by Rachel Leigh
He can’t know that I’m letting Zed have his way with me all because I’m weak and pathetic. Because I want answers. It’s a sad truth that if you want something from a man then you either show some skin or spread your legs. All I’ve ever wanted is to be wanted. I just want someone to touch me like this and stay when it’s over.
“Come for me, Marni. I know you want it.”
I can’t.
I don’t.
He sits up, straddling my legs, and as his intensity slows, I begin to question myself and how disconnected I am from my body. Two fingers slide in and out at just the right speed, while he uses his other hand to rub against my clit. A suppressed moan unleashes and my back arches as my chest rises. Trying to regain my focus on something other than the way my body is inviting him in, I think of Talon. Lying there on that floor with no clue what is going on. As much as I hate him for what he’s done with that video, I need him to wake up.
Wake up and stop this, Talon.
I close my eyes and don’t allow myself to feel anything other than the glide of his fingers and the adrenaline that floats through me. I let out a breathy exhale and clench myself around his fingers, bucking my hips up and forcing myself into oblivion. I want this. I lie to myself.
His face is right in front of mine, and I know, without a doubt, that he’s watching me intently. It’s pitch-black, but I can feel his eyes burn into my skin. Leaving an imprint that I’m not sure will ever fade. This memory will forever be etched in the back of my mind. One day when I’m old and depressed and have to seek counseling because of PTSD, this sin will be my first confession. I let the devil have his way with me, not because I was scared of the hell he was dragging me into, but because I liked the way it felt.
“You like that don’t you?” he says with a raspy pitch.
“Don’t fucking talk,” I hiss, bucking my hips higher to gain momentum.
How can something this unwanted make my body feel this damn good?
His pace picks up, and this time, I embrace it. Taking everything he’s giving me. He wants to make me feel good. He’s hungry for it. So much so, that I firmly believe he will go mad if I don’t give him the satisfaction of making me come.
“Oh yeah,” he moans, “you’re soaking wet for me. Just for me.”
“You’re fucking sick.” I groan as my body is taken over by a warm current that spills out between my legs. Reality slaps me in the face as soon as I come down.
Zed’s body drops down onto mine and I turn my head to the side to avoid him kissing me. Pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek, he whispers in my ear, “I am sick, but you drugged the guy you care about and let me shove my fingers in your pussy while he slept on the floor.“ I squirm out from underneath him and get to my feet.
“I don’t care about him. I hate him and I hate you.” My arm stretches back and I swing my open palm, just hoping and praying that it lands somewhere on his body.
When my hand meets his face, I smile. “You fucking bitch.” He spits.
Digging around on the floor until I find my pants, I untuck the leg sleeves that were turned inside out, then slide them on.
Before I even have them over my hips, Zed is gripping both of my wrists. “I’m not above hitting a woman who hits me first. Next time, I’ll fuck you and choke you at the same time. Then again,” he chuckles, “you’d probably like that, you little slut.”
Jerking my arm away, I stumble over Talon’s comatose body and almost fall to the floor, but I’m stopped by the wall that I slam into. Pushing myself off, I grab hold of the handle, just as I pull it open and light shines through, his breath hits my neck again. “What just happened in here is our secret. Unless you want Talon to know you took his phone, drugged him, and had this made.” I turn around and see the SD card.
“No!” I cry out as I try to take it from him. “That’s mine.”
That’s fucking mine. I worked my ass off for that card. That’s my escape from this hell. It’s my proof and my only chance to hold something over their heads.
“It’s mine now. I might not care what happens to your boy right there,” he glances over his shoulder then returns his gaze to me, “but I refuse to go down because he’s too stupid to know when he’s being played. You did good. I’ll give you that. But you can’t have this card. You can never know what’s on it.” He pauses and tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. “You couldn’t handle the truth. It just might kill you.” With that, he finally leaves.
My legs turn to jelly as I brace my back against the wall. I’m unable to move out of fear that I’ll fall to the floor. He’s evil. Pure fucking evil, and for whatever reason, he has a vendetta against me.
