Break Me, Baby: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Silver Creek High Book 1)

by Belladona Cunning

  Seriously, though. How much more of this can I take? I’m a very strong person. Normally. But being around those four are steadily knocking down all my fortitudes. Even with Callum being a mean as he is, there is still a little part of me that responds to his actions.

  Jesus. It’s like I’m asking someone to treat me like shit. Like I relish being nothing more than a puppet being led by strings. I don’t just so you know. But I guess that doesn’t excuse the fact that’s exactly what it looks like. The only member of their group that hasn’t treated me with outright disdain is Ellis. Asher, I can’t really put a finger on it yet, but there’s something about him that calls to me just as it does the other three.

  Strange, right? I freely use my body to temper the memories, but I’ve never lusted after four guys at once. Definitely not friends. It’s not normal, and the only thing I can blame it on is the fact I’ve been without for so long.

  Yes, that’s it. It’s my body making all the decisions for me, and instead of fighting it, I’ve learned to go with the flow. I just never expected it to go this far.

  Shifting in my heels, I regard the front door with open disdain and sigh. Not at that the intricate, regal etchings, or sterling silver, but at the person standing just on the other side.

  When I found out what street the party would be on tonight, I never expected it would be here. Right up the street from the school, and in the last place I ever thought I’d step foot again. The place of my past demise.

  Callum Lockridge’s home.

  It’s been years since I last went inside his home.

  Used to be, I knew every nook and cranny of this humongous house. I spent hours, upon hours, discovering new things with him. We spent most of our weekends cuddled up on the couch, watching movies. And when that became too much, we slowly discovered each other without going too far. He was always easy with me, treating me as if I was a piece of fragile glass. I always used to revel in the feel of his skin against mine, of his hands trailing, tongue tasting. But it was all such a beautiful lie, I didn’t even notice until it was too late.

  Being here has my nerves on edge, not knowing what will happen just as soon as I step through the door. Knowing me, I’m just making a big deal out of nothing. At least, that’s what I’m hoping for.

  Still, that doesn’t stop the horrifying memories from flashing through my mind.

  Callum lip locked with Alessandra.

  Seeing him press her up against the wall, coping his feel of her supple flesh.

  The two main reasons I went to the upstairs bathroom in the first place that night. Seeing them two together, it tore something up inside of me. It left me raw, bleeding.

  It’s the last time I ever cried over a guy.

  Now, every time I see this house it always brings back terrible memories, including what transpired inside the bathroom once I was there.

  One moment of drunken weakness caused my downfall.

  You want to know something? As bad as I hate it, I can’t fault him for his actions, either. No matter how much I want to, because it was his actions that forced me up those stairs in the first place.

  But I can’t really hold it against him. He was drunk, plastered.

  Yes, I know it takes two to tango and what not, but it’s true. Callum was so wasted that night he could barely function. And it was all planned because of what that night meant to both of us.

  That night, I was going to give him everything.

  My soul. The final piece of my heart. My virginity.

  For weeks, we were both excited, knowing what we were going to do. I was anxious, because I knew it would hurt. I heard many horror stories of a person’s first time, and I didn’t want that to be us. Instead, I wanted to enjoy it and deal with the soreness later. I knew he would take care of me, make me feel like a beautiful, sensual woman. I was just too much of a pussy to want to pain to accompany it.

  So, we agreed to get lit. Not, drunk, wasted, or trashed. Just buzzed enough to deal with the impending pain of him going through my innocence.

  However, the drinking got to him—got to us. By the time the party was dwindling down enough for us to slip away, Callum disappeared. I remember him slurring in my ear that he was going to get another drink before we took our party upstairs. I didn’t think nothing of it, but maybe I should have known.

  His friends got involved that night. And then, it turned into a match of who could get drunker off Callum’s father’s two-hundred-year-old scotch first. They always did like to play their games.

  Until that point, everything had been perfect. We were equal drink for drink, both buzzing just as hard as the other.

