Fueled Hate: A Dark College Bully Romance

by A. J. Logan

  Dylan. I knew it was him before I laid eyes on the idiot but that doesn’t make me feel any better. The side of his fist connects with the door just below the peephole, banging loudly and causing me to jump away reflexively.

  “Open the door.” Staring at the dead bolt, I debate as he bangs a few more times. “I’m not leaving until I talk to you.”

  Looking at the oversize clock on the wall, I see it’s 4 a.m. Nothing good is going to come from allowing him in.

  “Just go away.”

  “Not until you let me in.”

  “I already did,” I mumble under my breath.

  Dylan yells out, instructing someone to mind their own fucking business as he lands another blow on my door. Great. Now he’s tormenting my neighbors too.

  Taking a quick breath, I pull the door open. “What?”

  His hands are pressed against the doorframe as he leans forward, staring at me. A neighbor across the breezeway hollers to keep it down before slamming their door. Hopefully nobody will complain to the leasing office, or worse, call in complaints about the belligerent man banging on doors at four in the morning.

  “What do you want? Some of us actually want to sleep.” And I really need to. The good news is I’m off tomorrow. I’d debated going back to class, but now with this visit, I think I’ll heed the doctor’s orders and take a little more time to rest. It’s not like I’ve gotten any thus far. Obviously, Dylan made it home because he’s in fresh clothes. The exhaustion on his face tells me he more than likely hasn’t slept yet, though. But that’s on him. No one invited him to wake up the neighborhood like a crazy person.

  He releases the frame, stepping inside before closing the door behind him.

  Stepping back, I fold my arms across my chest, watching as he stands there silently. If this is just another ruse to drive me insane, it’s working. “I’m not doing this anymore. You need to leave.”

  Turning towards my room, I hope he will leave.

  “Noah Atwood.”

  Halting at the name, I think I’ve heard him wrong. But I haven’t. Slowly turning, I watch him rub a hand over his face, covering a pained expression for a second before stepping closer to me.

  “I’m here because of Noah.”

  “What? How …” I stumble over my words, unable to figure out how Dylan would know Noah. “How do you know that name? Is this another one of your sick games?”

  Dylan looks to the door leading into Willow’s room and I somehow know that he realizes it’s not my room. “He’s my brother.”

  His brother. I believe it instantly because I feel the pain in his words as I relive the night in my mind, over and over. It was unreal when I’d heard the news of Noah’s accident. He remains in place as I step towards him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No. This is not a sympathy bid. I need your trust. I need you to know how important this is to me, the whole reason why I’m here.”

  I can’t figure out why he’d get behind the wheel and race the same track his brother died on when I’m unable to even look at the parking lot my mom lost her life in without freaking out. It’s unfathomable to me why he’d done it, and I don’t get why he’s here, but it’s not pity I feel when I snake my arms around his waist and tuck my face against his chest. “I’m so sorry,” I repeat, unable to think of anything else to say as I cling to him.

  His arms are tense as they wrap around me, his face dropping against my neck.

  Shifting back, I look to him. “Why come here? Why race the same track as Noah’s accident?”

  His body goes rigid as he releases me, and the half-step he takes away from me tells me I’m not going to like what I’m about to hear. “Because it wasn’t an accident.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Noah knew about the pills. He called me that night and told me all about it. The next day I can’t reach him and instead get news that there’d been some accident.”

  “Dylan. No.” Erratically shaking my head, I turn away from him, rushing out of the living room. I move on automatic pilot into my bedroom to pace around the floor. It’s not Dylan I’m shutting out. It’s the insinuation. If it wasn’t an accident, he’s saying someone is responsible, and someone could very well be my dad. Only Dad hadn’t been anywhere around. “Kyle? Do you really think Kyle had something to do with Noah’s accident?”

  “Stop calling it an accident. I know my brother. He wasn’t reckless, he always wore a seat belt and preached endlessly to do the same. There’s no way in hell he drove down that track without buckling his seat belt.”

