King of Corium: Dark Enemies to Lovers Bully Romance (Corium University Book 1)

by J. L. Beck

  She is just about to pick up one of her books when Ren kicks it away from her grasp and in front of my feet.

  “Very mature,” she murmurs and glares up at him.

  “Let’s go, Ren,” I growl and purposely step on her book. Some pages tear beneath the sole of my shoe, and a shocked gasp falls from Aspen’s lips. Her eyes go wide, and she scurries over to my feet, grabbing the book as if it’s some precious artifact. She is kneeling inches in front of my feet but not paying me the slightest attention. All she’s worried about is her stupid little book, and I fucking hate it.

  I hate that she is ignoring me.

  I hate that my dick is getting hard just from looking at her.

  I hate everything about Aspen Mather.

  “Yeah, let’s go. We have better things to do.” Ren nods and walks past me. I fall in step with him, leaving Aspen behind to gather her things.

  Wanting her gone from my mind, I walk faster in hopes that distance between us will also distance my thoughts, but like a cancer, the image of her kneeling in front of me is only growing.

  “Fuck!” I call out more to myself than anyone else.

  “What?” Ren asks, totally clueless about the battle going on in my head.

  “Nothing,” I snap. “I’m skipping this class. Have something else I have to take care of.”

  “Okay,” Ren says, drawing out the a.

  Spinning around, I walk back the way I came from and take the elevator down to the dorms. The door slides open with a bing, and I make my way down the corridor, opposite to where I usually go.

  The word rat is still painted on her door. It doesn’t look like anyone ever tried to clean it off. Raising my hand, I rap my knuckles against the door, glad that it doesn’t have a peephole since I’m certain she wouldn’t open if she knew I was on the other side.

  As soon as I see the doorknob turn, I push the door open and shove my way into the room.

  “What the hell—” Aspen yells, stumbling back.

  Smirking, I step inside and close the door behind me, shutting us in together in the small space that is her room. I can already breathe a little easier, my mind slowly winding down as I take in her trembling body in front of me.

  Now, I have her full attention, and here, I’m in control.

  “What do you want?” she asks, squaring up her shoulders like she isn’t scared, but the slight shaking of her voice gives her away. She is afraid all right, and she probably should be.

  “Just coming to check on you.” I shrug. “You seemed upset in the hallway.”

  “Fuck you. What do you really want?”

  She wants the truth? Fine. “I really want to choke you out again, so I can do with your body whatever I want to without you fighting or talking.”

  Her breath hitches, and all the blood drains from her face. Slowly, she starts backing away from me until her legs hit the edge of her bed, and she is forced to stop.

  “There is seriously something wrong with you.”

  “Probably, yeah.” I take a step toward her. “You don’t seem too fond of that idea… so maybe I could be satisfied with something else.”

  “Like what?”

  I haven’t actually thought that far yet, so it takes me a moment to come up with something. What would satisfy me? I want to control her, I want her to submit to me, but I know she won’t just give it up to me no matter how scared she is.

  I have to start small, give a little—so I can take a lot.

  “I want you to let me touch you.”

  “No.” She shakes her head before I even finish speaking. “I’m not having sex with you.”

  “Who said anything about sex? Get your mind out of the gutter, Aspen.”

  “Whatever it is you want, the answer is no.”

  “Take your shirt off and go lie on your bed.”

  Wrapping her arms around herself like that could protect her from me, she shakes her head furiously.

  “Do it yourself, or I’ll do it for you.” I let the threat hang in the air while I look around. Her dorm room is smaller than my closet, and the walls look like this place should be condemned. Ignoring the condition of her living space, I walk into the attached bathroom.

  There is a shower in the corner, a toilet, and a sink with a small shelf over it. Fuck, this place is more dreadful than a prison cell.

  “When I get back in that room, you better be on the bed with your shirt off,” I yell over my shoulder as I sift through the toiletries on the shelf. When I find what I’m looking for, I grab the small bottle and waltz back into her room.

