Tease Me, Baby: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Silver Creek High Book 2)

by Belladona Cunning

  “You know how weird this is, right?” I ask, taking my lip between my teeth. “Nothing against you, Josh, but I see you as more of a brother than a lover.”

  He takes the hit pretty well, shrugging it off. “I’ll get over it, eventually.” Then his eyes trek away from me, narrowing on Quinn. “You got that hit for free, fucker. Try it again, and I won’t be so understanding next time.”

  Smiling, we say our goodbyes. I watch, with mirth lighting my eyes, as he rights himself and tosses the barely used condom into the dumpster next to us before heading back inside. I don’t know why, but I find it downright hilarious we had a semi-normal conversation while Josh had his dick hanging out like it was a normal occurrence. Maybe it is; who knows? All I know is Josh won’t get that far with me again.

  I’m still grinning after I pick up my stuff and make my way up the side alley, heading toward my loaner. It took me almost all of last period to get my insurance to pick my car up and take it to the shop, then it took me my entire walk home to get a loan delivered for tonight. I’m sure Debra will have a field day. I smirk, because her name is the one I put down for them to send the bill to.

  Gathering the keys out of my clutch, I unlock my door and go to get inside.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Shooting them a look, I say nothing as I get into the car and slam my door behind me. It’s not that I don’t want to talk to them, because a small part of me does. They did just keep me from making a mistake, and it feels like I owe it to them, but nothing good can come of it. It’s still Callum. It’s still Quinn. The two guys that took a front-row seat in my torture.

  I’m also still outrageously pissed at Callum’s earlier display with Alessandra. Oh, It’s over between us, we’re not together anymore—such a crock of bullshit. There is nothing over about those two, not when he’s still filling her up in front of all the people at our school. He may get people to believe his lies, but I’m sure as shit not one of them.

  A knock on my window has me exhaling to the point it ends on a groan. “Jess, stop being so goddamn stubborn.”

  Slapping the lock button, I cast my eyes upward, meeting Callum’s gaze. It’s easy to see the fury and hurt try to battle for victory, but I will not ask him what that is all about. That would mean I care, and I most certainly do not care.

  I don’t. Nope. Not at all. He can fuck, kiss, and date whoever he wants. It’s not for me to say, otherwise. Just like it’s not for him to say who I do those things with, either.

  Shaking my head, I break our connection and push the keys into the ignition. My hand trembles slightly, and it takes a few tries before it slips into the opening. I twist the key, the car firing up the first time, and now a more incessant knocking ensues.

  “You can’t shut us out forever.” I put the car in drive, then press the gas, hearing Callum shout from behind, “We already know what we want, and that’s you! If you leave right now without talking to us, then we accept that as your white flag!”

  I keep driving. What are they going to do? Stare me to death? Not like it will be any different from how it is now.

  He can want on, because it’s not going to happen. With Callum, I already put my heart on the line more times than I can count. One of those times, he took the beating organ into his hand and crushed it, leaving nothing in its place. How many more times should I allow him the opportunity to do that?

  Shaking my head, I turn on the road that leads me back into the heart of Silver Creek. My phone buzzes in my clutch, and without looking, I reach over and get it out. Righting myself, I click the unlock button and slide my finger over the screen. It’s a text. From that unknown ass hat that’s not so unknown. I really wish he’d stop. I mean, seriously—he’s gone through so much to do this, but I already know it’s him. Why try to play me with a burner phone or something? He makes no sense.

  Unknown: Looks like you had a lot of fun tonight, gorgeous.

  A scream I didn’t know was sticking in my throat, launches out into the confines of the car. It’s loud, grating, and to anyone passing by, it would look like I’m having a complete melt-down. I am, but that’s beside the point. I can only take so much, and he is seriously pushing it. So, without waiting, I type back a message, fuming the entire time.

  Me: Fuck you! Get this through your head—I do NOT want to talk to you!

  He texts back almost immediately, his response making my blood boil.

  Unknown: Too bad we don’t always get what we want. You’re mine.

