Five Rules: A billionaire menage romance (The Game Book 5) Read online

  "Some things must be broken to become strong. I like my women strong." Strong? I am so very far from strong. He opens the door to the car, climbs out, and offers me his hand. I take it, and that hum of electricity shoots up my arm at the brush of his bare skin against mine.

  He winds his fingers through mine and leads me to the front of the enormous skyscraper. We walk to a bank of elevators and he waves a card in front of an access scanner on the wall. The doors slide open and he pulls me inside.

  The seconds pass and all I can think about is Three. About the empty memory I hold from last night. I feel myself growing more and more distanced as I force all these emotions into a deep dark place inside me. I don't know what Three did to me. I don't know what Tobias and Preston will do to me. I have no idea what the game is, but I have three more days to get through. I need to win. I'll win and I'll deal with all these feelings later, but right now, they have no place and no purpose.

  I can feel Tobias’ eyes on me but I school my expression. He may like it when I cry, but he will never see it again. I have to wonder what that one moment of weakness just cost me. The elevator pings and the doors slide open on the top floor.

  Tobias walks down the corridor with such an air of dignity, with such power that I feel it commands people to notice him. It demands people stop and look and I feel like such the lost little child with my hand clutched in his. When we reach the end of the hall, he waves his card in front of the door and the lock clicks, the door popping open to his vast office.

  A breathtaking view of the city sprawls behind the large window that serves as a backdrop to his desk. He drops my hand, walks to his desk, and rolls his chair out. He drums his fingers over the thick wood top, a slight smirk setting his face. "I'm tense," he says. I silently look at him, waiting for what comes next. He arches a brow. "Ella, I'm tense. I need relief."

  I press my lips together and steel my spine, keeping my face completely blank. Sighing, he throws his head back and walks around the corner of the desk, stopping right in front of me. He stares down at me and places his large hands on my arm, brushing his thumbs over my skin. "Ella," he inches his face toward mine and within seconds, his warm lips are resting against my cheek. "Pretty little lamb. I need you." He kisses my cheek and then his lips dance down the side of my jaw. He takes his hand and grips my chin, tilting my head back as he kisses down my throat. "You are special. Superior." His hands go to my hips and he spins me around, slowly backing me toward the window. He groans against my neck. "Fuck, you smell so good."

  The next thing I know, the cool glass is pressing against my back. "I want to do such dirty things to you." He trails a hand across my hips, pressing hard over my pussy. My body has a volatile reaction to him, setting on fire and burning as though I'm dry wood. I immediately want this dress off and his bare hand on me. They have reduced me to nothing more than primitive want and need. Sex. My every thought now seems to revolve around when they will fuck me.

  "Let me," he groans like he's desperate for me, like he needs me or he'll die. He grabs at the hem of my dress, bunching and lifting until my pussy is exposed. His lips still against my neck as his hands slowly skims over me. His warm fingertip presses over my clit before sweeping down and gliding across my wet and waiting opening. "Always so ready for me, little lamb."

  I don't want to be, but I am. My body gravitates toward him seeking its own sick gratification. I want to hate him for the horrible things he does, but instead I crave him, wanting his touch more than my next breath.

  He uses his knee to spread my legs apart before he shoves one of his thick fingers deep inside of me. I can't help myself. I toss my head back on a moan as I fist at his suit jacket, tugging him closer. "All those people down there," he whispers, "they have no idea I have my finger deep inside your cunt right now and I love it. I love secrets, Ella. And you..." He takes a deep breath. "Are my favorite little secret." He slides his finger in and out, his thumb pressing over my clit and rubbing.

  Without warning, he takes the bottom of my dress and rips it over my head, tossing it underneath his desk. Here I stand, naked and pressed against the glass of his office with all of New York City bustling beneath me. Beneath us. "I can do whatever I want to you," he whispers, his hands roaming over my body. "I could fuck you in the ass right now." My heart races at the thought. He grabs my hips and spins me around, slamming me against the glass. I watch the crowds beneath me, the traffic, and my pulse goes into overdrive, the pull between my legs unbearable. He pushes his body against mine and presses me against it as he takes both my hands and pins them above my head. "You're being too quiet, little lamb..." He breathes against my neck, his hand trailing over my ass.

