Wicked Games (Fallen Royals Book 2)

My uncle slides a pawn across the board between us. He raises an eyebrow at me, perhaps daring me to say something.

This is his time to lecture—I know that. It’s why I keep my mouth shut.

He’s dressed for work, and I’m in my school uniform. With our schedules, six o’clock in the morning was the only time convenient for my uncle. The text summons came in last night.

But it’s fine, because the early hour means there’s a time limit on how long this can go on.

After an appropriate pause, I move my knight. He likes me to analyze the board. Not doing so would only invoke his ire. So I usually end up counting to twenty in my head before each move, although it doesn’t do any good.

I’ve never won against him.

He pushes another pawn forward. This is just the beginning of the game, where positioning is important. There will be time for attacks later. First comes structure.

Everything is wrapped in theory I only vaguely remember.

We play in silence for another five minutes, until he takes one of my pawns.

“Your coach informed me of your suspension.” He firmly sets my black piece down beside the board. “You’ve already missed two games.”

And another two on Friday and Saturday. We’re playing a doubleheader, hosting an away team here for the weekend.

“Yes,” I agree. There’s no denying it.

“For fighting,” he condemns.

I hesitate, then nod.

“And practices?”

I clear my throat. “I’m still attending practices.”

“We wouldn’t want you to get sloppy. Out of shape.”

I slide my rook across the back row and castle. Essentially, allowing it to jump over my king, trading places with it, to better protect it.

My uncle scoffs. “Lazy.”

I stiffen.

He glances up. Someone must be behind me, in the doorway, because he motions for them to enter.

Tobias Hutchins comes in and pauses at our table. He’s Keith Wolfe’s lawyer. Is. Was. I don’t know. I have no idea if he still holds the position while his client—or former client—rots in prison.

He looks first to my uncle, then me, and then the board.

The tension in my shoulders seems to double. There’s no reason for him to be here—not now. But he has a briefcase in one hand, and there’s a faint sheen of sweat across his brow.

“Speak,” Uncle demands.

Hutchins barely refrains from flinching. He reveals just the barest twitch of muscle before he locks it down. “There has been a visitation request.”

“By?”

“Ms. Amber Wolfe.”

I glance sharply at Hutchins.

Uncle’s gaze flicks to me. “Amber Wolfe, hmm?”

I get a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“Yes, sir,” the lawyer echoes.

“Put an end to that.” Uncle moves another piece. “Checkmate, Caleb. Pay more attention, next time. Act like you’re trying.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from swearing.

“Anything else?” Uncle asks the lawyer.

“No, sir.” He pivots and leaves quickly.

I understand such a notion. As soon as the heavy wooden doors shut behind him, my uncle levels me with a glare.

“As I said before: sloppy.”

“I—”

“Careless,” he continues.

He swipes his arm across the table. The chessboard and pieces go flying. He lunges forward and grabs my throat. He yanks me up, half over the now-empty table, and stares into my eyes.

What he sees is anyone’s guess.

He releases my throat and trades it for a punch to my stomach. The air leaves me in a rush, and I nearly double over.

“What good is your education if I can beat you in sixteen moves?” He hits me again. Knuckles striking into my ribcage. It’s all below the collar to keep up appearances.

I’ll have to get in a fight during practice, or with Liam, to cover for this.

My mind ticks ahead, calculating, while my uncle exorcizes his demons on my skin.

It’s always been this way.

“You will not embarrass me,” my uncle whispers, leaning over me.

The quieter he gets, the more dangerous.

Isn’t that something I’ve always learned?

“Deal with Amber Wolfe. I don’t fucking care what you have to do—this is your mess.”

He throws me towards the floor. If I fight, he’ll come at me five times harder. It was always like this. He made sure I knew he could break me from a young age. And now it’s cemented there, so his anger deflates me. I hit the floor on my side. The impact rattles my bones, but I manage to protect my head. Not that he’d go for it—but slamming my temple on the floor would add up to sheer stupidity in his mind.

Not a fault of his.

“Despicable,” Uncle curses. “Do not be late to school. Do you hear me? I will not have yet another stain on this family name by your lack of self-discipline.”

He waits.

“Yes, Uncle,” I finally reply.

“Good. Clean up this mess while you’re at it.”

He steps over me. I stay where I am until the door shuts with a soft snick behind him.

Every instinct is screaming at me to get out of the house. But it’s a case of willpower to slowly gather the chessboard and pieces. I reset the board slowly. My ribs ache—more so when I press my palm to my side. My abdomen is sore, too.

It’s not as bad as it could’ve been.

Not as bad as it’s previously been.

I straighten my clothes and force my shoulders back. When I exit the study, I come face-to-face with my mother.

It’s been a while since I last saw her. Her hands flutter around my arms without touching. Seems she’s at war about whether to drag me into a hug or just stare at me.

“How bad?” she whispers.

I shake my head once. No doubt she overheard. Houses as big as this one, sometimes it’s impossible to know if you’re in it alone or if someone is right around the corner. Or if the air duct vent in the corner routes to the room above, allowing voices to travel with clarity…

“Let me take care of Amber,” she says. “You’ve got enough on your plate.”

