by Gina Finley
There’s an edge now to his voice again that scares me, even though I’m not the target.
“Pick a hand,” Dash says.
“I don’t–”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dash says. He motions to the other three. “Get his fucking arms out.”
Tyler and Fox immediately drop to the deck and pull Jason’s arms out straight. Shane puts his foot in the center of his back. Jason is squirming but he’s not pinned to the deck.
“Alright,” Dash says. “Because I’m a nice guy, I won’t do the right hand. I’ll do the left.” He leans down. “Because that’s the one you touched her with, motherfucker.”
“Dash! Come on! Please!”
“Fuck off,” Dash says. “And I’d lay your fucking hand out flat, dude, because it’ll hurt way more if you’re making a fist when my foot lands on it.”
Jason is whimpering now as Tyler braces his left arms against the deck.
“Dash,” I say. “You don’t have to do this. Not for me.”
He looks across the water at me and smiles. “I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it because he needs to learn.”
I swallow.
He looks down at Jason.
“Dash!” he cries. “Come on! You said you wouldn’t break my hands!”
“Hands,” Dash says. “I said hands. That’s correct. That’s why it’s just going to be one hand. Singular. You ready, dude? Let’s get it over with.”
“Dash, I–”
His words roll over into a scream of pain and agony as Dash lifts his foot up and jams it back down on his hand. His entire body jerks. Dash lifts his foot again and smashes his boot back down on Jason’s hand. Jason howls again. Tyler and Fox laugh. Shane stares at him, expressionless.
Dash stomps the hand one more time and Jason screams so loud it hurts my ears. Dash bends down and looks at his now mangled hand, then nods and stands up. “Okay. We’re good.”
Tyler and Fox stand and Shane removes his foot from Jason’s back. Jason immediately curls up into a ball, hugging his hand to his chest. His body is shaking and he’s gasping for air.
“Be glad I didn’t use a hammer,” Dash tells him, untying the boots. “I thought about it, I really did. But a hammer would’ve turned your bones to dust. I didn’t think we needed that this time. So I actually did you a favor.” He steps out of the boots and smiles at him. “So you’re welcome.” He walks back to the edge of the pool and steps down into it. “Get him the fuck out of here and remind him how bad it’ll be if he opens his mouth.”
Tyler and Fox peel him off the ground and they follow Shane back up the path, disappearing around the house, dragging Jason with them.
Dash disappears beneath the water, then reemerges, pushing his hair away from his face and taking a deep breath, then exhaling. He stares at me for a long time, then moves closer to me, the water rippling between us.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he says. “But I thought it was important.”
“What was?”
“Sending a message to him. And to you.”
My heart hammers inside my chest. “What exactly was the message?”
“To Jason, it was to not ever fuck with you again,” he says. “And to you, it was to show you I meant what I said. I do what I want. I take what I want.” He moves closer so that he’s right next to me now. My back is against the wall of the pool and he’s looking down at me. “Whenever I want.”
My heart is racing and I’ve never felt anything like this in my life. Part of me is horrified at what I just saw. The violence, the brutality of what he did to Jason’s hand.
But there’s a part of me that is in awe of what I witnessed. How he took control and nothing was going to stop him from doing what he’d planned to do all along. The way all of them did what he wanted.
“You liked it, didn’t you?” he says, his voice quiet. “I can see it on your face. You liked watching that.”
“I...I don’t know,” I say, fumbling for the words.
He leans into me, his body pressed against mine. “You liked it. You liked that I hurt him for you. You liked that he couldn’t stop me.”
I don’t say anything.
Because it’s true.
He drops his hands in the water and I feel his fingers on my hips. “Say it, Cara. Tell me that you liked it.”
I don’t say anything because I can’t breathe.
“I take what I want,” he whispers, his lips just in front of mine. “When I want it.”
His hand slips inside the bikini bottoms and goes between my legs. I gasp when he pushes his fingers inside of me. I have to hold onto him so that I don’t sink into the water. He’s like a concrete anchor.
“Go ahead,” he whispers. “You know you want to.”
I try to catch my breath as his fingers move inside of me. His other hand slides around my waist, inside the bathing suit and cups my ass. I realize I’m moving my hips.
“Good girl,” he whispers. “Tell me something. Do you want me to stop?”
My fingers dig into his massive shoulders.
“Cara, answer me,” he says. “Do you want me to stop?”
I can’t breathe and I can’t find the words, but I manage to shake my head.
He grunts and moves his fingers deeper into me. I gasp again and I’m not clinging to him. His fingers move quicker and the heat starts to build in my stomach. I wrap my legs around him and move my hips in rhythm with his hand.
“You’re going to come for me,” he whispers. “Aren’t you?”
I’m rocking on his hand and I can barely breathe, so I just nod, as it builds inside of me.
He moves his mouth next to my ear and pushes his fingers up into me. “Come for me, Cara. Right now.”