  A triumphant smile tugs on my lips, seeing her sprawled out on the mattress in only her leggings and bra. She is flat on her stomach, her arms lying next to her body, and her face turned away from me.

  I’m surprised by her position since turning her back to me makes her more vulnerable, but I’m not complaining.

  Slipping out of my boots, I leave them sitting next to the door and get on the bed with her. The mattress gives way with a screeching sound as I move over her and straddle her thighs. When I settle on top of her, the metal springs dig into my knees, and I try to shift, rubbing my crotch against her ass in the process. Her entire body is stiff, her hands balled up in tiny fists next to her.

  Unclasping her bra, I let it fall open, and it slides to the side, exposing every inch of her delicate back. Flipping the top off the lotion bottle in my hand, I squeeze a generous amount into the palm of my hand and drop the bottle to the ground.

  With my free hand, I move her hair away from her shoulders, letting it fall around her head like a halo. Her shoulders are shaking, and I’m not sure if it’s because she is cold, angry, or scared.

  I rub my palms together, making sure I don’t spill any lotion before placing both hands flat on her back. She sucks in a sharp breath at first contact but doesn’t protest as I start rubbing the vanilla-scented lotion into her skin.

  It takes about five minutes of massaging her back before she relaxes the tiniest bit. I run my thumbs down her spine and my whole hand up, wondering how much force it would take to break the bones below her skin. I pay special attention to her shoulders, which are so tight they make my fingers hurt.

  “Why are you doing this?” She suddenly breaks the silence.

  “No talking,” I warn. “Just relax.”

  She doesn’t listen, of course. Even though she doesn’t say another word, her body never fully relaxes. I keep massaging her back, shoulders, and even her arms until all the lotion has soaked into her skin, and my hands are dried up.

  This entire time, my cock has been as stiff as her shoulders, and I know it won’t take much for me to come right now. Placing my hands beside her body, I shift my weight off her.

  “Turn around,” I order, and to my utter shock, she complies.

  She rolls her body onto her back awkwardly, her hands clutching to the bra covering her chest. When she is all the way turned, I push myself up, settling back onto her thighs.

  “Lose the bra,” I demand while flicking open the button on my jeans in a hurry. Her eyes lower to where my hands are already undoing the zipper, and she can undoubtedly see the bulge hiding beneath.

  “I told you, I’m not doing this with you. Just—”

  I cut her off midsentence by wrapping a hand around her throat. Suddenly, not caring about the bra anymore, her hands fly up to clutch onto my wrist. I’m not choking her, my grip simply holding her in place, but the threat is there.

  “Submit to me… drop your arms and let me do whatever I want to you.”

  “No.” She shakes her head as much as I allow it.

  “Why do you have to be so fucking stubborn?”

  If looks could kill, her death stare would send me straight to the gates of hell. She won’t give in unless I’m offering her something.

  “Submit to me, and I’ll leave you alone for a few days.” I glance down at the thin and scratchy-looking blanket. “And maybe even get you a new blanket and pillow.”

&nb
sp; She studies my face, probably watching for any signs that I’m lying, but I’m actually telling the truth. If it gets me my way, I’ll do it.

  “You know I’ll stand by my word. Just give me what I want. It can be our little secret; no one has to know you gave in to me. Your pride won’t be harmed.”

  “It’s not my pride I’m worried about.” Her voice is low, and somehow, she seems even smaller as she drops her hands from my wrist and places them next to her body.

  Her chest rises and falls rapidly as I release her throat and pull away the bra completely. I cup her breast in my palm and run my thumbs over her rosy nipples, making her shiver.

  As if the universe is making fun of us, her tits fit into my hands like they were made for me. How can we fit together so well physically when there is no way we could ever belong with each other?

  We’re enemies, and that will never, ever change.