I do, indeed.

When I leave, I don’t go straight to school. I go to Margo’s house.

Riley is already parked on the curb. She got her license as soon as she could. She’s one of the only juniors who drives to school—a privilege usually reserved for seniors. But right now, she’s getting in the way.

I hop out of my Audi and go to her car. I tap on the window, and she shrieks.

I smirk.

Her window goes down an inch. An inch. Guess someone’s been filling her head with poisoned thoughts. I was never cruel to her. Never bullied her. In fact, I’ve been nice enough to not interfere with her acquaintance with Eli.

“I’ve got it,” I tell her.

She scoffs. “On your life.”

“Exactly. Now leave.”

Her eyes gleam. “Because if I stay, you think she’ll choose me over you?”

I lean down. “I’d hate for her to pick wrong and be punished for it.”

“Punished,” she echoes.

“Hmm.” I smirk. “And we’d tie it right back to you.”

She thinks that over, then finally nods.

I point to the second coffee cup in the holder. “Is that for her?”

Riley grits her teeth. The window comes down farther, and she hands it to me. “You’re kind of an asshole, Asher.”

“Right back atcha, Appleton.”

She scowls. I step back, waving my free hand, and she pulls slowly away.

Just in time—a moment later, the front door of the Bryans’ house opens, and out comes Margo Wolfe. She’s in the process of putting her coat on, her bag slung over one shoulder. Her dark hair is loose, and she trots down the steps. Her makeup is more subtle today, less like a warrior headed into battle, more like…

A beautiful girl.

Don’t get me wrong—she’s gorgeous whether she’s fresh-faced or layered with makeup armor.

When she sees me, she stops mid-stride.

“Good morning, baby.” I meet her halfway, lifting her bag from her shoulder.

She lets me take it, although her expression is wary. She’s stiffer than I was at my uncle’s house, which should say something. I’m not about to beat her.

Even hoisting her bag up has my muscles pulling, and I barely manage to keep my expression stoic. My uncle’s warnings ring in my ear with every step back to the car.

“Is that for me?” Her voice is breathy.

I glance down at the coffee in my hand, ignoring my body’s immediate reaction to her. I need that voice whispered in my ear when I’m deep inside her.

“Yes.” I hand it over.

She smiles.

A true one.

I put my hand on the small of her back, ushering her around and into the passenger seat. Her bag joins mine behind me. My hockey bag is in the trunk, along with my stick and skates. I’ve got exactly zero expectation that I’ll be doing anything except conditioning today… like the week prior.

Coach holds grudges.

I glance at Margo, considering. Would she tell me about her mom? If she heard from her? I’m not too sure Amber would reach out. There’s some bad blood there, even if Margo is unaware. But it seems like Amber is in town, and now she wants to talk to her ex-husband?

I heave a sigh. My mother said she’ll take care of it… I’ve got to trust her. But if she fails, then it’s going to fall back on me.

Just focus on Margo.

“Did you sleep well, baby?”

Confession: I nearly came in my pants. It was all I could do to hold off until after she came, then release my tension by jerking myself off in front of her. Her gaze on me… I can’t beat that rush.

Walking out of that room… I could’ve easily stayed there.

Her birthday is coming up soon. Eighteen ticks closer every fucking second, and I know it’s weighing on her. That snap of a cord breaking, the foster system suddenly relinquishing its control over her…

What will she do?

Where will she go?

The answer is obvious. If the Bryans kick her out—and that is my intention to get them to that point, pressing on wounds just enough to make them uncomfortable with her staying—then she’ll come to me.

All part of the process, of course.

“Why are you picking me up?” Margo asks.

I glance at her. “Because I wanted to see you.”

“You saw me plenty last night.”

“Hmm.” I flick my blinker on a second before I touch the brake, swinging my car onto a side street. Then another, until we reach a pull off for the lake. “I think you want a repeat.”

Her cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink. And yet, while I was deviating from our course, she didn’t so much as make a peep.

I scoot my seat back as far as it can go and slowly undo my pants. I push them down, along with my boxers, and keep my gaze on her face. Even though my cock, now standing at attention, begs to be touched.

“Sit on my lap,” I order.

Is it a test?

Part of the game?

We’re alone here, with nothing but the water ahead of us, an empty parking lot around, and trees beyond.

She unbuckles her seat belt.

“Take off your panties, first,” I add.

Her lips part. I want to take a fistful of her hair and make her move faster, but the anticipation is working for me, too. I don’t give a fuck if we’re late, because I need Margo’s sweet cunt squeezing my dick right now.

She lifts her hips and reaches under her skirt. Slowly, the black silky fabric appears. She drags it down her pale thighs, over her knees, and removes them entirely.

I point to the gear stick. She loops it over it, then shifts onto her knees. She crawls over the center console and swings her leg over me, settling on my lap. Her skirt fans around her. My dick is right in front of her, pulsing between us.

Leaning my seat back, I grab her hips and tug her closer. She lifts, and I slide the head of my cock through her center. She’s wet.

