes alive.

She looks gorgeous up close. Too perfect to even break through her skin, no matter how tempted I am. Like a pretty little doll waiting to be petted and owned.

I lean in to listen to her breathing. It picks up. Maybe she’s dreaming … dreaming about the party and our dance… dreaming about me laying waste to her mouth and her pussy …

Dreaming about how that fucker just left her high and dry to go jerk off in the shower.

My nostrils flare as I trail the knife down her sharp jawline and neck.

“I could give you so much more …” I whisper as the knife travels down her chest, across her ample breasts and peaked nipples underneath the fabric, all the way down to her belly.

Half her body hides underneath a blanket, but I won’t let that get in my way as I pull it off. Her legs are partially over the edge of the bed, her dress is scooted up a little, and her pussy is on full display, panties still on the floor. And fuck me, with the moonlight finally allowing me a glimpse of what she has to offer, I can’t stop looking at it.

Mouthwatering.

I swallow away the lump in my throat as I let the knife travel down her thighs, which clench with lingering arousal. Even in her sleep, her legs fall apart as though they’re inviting me.

And I can’t help but sink to my knees behind the bed where she lies and lean in, the knife still firmly lodged in my hand. But instead of driving it into her skin, I grasp ahold of her thighs, and sniff.

The smell. God, the fucking smell …

My dick hardens in my pants as I bring my mouth to her pussy.

The first lick is divine.

She tastes exactly like I imagined she would. Like innocence and sin combined into perfection. A perfect girl for a wicked sinner like me.

So I continue licking, lapping her up until she squirms in her sleep. A soft moan leaves her mouth, and her cheeks become pink as I circle my tongue around and around her clit. She’s slowly becoming wetter and wetter, much wetter than she was before that fucker left, I’m sure.

Has he ever even touched her?

Made her feel good?

Licked her the way I’m licking her now?

I groan with both frustration and excitement as I kiss her sensitive spot, the knife still clutched firmly against the side of her thigh while I wonder if I should end it all.

But this killer pussy … it tastes so good, and I can’t fucking get enough.

She moans out loud and suddenly stretches her arms, her eyes fluttering open, slowly homing in on the guy perched between her legs. But even that won’t stop me from eating her out.