Chapter 4
The second I taste her, it’s like nothing I’ve ever had. Sweet, soft, like honey and vanilla. Her lace thong is already drenched, and when I pull it down, it clings to her skin. I look up briefly, checking her, making sure her hands are still covering her eyes like I told her. She’s shaking, but she’s still with me. Little Remy. Not as innocent as she looks, not if she’s letting a complete stranger eat her out in the middle of the damn woods. But do I care? Nah. Not when she’s dripping like this, leaking for me, and all I can think about is tasting her again.
I part her with my tongue, sucking her clit between my lips.
“Oh God!” She’s loud, too loud.
“Shhh, Remy.” My voice is rough as I lift my head, and I smirk as she trembles. “Be quiet, or someone’s gonna come out here and see you being a sexy little slut.”
I wait for her to flinch, to push me away, call me out. But she doesn’t. She gets wetter, like the words themselves are winding her up tighter.
Sweet Remy likes a little degradation, huh?
Fuck, that turns me on more. I’m rock hard at this point, and the way she’s whimpering, gasping… it’s like she’s losing her mind.
“Yes!” she cries, and I groan, sliding my tongue deeper, pushing my face into her, letting her thighs squeeze around me like she’s holding me in place. My whole body feels like it’s about to explode. She’s close, teetering right on the edge, and when she finally breaks, it’s intense. Her thighs clench, back arches, and the sound she makes is pure, filthy bliss.
I’ve barely had a second to pull back before she’s panicking. “Fuck, fuck,” she’s mumbling, breathless, her head tipped back, eyes still covered. “We shouldn’t have.”
I fix my mask, standing quickly.
“Look at me,” I demand. But when she finally drops her hands, I see her cheeks are wet with tears. What the hell?
“I should go.” She’s already pulling away, stepping back. I reach for her, but she bolts, turning and running in the direction we came from.
I watch her go, my head a fucking mess. I want to run after her, grab her, make her stay, but my body’s betraying me. I’m so goddamn hard it’s painful, and her taste is still on my tongue, flooding my senses. I let out a frustrated growl, unbuckling my belt and dragging down my zipper.
Fuck.
I wrap my hand around my cock, squeezing hard as I lean against the tree. Watching her from the shadows, waiting for the right moment… it’s paid off. But now that I’ve had a taste, watching isn’t enough anymore. I want more.
I want her.
I pump faster, the memory of her thighs clenching around my face, the way she tasted, the way she danced on my tongue—it all pushes me to the edge. And just as I imagine her coming undone for me again, my body locks up, and I come hard, the release hitting me like a damn freight train.
I sag against the tree, breath coming in hard, ragged bursts.
Fuck. What did I just do?
I glance back toward the direction she ran off. Remy. My little sweet, innocent Remy. Except, she’s not so innocent anymore, is she?
I can’t stop thinking about the way she looked at me. Or rather, didn’t look at me. The way she covered her eyes and trusted me with her body.
The second I step back into the party, I’m searching for her. Eyes darting through the crowd, ignoring everyone else. But Remy’s nowhere. Not at the bar, not near the dance floor, not even by the group of girls she came with earlier.
“Yo, Zane!”
Caleb’s voice cuts through the noise, and I turn just as he’s making his way toward me, all casual. Like I didn’t just have Remy coming in the woods with her thighs squeezing around my face. My blood’s still running hot, and I’m trying to play it cool.
“Where the hell is Remy?” I ask, scanning the room again.
“Maya drove her home.” Caleb shrugs, sipping his drink. “Said she had a headache or some shit.”
A headache. Sure. Remy’s probably freaking out right now, overthinking the whole thing.
I start to make a move toward the door, my mind already racing, but Caleb grabs my arm.
“Dude, you can’t leave yet. We’ve got to talk.”
I glare at him, ready to tell him to screw off, but he lowers his voice and glances around, checking who’s listening. “It’s time for initiation. The recruits are here.”
Shit. Right. The Reapers. The recruits. The secret society I signed up for when I joined the team—when I wanted access to the power, the money, the fucking connections that came with it. And now, I’m one of the leaders.
I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
Caleb grins, already buzzing with excitement, and I follow him outside to the side of the house. Five guys are waiting for us, standing in a line like they’ve been drilled to stand at attention. This is the final test for these guys, and then they’ll be one step closer to the Reapers.
