Chapter 7 Dangerous Games – Belle
The hallway is empty when I slip into Max’s room—our room now, technically, since Erik and Luna switched with us.
The door clicks shut behind me, and I lean against it for a moment, letting the familiar scent of Max’s cologne and old books wash over me.
It’s barely past midnight, but exhaustion weighs on me like a physical thing, pressing down on my shoulders, making my bones ache.
Max looks up from where he’s sitting on the bed, laptop open in front of him. The blue light casts shadows across his face, making him look older, harder. When he sees me, though, his expression softens.
“Hey beautiful,” he says quietly, closing the laptop. “I was starting to worry.”
“Luna wanted to talk.” I push away from the door, crossing to the bed. My fingers work at the buttons of my uniform blazer, but they’re clumsy, shaking.
“What did you tell her?”
“Nothing specific. Just that we should all be careful, pay attention to our surroundings.” The blazer drops to the floor.
I start on my blouse, but my hands are trembling too badly.
“She’s scared, Max. I can see it in her eyes.
She knows something’s wrong, but she doesn’t want to admit it.
Not fully, at least. A part of her is still fighting it.
Doesn’t want to accept that we’re trapped here with a monster. ”
Max stands, crossing to me. His hands cover mine, stilling their frantic movement. “We’re going to figure this out,” he says. God, I want to believe him. Want to believe that love and determination and careful planning will be enough to beat Selena at her own game.
But I’ve seen what she’s capable of. I’ve recovered memories of Janet Wilson’s corpse, of my own hands being pressed against cold, dead flesh, of Selena orchestrating it all with the calm efficiency of someone directing a play. She doesn’t make mistakes. She doesn’t leave loose ends.
And we’re the loosest ends imaginable.
“Kiss me,” I whisper, because I need something real, something that isn’t fear or anger or the crushing weight of surveillance. “Please, Max. Just kiss me.”
He does, and it’s different from our usual touches. There’s an urgency to it, a desperation that makes my chest ache. His hands slide into my hair, tilting my head back. I press myself against him, needing to feel his warmth, his solidity. I need proof that I’m not alone in this nightmare.
We’ve been careful these past few days, maintaining the appearance of a normal couple.
Study dates in the library, walks around campus, dinners in the dining hall where we smile and laugh and pretend everything is fine.
But here, in the supposed privacy of our room—though I know better now, know about the cameras hidden in the smoke detector and probably a dozen other places—I can let some of the mask slip.
Not all of it. Never all of it. But enough that I don’t feel like I’m suffocating.
“We need to act normal,” Max murmurs against my lips. “If Selena suspects we know—”
“I know.” My fingers dig into his shoulders, holding on like he’s the only thing keeping me anchored to reality. Maybe he is. “I know, but I also need this. Need you. Need to remember there’s something worth surviving for.”
His eyes search mine, and whatever he sees there makes him nod slowly. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, Belle. I’ve got you.”
His lips meet mine again, and for just a moment, I let go. Let the mask fall, let the fear and anger and desperation show.
It feels dangerous, but somehow freeing, too.
Max’s hands slide down to the button on my skirt. He undoes it, then unzips the zipper, and the skirt drops to the floor. His hands move to the waistband of my tights, peeling them off with care, sliding his hands over my newly exposed skin.
“I’m never letting her hurt you,” he whispers, his hands cupping my ass, lifting me.
My legs wrap around his waist as he carries me to the bed.
He lowers me gently onto the sheets. “You’re mine, Belle.
Mine to love. Mine to cherish. And mine to protect.
No matter what happens, I’m always going to protect you. ”
The intensity in his voice makes me shiver, and not in a bad way. For a moment, I let myself believe him. Believe that he can keep me safe, keep the world at bay, and that I’m not trapped in the middle of a power struggle with a madwoman.
I want him. I need to feel him fully.
I’m ready for the rawness that comes with our lovemaking, edging on violence. I’m eager for it, even.
“I want to fuck you,” I say, my voice sultry. “Hard and rough.”
Max nods. His hand moves to his waistband, and he pulls out his thick cock.
My mouth waters, and I lick my lips.
“Come on, baby,” he whispers. “Give it to me.”
I take him in my mouth, sucking him down, feeling the smoothness of his dick. His hands grip my hair, holding me there. I suck hard, bobbing my head up and down. He begins thrusting his hips, pushing his length into my throat.
My pussy aches with desire.
I pull him out of my mouth, my saliva glistening on his cock.
“Stay strong, baby,” I warn him. “I don’t want you to come yet.”
“Don’t worry. I can take whatever you can give.”
My hand wraps around his cock and strokes up and down. He grunts, then moans, his head rolling back in ecstasy.