  “Maybe he was in a hurry and forgot.”

  “No. I know my brother. Something else went down that night.”

  “And you’ve just been using me to get to Kyle?” I knew his intentions weren’t exactly honorable, but this is about getting to Kyle. Why had I actually thought it was about me? Of course it wasn’t. It never is.

  “Yes,” he replies. As I move to step past him, he catches my elbow, and holds me next to him. “That’s how it started. I have to know what happened to Noah, and I can’t do it without your help. And now you have the piece of me that no one here knows except for Bryce, so maybe I can have your trust. I just want to know the details about that night. If it was an accident, okay. I’ll go home. Leave everyone here to live their dismal lives. But I have to know what really happened. Why I don’t have my brother anymore. Who’s to blame for my mom crying herself to sleep every night. Who’s responsible for my baby sister being obsessed with cardinals because she thinks it’s a sign that our brother is nearby.”

  That’s why his mom had told that story about cardinals, only she hadn’t told him, she’d told his little sister to comfort her … just as Dylan had for me even though it was connected to a horrendous memory for him. “How old is she, your sister?”

  “Emma’s seven.”

  “She’s only seven?” Levi flashes through my mind. He’s older but I understand the protectiveness Dylan feels, and I’m sure it’s even more intense trying to shield a young child from the harsh realities of the world.

  “Yes. And she’s already experienced the sort of pain that I wouldn’t wish on anyone else.”

  “I don’t know how I can help. And, what if my dad …”

  “I’ve found nothing that leads me to believe your dad was directly involved in Noah’s death, even if he is wrapped up in the other bullshit.”

  I ask the question I fear saying aloud. “What if he was?”

  Dylan cautiously steps in front of me, looping his arm around my lower back, pulling me against him. “We’ll figure it out together. Can you trust me, please?”

  “Yes.” I’ll try. “But you have to promise you won’t do anything to my brother or dad. And we figure this out together, no matter where the signs point.” I plead because I’m banking on everyone being innocent. Dylan knows his brother. I know my friends and family, and even my daft ex. He might be narcissistic, but Kyle’s not a cold-blooded killer. Proving that fact to Dylan will be challenging, but it’s necessary for everyone’s sakes.

  “You have my word,” he concurs, and I want to believe him. I want to believe this will end well, or as well as can be expected given the circumstances that brought him here.

  “I really am sorry about Noah. He was a really sweet guy.”

  Dylan clears his throat, avoiding my eye as he pulls me to him. “Yes, he was.”

  We remain clinging to each other for a few minutes as flashes of Noah run through my mind. I hadn’t gotten to know him all that well, but what I knew of him was good. He’d always been polite, respectful, and kind. The opposite of his brother, on all accounts.

  Leaning back, my eyes meet Dylan’s. And I see hope in them for the first time. He lifts his hand, brushing his palm against my cheek as he moves his lips to mine. “I need you … and more than anything else, I need you to need me.”

  I do, but I can’t say that to him, so instead I press my lips to his, tenderly kissing him. I savor him, relish in what truly feels g
enuine and not just some mysterious guy on the side of the road who might disappear at any moment.

  Pulling away, he takes a deep breath as he says, “Let me touch you. Not because you have to, or because you feel sorry for me. But because you want it …” He hums each word against my skin, teasingly depositing kisses over my neck, fueling my desire as his hands smooth over my ass, gripping firmly. “Because you want me as much as I’ve been craving you.”

  Reaching for the hem of his T-shirt, I lift it over his head and discard it on the floor. Before wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I release all sane reasoning and overthinking. I know I’m traveling down a dangerous path by allowing him to touch me because I know once will never be enough. When his hands clutch my ass, lifting me off the ground, my legs hook around his hips automatically. With my back against the wall, he moves his hips forward, the bulge in his jeans rubbing against the thin layer of my cotton shorts. Breaking away from the feverish kiss, my head drops back, allowing plenty of room for his tongue to lick a trail down my neck. How can it feel this good? It’s more pleasure than I even knew was possible, and it’s just a kiss. What would experiencing all of him feel like?

