by Mae Doyle
“Don’t you fucking dare scream, Elle. I swear to God, it will be the last thing that you do.” His fingers are pressing so hard into my skin that I know they’re going to leave marks. I consider biting him, but he has a wild look in his eyes.
There’s no way that I can get out of this without pissing him off more.
Tears sting at my eyes and I nod, trying to get him to release me. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest that it’s hard for me to catch my breath. I can smell him, the same scent as his shirt from Friday night, and it makes me ill.
It turns my stomach, but it also creates a low tugging feeling that’s becoming more and more familiar as I spend time around him.
What the fuck is wrong with me? How can I possibly want someone like him?
Heat and wet pool between my legs and I squeeze them together, trying to release some of the pressure I feel. There’s just something about Clay that makes me want him, even though he terrifies me.
“Good girl.” He releases my mouth but keeps a strong grasp on my ponytail so that I can’t move my head. “I’m so glad that you’re learning to listen a bit better. You know, strong-willed bitches don’t have any place at Kennedy Academy.”
“What do you want?” I spit the words out, trying to sound as brave as possible, but I’m terrified. My knees are weak and I’m relying on the support of the wall of lockers to keep my feet under me. I could easily slide down to the floor and curl up in a ball if he wasn’t holding me by my hair.
“You, little kitten. I want you. I’m so glad that you agreed to be my tutor, and I wanted to thank you. We need to work out the terms of our agreement, don’t we?”
“Fuck off.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. He takes a step forward, forcing my knees apart with his. I fight him, but he’s so strong.
Every inch of him is made of muscle. He could easily overpower me and do whatever he wants.
The thought is terrifying. It’s exhilarating.
I hate myself for liking it.
My brain is running a mile a minute as I try to figure out how to get away from this monster, but my body is fighting me. There’s something about the way his thigh feels forcing my legs apart that’s making me shake. He gives my ponytail a little tug and I have to turn my head, exposing my neck.
Terror shoots through me as I realize that I don’t know if I want him to stop. I don’t want him to take his hands off of me, even though I know that he’s dangerous. He’s deadly.
He’s so sexy.
“Is that what you want to happen, Elle? Or do you want me to fuck you?” He doesn’t wait for an answer and instead dips his head to run his tongue up my neck. I shiver as he does, every nerve in my body in conflict.
Run. Stay.
Fight him. Fuck him.
Clay yanks my ponytail a little more and I gasp as I tilt my head farther to keep up with the pressure. His teeth are on my ear, nibbling my lobe, and I suck in a breath.
“Do you like this?” When he speaks, his breath is hot on my skin and his voice is sweet in my ear. I don’t want to move. I don’t want to let him know how I feel, but he’s not going to accept my silence. Clay pulls my ponytail harder. I can’t tilt my head much more without falling over.
“I asked you a question. Are you such a rude bitch that you don’t answer people when they talk to you?”
All I can do is swallow. I’m trying to grab onto the wall of lockers for support, but my hands keep slipping. If he forces me much farther, I’m going to have to reach out for him. I’m going to have to hold onto him or risk falling over.
“Come on, Elle. I thought that you were kinda getting into this.” He steps forward, pressing his body against mine. I can feel his cock through his clothes as it presses into my side and I try not to move. His muscles have me pinned in place. There’s nowhere for me to go.
I can’t tell him the truth. I can’t tell him that I want this and that I don’t want him to stop. It would make me just as fucked up as he is, and I don’t want to admit that I am. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, but I finally manage to speak. “Leave me alone.” I find my voice, but he doesn’t like what he hears.
“No, Elle. I told you, you don’t belong here. But now that you’re here, you’re mine. Let’s see.” He trails a hand up my hip and slowly under my shirt. I try to jerk away from him, but I’m pressed so tightly between his body and the lockers that there’s nowhere for me to go.
Clamping my eyes shut, I try to ignore that he’s reached my bra. He leans back and skims his fingers over my tit, lightly pinching the nipple through the fabric.
God, help me. I suck in a breath at his touch and fire shoots through my body. I’m throbbing for him, every cell of my being calling out for him to keep touching me.
I don’t want him to take his hands off of me. But I can’t let him think that this is okay. I feel frozen, completely unsure of what I should do.
“You like that, Elle?” He suddenly rips my bra down and steps back before yanking my shirt up and over my head. I try to cover my chest, but he pins my arms back against the locker. “Why don’t you come out like this, kitten? Show everyone your sweet tits that you’ve got.”
Before I can stop him, he dips his head and sucks on my nipple. My nerves are going crazy. I want to push him off of me, I’m repulsed by the fact that he would do this to me, but at the same time…
I don’t want him to stop. I haven’t ever been touched like this before and my nipple hardens in his mouth. His hands are strong and big and even though I fight against him, he easily holds me in place.
I’m stuck. There’s literally nothing that I can do to get away from him.
“God, you taste good. Has anyone ever told you that, Elle?” He brushes a bit of hair out of my face, and as soon as my hand is free, I make it into a fist and hit him in the chest, trying to push him off of me. He just chuckles as my punch lands weakly on his muscle.