Unless...Unless, it’s Talon he’s after.
He may have taken the card, but after what these guys have done to me—Talon and Zed in particular—I’m not backing down. I’m ready to fight, and I’m dragging these sons of bitches straight to hell.
17
Throwing Marni’s bedroom door open, I shout, “Wake your ass up. You have school.”
“Fuck off,” she mumbles, without even rolling over to face me.
She’s had this sour attitude ever since the party last week. A party that I can’t even remember. I woke up on Marni’s bedroom floor with my phone in my pocket. She claims that I must have stumbled in there while she was asleep, but I’m not buying that bullshit story. I’m also well aware that she stuck my phone in my pocket, but getting her to admit that is about as hard as my dick is right now. She’s sprawled out on the bed in just a sports bra and a pair of skimpy shorts, her ass is practically screaming for me.
“Dude,” Lars comes rushing into the room. “They found Josh’s car.” He’s out of breath with a mask of panic on his face.
“Ok,” I shrug it off, “we knew they would eventually. Keep calm and don’t draw attention. That’s all we have to do.”
Marni stretches her arms up and then gets out of bed. “You guys, not draw attention? That’s laughable. Now if you wouldn’t mind getting the hell out of my room, I have an education to get so that I can become more than a trust fund brat and pothead like four guys I know.” She smirks.
Lars and I share a glance, and I just nod my head in agreement with whatever he’s thinking because I suspect it's along the same lines as my thoughts. This girl is a royal pain in the ass.
Shrugging her shoulders, she glowers. “Fine then. Don’t bother me none. Not like all four of you guys haven’t seen what’s underneath these clothes.” She pulls her sports bra over her head and her tits flop out, stunning us both. I have no idea what the hell she’s talking about or why she’d assume that Lars or anyone else has seen her naked. Her shorts drop and to my surprise, she’s not wearing any underwear. Standing completely naked in front of me and Lars, she places her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes. “Well, like what you see, assholes?”
Glancing over, I remember that Lars is still standing there. If his mouth was opened any farther, I might trip over it. “Get the fuck out.” I spin him around and give him a shove out the door then slam it shut.
When I look back at her, her scowl has only grown. “Is there a reason you’re still here?”
Tilting my head up, I force myself to maintain eye contact with her. “What the hell is your problem lately?”
“Hmm. Let’s see,” she taps her finger to her chin then shouts, “I fucking hate you! All of you! But especially you!” Bending over, she grabs a pair of underwear from her open bag then shuffles around until she pulls out a pair of jeans.
“And what did I do to earn that extra helping of hate?” I continue to watch her as she gets dressed. She’s a handful of beauty and she’s bound to be my downfall if I keep thinking these dirty thoughts.
“If you even have to ask, then you have no business even talking to me right now.”
“Ever since the party last week, you’ve been throwing out these hints of accusation and unless you’re ready to tell me what the fuck your problem is, cut this shit out.”
I snatch up her dirty clothes and toss them in the laundry basket then hand her the brush on her dresser like some kind of servant.
She looks at the brush then back at me. Thinking for a moment before grabbing it. Her tone shifts, and her eyes harbor a glimmer of hope behind them. “Thanksgiving is next week. I’d like to go home and see my dad and my brother.”
“No,” I quip.
Don’t even need to think about it. No and hell no.
That hopefulness in her baby blues is quickly diminished.
Swinging her arm around with the brush in hand, she comes close to smacking me with it, but I’m faster and more aware of her spontaneous outbursts. Grabbing her by the wrist, I twist it and hold it up to her head. Moving it up and down as the brush weaves through her hair. “It’s a brush, not a baton.”
Menacing eyes stare into mine while I continue to help her brush her corn silk strands. “I hate you with every bone in my body, Talon Porter. And one day, I will make you pay for what you’ve done to me.”