But there’s more.
Caleb steps forward, all serious now. “Alright, recruits, you know what this is. Tonight, you prove yourselves. Last week you were with the head honchos and now you’re with us.” He pauses for effect. “And before the week is up, you need to seal the deal. Each of you needs to hook up with a virgin. That’s your final task. Do it, and you’re one step closer to being a Reaper.”
The recruits nod, faces tight, and I keep my expression neutral, even though part of me is disgusted by the whole thing. But that’s how it works. That’s what I signed up for. Power, money, connections. “Once a brother, always a brother,” right?
Thatcher steps forward, giving a nod of approval, and Caleb dismisses the guys. I stay back, leaning against the wall, waiting until they’re out of sight.
“You alright, man?” Caleb asks, eyeing me. “You’ve been off tonight.”
“Yeah, I’m good,” I mutter, shoving my hands in my pockets. But I’m not good. Not even close. My mind’s still on Remy.
Caleb claps me on the shoulder. “You should be proud. We’ve got the best recruits this year. And hey, once they’re in, the Reaper’s only getting stronger. More power, more connections.”
I nod, but I’m barely listening.
“I’ll catch up later,” I say, turning to leave.
“Zane—”
“I’ll be back. I just need a minute.”
Caleb watches me for a second, but eventually, he shrugs and heads back inside. I take the opportunity and slip out the back, heading straight for my car.
Remy.
She’s all I can think about. Her taste, her scent, the way her body shook when she came for me. I shouldn’t care this much. I shouldn’t care at all. She’s just some girl. A means to an end. But it’s not that simple anymore.
I start driving, heading toward her dorm without even thinking about it. The streets are empty, the party noise fading into the background as I make my way across campus. By the time I pull up to the building she shares with Maya, I’m already regretting it.
I sit there for a minute, staring up at the dark windows. I could go in. I could knock on her door, make her talk to me, make her explain what the hell happened back there. Why she bolted like that.
But I don’t.
Because I know better. Members of the Reapers don’t get attached. They don’t get personal. And the only reason Maya even knows Caleb’s identity is because she was the virgin he picked when he joined the Reapers. It’s all a game. It’s always been a game.
I curse under my breath, gripping the steering wheel. This is fucked.
I turn the car around, driving back to my place, and the whole time I’m thinking about her. How she looked at me with those big eyes, how she tasted so sweet, so fucking perfect. And now I can’t get her out of my head.
When I finally get back to my room, I head straight for my bed, reaching underneath the mattress. The crumpled piece of paper I’ve hidden there feels rough under my fingers. I pull it out, smoothing it out on my desk.
It’s the student form. Her picture is right at the top—Remy’s smiling face staring back at me. Innocent. Sweet. Perfect.
My sweet, innocent slut.
I sit down on the bed, staring at her picture for a long minute. What the hell am I going to do with her?
I grab my AirPods from the desk, jamming them into my ears. I scroll through my playlist until I find the new Taylor Swift album.
I press play, and the pop beats fill my head.
She was right. The songs are catchy as hell. Annoyingly so. I lie back on the bed, the music pounding in my ears, and all I can think about is her. Remy, my sweet little virgin. I want to keep her, make her mine in every way. The Reaper Brotherhood might have rules, but I’ve never been one to follow them anyway.
I smirk, closing my eyes, letting the music drown out everything else.
Remy’s mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.
Caleb’s talking, but I’m not hearing a word he says. My attention is laser-focused on Remy, sitting at the far end of the cafeteria, laughing with Maya. Her hand moves to push her glasses up her nose in that absent-minded way she does. There’s a wired headphone dangling from one ear—wired. Who the hell even uses those anymore?
I shift in my seat, watching her talk animatedly, her lips moving fast as she waves her hands around. She’s all energy, and I’m just sitting here, pretending to give a shit about Caleb’s endless rambling. I wish I could walk over there, close the gap, say something. But I’m rooted here, like an idiot, staring.
“Dude, are you even listening to me?” Caleb’s elbow nudges me, pulling me out of my daze.
“What?”
Caleb chuckles. “I asked if you’re ready for the game in three days. You seem like you’re somewhere else, man.”