And I do. Heat and light explode through my body and I scream, hanging onto him. I rock my hips against him as his finger slides in and out of me, wave after wave of pleasure washing through me. He squeezes my ass, holding me in place, driving his hand in and out of me until I go limp against him, my body spent.
I lay my head on his shoulder for a while, listening to the water lap against the sides of the pool, trying to catch my breath. Finally, I drop my legs and I’m standing again in the pool. I open my eyes and he’s staring at me.
There’s no smile, though.
He’s just staring at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Are we clear now?” he asks.
“Clear on what?”
“You’re mine,” he says.
And I think I actually am.
TWENTY TWO
Dash
Watching her come in the pool is incredibly hot.
I saw it on her face as soon as I got back in the pool. She wasn’t completely horrified over what I did to Jason. And that was a good thing.
It intrigues me.
“Let’s get out,” I say.
I can see the questions on her face. I like that, too. I don’t want her to get too comfortable.
She follows me out of the pool and I hand her a towel. She wraps herself up in it, her face flushed. I open the door to the pool house and she steps inside, shivering against the air conditioning. She picks up her clothes and walks quickly to the bathroom.
I run the towel over my hair, thinking about what I want next. I am rock hard after seeing her explode in the pool. Taking her in the bedroom sounds like the perfect next step.
But I’m feeling connected to her in a way that I haven’t felt in a very long time and that makes me...uncomfortable. I need to remind myself of who I am and what I want.
And what I don’t want.
And that’s a relationship with complications.
I can find other girls to fuck who I feel nothing for.
There’s something gnawing at me about Cara, though, and I can’t have that.
She steps out of the bathroom, back in her clothes, her wet hair brushed through. She looks around, like she’s looking for something, then settles her eyes on me. “Now what?”<
br />
“Now you go home,” I tell her. “We’re done for the night.”
“That’s it?” she says.
“What else do you want?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “I just...I thought that maybe...I don’t know. Nevermind.”
Good. She’s confused. That keeps me in control.
Then I see anger filter into her expression. “What the fuck is this?”
“What do you mean?”
“You force me to come over here,” she says. “You put on this show of beating the shit out of Jason. Then you...we...whatever just happened out there in the pool. Now you’re telling me to leave?”
I smile at her. “Tell me which part you didn’t like.”
Her face reddens. “I don’t like being messed with.”
“Didn’t seem like you minded it out in the pool.”
“Not what I’m talking about,” she says. “And you know it.”
I shrug. “I don’t know it at all. I asked you to come over to get to know you better. I demonstrated to you that Jason will not bother you ever again. And I made you come harder than you’ve ever come in your life.” I pause. “Sounds like a pretty good night for you.”
“Fuck you,” she says.
There’s such disdain in her voice and she’s pissed.
And now so am I.
I’m not going to have her talk to me like that.
“Alright,” I say.
She looks at me. “Alright?”
I grab her and pull her roughly to me. I yank her toward the couch and bend her over it. “This what you want?” I push my hips into her ass. “Just like this?”
“Stop it!”
I grab her hips and push into her again. “I’ll bet you’d come even harder.”
“You’re an asshole.”
I let her go and she side steps away from me. She turns to look at me.
“I am an asshole,” I tell her. “Don’t ever forget that. And don’t forget what I can do.” I look her up and down. “Be at my locker before school tomorrow.”
“Excuse me?”
“What didn’t you understand?”
“You think you can just get me off and that’s going to make me any happier about doing whatever you tell me?”
“I don’t care how you feel about it,” I tell her. “But you’ll do what I tell you. We’ve been over this.”
She stares at me for a long time. “What exactly is your deal?”
“I don’t have a deal,” I tell her.
“I think you do,” she says. “Are you super fucked up over your mom? Is that it?”
Anger percolates in my gut. “You need to shut your fucking mouth and leave.”
She smiles. “You are, aren’t you? That’s it, right? You play mister tough guy so no one will know you’re hurting. Scare everyone away so they can’t see what’s really going on with you.”
“Leave. Now.”
She laughs. “Wow. It’s really that simple, isn’t it?” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry you lost your mother. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone because I know how bad it sucks. But this whole act? You might be able to fool other people, but you can’t fool me.”
“I’m warning you, Cara,” I tell her. “You need to shut up. Now.”
“Or what?” she asks, raising her eyebrows. “You’ll have my dad fired? You’ll fuck me over the couch?” She laughs. “I’m not sure you’ve got it in you.”
The anger ignites in my gut.
She has no idea what she’s starting.
“You know what?” I tell her. “Don’t come to my locker in the morning. Never mind.”
The confidence she had for a minute there recedes like the tide, replaced by confusion now on her face. “So, what? I’m off the hook? I’m not your little play toy anymore?”
“You’ll find out tomorrow,” I tell her, heading for the bedroom. “You’ll see what I’ve got in me.”
TWENTY THREE
Cara
I barely sleep.
I ride my bike home from Dash’s house, hoping the ride in the cool night air will help clear my head. But it doesn’t. I’m not sure anything would.
I shower as soon as I get home, rinsing the chlorine and the memories of the night off of me. It’s becoming a thing. Go out, then try and shower away what’s happened.
