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“Trust me,” he demands with a animalistic tone against my ear, his thrusts brutal again, and the sound of flesh hitting flesh fills the room.
Sweat coats my skin as black spots dance across my eyes, and a tear escapes the corner of my eye. I grab at his wrist, trying to break his hold, but my strength’s diminishing. Weird sounds make it past my lips, and the spots dance faster. My walls clench his dick in a death grip as the orgasm sits on the edge. The hold disappears, and air rushes into my lungs as he slams into me and I fall over the edge. My scream is hoarse, and he roars his release, his length swelling within me.
My body shakes as I desperately try to swallow oxygen to breathe, and tears track down my face, the sensations almost too much. I collapse on the floor, coughing, my hand rubbing the tender flesh of my throat. My body shakes with relief, and my unease grows with the thought of how close I was to blacking out. Heavy arms wrap around me, pulling me onto his lap.
“I’m so sorry, I got lost in the moment,” he croaks. He turns me on his lap to get a good look at me, my eyes connect with his and the emotion I see in the icy blues has me pulling back. “Talk to me,” he breathes, his face guilt stricken as his eyes drop to my throat. His upper lip rises and the corners of his mouth downturn, and I watch the movement knowing he’s frowning underneath the mask.
My gaze goes back to his eyes, and I chew on the inside of my cheek as we stare at one another. Then it hits me, I scramble out of his hold, grabbing my dress off the floor, and yank it back on to cover myself. My face flames bright red as anger consumes me. I push the mask back up onto its rightful place on my forehead, grab my clutch, and rush to the door, my mind screaming at me to get the fuck of out dodge.
“Hey,” he mumbles, his hand on my shoulder stopping me. I whirl around, my palm connecting with his face, and the sound splits the air.
“Y-You,” I pant, my throat feeling like razor blades are shredding it.
His eyes widen, and my rage explodes as he tries to pull me into his arms. I bring my knee up, connecting with his junk, and he drops to the floor with a roar.
“Fuck you, Kylo,” I scream, the action making my throat constrict painfully. I start coughing, my throat feels like it’s swelling, but I ignore it and I turn on my heel, heading straight out of the door. Running full speed, I stumble into the main room. There aren’t as many people in here as there were earlier. I stride over to the door, not giving a shit about the shoes I kicked off earlier, ready to go call an Uber and get the fuck out of here.
“You have fun, Sam?” Brantley chuckles from the door, but his laughter breaks off when I step into his face.
“You're a bastard,” I snarl, my voice croaky as I start rubbing at my throat again. “I’ll never forgive you for setting this up just so your boy could fuck me.”
9
SAM
My eyes are so puffy this morning, they’re dry and itching like mad, and thick, dark circles line under them. I look like I’ve had another beating. It’s bad enough I’ve still got discoloration on my eye from the last time I had a run in with my father and Warrick.
Sleep has evaded me all night, my mind was too busy replaying the party. I can’t believe they set me up like that. Kylo being there isn’t the thing that hurts though, it’s the fact that Brantley knew he was there and didn’t say, and that stings. I thought we were good friends.
As I scan my reflection in the bathroom mirror, my gaze gets drawn to the mark on my neck where the bruise is prominent against my pale flesh. I never look this pale, but with healing, and then last night, I just can’t seem to feel like myself. I head back into my bedroom, grabbing a scarf out of the closet, and wrap it around my neck trying to cover the hand print the best I can. I grab the rest of my stuff and a hair tie off my vanity, twisting my hair up into a knot on the top of my head before shoving my feet into my boots, and slamming the bedroom door behind me. When I came home last night I had a text from my mom telling me that her and my father have gone away for two weeks on a business trip, so I’m not worried about banging around.
The soles of my shoes thud against the marble stairs, and I rush out the front door, not bothering with anything to eat. Have I got a game plan for today? Nope. All I know is there is no way I want to see either of the douche canoes today. My nerves are alight as I jump into the car.
Lux hasn’t messaged me back after I sent her at least ten messages last night when I got home. Not only did I need someone to vent to, but I hadn’t seen her all night, and after I left the party in a hurry, I wanted to apologize for leaving her on her own. But she’s AWOL, her phone went to voicemail every time and I’m getting worried. I know we had to hand our phones in at the party though, so maybe that’s what it is, and she just hasn’t turned her phone back on yet.
The engine rumbles to life, and I throw the car in gear, my foot slamming down on the accelerator. The gravel kicks up behind me as I take off toward school.
* * *
I speedthrough the gates of the school, and people jump out of my way before I screech to a stop in my spot, turning everything off. I’m out of the car, eyes scanning the area for my bestie, when I see fuckface’s car peel into the school. “Can’t you give me a fucking break?” I growl up at the sky. Seriously, did I do something in a past life to piss the big man off or something? Because I am the unluckiest person you can think of.
“Sam,” Brantley calls my name. I look at him over my shoulder, my upper lip curling up in a snarl. I flip the cunt the bird and take off in search of Lux. I make it into the corridor before he catches up to me with his ostrich length legs, like c’mon, how fucking big does his stride need to be?
“Will you talk to me?” he says, keeping in step with me. If I ignore him, he’ll disappear, right? I grab my headphones out of my pocket, putting one in my ear. He growls, grabbing hold of my shoulder, spinning me to face him.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I snarl, pushing his hand off me.
“Sam, please let me explain,” he says, his eyes pleading.
“I don’t give a fuck about your bullshit apology or the excuse you're going to spew about last night,” I snarl, glaring daggers at him. “I thought we were cool.”
“We are,” he says, his shoulders dropping as he lowers his head. “I didn’t set you up, neither did Kylo.”
I growl at his name, and Brant whips up both his head and his hands.
“You’ve always been okay with me since I came here,” he says solemnly. “I don’t know what happened but I’m sorry.”
“Did Lux come in last night?” I ask. I don’t want to talk about last night because I can see how sorry he is and I know I’ll fall soft and forgive him.