  Huffing in anger, I throw my phone into the passenger seat as I pull to a stop in front of my house. I don’t know how long I sit in the car trying to cool off, but it’s enough time it brings Debra to the front window with her scowling face. Great. Now I have to deal with the beast. Lucky me.

  Gathering my things, I get out and shut the door. I push my anger down inside me as I make my way over to the front door. My steps are slow, each movement physically hurting. My body is so wrung out, I don’t know whether I want to fuck, fight, or go to sleep for a month.

  However, I get none of those choices when I step through the door. Instead, a large object smacks into the side of my head with so much force, it causes me to slam the door shut with my body and teeter in my heels. I fall into the banister, pain immediately exploding inside me.

  “How dare you sully our name!” Debra screams, hitting me again, cracking me against the back. “You get into a fight this morning. You trashed your car and put it in my goddamn name to get fixed!”

  “Ah!” I scream, my back blazing with streaks of fire as she continues to pelt me again, and again, and again.

  Fuck. I didn’t expect this. If she can’t get at you when she wants to, she’s like a psychotic cat lying in wait. Most usually, she waits until I let my guard down and comes into my room of a night. She doesn’t normally attack me at the front door. And the car? That wasn’t my fucking fault! The fight? It was my fault, but only because that bitch was taunting me.

  “You went to that fucking club, knowing what people would think of us!” She hits me again, this time right across the face. My brain rattles inside my skull, and instant pain blooms across my cheek.

  Cracking open my eyes, I see the reason it hurts so much. It’s the paddle; the one with the holes.

  “Do you have any idea what you did?! This morning, tonight, and yesterday!” She pelts me again and again—until I’m nothing more than a mess on the floor at the base of the stairs.

  She continues to hit my back, legs, arms, and head until I see stars dancing around on the back of my eyelids. It hurts. Everything aches; much more than it did at the back entrance of that stripper joint. I’m too weak, too surprised, to push her off and get away. She struck when I least expected it, and now I’m going to pay for it.

  For hours, I lie in the front entrance of the hall, beaten and bruising rapidly. My tear-filled eyes trek over the skin of my arm, seeing the skin darkening right before my vision. A single tear slides out of the corner of my eye, down into my hair on the hardwood floor. It’s been a while since she turned all the lights off, except the one above the stove. Debra had enough and retreated to her room, leaving me on the floor like a piece of trash to toss out.

  Damn, I wish I could pick myself up off the floor, but I just can’t move. I can barely keep my eyes open as my vision darkens around the edges.

  I’ve never been in so much pain before, even during that night all those years ago. The only thing I can manage is feeling around in the semi-darkness, hissing in pain as I come up with my clutch.

  Sliding my arm along the floor, I reach inside and grab my phone. The screen is bright enough to cause stars to dance in my vision. I groan, flicking through the contacts to find the one I want. I press call and mutely cry out in pain as I bring it to my ear.

  As always, it rings, and rings, and rings, then goes to voicemail.

  My vision swims. My head becomes so dizzy I can barely keep myself awake. Darkness closes in rapidly, and th
ere’s nothing I can do to stop it.

  “D-Dad. Please …” My arm falls down to the floor, hand bouncing as unconsciousness sweeps me away.

  CHAPTER 8

  It’s been days, four to be exact, since I woke up on the front entryway floor. Days of pain, seething remarks, and doctoring what abrasions Debra left on me. My body is still littered with bruising, but at least it’s fading. Most are a deep purple with spatters of yellow and greens strewn throughout. It no longer hurts as bad, but I still feel stiff. At least, when I’m lying on my bed and not moving.

  However, the thing that makes me almost lose it every time I glance in the mirror is the new addition of a two-inch-long cut that runs along the base of my hairline. It’s deep, but not so deep liquid stitches can’t take care of it, and will no doubt leave an ugly scar since I can’t get it attended to correctly. Since Debra is the one that gave me my battle wounds, I believe it is safe to say they will never get taken care of unless I do it myself.