I knew she liked this shit.

From virgin to… experimenter?

“Hold your skirt out of the way,” I murmur.

She lifts the front, giving me a view of her pussy. She leans back slightly, her knees widening, and lowers herself onto me.

I hiss out a breath. There’s nothing better than this. Her eyelashes flutter, her head tipping back. The smooth, pale skin of her throat disappears into the collar of her white dress shirt.

She rises, then drops back down. The groan that breaks from between her teeth is too fucking much.

I touch her. Palm her breasts through her shirt and bra—too much in the way. I undo the buttons of her shirt, somehow refraining from popping them open, and tug the cups of her bra down. Her breasts are exposed, lifted by the underwire and flipped-down cups, and I lean into her.

My mouth lands on one perky, pink areola. Her nipples stiffen in the cool morning air. I press one hand to the small of her back, keeping her chest arched toward me. I kiss it. Lick. Suck her tender flesh into my mouth.

She rides me slowly, her movements too unsure to belie any experience.

“That’s it,” I murmur, dragging my mouth from her breast up the front of her chest. I nip at her collarbone, then her throat. I hope to leave marks on her that she won’t notice until later, when our classmates are staring and pointing. “Just like that, baby.”

She grips my shoulders.

Another car pulls into the lot, but she doesn’t notice. Her eyes are closed.

They park a few spaces down, but there’s no fucking mistaking what we’re doing. The older man gets out and stares at us.

Well.

At the rocking car and the tinted windows. He can probably see our silhouettes.

I roll down the window and extend my hand, middle finger up.

Margo goes still.

Ah.

She’s opened her eyes, her skin now coated in goosebumps, and the guy is staring at her. Well, us.

“Be a wolf,” I whisper.

Her head whips forward, glaring at me. But carefully, her hand lifts, and it joins mine out the window.

Middle finger up.

I grin, and she mirrors it.

The guy—well, I don’t know. I don’t really give a shit. I roll the window back up and place my hands on her hips.

“Double time, baby. Otherwise the next visitor we’ll have will be the cops.”

Her eyes widen. I thrust my hips, pushing my cock deeper into her, and her severe expression melts away. She bounces, her breasts swaying, while I control how high she goes. I don’t need her to slip out and start over, breaking our rhythm.

I move one hand between her legs, feeling where we’re joined, then sliding back up to her clit. Her lips part when I touch her just the way she likes. My balls are ready to unload, and I lean forward and kiss her hard. Her tongue touches my lower lip, then pushes into my mouth.

Her hands, from where they clutched my shoulders, slide up into my hair.

Fuck, I can’t get enough of this girl.

I didn’t pick her up this morning expecting this.

I didn’t have any expectations, really, except for moderating my guilt.

That’s not going so well.

She’s not being vulnerable with me. Sex, sure, but I don’t think she’s equating that to intimacy. After all, I fucked her and then screwed her over.

Breaking past her guards and climbing into her soul is my next step.

Body, mind, soul.

I want to be on her mind all the time.

I want her to feel me on her all the time.

My uncle would be furious with me for being so selfish—but that’s exactly why I’ve got to have her. The rest of my life isn’t mine.

Hell, as soon as he finds out my frame of mind, I’ll be punished.

Her hands move from my hair down to my ribs, and I wince.

She stills. Everything in her freezes. “What was that?”

I lean back, but I don’t stop rubbing her clit. I watch her, caught in my web, until the sensation beats out her concern.

She gasps, the orgasm rolling through her. Her muscles clamp around my cock, and I groan through my teeth. I manually lift her and slam her down, only a few more times, and finally let go.

There’s nothing better than coming inside her.

I’ve never fucked anyone without a condom before. It was drilled into me that pregnant girlfriends would not be tolerated. No heir to the Asher fortune would have a child out of wedlock and embarrass the entire family.

So, yeah. Condoms. Girls on birth control or plan B just in case.

I don’t know if Margo’s on birth control—and frankly, I don’t give a shit.

All I know is I’m never putting on one of those things again if it’s Margo I’m seating myself inside.

I pat her thigh, and she slowly climbs off of me. She throws herself back into her seat and reaches for her panties.

“Do you have any napkins?” Her hand goes to the glove box.

I stop her. “No.”

“No?” she echoes.

“No. I expect you to walk into school with my cum between your legs.” I stuff my cock back into my pants, zipping up. “Do you think your panties will contain it? Or will it slowly drip down your thighs during the day?”

Her face flushes.

I flip her skirt up. She spreads her legs, and I smile. It’s already oozing out, smearing across the insides of her thighs and getting on the leather seat.

Excellent.

I toss the panties at her. “If you go to the bathroom, you have to tell me so we can fix it.”

She eyes me. “Fix it?”

I smirk, suddenly set on this new version of the game. “Yeah. Fix it. Do you promise? Either that or I’ll have someone follow you around school all day.”

“Fine,” she bites out.

Glorious.

All that, and she seems to have forgotten about my wince.

The last thing she needs to know about is my uncle.