  Shaking the thought away, I straighten up and free my throbbing cock.

  “Last week, you marked me.” I point at the faint red oval on my neck where she embedded her fucking teeth into my skin. “It’s my turn to mark you, and lucky for you, my mark doesn’t hurt.”

  I wrap my fingers around my aching length and start stroking. Her eyes are glued to my cock, as if she’s never seen one in her life. Her innocent act turns me on even more, and it doesn’t take me long before I feel the tingle in the base of my spine.

  Fisting my cock with one hand, I grab her hip with my free one, imagining what it would be like to have her tight cunt swallowing my dick and not my hand. My pumps become furious, and I throw my head back with a grunt when my balls draw together.

  And then I explode. Ropes of sticky cum shoot out of my cock in spurts, landing all over her stomach and chest. My orgasm seems to go on forever, and only when the last aftershock has rippled through my system do I open my eyes and look at what I’ve done.

  She is gaping at me like she is in a trance, mesmerized by what I just did. Like shiny paint, my cum is splattered all over her creamy white skin.

  Letting go of my cock, I use both hands to rub my cum into her, massaging her breasts and stomach like I did her back earlier.

  “You marked me; now I’ve marked you. We’re even.”

  She blinks slowly like she is not sure this is even real. I don’t bother telling her that it is. Instead, I climb off the bed and tuck myself back into my pants. I clean my hands on a towel hanging over the chair in her room, and then slip on my boots before heading out the door.

  “See you in a few days,” I say, right before I close the door behind me. If I’m going to stand by my word, I have to get away now.

  10

  ASPEN

  You know that saying, you can only avoid something for so long? While Quinton stayed true to his word and left me alone for the past two days, I can’t exactly avoid the rest of the student body, who also happens to hate me as much as he does.

  I was sure he was going to hurt me that night. When he told me to get on the bed, I hid my face so he wouldn’t see how scared I really was. I figured he was gonna torture me like the woman from the book. Images of him with a knife in his hand, carving into my skin like I’m nothing more than a piece of meat, ran through my mind.

  Not in a million years did I think he would give me a fucking back rub. I still don’t understand what that was all about. If he wanted to jerk off on my boobs, he could have forced me to do it right away. There was no reason to massage me like that unless all he wanted to do was play mind games.

  While I’m still trying my best to figure Quinton out, there is no question where I stand with the rest of the school. At every turn, people are messing with me.

  This morning, someone tossed their orange juice at me and called me trash. Because apparently, rats and trash go hand in hand. Every day, I have to fight to get through the corridor. No matter what time of day, I always find myself pressed against the wall, my fellow students pushing and shoving me around like a doll.

  Relieved that my classes are done for the day, I head back to my dorm room to grab my library books. I’ve not even reached the door when I notice something hanging on the doorknob. My stomach sinks, my mind immediately going to the worst case, that someone is probably pranking me or trying to humiliate me in some way.

  I approach the bag like I would approach a bomb threat. As I inch closer, I realize it’s a bag like the one my bedding came in. Hooking my fingertip on the edge of the opening, I slowly pull on it so I can peek inside.

  All I see is a rolled-up comforter, but I doubt that’s all that’s in there. This has to be a trick. Something is definitely going to jump out of the bag any minute now.

  When a few seconds pass and nothing happens, I start to feel stupid for standing around. Using all my courage, I finally snatch the bag off the doorknob and push into the room. Turning over the bag, I dump the contents on the floor in front of me and watch as a pillow and the rolled-up blanket unfold.

  Strangely, they look normal… clean, like someone grabbed them from the laundry room and put them in the bag.

  Grabbing the corner of the blanket, I bring it to my nose. The fresh scent of laundry detergent fills my nostrils.

  Mmm, smells normal too.

  Could it be? Is there a chance that Q actually got me a blanket? That he followed through on his bargain.