When I drop her hand, she gives the brush a toss onto the bed. My hands smack her hips and I give them a firm squeeze, “Make me pay, baby, because I like to be punished.” I give her a wink and a sinister smile raises her cheek bones.
Her hands raise to my cheeks then slide around my head. “Oh, I will. And I plan to enjoy every fleeting moment.” Firm lips slam into mine and nails dig into the skin of my neck so hard that I’m ninety-nine percent sure they just pierced the skin. As she drags them around to the front, I don’t recoil. My mind is focused solely on the taste of her cherry Chapstick and the warmth of her full mouth. Our eyes are both wide open, burning into one another. While this kiss is turning me on to the fullest extent, she’s getting off on the pain she’s causing me with her nails beneath my flesh. She stops digging them into me, pulls back and looks down at her bloodied nails. “Now look what you’ve done.”
Taking her hand in mine, I examine her red-tinged fingers. She probably hoped I would shriek and beg her to stop. To wince due to the sting of pain. She doesn’t know me, and nothing she does can hurt me.
With my free hand, I clench her cheeks between my thumb and forefinger and force her mouth open. “Not so funny now, is it?” I tsk. “I’ll play your game, but you’ll play mine.” I take her hand and shove three fingers inside of her mouth while still holding it open. “Does it taste as good as it felt?”
Her eyes widen, and when she tries to fight back, I squeeze her cheeks hard. Gags, gurgles, and whimpers sound in my ears, but all I hear is triumph.
When I think she’s had just about enough, I release my hold on her. Spit flies in my face, and I take it. “You are deranged.” She coughs and chokes while spitting repeatedly on the floor.
That I am. My fingers graze over the raised ridges of the scratches on my neck. I might have finally met my match.
I’ve been driving Marni to school, and every morning, her face is stuck to the passenger window, just so she can avoid looking at me. Today is no different in that aspect, but I’m certainly about to throw a wrench in her plans.
Her head perks up. “What are you doing?” she asks when I drive straight past the drop-off line and pull into the student parking lot.
“Oh shit, I forgot to tell you. I’m going to class with you today.” I shift into park and turn the ignition off.
I didn’t really forget to tell her. It was just determined this morning while she was taking her time coming down stairs. After talking with the guys, we figured it would be a good idea to keep her at arm’s length, considering there’s been a break in the case and Josh’s car was found by divers last night.
“No, you’re not,” she spits. “You’re not a student here.”
“Just because I choose not to attend classes in person doesn’t mean I don’t go to this school.”
Technically, I’m not supposed to be here, but I called Principal Burton and told her that I needed some detailed instruction for a few assignments and requested to sit in on some classes—all Marni’s classes. With a little persuasion, she made it happen.
With a long drawn out huff, Marni grabs the handle and gets out so quick that she drops her opened backpack and the contents spill out on the pavement. Of course, I laugh.
“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.” She repeats over and over as I try to help her pick up the dozen pens and pencils. Slapping my hand away, she stuffs everything inside the bag, but I reach in and snag one of the pencils.
“Thanks. I’m gonna need that.” I stick the pencil behind my ear. “Probably some paper, too.”
Swinging the bag over her shoulder she stomps off. “Like you plan on doing any work, loser,” she shouts with a flip of her middle finger over her shoulder.
Cupping my hands around my mouth, I shout louder, “Maybe I wanted to write you a love note…honey.” I laugh, but she just picks up her pace.
This is fixing to be a hell of a good time. I’m not sure why I ever stopped coming here. The place is swarming with babes. They’ve really filled out since I left. Tits and ass everywhere.
Marni’s walking about six feet ahead of me when I jog up to her side and throw an arm over her shoulder. “What’s the matter? Embarrassed to be seen with me?”
Pulling my arm off of her, she makes an abrupt turn straight over to the lawn where her friend, Shay, is talking amongst a group of guys from the varsity football team. I stop walking, watch for a minute, and contemplate whether or not I’ll allow her this space. But when Jordan Wells, the varsity quarterback, winks at her and flips the front of her hair with lust-filled eyes, I eat up that distance.
