by Mae Doyle
I can’t run.
But, honestly, I don’t know that I want to.
When he pulled off his shirt, I swear that my heart almost stopped. I’ve never seen a man so covered in muscle before. Everything about his body is perfection, from the cocky look on his face to his giant cock. He’s been forged on the field, his body built and molded by football, and now he’s standing before me, the most perfect man I’ve ever seen.
The perfect man with a damn dark side.
If I run, and Clay catches me, I don’t know what he’ll do. I’m not sure that he’d kill me, although he has threatened that. He’s promised to destroy me, and the thought of what he could do makes my lower stomach twist.
I almost want to find out.
But then I look at his muscles and his dark face, and there’s an easy way out.
This classroom is full of windows, but nobody has walked by or looked in. We’re trapped in here together until one of us breaks, and I’ve already learned one thing about Clay Bryson.
He doesn’t break.
My clothes are dropped in a pile behind me, and I step back to them while reaching out for Clay. He grabs my hands and sweeps my legs, dropping me like a pile of laundry to the floor. Before I even hit the ground, his mouth is on mine, his hands squeezing my tits so hard that I cry out.
“I thought that you were going to make a run for it. You know that that would have ended badly for you, right, kitten?”
I want to nod, but now he has my ponytail wrapped around his hand and is holding my head in place. Terror courses through me as he sits up and looks at my body. Why the fuck did I think that he could ever have compassion for me?
I was stupid, and now I have to pay the price.
“Let’s see how you taste.” Clay forces my legs open with his knee and then reaches between them, slowly stroking me and sliding a finger into me. My eyes close involuntarily, and I have to stifle a slight moan.
When he removes his hand, I open my eyes to see him slowly licking his fingers. “You taste so sweet, little kitten. Here.” He shoves a finger into my mouth and I taste myself, swirling my tongue over his finger.
Maybe if I make this as good as possible for him, he’ll let me go without hurting me. Maybe this will be a one-time thing. I thought that I wanted this – hell, I would have sworn that I did.
But now that we’re so close, I’m scared. I want to pull back but I know that Clay has no intention of letting me do that.
We got too close. The kindness that I saw in his eyes earlier is gone, replaced by the same hungry look that he has when he looks at me.
“What are you going to do?” Shifting position, I think about trying to kick him off of me, but he sees what I’m doing and easily pins me back down.
“I’m going to fuck your brains out, little kitten. But you have a choice to make.”
He loosens up his grip on my ponytail so that he can hold my chin tight and make me look at him.
“Do you want to be good and enjoy it so I’ll make you come? Or do you want me to leave you wanting?”
My body is already aching for him. As much as I hate to admit it, my clit is throbbing for his touch. I squirm under him, trying to get him to release my chin, but he only grips me tighter.
“Looks like you don’t want to play, Elle. I’m disappointed. I thought that we would be good together. What’s a little hate fuck between friends?”
Any kindness that I saw in him a moment ago has disappeared. I had my chance to get him more on my side, and I missed it.
“I’ll play,” I gasp out. He’s moved his hand down so that he’s gripping my neck and pushing me into the floor. “Please.” I have to wheeze out this last word. Reaching up, I claw at his hand, trying to get him to release me.
It’s getting harder to breathe. Clay’s face is inches from mine, his breath hot on my cheek. “You’ll play?” His voice is low and dangerous and I do my best to nod.
He releases me and I suck in air, gasping for breath. My neck aches but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of rubbing it.
“I’ll play.” To prove it, I reach for him, pulling him down by the shoulders, and kissing him. He crushes my mouth with his, his hands exploring my body as he kisses me. When he reaches between my legs, I open them willingly for him.
God, forgive me.
“Good kitten,” he murmurs in my ear, pulling back to look at me. Slowly his thumb finds my clit and he begins to rub it, making me arch my back under him. His strong body presses me to the ground but I can’t help trying to buck my hips into him.
With his free hand, he catches my hip, pressing me back down into the floor. I struggle against him. “Please let me go,” I whisper, my eyes screwed tightly shut.
“That’s a far different thing than you were begging for a moment ago, kitten,” he says, pinning me harder to the ground. “Sounds like you may want me to just fuck you and leave you here.”
“No, I want you.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and Clay slides his fingers into me, making me gasp. “I want to play, Clay.”
“Let’s see how badly you want to.” He shifts his position, sliding between my legs and positioning himself at my opening.
I’m barely breathing at this point. Suddenly, he thrusts forward, his huge cock ramming into me and splitting me open. It’s not what I expected, and I cry out, arching my back and digging my nails into his back.
“Still want to play, kitten?” He slides easily in and out of me, my muscles pulling at him. I moan in response and close my eyes. I can’t look him in the eyes. I don’t want to know what I’ll see there.
Probably hate.
He said it was a little hate fuck.
Nothing more.
But my body is responding like this is everything its ever needed. Each time he strokes in and out of me, my back arches and I feel a tugging deep in my stomach. He’s pulling something from me, leading me to the edge, where hopefully he’ll push me over and let me fall apart around him.