  I don't want words. I just want him. I turn to face him, trailing my hand around his neck before I fist his hair. I slam my lips against his. I need to taste him. His hand snakes around my neck, his grip threatening as his tongue lashes against mine. The kiss is hot and violent and a deep ache forms right between my legs. He tears his lips from mine and spins me back around and slamming my chest against the glass so hard it winds me.

  I hear his fly unfasten and seconds later, he's nudging my legs wider apart as he drags me from the window. "Put your palms on the glass," he says. As I do, he fists my hair and slams my cheek against the window before he buries himself deep inside of me. My eyes close on a moan and I bite down on my lip.

  "I'll make you scream, little lamb. No point..." He thrusts hard..."in keeping quiet."

  He fucks me hard and brutal, unforgiving. He fists my hair, yanking my head back so he can kiss me. Each kiss is angry, possessive as though he wants to mark me. That fire builds, the sense of belonging growing with each touch, each breath. It's times like this I fear I'm nothing more than some sinful desire aching to be filled. "You better scream for me, little lamb," he says, shoving my head away from him. And then...

  "Mr. Benton?" A woman's voice comes from the other side of the door and Tobias continues to thrust into me. "Mr. Smith wants to speak to you."

  "One moment," he says and pulls out of me, shoving his cock back in his trousers and zipping his fly.

  I go to scoop my dress up but he snatches it away, putting it in his desk drawer. "I get very angry when I don't get off, and we don't want to have me lose my temper on our guest." He smirks. "Get under the desk."

  I do as I'm told and crawl under his desk wearing nothing but heels. He sits down, staring at me for a moment. "You look so perfect on your knees, little lamb." He strokes my chin quickly then rolls his chair beneath the desk until I'm forced to sit right between his legs. I can see his cock still straining against the front of his slacks.

  The door opens and shuts. "Tobias...you were late coming into the office this morning." My heart stills. That voice. The distinct, condescending British accent. It's Three.

  "I had things to tend to this morning," Tobias says.

  There's a pause, a moment where even from underneath this desk I can feel a storm cloud of tension brewing. "I'm sure you did." Three clears his throat. "You're too fond of her."

  Tobias snaps his fingers under the desk and I find myself having to pick my jaw up off the floor. He did not just summon me to suck his dick. Then again, why am I outraged? It's not like I have any dignity anymore. Not two minutes ago I would have willingly let him fuck me up against that window. One million dollars, I think to myself. I carefully release the button of his slacks and lower his zip until his dick pops free. He’s rock hard and his thighs are tightly bunched with tension. Like the good little whore that I am I grab him and lean forward, swiping my tongue over his thick head. He tenses slightly, but that's the only reaction he gives. I smile to myself as I realize that Tobias may think he has all the power here, but I have his balls in my hand right now, or his dick in my mouth...either way, I own him at this very moment.

  "You didn't want to play nice last night," Three says.

  "Well," Tobias pauses when I suck him back in my throat. His fingers grab at my hair and he force
s me farther down on him, "I have decided I don't like sharing." My movements pause as I listen, his grip tightens in response and sends a sting of pain across my scalp.

  Three snorts. "We made a deal last night. I let her go. Didn't touch your precious little Ella. Are you going to hold up your end of the bargain?" I falter for a second. Tobias made a deal…for me? And Three didn't touch me? I swirl my tongue over the head of Tobias' cock and he clears his throat.

  "You have my word, Smith."

  "Such a steep gamble, Tobias. So daring..." Three chuckles. "But I must say, she truly is perfect if she can weaken even you."

  "It's not a weakness."

  "Emotions of any kind—even pity—are a weakness. And you pity that girl."

  I hear the legs of the chair scrape over the floor. Tobias' fingers tighten in my hair. "I'll speak with you tomorrow," Tobias says.