“I’m ready.” I tear my eyes off Remy long enough to make sure Caleb’s buying it. “Don’t worry about me.”
“You sure?” Caleb eyes me, his spoon halfway to his mouth, still full of yogurt. “You seem... distracted. What’s going on?”
“All good,” I lie. He’s the only one who can read me like this, but I’m not about to admit where my head’s at.
Caleb lowers his voice, leaning in. “This about your dad?”
I hesitate, glancing around. The cafeteria is loud, but still. This isn’t something I want anyone overhearing.
“He’s getting back in town tomorrow. We’re supposed to have breakfast.” I shrug, trying to sound casual about it.
“Right.” Caleb nods, the corner of his mouth pulling into a knowing smirk. “Well, if you need to get your head straight after, we can hit the ice.”
I nod, grateful for the offer. Caleb gets it. The pressure, the expectations, all of it. He knows how it weighs on me, how my dad’s constant hovering messes with my game. Caleb’s the only one who really gets that.
“Thanks, man,” I say. “But finish your yogurt. We’ve got practice.”
Caleb grins, shoving the spoon into his mouth. “Gotta get those gains, right?”
I laugh, but it’s forced. My mind drifts back to Remy across the room. The way she’s laughing at something Maya said. I wonder what it’d be like to have a real conversation with her, not just sneaking around and hiding in shadows.
“Zane,” Caleb says, snapping me back to the present. “You sure you’re ready for this game?”
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
The next morning, I’m sitting at a corner booth at some upscale breakfast joint. The kind of place my dad likes to go when he’s in town. The menu is overpriced, full of shit I can’t pronounce, and the people around us are all dressed like they just stepped out of some corporate boardroom.
I stare at the empty chair across from me, waiting for my father to show. It’s always like this—me, sitting around, waiting for him to make time for me between whatever meetings he’s running off to. I sip at the black coffee in front of me, my leg bouncing under the table.
Finally, he arrives. My dad walks in, all business, shaking hands with the host like they’ve known each other for years, even though I’m sure they haven’t. He spots me and heads over, taking his sweet time.
“Zane,” he says, sitting down and barely looking at me as he picks up the menu. “Sorry I’m late. You know how it is.”
“Yeah,” I mumble. “I know.”
He doesn’t even glance up, already scanning the menu like he’s deciding on a life-or-death situation. I’ve seen this look a thousand times. His mind’s not here—it’s on work, on business, on whatever deal he’s got lined up for the day.
“How’s hockey?” he asks, like it’s an afterthought.
“It’s fine,” I say, trying not to sound bitter. “Got a game in three days.”
“Good,” he says. “You’ve been putting in the extra hours on the ice?”
“Yeah,” I lie. Not like he’d know the difference anyway.
The waiter comes over, and my dad orders without hesitation, rattling off some fancy shit with poached eggs. I order the same, not really caring what I eat. It’s all the same here— expensive and tasteless.
Once the waiter leaves, my dad finally looks at me, like he’s remembered I’m here. “You’ve been keeping up with training? Not slacking off, right?”
“I’m good,” I say, keeping my voice even. “I’m ready.”
“Because this year’s important, Zane. You know that.” He leans forward, his voice dropping to that intense tone he uses when he’s giving me one of his speeches. “Scouts are watching. Coaches are making decisions. You don’t have time to screw around.”
“I know.” I bite back the urge to snap at him, to tell him I’ve heard this all before. But what’s the point?
He keeps going like he’s on autopilot. “You’ve got to stay focused. No distractions, no messing around with girls, none of that crap. You understand?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Wouldn’t want any of that.”
“Good.” He leans back, looking satisfied with himself. “Now, let’s enjoy breakfast.”
I stare at him for a moment, wondering if he even knows what the word “enjoy” means.
Practice that afternoon is brutal. Caleb and I hit the ice, running drills and pushing ourselves harder than usual. I need the distraction, need to burn off this tension.
Caleb skates up beside me, panting but grinning. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah,” I grunt, not stopping.
“You ready for the game now?”
“I’ve been ready.” I fire the puck into the net, watching it smack the back with a satisfying thud.
Caleb laughs. “Good. Because we’re gonna crush them.”
“Damn right we are.”
We keep skating, keep pushing, until my legs burn and my mind is blissfully blank. But as soon as we hit the locker room, the distraction fades, and thoughts of Remy flood back in.
