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“So, you and Willow, huh?”
“No, there is no Willow and me. Not like you think anyway. Just fucking, which hasn’t taken place yet, but will as soon as we get back to my place.”
Warren rubs his hands together, and his eyes gleam with excitement, “Oh, fuck, I have to hear all about this after it happens. All the details. I want to know if she was a virgin. If you made her bleed.”
“You’re a sick fuck,” I tell him.
“Pot calling the kettle black?” He’s got a point there.
“Maybe that’s why we’re friends. We’re both fucked up.”
“Probably. So be a friend and tell me if she’s any good, ’cause you know maybe once you’re done with her…”
Pent up aggression makes me snap, and I grab Warren by the collar of his shirt and pin him to the wall. The word mine snarling inside my head.
“She’s my toy and my revenge. Touch her, and I’ll make sure the next person you stick your cock in gives you something you can’t cure with an antibiotic.”
Releasing him, I turn around and head back toward the girls.
“If she isn’t anything to you, then why are you so territorial over her? Once you have your revenge, she’ll become free game to the rest of the male student body, and then what are you going to do? Kick all our asses?” His question isn’t a dumb one, but it’s one I don’t have an answer to yet.
Stopping before we get within earshot of the girls, I say, “I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, but what I do know is that she’s off-limits until I say otherwise. Touch her, and I’ll destroy you.”
It’s obvious he wants to say something, but like the pussy he is, he tucks his tail between his legs and nods, once again reminding me why my family name is more powerful than his. It’s not always about the money, but about the bite behind the bark.
Covering the rest of the distance to the table, I find Alice and Willow whispering to each other, their heads forward as if they’re telling each other a secret.
“Ready to go?” I ask, and they both jump back from each other.
“Ugh, yeah. I was just going to take Willow home. We came together and…” I cut Alice off before she can finish what she wants to say. I’ll give her a gold star for trying to go against me.
“Nice effort, but Willow has to pay her dues. Now, let’s go. I’m impatient, and when I get impatient, I tend to lose it a little bit.” I direct my words to Willow, who gives Alice a sad smile. How can she be sad, she knew this was going to happen? I warned her. I told her. Push me and see what happens. Well, she pushed, and I took the bait. Now it’s time to reel the fish in.
“Goodnight, Alice,” Willow whispers and moves out of the booth. Once standing, she smooths her hands down her jean-clad legs, her green eyes move to the person behind me. Warren. Fucking fucker.
“Warren, can you please make sure Alice gets home?”
“Sure thing,” Warren tsks, and I reach out, grabbing onto Willow’s hand. I tug her into my side and guide us out of the restaurant, wondering if she, too, can feel it.
The calm before the storm.
“Are you ready to play, Willow?” I ask when we reach the car.
Willow doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. I know she’ll play, even if she doesn’t want to.
13
Willow
How could I have been so stupid? I let my jealousy rule me, and now I’m in Parker’s car headed to his house to give him the last shred of my innocence.
Fear and uncertainty swirl around my gut and I’m seriously considering running as soon as the car stops, but where would I go? If I don’t get my dad into that stupid fundraiser this weekend, Ashton will pay the price.
Looking out the window, I try to clear my mind. Maybe it won’t be so bad, it’s just sex, right? How hard can it be?
All too soon, we pull up to Parker’s place. He cuts the engine and gets out of the car without a word. I follow him inside, feeling like I’m walking to my execution. He stops in the living room, looking over his shoulder at me. Grinning, he shakes his head and keeps walking to a cabinet. I wonder what he sees right now. Does he see how nervous I am, see me shaking slightly? Who am I kidding, of course, he does.
I watch him open it and realize it’s a liquor cabinet. He takes out two glasses and pours some whiskey into both of them. He downs his drink in one gulp, handing me the second.
“Drink,” he orders, but he doesn’t have to. I’d gladly drink half of the bottle right now, knowing it will calm my nerves. The amber liquid burns all the way down my throat before settling heavy in my stomach.