“Clay,” I whisper, but I can’t go past that. I’m raking my hands down his back and sides, leaving huge red streaks where I claw him, but I can’t help myself. I can’t control or stop my hands.
“Fuck, kitten, you’re so tight. If I had known how good you’d feel, I would have taken you the first time I saw you.” He grunts and pushes into me, grabbing me by the chin and forcing my face to his. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
I don’t want to open my eyes, but I eventually do. Clay’s face is inches from mine. “You shouldn’t have come here, Elle.” He slams into me and I cry out as he pounds deeper than before.
He was being so gentle and making it feel so good, and now it feels more like he’s trying to take something from me. He doesn’t care if I come with him, he just wants to make sure that he’s in control.
“I didn’t want to.” Digging my nails in deeper into his back, I hold on. I want to hurt him, and this is the only way that I can. He’s deep in me now, slowly coaxing an orgasm from me with every stroke, and I can’t do anything to stop him. “I hate you.”
He pauses, but my words don’t seem to have much of an effect on him. Instead of responding, Clay fucks me harder. My thighs tremble around him as I try to hold myself in place. He’s splitting me open, but every stroke feels like heaven.
I hate him.
I hate that he’s in me and I hate that he’s bringing me closer to the edge without me wanting to go.
“Clay,” I whisper, but he doesn’t respond.
I’m on the edge. My eyes clamp shut and immediately he grabs my neck again, squeezing harder than the last time.
“How would you like the last thing you feel to be you coming?” He squeezes and I gasp for air, but he’s still fucking me, still taking me with him. “I’ve already killed one girl who looks just like you. Maybe you should die too, Elle.”
I want to shake my head, but I can’t move. All of my muscles are on fire and my toes curl into the cold, hard f
loor. Before I know what’s happening and before I can try to stop it, my body shakes and I shatter around him.
My muscles are screaming for release and I cry out, even though the sound is muffled by his hand around my neck. He comes too, and releases my neck as he does, his hot seed spraying into me and coating me on the inside.
I grab for my neck, feeling the bruising that’s already appearing, and gasp as he stills in me. My entire body is on fire, all of my muscles screaming with the release that he gave me.
That he took from me.
Without saying anything, he slides out of me and stands before picking up my shirt and wiping his cock with it. I watch, silent, afraid to move.
He’s gotten what he wanted, so I don’t know what else he may try to do.
When he’s done, he tosses my shirt to me. I grab it out of the air, but it’s wet and useless. “What do you want me to do with this?” I ask, sitting up.
He glances over at me as he pulls on his pants and shirt. “Fuck all, if I care. You gave me what I wanted, kitten. Maybe next time you try a little harder, huh? Pretend that you like being fucked by a god.”
“A god?” I drop my shirt and stand up, my temper flaring. Part of my brain is screaming at me to be careful, but that part can shut the hell up. “You think that you’re a god? You’re just a vindictive asshole who killed his girlfriend and takes his guilt out on other people.” I’m so angry that I can’t see straight.
I also can’t think straight, apparently.
“And you’re a little whore who opens her legs for the first man who shows her any compassion or pity.” He reaches out and gives my ponytail a little yank. “If you weren’t so frigid then I may offer you to the rest of my team, but they’d get bored fast.”
“Fuck you.” The words are out of my mouth before I realize that I’m thinking them, but now it’s too late to take them back. His eyes darken.
“What’s that, Elle? You already did, and I must say, I don’t know that I was too impressed.”
“I hate you.” Tears spring to my eyes, but I don’t even try to fight them back. He saw me cry earlier and he took advantage of it. Of me. “I hate you and this stupid fucking school.”
“Then leave!” Clay holds his arms out from his body and drops them in exasperation. “Then leave the fucking school, Elle! Get out of here! Get out of my head! What are you waiting for?”
He’s so loud that I’m afraid that someone will come to the door, but nobody does. He really is a god around here.
“I would.” The words spill out of me. “Believe me, I would love to! I’d love to put you and all of the assholes at Kennedy Academy behind me, but I can’t! Don’t you think I’d rather be anywhere else than here?”
I’m planning on leaving. I already know that I have to get as far away from here as possible, but I can’t until I graduate. I can’t until I have more money saved up.
“You wouldn’t. You like playing the victim, don’t you, Elle? You probably love all of the attention that you’re getting, right? Sweet little kitten with no friends. Plays the violin like an angel, but apparently has some fucked-up shit going on in her home life. Poor thing.”
The sarcasm is too much.
“You don’t know shit about my home life.” My voice is stronger than I knew it could be, and even Clay looks surprised. “You don’t know what I’ve gone through. You have no clue the shit I’ve lived through, Clay. So, fuck you.”
I expect him to be angry, but he looks more amused than anything else, which pisses me off. I grab my pants off of the floor and try to pull them on, but it’s difficult to angrily struggle into clothing without looking like a fool.
Especially when I just had some of the best sex in my life.
“Then tell me.”
“Tell you what?” I glance up at him and find my socks.
“About your home life.” He’s leaning back against the counter, a smirk on his face. Even though I’m struggling to get my clothes on as quickly as possible, he hasn’t even reached for his clothes. My eyes flick down to his cock, which is hard again.
Fuck.
