I can’t believe I did that. It was stupid but also…exhilarating. He deserved it. I hate how cold and callous he is. As if I don’t matter. As if he didn’t have his mouth all over my skin. As if he didn’t kiss me like he couldn’t get enough.
Not looking back, I walk fast, getting as far away from the restaurant as possible, threading my way through the crowds of people on the sidewalk. I swear I hear someone shout my name—a male someone—and I pick up the pace, not wanting to be found.
At the intersection, I turn right, blindly running down what turns out to be a quiet residential street, finally glancing over my shoulder to see no one is behind me. I slow my pace, breathing hard, thinking I’m in the clear when he steps out from behind a fence, directly in my path.
Whit.
I come to a complete stop, the shock at seeing him freezing me in place. He must’ve figured out a shortcut. The motherfucker.
“Don’t come any closer,” I warn him, taking a few steps backward.
He smiles. “You got another drink hiding behind your back?”
I say nothing. I’m poised, ready to take flight, and as if he can sense it, his smile fades.
Just before he lunges for me.
I try to run, but he grabs me around my waist, holding me in place, pushing me against the fence. I go willingly, all the fight leaving me at first contact of his hands on my body. My skin prickles where they rest, my body familiar with his and responding in kind. His heat seeps into my flesh, his fresh clean scent surrounding me, making me feel drunk. High.
“Why’d you throw the drink in my face?” he asks me, his eyes blazing with unrestrained fury. He didn’t like the public humiliation. I’m sure not much gets past Whit Lancaster, and it feels good, that I threw him off. That I made him look like an asshole in a public restaurant, in front of his friends and those stupid girls. In front of other people. People who probably know exactly who he is.
He already hates me. I’m sure the feeling is magnified times ten.
“Why’d you say you didn’t know me?” I throw back at him. There’s my humiliation, and why I had to get back at him. He tries to act like he’s something special, but he’s really just like all the rest of them. Only wanting one thing in private. Ignoring me completely in public.
I won’t have it. I refuse to let him play that game with me. I’m a master at it now.
“Because I don’t know you. Not at all.” He leans in so close, I can feel his minty breath waft across my face. “I’m sure I’ll learn more about you when I continue reading your journal tonight.”
Continue? Oh God.
I struggle against him, which makes his arms grow tighter, and it’s as if he’s trying to squeeze the life out of me. “You stole it from me, you fucking prick.”
He ignores my insults. From the glee I see dancing in his eyes, I think he’s enjoying this. “Hiding all your deep dark secrets in there?” His voice is taunting.
It’s my turn to ignore him. “I want it back,” I say, my voice firm.
He grins, as if he derives great pleasure from infuriating me. “No.”
“Give it to me!”
He clamps his hand over my mouth, thrusting his face in mine. “You are in no position to make demands. I am controlling the narrative here, Savage, and you’re going to do what I say. Is that clear?”
I don’t answer. I can only stare at him, my eyes wide, my heart thumping wildly. The neighborhood is quiet. No one else is around. He could probably do whatever he wanted to me and no one would hear us. Or catch him.
I’d give in anyway, so what’s the point.
“You want the journal back?” he asks.
I nod, my head rubbing against the rough wooden fence behind me, and I can feel it snagging on the splintered wood.
“You’ll have to earn it back then.” His hand relaxes against my face, his thumb stroking my cheek, my jaw. His touch is gentle, despite how firmly he’s holding me. “Want to ask how?”
We watch each other warily, and I witness his expression slowly change. The anger dissipates, replaced by that familiar hunger, and my body betrays me, answering in its own way. I relax beneath his hold, my bones languid, my thoughts full of nothing but what he could possibly do to me next, anticipation rippling down my spine and settling between my legs.
As if he can sense my giving in, he removes his hand from my face completely and I whisper, “How?”
“By doing whatever I want you to,” he whispers back, his gaze raking down my body before he returns it to mine. “I’ll own you, body and soul. When I want you in my room in the middle of the night, you’ll come running. Begging for it. When I want a blow job, you’ll deliver, no questions asked. If I want to eat that pretty pussy of yours, you’ll offer it up on a silver fucking platter and I’ll feast on it for hours. When I want to fuck you, no matter the time of day, or where you’re at, you can’t refuse me. Understood?”
My body warms at the promise in his words, and I will myself to stop. What he’s proposing is…
Degrading.
“For how long?” I ask, surprised at how calm I sound. Inside, I’m a riotous, excitable mess. To be at Whit’s beck and call whenever he wants me, doesn’t sound like a bad proposition.
Which means something is desperately wrong with me. I just know it.
“For however long I want.” He smiles, and the sight of it makes my heart lurch. He cups the side of my face and tilts it back, leaning in to whisper against my lips, “My own personal whore, to use however I like, whenever I want. It’ll be fun, Savage. I’ll fuck you in every hole you’ve got. And you’ll take it. Willingly.”
My core clenches and my panties are wet. “No,” I say, breathless.
He laughs. “You know you want it. I can tell.”
He thrusts against me, showing me his strength, how he has complete control over me, and I close my eyes, pressing my lips together to stifle the moan. This is so incredibly fucked up. What happened to us to leave us so damaged? I see this sort of thing in porn, in movies, and I’ve even read it in books. But I’ve never experienced something like this before in real life. I’ve never let someone control me so completely that I’ll do whatever he demands to be with him, even if he looks at me as if I’m nothing but his worthless plaything.
“Answer me, Savage. Do we have a deal? Or do I get to make copies of your journal and pass it out to everyone at school?”
Oh God, no. Talk about humiliating. Once everyone knows what happened to me, what I really did, I could get in serious trouble.
“You could just agree, you know. Things would be a lot easier for you. I know what a sick fuck you could be. You have so much potential.” The words almost sound like a compliment, and I take them that way considering I’m warped beyond belief. Especially when it comes to him. He rests his hand against my throat, reminding me of that moment between us in the library yesterday. His fingers drift, making gooseflesh rise, and I whimper. “No one else likes it when I do this. Yet you seem to.”
If he would squeeze my neck just a little bit tighter…
I hate myself for wanting this. Wanting him.
I close my eyes, a soft gasp leaving me when he leans in and traces my lower lip with his tongue, just before he bites me there, his teeth sinking, tugging on the fleshiest part of my lip. Not hard enough to break skin, but it still hurts.