“Yo, Wells,” I shout, “Touch her again and I’ll shove my foot up your ass.”
A few eyes watch as I walk over. Confusion written all over their faces. “Miss me, fuckers?” I say to the guys. A couple of them are at my house practically every weekend, just for a free space to party, but none of these assholes are friends of mine. Not anymore. When I fell down the drain of addiction and left sophomore year, they found humor in my downfall.
I wrap my arms around Marni from behind and rest my chin on her head. “Carry on. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” I smirk.
Marni doesn’t make a move, but Jordan is looking at her with puzzlement. “Are you two—?”
“No!” she blurts out, “we are not.”
Tipping my head back, I mouth, “We are,” but only he catches it. It’s complete bullshit, but everyone may as well assume she’s off-limits, because she is.
“We were just inviting the girls to a bonfire this weekend. You’re welcome to come, too.” Keegan, the nicer of the guys, says.
“He’s busy.” Marni turns around and grabs me by the arm, pulling me away before I can respond.
“Hey, I was just about to make friendly conversation with your friends. What’s with the dramatic exit?”
“Nothing you say is friendly,” she mutters, while continuing to pull me toward the steps of the school.
The crowd out front begins to thin out when the warning bell rings, but Marni stands there with her arms crossed over her chest. “You can leave now. I have class.”
“Oh,” I laugh, “you thought I was joking?” I shake my head. “No, babe. I’m staying here. All fucking day.” I walk up the stairs and turn around. “Come on, I don’t like being tardy.” That’s a lie. In fact, I can’t think of a day that I was ever really on time for class. Not on purpose, I’m just a slacker and naturally walk slow.
Nothing has changed inside the walls of this place. You still have your jocks, your stuck-up bitches, the stoners, the geeks, and the inbetweeners who still don’t know where they belong. You know the ones—we’ve been around for eighteen years and still have no idea who we are, where we fit, or where we’re going.
Following behind Marni, I catch all the deplorable looks from my former classmates. They're probably wondering what a catch like Marni is doing with a guy like me. They have no clue that my presence in her life is not wanted in the least.
; “I’m not sure how you pulled this off, but just so you know, you’re not sitting by me in class if that’s what you’re thinking. In fact, the only available seat is in the back of the room next to Allergic Alan.” The corner of her lip tugs up with the thought.
“Don’t you worry about me.”
We make a quick stop at her locker then head to her first class. Her arms are loaded with a textbook, a Chromebook, a notebook, and a folder. Grabbing them from her hands, in an attempt to carry some of the weight, she retorts, “Don’t touch my stuff.”
“Dry your panties, girl. I’m just trying to help.” I grab at them again and somehow, we engage in a tug of war contest as we walk down the halls, warranting more looks and snickers from the onlookers.
“If I wanted your help, I’d ask. Now give me my damn stuff,” she hisses as I hold tightly to them and pick up speed, booking it to her first class of the day.
Just when she catches up, I slide into the half-open door. Everyone is in their seats and all eyes are on us.
“Mr. Porter. It’s good to see you.” Mrs. Tate, the astronomy teacher, lies to my face. She fucking hates me. I may have flipped up her skirt because of a bet, just to see what kind of panties she wore. Some might call it sexual harassment; I looked at it as a way to win a bet.
Solid white hip huggers. Also known as granny panties.
“I’m sharing material with my good friend, Marni. So, if you wouldn’t mind, we’ll need to sit next to each other.” My comment warrants me a massive growl and a double eye-roll from Marni.
Mrs. Tate’s eyes question Marni’s safety, and quite possibly her sanity.
“Tell her, babe.” I give Marni a nudge and bite back a smile. I love getting under her skin, and right now, I’m sure as hell doing just that. The entire class is watching while she nods her head nervously in agreement. “It’s settled then.” I smile at Mrs. Tate.