  I remember Callum being quite handsy with me. I can remember it shooting a thrill of excitement through me as his fingers trailed over the side of my aching breasts, ribs, before finally wrapping around the globes of my ass.

  I liked him that way. Loved the feel of his hands dancing over my clothed skin as his mouth devoured mine. He was always such an excellent kisser, so attentive, so in tune.

  I waited for him, softly swaying my hips to the music. The music coupled with the alcohol made me need him even more. I watched a few couples bump and grind on each other, their faces twisted in pleasure. It’s what had my feet moving after several minutes had passed of him not returning.

  So, I went to look for him. My body weaved through the crowd, bumping into several people as I shuffled my way in the direction he’d gone. The scent of stale beer and sweat drifted through the room as I meandered my way into the kitchen, only to halt.

  I found him pressing Alessandra up against the wall, ravaging her. His friends were catcalling and boasting at their antics, but slowly it was killing me inside.

  That’s not hurt me the most, though. After all of that, I would have still forgiven him if he had asked me, that’s how far down the rabbit hole I used to be for Callum. I would have chucked it up to a mistake—a drunken, idiotic mistake—and called it a day.

  No, what hurt me the most was the smug smile of victory on Alessandra’s face when he started kissing her neck and groping her breasts right in front of me. It’s the same smile she sneers at me during school now, while she perches herself on Callum’s arm as he walks through the halls like some God.

  Yes, I could forgive him for what he did to me two years ago. But I don’t think I could ever forgive him for choosing her, while sober, over me. That hurts the worst.

  Liquor makes people do stupid things, and I knew if Callum was in his right mind, he would have never touched her. He was in love with me. It had always been me. At least, back then it was. Now, I’m not so sure.

  Still, at that moment, it stung. Him groping, kissing, and basically dry humping her, is what forced me up the stairs. I can remember taking a drink off someone without caring what it was, then downing it to help drown out my sorrows. Except, it drowned nothing out.

  It made me numb. My thoughts slowed until I could barely form a word or two together. Intense heat assaulted me, then ever so slowly, my limbs didn’t react, and my mind didn’t compute.

  Someone had drugged it.

  Within minutes, the room was tilting, swaying, and blurring around the edges of my vision. I was stumbling all over my feet, grasping at the walls to help maintain my balance.

  Something wasn’t right, I knew that for sure. But it was too late for me, and my brain was firing just enough to think of hiding away in Callum’s room until it wore off. Except, it had been much too late by the time someone grabbed my arm and pulled me into the bathroom. By that time, my brain was not quite firing on all cylinders.

  “You going in?” I’m pulled from my thoughts by a masculine voice behind me. Turning around, I spy Asher puffing on a smoke by the front steps.

  I don’t know why, but I really wish I was that cigarette at this moment. My eyes immediately drop to the curve of his lips as they wrap around the cylindrical object. I wonder what he tastes like. Probably the hint of nicotine and those butterscotch candies he seem
s to always have in his mouth at school to curb the cravings. I bet he’d taste fantastic, like candy and danger.

  He and I haven’t really gotten any alone time since he arrived at Silver Creek. Actually, I have gotten little time with any of them besides Callum. It was only that split second of peering into Ellis’ eyes that night that entranced me enough to fixate on him and him alone.

  “Still debating,” I reply through a chuckle.

  He says nothing for several minutes, just merely stands there in silence, staring at me. But when he takes another puff, then stubs the cigarette on the concrete, his words cause my blood to run cold. “Turn around and go home, Jess. Nothing good can come of you going in there.”

  What does he mean by that? “It’s just a party.”

  “Don’t be stupid, girl,” he growls, and something about the sound makes me take notice. It’s nothing like a growl of pleasure. This is a warning. Maybe he knows something I don’t.

  “Does Callum have something planned?” I ask, hoping his answer isn’t what I think it will be.

  “If he did—” He stops, giving me a strange look. Then his features harden momentarily. “You think I’d nark on him?”