  I inspect the inside of the empty bag and every inch of the blanket one more time before I decide it must be so. I don’t know how or why, but I’m not going to complain about it. For the first time in a long time, I feel glee, and I’m almost afraid to allow myself to enjoy this moment because I know at any second things will change. Still, I take a moment to revel in the joy, and with a smile on my lips, I switch out the old sheets and scratchy blanket and replace it with the fluffy new one.

  If Brittney wasn’t waiting for me, and I didn’t have books to return, I would cuddle up in the bed right now. The newfound comfort calling out to me like a siren.

  No, I can’t. I have shit to do. While gathering my books, my eyes land on my computer, and I decide to try to Skype my mom real quick before I leave.

  Maybe she’ll finally answer one of my phone calls. I’ve been trying to Skype with her since I arrived, but she never answers, and I’m getting really tired of putting effort into it, but who else do I have to call? No one, that’s who.

  Flipping the laptop open, I pull up Skype and click on my mom’s name. The weird ringtone that sounds like an alien invasion is rolling in fills the room. After three rings, the sound suddenly breaks off, and my mom’s face fills the screen.

  “Mom?” The word comes out like a question. That’s how surprised I am that she actually picked up.

  “Aspen, honey. How have you been?” My mother’s face is painted on perfectly, like a rare canvas, and her blond hair is styled like always.

  She looks the same even though I know it’s fake.

  “Terrible,” I admit, not sparing her my truth. “This place is the worst. I hate everything about this school.” I try not to come off whiny, but it’s so hard. She has no idea what I’m going through here.

  “You’re overexaggerating.” She rolls her eyes at me.

  “No, I’m understating it. This is a nightmare. Everyone, and I mean everyone, hates me. I can’t walk around without people bumping into me on purpose, shoving me into walls, and tossing their breakfast on me. On top of it, I have no place to wash my clothes, and Quinton Rossi is here. Living here, tormenting me.”

  “He can’t touch you,” she says, examining her fingernails.

  “He can, and he has.”

  “You don’t look hurt,” she points out, downplaying everything I say.

  “He choked me out in gym class the other day.” For a fraction of a second, my mom’s eyes widen, and worry flickers through them.

  “He probably didn’t mean to.” She recovers quickly. “Besides, that’s better than being dead, don’t you think?”

  “Anything is better than being dead
, but at this point, I don’t think it’s safe or even smart for me to stay here.” I don’t even want to try to explain to her what I think might happen next.

  Quinton has no boundaries—he’s the jaguar, and this is his jungle. I don’t and never will stand a chance against him.

  Uncertainty pools in my mother’s blue eyes, eyes I remember looking up to as a little girl. Over the years, my relationship with her has become more and more strained. It only got worse when we lost everything, and when Dad went to prison, it became nonexistent.

  “Mom, you have to believe me. I’m trying. I’m really, really trying. I’ve been staying out of everyone’s way, keeping my head down, but they’re all out to get me. Even the teachers hate me.”

  My mom’s uncertainty turns into fear. Seeing her like this makes my stomach twist and knot in a different kind of way. A way that tells me I’m in more danger than I ever thought.

  “Listen to me, Aspen. Out here, you’re as good as dead. People are after your father, people who want him, and by extension, us, dead. So, while I understand people might be shitty there, anything is better than being out here. I promise you that.”

  All I can do is shake my head. She has no idea what I’m experiencing, the fear I feel every night when I close my eyes, and the second that I wake. Some nights, I wonder if this will be the last time I close my eyes.

  “I really hate it here.” I play with the idea of telling her what happened last night, what Q did to me, but the fact of the matter is, he could’ve done much worse.

  In our world, women are often treated less than men. Many daughters get married off or sold to the highest bidder as soon as they turn eighteen. A fate that I luckily escaped.

  Her pink lips press into a thin line. “It’s time to grow up. We all have to do things we hate sometimes. Look at your father; he went to prison, sacrificed it all for us.”