  Dylan reaches for the hem of my T-shirt, pulling it over my head with one hand as his other brushes up the bare skin of my back, causing me to arch away from the wall. I need him closer. More. More of him. Everywhere. He delivers as he dips his head, taking my nipple into his mouth. His fingers grip my thigh as he urges my feet to the ground. Wasting no time, he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of my shorts and panties, yanking them down. Dropping them to the floor, his tongue never stops its charge of exploring my breast. Trailing up, he shifts slowly back, his eyes lingering over me.

  Instinctively, my arms move to shield my bare body when my brain clears enough to realize that I’m standing fully exposed and completely vulnerable in front of him. There’s a split second where I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole until his blazing eyes return to mine, the passion for my body utterly evident.

  Skimming his fingertips up each hip, he moves them along my sides, up my back, then down my arms to firmly grip my wrists, one by one. Bringing both my arms above my head, he holds them to the wall with one large hand as he brushes the knuckles of his other hand against my stomach. “You can’t hide from me, Sadie. I already see you. I have since the moment you entered my world. Now, let me make you feel as exquisitely beautiful as you appear to me.”

  Fuck. I’m puddy in his hands, wanting him to twist and turn me further with every word. Yearning more and more to be consumed by him with each breath. Being deeply coveted, completely wanted, is heightening my desire. I’ve never felt it so intensely before. And I already want to experience it again.

  Closing my eyes, I let my head rest against the wall, wholly surrendering to him.

  “Look at me,” he commands, his finger stroking my inner thigh as my eyes fly open. “Good girl.”

  A sexy smirk remains on his face while his fingers slip inside me. I let out a long moan when he strokes me, finally feeling some relief at his touch, even as my desire for release mounts.

  His grip tightens on my wrists, still pinning them against the wall above my head, as he pumps two fingers in and out of me while his thumb strokes my clit. I think I breathe out his name, but I can’t be sure. All I’m certain of is his hand mercilessly working me, my back arching against him, my hips moving in rhythm with his hand. My release rocks me—it’s so intensely satisfying it seeps through my entire body. I feel it everywhere. I feel him everywhere. That’s how it’s supposed to feel.

  Leaning forward, he passionately kisses me, his fingers sliding out of me, stroking me as I shiver at his touch, still sensitive from the pleasure he summoned. Releasing my wrists, his fingers grip the nape of my neck before sliding into my hair and firmly grasping. As my hands drop to his shoulders, he ravishes my mouth. His commanding hand grips my hair tighter as his other hand unbuttons his jeans, working to free his rock-hard cock.

  “I’m gonna show you what you do to me.” His jaw tightens as he takes himself in hand, stroking up and down the long length of his cock. “Just looking at you, just thinking about you. Have you thought about me when you’re touching yourself?”

  Sucking in a sharp breath, I’m unable to answer. I try to form a coherent sentence, but it’s futile. “I … I …” This shouldn’t be embarrassing considering what’s just happened and the position we’re currently in, but I can’t bring myself to say it. And, I don’t have to because he quickly figures it out.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t touch yourself, Sadie.”

  Shaking my head, he looks to me with shock.

  “Why not?”

  I look away, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “I think you do. Tell me.”

  “I just don’t anymore.” Maybe that hole in the floor can open up and swallow me because this is not something I want to discuss with someone who leaks sex appeal from his pores. Sex has always been a chore, something I had to do, not something I longed to do, not with Kyle, anyway. Dylan on the other hand … all I want is for him to touch me, explore me, claim me. And I have a feeling he plans to do all those things thoroughly.

  “I do.” He brushes his tongue over my lips, nipping gently with his teeth. His hand resumes stroking his dick while his eyes penetrate mine. “While picturing you. Everything I want to do to you, everything I want you to do to me.”