Why has this girl invaded my every waking thought like a goddamn virus?
The locker room is buzzing with energy. Coach Jacobs is standing at the whiteboard, mapping out the last-minute strategies for tonight’s home game. He’s pacing, gesturing at the board like he’s conducting an orchestra. I’m only half paying attention.
Noah’s sitting beside me, fidgeting with his stick, and Thatcher is throwing tape at Dylan, trying to distract him from the coach’s rambling. Caleb’s across from me, catching my eye, smirking. We all know we’re going to steamroll this college team tonight. They have nothing on us, but Coach Jacobs still acts like it’s the Stanley Cup Finals. I appreciate him more for it.
“Alright, boys, positions,” Coach Jacobs says, finally cutting the speech short. “Zane, you’re starting center. Noah, left wing. Thatcher, on defense with Dylan. Brody, you’re in the net tonight. Caleb, right wing. You got it?”
We all grunt in acknowledgment. I’m already antsy, ready to hit the ice. The tension in my muscles is more from thinking about Remy than the damn game. I haven’t seen her all day, and it’s eating at me. I catch myself scanning the stands as we line up to take the faceoff, but no sign of her. It’s not like she knows who the fuck I am yet.
The puck drops, and the game kicks off exactly how we expected. We dominate Windward Seals from the start. Caleb’s fast on the wing, constantly feeding me the puck. Thatcher is throwing bodies into the boards, keeping their defense on their heels.
By the second period, we’re up 5-0. Coach Jacobs is pacing behind the bench, barely able to sit still.
“Let’s close it out!” he shouts, voice hoarse from barking orders all night.
I glance up at the stands and scan the crowd again. Still no Remy.
Caleb comes up beside me, panting, a shit-eating grin on his face. “We’re crushing these kids, man.”
We score two more goals before the final buzzer, winning 7-1. Windward University never had a chance. The team gathers at center ice, sticks tapping as we celebrate, but my eyes keep wandering toward the empty spots in the bleachers.
After the game, Caleb and I walk out of the locker room together. Maya’s already waiting for us, practically bouncing with excitement.
“You guys killed it!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around Caleb.
“Yeah, we sure did,” Caleb says, grinning as he pulls her into a quick kiss.
They start talking about the after-party, and I’m half-listening, trying not to sound like I’m disappointed that Remy isn’t here. I shove my hands into my pockets, hoping maybe she’ll show up at the party.
“You coming to the party tonight?” Maya asks, glancing at me.
I nod. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
Maya smiles, but Caleb gives me a sideways look. He knows exactly why I’m holding out hope. “Your roommate coming?” he asks.
Maya frowns a little. “She said she needs to study. She’s got a big exam next week and doesn’t want to fall behind.”
Caleb throws me a look, one of those sorry, man expressions. “Ah, that sucks. Well, we’ll still have fun.”
“Yeah,” I say, even though I’m already thinking about how to get over to Remy’s dorm instead.
The party’s loud and packed, just like I expected. Music’s blaring, and people are already drunk, stumbling around, talking shit about the game. Maya and Caleb are somewhere in the mix, but I can’t focus. Every second I’m here, I’m thinking about Remy.
After what feels like forever, I tell myself fuck it . I’ve had enough. I grab my jacket, slip out of the party without anyone noticing, and head straight for Remy’s dorm.
I’m standing outside her door before I even realize it, my heart thudding a little too fast. I knock, and for a second, I wonder if she’s even there. Maybe she’s asleep or too busy studying to answer.
Then, the door swings open, and there she is. My little slut.
She’s in pajama shorts and an oversized T-shirt, her hair pulled up in a messy high bun. She’s got her headphones hanging around her neck, and for a second, she just looks surprised to see me.
“Hey, are you looking for Maya?” she asks.
For a second, I almost relax. She’s smiling, looking at me and fucking smiling and the sight is doing something to my insides. I want to slam my lips to hers.
“Hey, Remy,” I say, my voice coming out way too casual. “I, uh—”
Her expression changes, and suddenly, I see the shift in her eyes. That smile falls, and she takes a step back, like she’s finally processing who’s at her door.
“Wha– How do you?” Something registers in her mind.
“You,” she says, her voice sharp.