Veils of Rivalry Chapter 89: Epilogue 3

Blaise's POV

My dick strains against my zipper. Is he still running, or is he hiding behind a tree or boulder somewhere to catch his breath?

“Ten!” I spin the hockey stick. “You better be running.” With a final chuckle and a bounce on my heels, I sprint toward the trees, batting fir branches out of the way.

It’s like entering another realm. Sounds grow muted, the air feels moist, and the temperature drops. I slow my strides, listening for sounds. Cole knows how much I enjoy the hunt, and how I like to drag it out.

Sticks break underfoot as I tighten my grip on the stick. He’s nearby. It’s almost like my body is fine-tuned to his.

I follow the invisible string that connects us, my boots pounding the damp moss. Sweat soon dampens my forehead and the space between my shoulder blades, but I push on. “Run, little rabbit. Fucking run! I’m coming for you.”

A darting shadow shifts somewhere to my left, and I skid to a halt. In the distance, a swooshing sound and a surprised cry cuts through the silence.

Walking forward, I smile wide at Cole thrashing in the swaying net suspended from a branch. “Well, well, what do we have here?”

“What the fuck?” he chokes out. “What the actual hell, Blaise? The fuck is this?”

“It’s called a trap, and you ran straight into mine.” My head tilts, and I chuckle as I poke him with the hockey stick, making the net swing past me. “Looks like I caught an angry rabbit.”

“Fuck you!” he snarls, wriggling enough to make the branch creak from his weight. I wonder briefly if it’ll break and send him crashing to the ground.

“You do some twisted shit,” he spits, “but this beats it all. You’re insane, Blaise. Fucking insane.”

“Such sweet talk. Nothing says I love you more than being called insane by my lover.”

“Let me down.”

“But you look so cute trapped in a net.”

“Cute?” He’s so angry and pent up on adrenaline that he doesn’t care that his mask sits at an angle or that his T-shirt is twisted and halfway up his stomach. “I’m not fucking cute, asshole.”

“Agree to disagree.”

“Let me the fuck down.”

I look at my big bulge. “What do you say, Blaise junior, shall we free him?”

“Are you talking to your dick now? Are you fucking serious?”

“What?” I ask, looking up. “His opinion matters, too. You deprived him for the full weekend.”

Cole lets out a frustrated, angry groan, and I can’t stop my lips from twitching at seeing him so enraged.

After tossing the stick to the ground, I fish out a butterfly knife from my pocket and take my sweet-ass time approaching him. “A pretty please would go a long way now.”

He stops thrashing and tosses me a loathing glare, which makes me snigger as I circle the dangling net with my catch inside. “For my first attempt, I think I did a good job.”

“What’s next? A fucking bear trap?”

“Now there’s a thought. Keep the ideas coming. Maybe I’ll dig one of them big holes in the ground and then cover it up.” I place my hand on Cole to stop the net from swinging, and when I rest the blade against the rope, he pales—well, half the side of his face visible beneath his mask.

“What are you doing?”

“You asked me to let you down.” I can’t quite keep the laughter out of my voice.

Cole shakes his head almost frantically. “Blaise, no.”

“No? Make up your mind.”

“I’m in the fucking air. I’ll get hurt.”

“Well…what a pickle.”

Cole curses, sweat beading on his brow—again, the one visible.

I really should tell him to right his mask or remove it completely.

“I love you,” he says, playing on my heartstrings. “Remember when I hurt myself while cutting onions the other week? You nearly tore the kitchen apart.”

“You’re very accident prone,” I mutter.

“Yes… You hate it when I get hurt.”

“That’s different.”

“How is it different.”

“It’s outside of sex,” I reply, sawing the rope.

Cole looks like a ghost, his eyes wide and terrified. “What the fuck are you doing?” he repeats with more panic.

“What does it look like? I’m letting you down. Besides, I know how much fear gets you off.”

The rope begins to split, thread by thread.

We exchange a glance, and then Cole rips off his mask, his glassy eyes pleading for mercy. Before he can open his mouth to speak, the rope snaps and he crashes to the ground with a loud thud.

Groaning pitifully, he writhes, and I study him closely while circling like a hungry predator.

“Jesus fuck…” He grimaces in pain, forehead pressed to the sticks and wet leaves on the ground.

“What’s wrong?” I taunt, using my foot to shove him over onto his back. “Can’t handle it?”

“I can handle it,” he grits out as he watches me unbuckle my belt.

“Are you sure about that? I can always turn to someone else if it’s too much⁠—”

Cole flies up to his feet and shoves me back, his body vibrating with possessiveness. “Don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence.”

This is a game we play. Who can make the other the most jealous.

But that’s all it is. There’s no other man for me but Cole, and he knows it. I would rather claw out my eyes and feed them to our dogs than let another man touch me.

Deep down, no matter how insecure I feel at times when he travels away, I know I’m it for him too.

I press the knife to his throat, his eyes holding mine as I guide him back against the nearest tree. A drop of red trails from the shallow cut, and I lower the blade a fraction before leaning in close to drag my tongue through it.

Cole groans and grabs my upper arms to push me away, but it’s half-hearted. While the intent is there, his body speaks a different language. He wants me to hurt him and fuck him and make him bleed all over his designer clothes.

I smile against his throat, and then whisper near his ear, “Did you miss me?”

“So fucking much,” he grunts, his hips chasing my touch as I palm his hard dick through his shorts.

“Is that why your phone was turned off?”

“I told you…” His heavy eyes take in my mask, and he wets his lips. “The battery died.”

Shoving his shorts halfway down his thighs, I grab his hard length. Cole shudders, his lips parting.

I stroke his dick like I own it—stroke it until his soul trembles and his knees quake. My touch drips with possessive intent. I press the tip of the knife to the pulse point in his neck and nick the skin on purpose. A bead of blood rushes to the surface, and Cole sucks in a breath, his dick twitching in my hand.

I observe the hitch in his breathing and swipe my thumb through the precum formed at the tip. Lifting my mask, I lick it off while tipping his chin up with the flat end of the hilt. His cobalt eyes appear almost black, the blue swallowed whole by his blown pupils.

“Kneel.” Swiping more precum from the crown, I smear his lips, resisting the urge to sink my teeth into the soft flesh. My dick has its own heartbeat as I watch him slowly lower himself to the damp ground.

I reach out a hand and grab him by the throat. His pulse thunders beneath my punishing grip as he stares up at me. A small part of me wishes he would put up a fight, but he looks damn delicious at my mercy beneath a canopy of leaves and gnarly branches, which crawl across the sky overhead like a roadmap of veins. Moonlight barely manages to stream through, its silvery hue appearing ghostly.