  Squeezing my thighs, I make a failed attempt to tame the need I’m already feeling for him. And I know wanting to touch myself won’t be a problem now that I have this one memory to conjure up.

  Reaching for him, I wrap my fingers around his cock as his hand halts.

  That sexy smirk returns to his face as his hand relinquishes his dick, allowing me full rein while his other hand remains firmly entangled in my hair. Can’t say I hate it.

  My thumb rubs over the head of his cock, rubbing a drop of precum around the tip as his body tenses. I’m gonna enjoy this. “Tell me.”

  “There’s not an inch of your body that my tongue doesn’t taste”—he inhales a sharp breath as I pick up the pace, stroking up and down his length—“before my face is between your thighs, licking your pussy as you come.”

  It’s my turn to smirk when he has to take another breath before continuing with the next naughty scenario. “You’re on your knees, sucking my dick, your eyes begging me to fuck your pussy.”

  He lets out a low growl, his eyes closing briefly before looking back to me. “And that’s what I do. I bend you over the bed and ram my dick into your wet pussy until I come inside you.” With another growl, his body goes rigid and warm liquid hits my stomach. It drips down my hand as I continue to stroke, working every drop out as he says through gritted teeth, “Because you belong to me.”

  His eyes bore into mine, penetrating thoroughly because I know it’s not just words. He’s claimed me as his from the beginning, and while it freaks me out a bit, it also thrills me at the same time. I just hope whatever is happening between us doesn’t end badly. In the short time I’ve known him, the pleasure he’s presented has been real and powerful. It’s unlike anything anyone else has ever provided. I don’t want to know how the reverse would feel coming from him, the profound heartache. Physics wasn’t meant to explain pleasure and pain, but I’d paid enough attention in class to know that when the pendulum swings past the center of gravity in one direction, it must swing the same distance in the other. I could have it wrong. Hopefully, I never find out.

  28

  Dylan

  The bright sunlight beaming through the window is a sunny reminder that not everything is good. Yeah, okay, at this particular moment with Sadie snuggled close to me, it couldn’t be better. Her blonde hair is draped across my bare chest, so I slip my hand under her T-shirt and close my eyes, begging for strength. It had taken every bit of my restraint to resist burying my dick inside her. Touching her, her touching me—it wasn’t enough. I’d wanted more. I
still want more. But I can’t. I shouldn’t have caved and let last night—or actually this morning—happen. Being in her bed now is a mistake. Staying the night with her just to sleep complicates things more in the long run than if I’d nailed her and gone back to my place. Yet, I wouldn’t change a thing. Fuck.

  I’ve screwed over myself and her already because I can’t keep the promises I made to her even if I wanted to. My loyalty is with Noah, although it doesn’t appear that way right now. It has to be with Noah. For her sake and mine, I should back off. But there’s no chance of that happening unless it’s by her doing, not mine. There’s already little hope that I’ll be able to walk away from her when it’s time and even less of a chance she’ll be unscathed. Because for me to find out the complete truth, she’ll have to find out everything too.

  Sliding out from under her, I move off the bed and pull my jeans on over my boxer briefs before walking to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I grab a bottle of water, twist off the cap, and down half its contents. Leaning against the counter, I glance around the simple yet cozy apartment.

  The front door opens, and Willow walks into the apartment. Sadie had mentioned she’d be back sometime this morning after deciding to stay at Parker’s for the night. She’s fumbling with her phone when she glances up, looking away before halting and glancing back to me. Her eyes quickly look to my chest and back up before she tilts her head to the side.

  “What did I miss?” She fails at hiding the amusement behind her question.

  A lot. “Nothing,” I say, downing the remainder of the water before tossing the plastic bottle in the trash and heading back to Sadie’s bedroom.

  “She’s had a rough couple of years,” Willow says, stepping closer to me. I watch her concern grow into determination. “If you hurt her, I will cut you … and your car.”

  “My car?” It’s my turn to be amused even though I’m sure Willow would probably cut someone if she were pissed off enough. I’m sure I’ll see that moment eventually.