  Something tells me he would if things were more dire. “Fair enough. But still, it’s just a party. It’s harmless.” I have to swallow the bile that rises in my throat. A lot of things can happen at a party. I can attest to that.

  Asher exhales a long breath of exasperation. His head tilts back on his shoulders before he raises it once more, eyes locking on mine. “Anything can happen at a party like this. You need to go home and stay there. We wouldn’t want Callum’s little toy getting hurt, now, would we?”

  He’s being a dick in the hopes it’ll make me leave. I don’t know how I know this, but I do. But there is something Asher doesn’t know—I don’t take kindly to threats. It’s just not in me to care at this point, nor any point soon. What’s the worst that could happen? I’ve already had everything stripped away from me. Even to the point I was nothing more than a shallow puddle of tears and blood on the floor.

  Just thinking about that night has a tinge of anxiety simmering in my veins. I was nervous before, but now, I’m a blithering wreck on the inside. But I need to stay calm. Cool, calm, and collected.

  I can’t show what I’m feeling on the outside. Something tells me Asher is like a shark slowly swimming through the ocean. They can smell the blood from the injured a mile away, and I will not be the injured fish in this scenario.

  “Thanks for your worry, but it’s unwarranted. I’m going to pop in, have a few drinks, dance, then be on my way.”

  He scoffs. “You actually think it’s that easy? Callum is—” He stops mid-sentence, seeming to think better of it. Then a slight smile floats across his lips, his eyes alighting with something akin to excitement when he says, “You know what? Sure. Fine. I can’t wait to see this.”

  I start to ask him what he means by that, being so cryptic and all, but before I can, he’s up close and personal, shoving the door open for me to walk in. I don’t know what I expected to see, but it’s nothing compared to what my eyes feast upon. The sight before me literally, and figuratively, takes my breath away.

  This is nothing compared to what I remember.

  There are people carting trays of white powder around the masses. Some people take their rolled-up dollar bills and get a hit, while others just dip their finger in it and coat the front of their teeth. They never stop dancing; never stop long enough to consider it a bad idea. They all free in their actions, not caring who will see them or what they will think.

  Bottles of booze, both dark and clear. People from my school pass them around the room to anyone that wants a sip, while they get lost. They’re handing them back to what I assume is staff hired for the occasion. Staff that must have signed some serious NDA’s not to report all this drug usage and underage drinking.

  Shifting my gaze to the corner, I find a settee situated near a glass coffee table. There are mounds of narcotics—three different types perfectly split into their own pile.

  My mouth opens in shock as I watch people carelessly walk by, randomly picking up pills and shoving them in their mouths. They chase them down with their drinks, never once taking the time to consider what it will do to them.

  I’m all about testing the limits most days, but you don’t do that. They don’t know where the narcotics came from; nor the idea of what they even are. It’s reckless.

  Music pounds through the surround sound the Lockridge’s installed a few years. Sweat, sex, and desperation cling to the humid air as bodies writhe and grind against each other on the makeshift dance floor.

  It’s an absolute mess, while appearing organized at the same time.

  “Woo!” a booming voice yells at the top of their lungs. I know that voice from anywhere, even if it’s slightly altered because of whatever he’s consumed. “Look what the cat dragged in.” Arms instantly encircle my waist. Familiar arms, drudging up all too familiar feelings I’d much rather suppress. Before I can say anything, my feet leave the floor, and he’s carting me further into the rancid party. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!”

  “Callum, you’re drunk,” I express, rolling my eyes. Figures.

  “And high, but that makes no difference.” He releases a full belly laugh, catching me off guard.

  Glancing behind me, I catch Asher’s eyes just over Callum’s shoulder, seeing him offer a tiny shrug with a tight smile on his face, as if to say, “I told you so, but you wouldn’t listen.”

  I should have.