Watching for his reaction, I squeeze harder, and his face contorts in pain. He moans again.
“F-fuck,” he groans, his eyes squeezing shut.
My hand squeezes his cock again, and he whimpers, his eyes opening to meet mine.
“Do you like it?” I ask him.
“Yes, yes, I do,” he pants.
“How about this?”
I lean forward and graze my teeth along his cock, and he gasps, his back arching.
“Oh, oh, yes,” he moans, his breathing ragged.
I take him back into my mouth, and I bite down, just slightly.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, oh, fuck.”
His cock is throbbing, and I know he’s getting close.
“Not yet,” I warn, then squeeze his balls to get my point across.
He winces, and his eyes open again, locking onto mine.
“I can take whatever you can give,” he whispers, and the conviction in his voice sends a thrill through me.
I lean forward and take him into my mouth again. I suck hard and rough. My hand moves to his balls, squeezing and tugging.
Max grunts and gasps, and I feel his cock pulse in my mouth. He’s getting close, but he’s fighting it. Trying not to come, trying to be good for me.
I smile, and my mouth continues its assault on his dick.
He groans and hisses, his body twisting and writhing under me. I take his cock all the way into my mouth, deepthroating him.
His hips buck at the same time as a choked moan escapes him. His hands find my hair, pulling and tugging, urging me on.
“B-Belle, I-I’m… I’m gonna come,” he warns, and I look up at him, smiling.
I bob my head up and down faster, squeezing his balls tighter. He lets out a strangled cry, his cock pulsing in my mouth.
But right before he can come, I let him go.
He cries out, his face contorted with need.
“Please,” he begs.
“Be patient,” I tell him, kissing his tip, then biting his shaft. “Good things come to those who wait.”
I take his cock back into my mouth, and my assault on him continues. His hands grip my hair, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Fuck,” he groans, his cock twitching.
He’s getting close again, but he’s still holding back, still trying to be good.
My hands slide up his legs, squeezing his thighs, teasing him.
I rake my nails across his balls, and he cries out, his cock pulsing again.
“Belle, please,” he pants. “Please, fuck, oh God.”
His back arches, and his body shakes.
“You’re not going to come until I say so,” I tell him, my voice stern.
He groans, his hands tugging at my hair. I run my nails across his chest, leaving angry red lines.
“Belle, I can’t,” he whimpers, his hips bucking.
“Yes, you can,” I tell him, taking him deep into my throat again.
He grunts, his cock twitching, and I let him go.
His breath comes in ragged gasps, his eyes squeezed shut. His cock is throbbing, and I know he’s on the edge. I don’t take him into my mouth again;??instead, I straddle him, rubbing my pussy along his length without taking him in.
“You’re so hard,” I tell him.
“Yes,” he pants, his eyes pleading.
“So ready.”
“Yes, please,” he moans.
“Do you want to come?”
“Y-yes, fuck, Belle.”
“Not yet.”
“Please.”
I dig my nails deeper into his chest, drawing blood.
“Fuck,” he hisses, his body trembling.
“Be a good boy,” I tell him, kissing his cheek.
He whimpers, his cock twitching.
“Just a little longer.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
I bite his neck, and he groans.
“Please, oh God, please.”
I bite his shoulder. Hard.
“Fuck!”
He’s fighting it, his body trembling. His cock is pulsing, and I can tell he’s right on the edge.
I pull back, looking at him. His eyes are glassy, his cheeks flushed. He’s panting, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Please,” he begs. “Belle, fuck, please.”
This is it, I realize. This is what I love. The complete and total control over someone. Having them so completely wrapped around my finger, begging for release.
“Do you want to come?”
“Y-yes,” he chokes out, his body shaking.
“Beg.”
“P-please, Belle, fuck, oh God. Please.”
“Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours, fuck, Belle. Please, fuck. Please, please.”
Reaching back, I take his cock and position it at my entrance. Then I slide down, taking him into me, and his body shudders.
“You’re going to come when I say you can,” I tell him.
“Y-yes, oh fuck, yes.”
“Tell me you’re mine.”
“I-I’m yours.”
“Come,” I command.
His hips buck, his cock pulsing inside me. He lets out a choked cry. His body starts convulsing, his cock twitching.
“Good boy,” I purr and squeeze him tight.
“Oh fuck,” he moans.
His hands grip my hips. He’s desperate to hold me in place, desperate for me to stay.
I kiss his neck, and his body relaxes, his breathing evening out.
“So good,” I murmur, my voice soft.
Before he can relax and turn soft, I begin to ride him, bouncing up and down, grinding against him.
“Oh, oh fuck,” he moans, his grip on me tightening.
“Keep going,” I tell him, fucking him with everything I have.