  "Yes, only two more days." I listen to Three’s footsteps as they cross the room. I hear the door open and close.

  Tobias pushes his chair back and stands. I crawl out from under the desk and push to my feet. Turning to face Tobias, I wrap my arms around my naked body to cover myself. He stands a few feet away from me, his brows pulled together and his hands shoved deep in his pockets. "You didn't let him touch me," I whisper.

  My words hang in the air between us and my heart hammers in my chest as I wait for his response.

  "No." His eyes bore into me as though he's trying to rip me apart from the inside.

  Something settles in the pit of my stomach. This foreign feeling, almost like a warm heat, engulfs my entire body. My pulse thrums, my chest tightens. Without thinking, I cross the room and throw myself against his body so hard that his arms come around me, holding me upright. I push up on tiptoes and slam my lips against his. He freezes for a second. I scratch my nails over the short stubble of his jaw and tease my tongue along the seam of his lips. With a growl, he comes to life tightening his arm around the small of my back so hard that I'm forced to bow into him. His other hand fists in my hair, pulling my head back and to the side and he bites the side of my neck.

  "You are mine, little lamb," he says, his voice deep and strained. "Mine to touch, mine to fuck, mine to own." Words that once felt so degrading suddenly feel like something else. Cherished—he makes me feel like something cherished and precious.

  His hands work down my body and he grabs my ass, lifting me. My legs wrap around his body and the material of his suit brushes against every bare inch of my skin making me moan.

  "Fuck me," I hear myself beg. I'm caught in a frenzy, a dangerous freefall because Tobias Benton is the monster in this story, the game keeper, my oppressor...and yet he saved me from Three, a man that I know in my gut is far worse than Tobias or Preston.

  With a groan, Tobias yanks at his zipper, tearing at his clothing until his cock presses against me. I shift, welcoming him in as he slides in inch by perfect inch. It feels like heaven. It feels like home.

  When did Tobias become my safe haven?

  3

  Ella

  The afternoon sun creeps between the tall skyscrapers, warming the street.

  Tobias puffs on his cigarette, the soft scent of sage drifting over on the breeze. "So, Ella, what do you think of murder?"

  "I..." What do I even say to that? "I think it's illegal." I've learned with them not to elaborate too much, to keep my answers short and unopen to probing.

  Preston grabs my hand, threading his fingers through mine before he lifts my hand to kiss it.

  "Do you think people who commit murder should be punished?" Tobias takes another drag from his cigarette.

  I swallow hard. There's always a right and wrong answer with Tobias, but the trick is knowing which is which because I think he wants me to answer wrong. "Yes," I say quietly.

  Preston glances down at me, the sun catches in his blond hair. "How do you think they should be punished, sweet Ella?"

  "I think..." I take a breath, my mind tripping over itself as it often does with these two. "I think they should suffer the same fate."

  "Interesting," Tobias says with a grin.

  "Would you murder a murderer, Ella?" Preston asks.

  "No."

  "So, if given the chance," Tobias says, "you'd let a murderer walk free?"

  I frown. "No," I say, dragging the word out this time. Would I?

  "Let me rephrase it; if you knew you could save a hundred people's lives by slitting a single man's throat, would you do it?"

  "If you don't," Preston adds, "those hundred people die."

  "I...I don't know that I could kill someone," I whisper, anxiety making my chest tighten. Part of me thinks they want me to.

  "You'd be a murderer either way, little lamb." Tobias laughs. "The question is, would you want the tangible blood of one man on your hands or just the metaphorical blood of a hundred. What can you stomach?"

  We stop at a crosswalk and Preston pulls me close to his side. "Don't worry, Ella. It's only a question. We wouldn't ask you to murder a serial killer," he smirks.

  "I suppose I would kill him." I pause. "In theory," I add quickly.

  I slight smirk makes its way over Tobias' lips and a shiver works through my body. That fissure of fear winds around me and I swallow.

  "How, in theory, would you take his life?" He glances at me and the sick smile that's settling on his lips makes me anxious.