  Shuffling at the door has my eyes snapping up from the bedsheet. My hackles rise when I see it’s Debra, and she’s standing there with a smug expression on her face. Stupid bitch. I wish I could get ahold of her just once. If my father would ever call me back and tell me what’s what, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I don’t care if he’s been phone silent for almost six months, I’d still gladly live with him than where I am now.

  “Clean yourself up, Jessalyn,” she sneers out. “Cover those marks and make yourself presentable.”

  “For what?” I deadpan. “So, you can beat the shit out of me again? No, thank you.”

  “You will watch your fucking mouth!” She takes a few moments to compose herself before continuing, “I am having a dinner party tonight. The Lockridge, Tannenbay, Malone, and Shawcrass families are coming over. Of course, Mrs. Lockridge cannot attend, but the other’s will be here. Your job is to entertain their sons.” The look she shoots me chills me to the bone. She can’t possibly mean …

  “Oh, yes,” she smirks, enjoying my discomfort, “If you want to act like a whore, then at least I will make sure your little stunts bring this family more societal influence.”

  “You’re crazy if you think I’m doing that,” I fume, sitting up, then wincing as a painful jolt runs through my back. “I fuck who I want, when I want, and you can’t force me to do anything.”

  Her face twists into an angry sneer. “Are you sure about that? Maybe you need another session with the paddle?”

  If she thinks I will cower to her, she better not hold her breath. Sunday was the last time I’d ever do that shit. Yeah, this bitch has a beat down coming her way the second I turn eighteen.

  She may beat me until I’m unconscious, but I’ll die before I beg her not to pimp me out like some common prostitute. She thinks she’s won because she caught me off guard; she didn’t. She just successfully made it where I’m more paranoid around her. She will never get a drop on me again.

  “You realize one of these days I will not hold back anymore, right?” I say, narrowing my eyes. “The moment I turn eighteen, you are fucking mine, bitch.”

  “If you make it to eighteen, whore,” she simpers, leaving the unspoken threat floating through the air as she turns and makes her way to her room.

  A growl of frustration rumbles in my chest as I stare after her. I know the only reason she hasn’t gotten rid of me already is because of my father. It’s the last hold she has against him. But if she thinks he will drop whatever he’s doing and come to the rescue, she’s sorely mistaken. He still hasn’t gotten back to me after I called him Monday night, and it’s Friday. He can’t blame it on not getting my phone calls and texts, either. He did that last time. An excuse is an excuse no matter how many ways you phrase it.

  Glancing at my phone, I see it’s a quarter after five. Most usually, Debra’s dinner parties start at six, which means I have forty-five minutes to get ready. When I rise to my feet, I grunt through the pain. I bite my lip and slowly shuffle toward my bathroom.

  It’s then I hear the caterer’s downstairs, they’re flurrying around, trying their best to get everything ready in time for dinner. How could I miss them? My door’s been open all day, and surely, I would have known something was up. On dinner party days, they usually arrive very early in the morning before I even head out to school. Everything must be perfect, because according to Debra, that’s the “Savoy“ way.

  She must have slipped them an incentive if they could get it done in record time. But Lord knows where she got the money. As far as I know, my father isn’t helping with anything. If Debra’s phone conversation held any lick of truth, he’s actually fighting her, and I know her measly job isn’t paying enough to afford all this.

  Slowly, I make my way to the bathroom. I flip on the light, cringing when I get an eye full of myself in the mirror. It’s so much worse than I thought. I will have to use all of my full-coverage foundation just to tamp it down, and even then, I’m sure some bruises will shine through in the fluorescent lighting.

  With a sigh, I get started. Forty-five minutes is a tight fit to get it all done, but it’s something I have to do. Otherwise … I’d hate to think what would be in store for me.

  It’s six o’clock before I know it. I put the finishing touches on my face, then slip into the dress that magically appeared on the other side of my bathroom door. Donning my Jimmy Choo’s, I fluff my hair, biting my gloss covered lips when my fingers hit a particularly painful spot.