“Of course they haven’t. Probably because you’ve never let anyone touch you like this before, am I right? Am I the first person to get to play with frigid little Elle’s perfect tits? I know that I’m going to get to be the first person to be in that tight little cunt of yours.” He leers at me and I hit him again.
All he does is laugh and catch my hand before pinning it back up against the locker. A jolt of pain shoots through my wrist as it slams back into the metal. “I love a kitten with a little fight. Shall we continue or are you ready to go see your friends?”
Cheer practice is the last thing on my mind, and judging by the way he’s looking at me, the last thing on his, too. He wants to devour me, I can tell, and there’s nothing that I can do to stop him.
“Let me go.” My voice is quiet, but at least I’ve said something. I’m trying to keep my eyes locked on him even though I feel exposed. Even though the cool air from the locker room is making my nipples pebble. Even though I can feel that my panties soaking wet.
“Say please.” He leans towards me, his eyes dark and cutting. There’s no joy or spark in them now. He wants to know that he’s won, that he’s broken me. The tip of his tongue shoots out and he licks his lower lip.
I can’t help but stare. My entire body feels like it’s on fire and I’m trembling under his touch and his gaze, and I can’t look away from him.
When I don’t answer, he slides his hand along the waistband of my pants. My breath catches in my throat as he slips his fingers into the waistband and gently tugs it down. I clench my teeth and close my eyes, knowing what’s coming next.
His breathing is getting faster and I can feel his hot breath on my neck as he slides his hand down the front of my pants. A few more inches and he’s going to know the truth. He’s going to know that…
“Oh, little kitten, did you get all wet just for me?” Clay slides his finger slowly between my legs, rubbing my clit as he does. I can’t help it and I moan a little, arching my back towards him.
“Please.” The only way to get out of this sit
uation is to give him what he wants. He wants to be in power. He wants control. I manage to say this one word, but I don’t know what I’m asking him to do.
Please stop? Please continue?
“Please, what, little kitten? I think that you like this.” He squeezes my wrists tight and twists his hand, slipping one finger into me.
“Stop.” It takes tons of effort for me to say this one word, and I honestly don’t think that he’s going to listen to me. Not when he has me to himself. Not when he can do whatever he wants.
I’m shocked at what happens next.
At my request, he drops my arms and steps back, pulling his hand from my pants. I immediately pick up my shirt and hold it in front of me, trying to cover myself. Tears burn at the corners of my eyes, but they don’t fall.
“Cover yourself up, Elle. You look like a whore.” Clay scoffs as he looks at me. My entire body feels like it’s on fire and I’m sure that I’m bright red with embarrassment. “I’ll see you on the field. Make sure that you cheer really hard for me, little kitten.”
He then winks and slowly sucks his finger. My face grows red as I watch him close his eyes and lick me off of him. “That is delicious, Elle. Can’t wait to see what else you have for me.”
I can’t speak. I can barely look at him. Shame heats my face and I want to fall to the floor and die.
When he turns on his heel, I feel myself relax, but just a little. I know that I’m never going to relax, not while I’m stuck at the same school with him. Not while he has me in his own hell. Not when I want him as badly as I do.
The door closes softly behind him and a sob escapes my body.
I hate him. I can’t believe that he would come in here and humiliate me like that. Even though I don’t know what the fuck I did to him, I don’t care. I want to leave Kennedy Academy. I want to get away from him.
Before, I wanted to stay. I wanted to show him that he couldn’t treat me like that and just get away with it, but now I just want out. Walking the same halls as him is too much. Being on a cheer squad that wants him to win is damn near killing me.
He’s not a prince. He’s a monster. He’s the monster of Kennedy Academy and, as much as I hate to say it, he’s won.
I want out.
Clay
“You were late to practice today. Where did you go after your meeting with Tate and Elle?”
I raise my eyebrows at Robby. It’s not like him to be brave enough to actually question what I’ve been doing, but give any asshole some beer and suddenly he’s fucking Napolean.
“You my mom?” I take a long swig of my beer before slamming the can onto the table and crushing it with my fist. Like I should have crushed Elle’s little wrist earlier. The only problem with that is that then she wouldn’t be able to cheer and I’d have a harder time keeping an eye on her.
I need to remind myself why the fuck I let her walk out of the locker room today. I could have fucked her brains out right then and there and nobody would have known the difference.
But I wanted to wait.
I want her to know that I can take her whenever and wherever I want and that she can’t do a damn thing to stop me.
I’m the one in control, not her.
That’s what I keep telling myself, but there’s part of me that’s not sure if that’s true. There’s a small part of me – really fucking small – that likes spending time with Elle. How fucked up is that?
Her dad, or step-dad, or whatever the fuck he is picked her up after cheer practice today. I’m used to the guys at school looking like they want to lap Elle up, but I was not expecting that pervert to look at her the way he did.
He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her as she walked up to his car, her head down, her ponytail falling over one shoulder. I noticed how she wouldn’t make eye contact with him. Nobody else did, but I saw it all.
Fucking tight workout pants. I want to be the only one knowing what’s going on under them, and now that I’ve had a taste, I don’t know that I’m going to be able to stop.