Except it doesn’t work.
I pull on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and crawl into bed and end up staring at my ceiling for most of the night, thinking about Dash and being in the pool with him and the roller coaster that being with him is. By the time the sun peeks through my window, I’ve slept maybe an hour and I’m dreading going to school. But I get myself out of bed, get dressed, eat two slices of toast and down a cup of coffee before hopping on the bike and heading to school.
He told me to meet him at his locker, but I’ve already decided I’m not doing it. I know he’s threatened my father’s job, but if I give in to every single thing he tells me do, I won’t be able to live with myself. I feel like I’ve already done more than I should’ve and now it’s all completely fucking with my head.
How can I despise a guy who gave me the greatest orgasm of my life?
I laugh and shake my head as I pedal. I’ve been with other guys, but if I’m telling the truth, none of them were very exciting when it came to sex. They barely knew what they were doing and any pleasure I took away from the encounter was my own doing. But with Dash in the pool?
Holy shit.
I didn’t know that’s what it could be like.
And we didn’t even have sex.
And it wasn’t even about just that. Talking to him in the pool, hearing him mention his mom, it felt like we were actually talking. No one else was around and he was letting down his guard. And I liked him. I wasn’t thinking about all of the other shit. It was just him and me and I liked him. I could forget about him touching me without asking the night before and the posturing and the threats. For a moment, he felt like a normal person.
And then it all went to shit.
He started ordering me around, going completely cold, and reverting right back to what he’d been. I hated him again. And I know I got shitty with him and I know I’m tempting fate by pushing back, but I was angry. And a little hurt. I wanted to give him what he gave me. I wanted to be with him. But it was like he changed into a different person during the walk from the pool to the house.
Well, fuck that and fuck meeting him at his locker.
I ride into the parking lot at school and park my bike in the rack. I swear I’m like the only kid that rides a bike and doesn’t drive a giant SUV or a German sports car. My hair is windblown and my cheeks are cold from the ride, but I feel more awake now after a sleepless night and I’m ready for whatever is waiting for me inside.
Or, at least, I think I am.
The courtyard is quiet when I walk through it. I’m not sure what’s missing, but it lacks the buzz I’ve seen the previous two days. Maybe fewer kids? I’m not sure, but it doesn’t feel like I’m the subject of everyone’s attention for the first time in three days and I like that.
But when I get to my first period, I realize that everything is wrong.
My teacher is waiting for me at the door and hands me a small, blue slip. “You need to report to the admin office.”
I look at the slip. It has my name written on it and my teacher’s name. “What for?”
“Not sure,” she says. “But you’ll need to go now. Do you know where you’re headed?”
“Uh, yes,” I tell her, confused. “Okay.”
She forces a smile and closes the door after I step out into the hallway. I make the sixty second walk down to the admin offices and turn the slip into Mrs. Jackson when I get there.
She looks at it, nods and tells me to wait until she comes back. I stand there at her desk, still unsure of what’s going on. Butterflies are bouncing around in my stomach and they aren’t the good kind.
She comes back a minute later and motions f
or me to follow her. I do, trailing her down a narrow corridor with glass-walled offices. We reach a door with a placard next to it that reads “Andrew Winchester, Headmaster” and the butterflies in my stomach turn to small cannonballs.
Mrs. Jackson knocks on the door once, then pushes it open. A man in a navy suit, white dress shirt, and gray tie looks over the desk he’s sitting behind and waves us in. Mrs. Jackson steps out of the way and I take a couple of tentative steps into the office.
“Come in, Miss Byrne,” he says. “Please have a seat.”
I hear the door close behind me and walk over to the chairs next to his desk. I sit down and put my bag on the floor next to me. My hands are shaking and I place them in my lap, folding them together.
“We’ve had a chance to meet yet,” he says, adjusting the rimless glasses on his pointy nose. “I’m Mr. Winchester and I’m the headmaster here at Diamond Cove.”
I nod because I’m too nervous to say anything. He has dark hair, cut short, with flecks of gray along the sides. There are wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and even deeper wrinkles across his forehead as he frowns, looking at a piece of paper on his desk.
“Miss Byrne, I’m going to cut right to the chase here,” he says, looking at me. “Have you been involved in any altercations here at Diamond Cove in your first two days as a student?”
It takes a moment to register what exactly he’s asking.
Shit.
“Um...yes,” I tell him. “Yesterday.”
His mouth sets in a firm line for a moment. “Well, I appreciate your honesty. That will help us move things along here. I’ve been told you struck another student yesterday at lunch. Is that accurate?”
“Yes.”
“Was there a particular reason for you doing this?”
I look down at my hands. “Well...I haven’t gotten along with Whitney since my first day. And the night before, she–”
“Were you defending yourself?” he asks. “Was she doing anything to you yesterday at lunch that compelled you to defend yourself?”
“Well, no, but–”
“So then you struck her with no provocation,” he says and it’s not a question. “We are in agreement on that?”