  Leaving my room, I already hear chatter going on downstairs. The lights are bright, which sucks. Hopefully, my foundation won’t melt off and allow people to see what’s hidden beneath its three layers. But even now, my hope is slowly dwindling, because I catch sight of my legs in the mirror at the base of the stairs.

  Each step down the stairs is agonizing. My stomach somersaults with nausea, and I swallow the bile rising in my throat. In times like this, I wish we had an elevator. Maybe then I’d be able to move around the house without pain.

  Coming to a stop at the bottom, I shudder when I get a look at the cracked banister. It’s such a small, hairline fracture no one would notice, but I know it’s there. It’s the exact place my forehead hit when Debra first struck me. In remembering, my hand rises of its own accord, fingertips ghosting along the cut just hidden by my hair.

  Damn, I wish I could kill that bitch.

  I’m still standing there, staring, when I hear a particularly loud laugh that shocks me out of my trance. Taking a deep breath, I pull myself together and make my way to dining room. My heels click against the hardwood floor, a sense of doom looming with each step. Seconds before I come through the opening, I plaster a large smile on my face.

  Inside, I’m dying. Just the stretching of muscles in my jaw nearly brings me to tears. I thought it was getting less sore, not more. But it seems I wasn’t moving around enough. Now that I am, I feel everything she did to me, and it makes my anger that much higher.

  “Oh, here she is!” Debra coos, smiling brightly. Blood. Gashes. Ripping her hair out. Those are all the things I picture as I step down the two stairs and join Debra, stiffening as she places a hand on my lower back.

  “Mother,” I state stiffly and without emotion. Her eyes flash at me once before she pastes on a smile and glances at the person she’s speaking to.

  “You remember my lovely daughter, don’t you, Jeffery?” My eyes rise from hers, and I frown.

  I’ve never met this man a day in my life, so how could he know me. But that’s how it is in Silver Creek. You pretend everyone knows you because the thought of no one even hearing of your name is a travesty.

  “Yes,” he oozes sensuality, grabbing my hand to lift it to his lips for a kiss. My world tilts on its axis from the jarring pain, but I remain steadfast, emotionless.

  “I’m terribly sorry, sir, but … do I know you?” I see my mother frown hard in my peripheral.

  I wait for his answer, but the fingers at the small of my back pinch, causing my lips to fall apart on a hars
h breath. Twisting my head, I give Debra a look of outrage, but she merely smiles and keeps her attention on Jeffery.

  “How very clumsy of me,” he says, looking between Debra and me, confusion twisting his features before he thinks better of it and smooths them out. “I came at the end of last year. Quinn, my son, goes to school with you now.”

  Still doesn’t answer my question on how he knows who I am. Like I said, I’ve never seen him before, and Quinn and I aren’t exactly the best of friends. I doubt I even matter enough to make conversation about at home.

  “Quinn is your son?” I ask, changing topics.

  He smiles. “Yes. He and the other boys are outside near the pool if you wish to join them.”

  I don’t, but I’d rather be out there than in here. It seems like Debra is pushing us together, even without knowing what went on between the four of us. I doubt she even cares just as long as she gets her way. I’m only here tonight to impress and take care of her dining guest’s sons.

  “That would be lovely.” Gag! I’d rather choke on a ten-inch cock.

  Debra shots me an expectant gaze filled to the brim with menace when she leads Jeffery Tannenbay away. Giving her my best “resting bitch face,” I turn away and cringe with every step as I make my way outside.

  I’d rather be anywhere than here right now. Just having to play nice with the guys doesn’t settle well in my queasy stomach. Plus, the fact of what Callum said Monday night, about all of them wanting me, I hope they have some common sense to know I’m just not into it, that I’m being forced.

  One can hope, right?

  Pushing open the back door, I slip outside. My eyes land on them at the same time theirs land on me. Callum pushes up out of the lounger, straightening his suit jacket. A suit jacket he fills out a little too well. Screw him for being so perfect looking.

  “Hello, boys.” I make my way over to them, trying to hide my pain behind a strained smile.