“What crawled up your ass?” Teague pops another can of beer and hands it to me. I take it and chug half of it before setting it back down. Robby, Brett, Teague, and I are in my suite. My mom bought us the beer so that I’d make myself scarce this evening while she and my dad have a dinner party.
Hell, even a prince has a price, and until I’m 21, I just need dear old mommy to buy my booze.
“Elle. The fucking kitten, that’s who.” My guts twist when I think about her in the locker room. I didn’t want to stop when I got my mouth on her sweet little tit and my finger up her tight pussy. I want to suck her dry and then fuck her raw over the bench. The very thought makes me shift uncomfortably to adjust.
“Fuck that girl. She looks uptight as shit.” Robby again, but this time I’m fed up with his shit.
“Get the fuck out, man.” Everyone turns to look at me. Even Brett, who tends to be quiet, has his eyebrows raised. What? I can’t tell people to get out of my space? “Don’t look at me like that Brett, I know that you fucking hate Robby as much as I do.”
“What did I do?” Robby sits up but doesn’t make any movement to leave and I slam my hand down on the sofa arm. He jerks back like he’s afraid that I’m going to hit him and I feel a burst of pleasure run through me.
“I don’t like you talking about Elle like that.” She’s mine. She’s mine to torment and she’s mine to ruin.
“Jesus, Clay, you got a hard-on for her now? Is it because she looks so much like Tiffany?”
Fucking Robby just doesn’t know when to stop. He’s always been a bit of a prick and him talking about Elle like this is pissing me off. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m on my feet. Robby stands too, a little unsteady because of the beer – my beer – and faces off to me.
“You want to go? You got something to say?” Robby sways a little and I see my chance. I know that I shouldn’t. I know that Teague and Brett are going to have to clean up my mess, as usual, but I don’t give a shit.
I don’t think I’ve felt anything quite as satisfying as punching Robby Yost right in the middle of his fucking face. Even though I’m unsteady and half-drunk, I feel his nose crunch under my fist. Blood immediately splatters out and starts pouring down his chin as he falls back into his chair.
Teague is on his feet in a second and grabs my arm, but I don’t fight him. I would love to get on top of Robby and just pound his face into the ground, but that won’t help anything.
There’s only one thing that can fix how I feel, and that’s destroying Elle.
Chapter 9
Elle
Somehow, I managed to convinced Ted to drop me off early at school so that I would have the practice room for myself. The strings teacher, Mrs. Ward, told me that I could play with the group for a week or two before I had to audition for a certain chair.
I’ve heard everyone at Kennedy Academy play. I know that they think they’re all great musicians, but I have them beat.
I can thank my dad for making me fall in love with classical music when I was younger and for pushing me to start violin lessons when I was 4. My mom said that I was too young, but after he died, it became my escape.
I rosin my bow and close my eyes, feeling the music course through me before I even play the first note. This is one thing that my dad and I shared and I always like to think of him before putting the bow to strings.
After a moment, my eyes still closed, I start playing. There’s nobody else in the building. I’m the only one here and the music that flies from my fingers is angry. It’s lonely. Before I know it, tears are dripping down my face and splashing on my violin.
Beethoven has always made me cry.
The piece is long and I keep my eyes closed, imagining that I’m playing to my dad. Imagining that he were here to hear me. My bow feels like a natural extension of my body, and I drag it across the strings, enjoying the sad sound that rises from the movement.
Even when I don’t know what to say or how to
handle things going on in my life, playing violin helps. It helped when I lost my dad, and it’s helping now.
After I finish, I drop my bow. As much as I wish my dad were here, I’m all alone.
“You sounded amazing.”
Or so I thought. My heart immediately starts racing and I look up. I’m immediately afraid that it’s Clay.
Could he have someone found out that I was going to be here early and followed me here? My heart pounding, I turn around slowly, my bow held out in front of me like a weapon.
Yeah, like a tiny piece of wood and horsehair is going to be able to save me from his rippling muscles.
It’s not until I’m completely turned around that I realize the voice belonged to a woman. It’s Mrs. Ward, and she’s watching me, her hands clasped together, tears in her eyes. “I had no idea that you were that good, Elle. Why do you hold back so much in class?”
Mainly because I don’t want to draw attention to myself. I don’t want to give anyone any reason to really pay attention to me, but I can’t help myself when playing and thinking about my dad.
There’s no way that I’m going to tell her all of that, though, so instead I just shrug. A lot of teachers may get upset at me for being disrespectful, but she nods.
“Whatever the reason, first chair is yours. I haven’t heard a student play like that in years! Please tell me that you’re considering a music degree when you go to college.” She crosses the room to me, all smiles and happiness.
I don’t have the heart to tell her that I don’t want to go to college. There’s no way that I can stomach being in the same place for that many more years. I need to be free to go whenever I start to feel tied down, and dorms and classes don’t fit with that.
“Honestly, I have no idea.” I put my violin down and loosen my bow before tucking them both back in the case. “And are you sure that I’m okay to be the first chair? I know that Victoria is good.”