I’ll admit, I consider it at first. But then I shake my head. “You don’t want to hear it.”
I’m worried, and I can’t imagine why he wants to know. Morbid curiosity, probably.
“No, I do. Tell me.” He hasn’t moved but it suddenly feels like we’re closer. Like the room is smaller.
I swallow hard, thinking. He’s already taken everything that he wants from me.
I have nothing more to lose. He already knows exactly how to hurt me.
Clay Bryson has gotten under my skin in a way that I never thought possible. He can make me come and he can make me cry and I never know which one it’s going to be.
“Okay. But you can’t interrupt. Just listen.”
Clay
Elle doesn’t know this about me yet, but I’m actually an incredible listener. I think about putting on some clothes while she talks, but I don’t want to make her nervous.
I know that there’s some fucked up shit in her past and I want to know what it is.
I do take the risk of grabbing my shirt and tossing it to her. She hesitates for a moment, her eyes locked on mine, but then she pulls it on. There. Now maybe she’ll feel less exposed and like she can open up more.
“I’m all ears.”
She nods, a small movement that I almost miss, except I can’t keep my eyes off of her. “It’s okay, Elle, you can tell me.”
What could possibly be so bad that she looks terrified to tell me?
“My dad died when I was six, and for a long time it was just me and my mom.” She pauses and looks at me, waiting for me to make a comment, but I don’t move.
When she sees that I’m not going to interrupt her, she continues. “Okay, so she got bored of it just being the two of us and started dating, I guess. I don’t know what else to call it. She’d bring home any guy that she wanted and then they’d live with us for a while before she moved on.”
Elle won’t look at me now. I want to move into her line of sight and get her attention, but that’s not what she needs. She looks like she needs to be left alone to figure this out.
I’ve found her crack and I’m going to work it until she breaks open under my touch.
From the moment I saw her, I thought that she was exactly like Tiffany, but now, as she talks, I’m beginning to see how vastly different they are.
There’s a lot more to Elle than I ever gave her credit for.
“Some of them were okay, but a few of them were violent and drank a lot.” She shrugs and sighs. “I guess that’s why I don’t drink? Anyway, my music was an escape for me. I remember sitting with my dad and listening to his favorite classical pieces, and playing makes me feel closer to him, so that’s what I did. I kept playing the violin, just to survive.”
She stops talking and stares at me. I know that there’s more to this story and I want to make sure that she spills all of the details before I let her out of this room, but I don’t say anything.
Not yet.
“Then she met Ted. They found each other online and she flew up to meet him a few times. I’d just stay at home by myself, which was great. I was happy. Things went south when he would come to visit us, though. He’s super controlling of my mom and…”
She stops and swallows. If she were any other girl and I was any other boy, I would cross the room between us and pull her into me for a hug, but I can’t do that.
Not with Elle.
Not even after we just did.
“He started to hit her when she didn’t do what he wanted her to. I begged her to go to the police, but she wouldn’t. Then, one night, he came into my room. He never…but he tried. He keeps trying, but I keep fighting him off.”
Here she stops, and I know that she’s done. There’s nothing else that she needs to tell me, because I can easily fill in the blanks of what happened.
“The police didn’t get involved?” I told her that I�
��d be silent, but I have to ask this. I have to know.
She shakes her head, frowning. “He told me that he’d kill my mom. I believe him, Clay. He’s…evil.” Her voice cuts through me as she says this.
She thinks that Ted and I are the same.
Maybe we are.
“And I’d move out, if I could, but I’m afraid to leave my mom there. She’s just totally brainwashed by this guy and thinks that the world revolves around him. He has her convinced that she has to have him, or she’ll never be able to manage on her own.” Elle crosses her arms in front of her chest and gives herself a little hug. “It’s fucked up,” she finishes.
It is fucked up. In fact, it may be more fucked up than me, which is saying something.
I open my mouth, not even knowing what I’m going to say, but she cuts me off. “How did you kill Tiffany?”
Clamping my mouth shut, I stare at her. This was not part of the agreement. Instead of answering her, I pull on my boxers and jeans and then hunt for my shoes.
“Tell me. I told you why I’m fucked up! I deserve to know what you did to her.” Elle steps in front of me and kicks the shoe I’m reaching for across the room.
“That was a bitch move.” Standing, I tower over her, my arms crossed. I can feel my heart racing when I get too close to her. This bitch is electric. Magnetic. Something.
Everything.
“I deserve to know.” She juts out her chin, looking like a petulant kid.
“Fine. I was drag racing with Teague and we got in an accident. Tiffany died and I walked away. You happy now?” Without thinking, I slam my fist down on the desk next to me, making her jump.
She opens her mouth like she’s going to say something, but I wave her off.
“I killed her because I fucked up, kitten, is that what you want to hear? I shouldn’t have been drag racing, and I certainly shouldn’t have done it with her in the car. She was the best thing to ever happen to me, and I fucking killed her because I’m stupid.”
The one thing that I keep thinking about when I remember that night is how she had begged me not to race with Teague. She knew that the roads were wet and she was scared. I didn’t care. I wanted to know her that I could handle anything that life threw at me.
