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“Now tell me what you need,” Colt says, his hand gentle but firm my hip.
I don’t have enough fight left to lie this time.
“You.”
His lips tighten, and then he grips my hip, holding it in place as he slowly slides forward in the chair, until he’s fitted himself between my thighs.
Of all the choices I’ve ever made, this one is the worst.
The moment our bodies connect, a thousand memories assault me, and the sensations raging through my body are so overwhelming I think I’m going to detonate. The shards of my body will be found two towns over, and they’ll say it’s all that’s left of Faulkner after the blast.
“Gloria,” Colt says, his other hand cupping my cheek. “I’m going to need you to get out of your head now. I want you to focus on your body. And keep breathing. Can you do that?”
I nod, still trying to get air through the constricting stranglehold on my throat.
“Good girl,” Colt says with a little smirk, watching my face as he starts to move my hips against his, using the same firm, dominating grip as he grinds me against his length. My core flutters, and I find the control to swallow at last.
“Why are you hard?” I whisper.
The smirk on his lips never fades as he leans in, until the sensation of his warm mouth ghosting over mine makes me want to expire. “Because you’re here.”
And then his lips are on mine, and I can’t answer, and I can’t breathe, and I can’t think, and there’s only his warm lips teasing mine, the sharp edge of his teeth bringing me fully into my body as he bites down until I gasp at the twinge of pain. I start to rock my hips against his, whimpering like the pathetic bitch I am. But god, I’ve wanted this for so long. It’s like water in the desert, the first time seeing after living in the dark all my life; like the first touch after a year of sensory deprivation, both too much and not even close to enough all at once.
I bury my hands in his hair, fisting it and angling my head, opening for his tongue. When it meets mine, and I taste him again, I moan like a frantic animal, thrusting my tongue against his. I tear at his shirt, yanking it from his pants. I hear buttons hitting the wooden planks around us, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. I need him. I need more.
I yank his shirt open, spreading my hands wide as I move them up and down his abs, his strong chest. My core clenches and quivers when my fingers hit the new piercings in his nipples. I rake my nails down his torso, drawing a sharp intake of breath and a deep grunt of pain from his throat. I swallow it greedily, seeking more. I go for his belt, yanking at it as he bends me backwards over the edge of the table. It bites into my back, and I relish the pain, squeezing his hips with my thighs, grinding harder.
I bury my other hand in his hair again, dragging him deeper into our kiss, biting and sucking at his mouth like it’s the only thing feeding me life.
It’s not enough. It will never be enough.
“Colt,” I cry, tearing my mouth from his. “Please, fuck me.”
“Right now?” he asks, his lips shiny with blood I didn’t know I’d drawn, his eyes unfocused and his breathing coming as quick as mine.
“Yes, right fucking now,” I bark, clawing at the front of his pants, too frantic to figure out the zipper. “Throw me on the table.”
“Fuck it,” he snaps, standing and slamming my back onto the surface. His eyes are crazed with lust, and he yanks his pants open. I feel the heat of his erection burning up the tender skin of my inner thigh, and I almost cum with sheer relief.
And then he reaches for my panties, and a barrage of images flashes through my mind—Colt staring at me over Cotton’s head, his eyes hard as flint; my mother saying she was getting tired of us ruining panties, so she was going to put a new pack in our drawer every month; Baron’s words in the hall today, saying I was so used I look like a worn out baseball glove.
“No,” I scream, shoving back against Colt’s chest when I feel his fingers hook under them. He stumbles back, and I feel the material tear, and he’s standing there with the scrap of lace in his hand and a bewildered look on his face, and I’m bare, and he’ll see… He’ll see me, and he’ll hear those words too, and he’ll call me a whore again because he’ll think I let anyone fuck me, even my enemy.
I pull my skirt down and roll away, scrambling off the table, but my heel lands in a crack between the boards, and I fall. My hands and knees hit the hard surface, but I don’t feel pain. All I feel is terror, because his dick is out, and I’m on my hands and knees, and there’s nothing to stop him, not even underwear covering me. I scream and lurch to my feet, yanking my heel free, and I run. With every step, I wait to feel his hands in my hair, yanking me to a stop, or on my back, pushing me down in the dirt where he can fuck me where I belong.
I hear his voice, but it can’t cut through to me now. Nothing can get through.
I’m in my car, and my hands are shaking, but my June Bug starts like a dream even though I don’t know how the keys got in the ignition. I have to get out of here. Fear is the only thing I know. I fly backwards out of the spot, not bothering to look behind me. If he tries to get in my way, if he’s coming to hurt me, he deserves to be hit. I shift and stomp the gas, boiling the hides and kicking up a spray of gravel before she gets a grip on the dirt underneath. We shoot forward suddenly, and I wrestle to control the car on the shifting gravel at that speed. My stomach drops out, and then I’m gone, and he can’t get me because I’m flying out of his reach.
I hear my phone ding on the seat beside me, and I don’t remember grabbing it in my mad dash to escape, but I must have. I don’t answer it, though. I ignore a few more notifications and focus on the road.
I’m safe. I got away. I’m okay.
He didn’t hurt me.
twenty-four
Rumor Has It… Today’s lunchtime revelations have shaken the school to the core. Will a new Queen emerge to take the place of the fallen one, and if so, which deserving girl will ascend now that the imposter has been ousted?