  I narrow my eyes at him, digging deep for a trace of courage. I've learned with him that he likes fear and manipulation. He thrives on games, they both do. I must try and at least feign strength. "A humane way...in theory." This isn't theory though; it never is with them. They don't ask questions without reason. They don't waste words on pointless conversation.

  "And what exactly is a humane way to murder someone?"

  "In theory, of course," Preston adds.

  We're walking through the middle of Manhattan with people on all sides of us and they're asking me how I would murder someone, smiling as though we're discussing our evening plans.

  I think about it for a second, recalling a documentary I once watched on suicide. The Discovery Channel is full of all kinds of random stuff. "Carbon Monoxide poisoning," I say, making Preston lift a surprised eyebrow. "If I had to die I'd choose it so, that's what I'd use."

  "The lesser of several evils," Preston muses, flicking his eyes over my body.

  Tobias simply laughs. "How thoughtful of you, little lamb. I'll keep that in mind." He winks before picking up his pace and disappearing into a group of businessmen that come flooding out from an office building.

  "Look at all those lost sheep," Preston says. "Toiling away to make someone else rich. Playing grown up in an effort to feel superior."

  Lost sheep, but not wandering little lambs. They may lead boring lives, but they have lives. When Tobias and Preston touch me, kiss me, fuck me, I tell myself I mean something to them, but maybe that's what I need to believe in order to feel better about wanting them. Perhaps it's what I need to come to terms with the dirty desires I have for them—the very lie I need to keep going without feeling soiled and stained. But I know I'm little more to them than a game, an abandoned lamb they picked from the vast flock of the population because I'm alone and helpless, vulnerable to the jaws of the two wolves constantly circling me.

  "You're no longer lost, sweet Ella." Preston pulls me close, smiling as he presses his lips against my temple. It's only a moment before I see Tobias' distinct frame parting the crowd of men. He's talking to an older man in a three-piece suit. He moves closer to us, a charming smile plastered on his beautiful face. This is the mask he wears for the world. This is what everyone else sees: Tobias, the charming, handsome man who has taken over the world with his social media platform.

  The older man smiles at him, drawn into the trap so easily. He sees Tobias’ polished veneer and he buys the lie immediately, but Tobias is a lion parading as a cat. Everything about him is lethal, calculated and, at times, cruel. The way he sees the world is not the way others
see it, and he is far removed from your average businessman. I once read that serial killers and businessmen share a lot of personality traits, and I completely believe it. Tobias is somewhere between a god and a genius with a complete lack of moral compass. And Preston...he's right there beside him, the devil's beautiful right- hand man, his partner, his loyal counterpart. His perfect match. At least, I think he is. I wonder if they were always lovers? Business partners? Friends who fuck?

  Tobias and the other man walk several feet ahead of us, talking. Tobias walks to the entrance of Che' Blue and the large glass door swings open as a hostess ushers us inside. The smell of fresh bread and steak fills the air and we snake our way between people chit-chatting in the entrance. Preston tugs gently on my hand and I pause midstride, turning to glance at him. A slow smile works over his mouth.

  "You really are doing amazing, sweet Ella." He brings my hand to his lips and kisses over my knuckles. A strand of his blond hair falls in front of his face and I find myself, as always, mesmerized by him. The hustle and bustle in the atrium of the restaurant fades behind him. All the businessmen and women are nothing more than a blur. "I hope you win," he says and my heart pauses because I can still lose. And what happens if I lose?

  "Preston!" Tobias calls, the commanding tone of his voice snapping Preston's eyes away from me and across the room.

  "Come on," Preston says as he leads me through the crowded room and to the table nestled in the corner. Tobias is standing by the edge of the table, his jaw ticking, his green eyes locked on me.

  Preston pulls out my chair, and as soon as I'm seated, Tobias takes his seat. "Reginald," he says as he picks up his menu, "this is Ella Taylor."

  The man glances at me and grins. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Taylor," he holds out his hand and I reach across the white tablecloth to shake it. "Are you a business partner of Tobias?"