“Itching powder though? Lame as fuck, Garcia.”
“It was a reminder.”
He arched an eyebrow, waiting for me to explain.
“That’s what happens when you lay around with whores. You end up with an itchy dick. Also, a reminder that I’m not someone you can mess around with. Remember that next time you proposition me for sex like a paid whore.”
“That was a nice thought, except… I don’t need to pay someone for sex. My name comes with a label, baby. Maddox-Coulter-Will-Fuck-You-So-Hard-You-Will-See-Jesus.”
“Where did you find that definition? Dickpedia?”
“If you open dickpedia to the word orgasmic, you’ll find my name there.”
I rolled my eyes while mentally facepalming myself. Why did I even bother to have a conversation with him? It was completely useless. The only thing that came out of his mouth was sex, sex and more sex. Or something completely dumb.
“You know what your problem is?”
“What?” I raked my fingers through my wet hair, frustrated.
“You want me,” he said, as calmly as if he was announcing the weather. Oh, it’s sunny. Oh, you want to fuck me. This man was mentally unstable, period.
“Excuse me?” I placed my hands on my hips, astonished he could even come to this conclusion.
“You want me, but you don’t want to admit it. You’re fighting the chemistry.” Maddox lazily eyed me up and down. There was no embarrassment, no awkwardness from him. He was practically undressing me with his eyes, and he was being so casual about it. When he spoke again, his voice lowered to a deeper tone. “Does fighting with me make you wet? We could fight in bed, let’s not waste time here.”
“If your brain was as big as your ego, maybe you’d be more appealing.”
Maddox grinned harder and then let out a deep chuckle. “I'm not sure about my ego or how big it is, but I can assure you, I got something big here.” He cupped his crotch and raised a mocking eyebrow.
Annoyed, I pushed away from the wall. He was so goddamn rude, immature and vulgar. “You think every girl wants you. You really think you’re every woman’s wet dream, don’t you?”
“I know I am.”
Maddox moved closer, forcing me to take a step back. He stalked me, coming closer and closer until I was forced to press my back against the wall. I shivered, not because of him, I told myself. Because my hair was wet and cold and now that I was plastered against the wall, it only caused my wet blouse to stick onto my back like a second skin.
He leaned forward, bending his head to be level with me. His lips caressed my ear, and it tickled. I went to pull away, but he was quicker. His arms came up, and he caged me against the wall, his palms on either side of my head. He barely touched me, but his body was so close, his heat pressing into me, caressing me and causing a warm flush to spread throughout my body.
My thighs quaked, and my lower stomach tensed with his close proximity. “And you know what? One day I’m going to be your wet dream, too. Picture this: You'll be alone in bed at night, unable to sleep. My face flashes in front of your eyes and your stomach clenches. Your thighs are spread open and your pussy feels warm but strangely, empty. There's an aching need in the pit of your stomach. You won't be able to stop yourself. Your hands find their way into your panties, and you feel how wet you are with your fingers. You bite on your lip to keep from moaning. You touch yourself slowly, a little confused. A little frustrated. You'll think: Why can't I stop thinking about him? You’re going to hate it, but you’ll still love it. And you know what you’re going to do?”
My skin was on fire, my body burned, and I couldn’t breathe. My stomach dipped and twisted as the air felt like it was being sucked out of my body.
My heart stuttered when I felt his body pressing into me, finally touching me.
“You’ll finger your pussy while imagining it's me on top of you, pressing against you, and it's my cock fucking you. Not your little fingers,” Maddox breathed into my ear, whispering the dirty fantasy as if he was making dirty love to me.
Horrified, I could only blink, trying to remind myself to breathe. He shouldn’t be able to affect me this way, he shouldn’t be able to control my thoughts like this.
I was not weak, no… Maddox… couldn’t…
He pulled away slightly to look into my face. His eyes were so blue, I almost drowned in them. “It won't happen today. Or tomorrow. Or next week. But one day, for sure. And no, I'm not being cocky. Cocky is for boys who don't know what they’re doing. Me? I know exactly what I'm doing. I know for a fact it will happen. Fight it if you can.”
He pushed away from me, and the cold washed over me as if I had been carelessly dunked into the ocean.
I silently gasped for breath as Maddox walked backward, away from me. The look on his face was something I’ve never seen before.
“I dare you, Lila.”
I padded barefoot into my room, fresh from my shower and still wrapped in nothing but my fluffy towel. My phone pinged with a message, and I walked over to the nightstand to see it was from Riley.
What time are you leaving?
I typed out a quick message back. I’ll catch the bus in 20 minutes.
The three little dots appeared on my screen, indicating she was typing.
If you want, I can pick you up, and we can go together.
My thumb paused over my phone as I read her sentence. My ears rang with the distant sound of glass shattering and bones crushing. The taste of metallic blood filled every corner of my mouth, and I almost choked on it. Except, there was no blood. I was choking on my own saliva, and the air surrounding me turned heavy, cold…suffocating.
My fingers trembled as I typed back my message to Riley. I can’t. You know I can’t. I’m sorry. I’ll take the bus.
She knew the reason, and I also knew she was only trying to help, but there was no need. I was beyond helping when it came to…
I shook my head, clearing out the blurry flashes in front of my eyes and refusing to think of the night my whole life changed.
Grabbing my blow dryer, I leveled it over my head and made sure to work through every tangled strand of hair with my comb. Once my hair was dry and shiny, I made a French styled twin braid on top of my head with twin ponytails. It was cute and made my face look rounder and more symmetrical.
My reflection through the floor length mirror stared back at me. My hand traveled to my chest over my towel, where it was slowly coming undone. The top of my breasts came into view, and my eyes caught the scars. The long, jagged white lines snaked straight down from the middle of my petite breasts.
I let my towel slip through my fingers, the full scar now visible through the mirror. The skin around it was a bit pinker than the rest. It was healed up properly, but I didn’t think it would ever completely fade away. Sometimes it ached, like a ghostly echo of the real agony I went through.
Pain washed over me like a raging storm, and my knees threatened to buckle under me. My eyes burned as tears hung on my lower lashes, and I furiously blinked them away, refusing to cry. My heart wailed, but I refused to shed any tears.
I slowly brought my hand up and lightly brushed it down the scar, tracing the pink-white lines. The tips of my fingers barely touched my skin, and I clenched my hand into a fist, holding back my tremors.