  Should have taken my own knotted up stomach into account and know this would be a bad, bad idea. But I didn’t. Instead, when Asher spouted those words it made me feel like I had something to prove.

  Oh, how very wrong I was.

  CHAPTER 17

  Carrying me through the house, eyes track our movements. Some in confusion, other’s with intrigue. I know at least half in attendance are biting at the bit to see what happens. Their eyes scour our faces, treading from the person they look up to most at Silver Creek high to the whore that began his target.

  I sneer at them, narrowing my eyes in warning as we come to a stop in the kitchen. The music isn’t as loud in here, but it’s still deafening. The bass beats in tandem to the rampant thud of my heart as it knocks against my ribs.

  “Let me go.” I try to pry his arm from around me, but no amount of strength I have will deter him.

  With everything in me, I fight against the burn of his fingers against my flesh. They hold me just under the crop top I’m wearing, the rough tip of his fingers digging into my soft curves. I know it wasn’t his intention, because I’m sure he’d much rather see me hurt than coax it better.

  I just wish my body agreed. Damn hormones. It’s like I’m PMSing all the time, which sucks. Because I can’t control my reaction to him. I can hate him—I do hate him—but my body seems to disagree, as if the bitch is a glutton for punishment.

  “Let me go, let me go,” he taunts in a girlish twang. My God, how much has he had to drink and take?

  I know I shouldn’t worry, but this isn’t Callum. Yes, he’s a bastard of the biggest magnitude, but he’s not sloppy.

  And right now, calling him sloppy is a compliment.

  When I shift in his arms, he allows me. He rests his hand on the lower part of my back as I slide to the floor. I push the thought out of my head of how good it feels to have his strong body plastered against mine. And it does feeling good. Amazing, actually.

  Goddammit, don’t think about that, Jess. Nothing good will come of it, I chastise myself.

  I need to remember Callum as the guy treating me like shit. Not the boy I fell in love with freshman year. I need to differentiate the two, so I’m not stuck on the precipice of making a giant mistake.

  Pulling me closer, I fight the gasp, fight the feelings—fight everything I hate that he makes me feel.

  He stares down at me silently—eyes hungrily raking ov
er my face and cleavage. The level of alcohol wafting from his breath nearly has teetering on my feet, like I’m catching second-hand drunkenness or some shit.

  Damn, he’s tore the fuck up right now. There’s no way he would touch me with such familiarity if he wasn’t.

  Pushing past the lust aiding his breath in making me dizzy on my feet, I look closer. Just like him, my eyes scan his face for any sign of distress. I don’t know why, because he doesn’t deserve my worry, but I do it anyway. And what I find has me practically shivering in my heels.

  It’s the pallor of his skin—pale, pasty, yet hot at the same time. It’s the pounding of his heart against his ribs, pumping so hard I expect it to come out of his chest at any moment. It’s the crazy glint in his eyes.

  All of those together has me pressing harder against him, my hands cupping his face in a tight grip so his vision doesn’t stray.

  “Callum, how much have you had?” Fear like I’ve never known before rises to the surface. I shouldn’t feel anything toward him, but I can’t seem to help myself.

  I barely suppress a gag at the smell of liquor on his breath as he whispers, his words causing my heart to stall in my chest. “Enough to forget all about you.”

  Forget about me? Why would he need to do that? It doesn’t take drinking a vat of liquor and downing a pound of drugs to accomplish that. He can just leave me alone. Forget I even exist.

  Before I can come up with a retort, I hear a blood-curdling screech sound from behind me. Then, I feel thin, delicate fingers weave through my short strands, and tighten to the point of pain as they jerk me out of Callum’s hold. Pain blossoms at the back of my skull. My entire being lights up with fire as I feel hundreds of hairs ripping out of my scalp before I’m tossed to the floor.

  “Stupid bitch! He’s mine!” Alessandra hisses.

  I don’t even have enough time to right myself—to gather my bearings—before her shoe connects with my mid-section. It forces the air from my lungs in an audible grunt of pain.