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24
Willow
Again, the surface of my flesh throbs. Bite marks brand the inside of my thighs, the slope of my hips. A whopper indent of Camdyn’s teeth pierces my neck. I’m the cops’ perfect crime scene. It’s early morning, and he’s holding me close in his arms.
“We have to wake up, Cam,” I groan.
He grouses, “No.”
“Remember, you don’t get to say no in this relation . . .” My words tumble down a sharp incline.
“Relationship?” Camdyn’s enthralling green-blue eyes open. I’ll recall the sight of him lying in my bed forever.
With the cat leaping out of the bag, I let the little bitch purr. I cork a brow. “That scares you?”
“Does my cock sliding in your pussy still scare ya? Your eyes got round as hell late last night when I offered you to jump on it.”
“Return that bullshit to sender,” I retort. Yes, I’m scared of his dick stabbing me like a nineties’ horror flick. It’s huge. However, while we were shit-talking Michelle, I coveted the idea of skewering myself on his erection.
Contemplating my only bridge, I moan. “I was supposed to meet a friend this morning to go over some things.”
“I thought your friends blackballed you for the arson? You wouldn’t happen to be mentioning Christian, would you?”’ His smooth, steely voice raises the hairs on my forearms. “Now, ye’re involuntarily putting a hit out on him.”
“No, asshole. I’m referring to Jamie in my Physics class. You threaten him, I’ll—”
The Camdyn I crave to call my own appears. Eyebrow cocked, he mutters, “Jamie?”
“Yes, he’s quiet and very kind.” I sit up against the posh headboard.
“Why the feck do I get all the magnificent titles like asshole? But you callhim Jamie with this tone like he’s a fecking angel.”
If I woke up on the right side of my bed, I’d assume a few things. Such as, Camdyn MacKenzie has the emotional capacity for jealousy. Since I’m not in my bed or at my home, there’s no sense in assuming. I get a sharp tattooed forearm nudged to my rib. Okay, he’s not asking again. I heft my shoulders. “I call him Jamie because, guess what, asshole, Jamie is his name.”
Through gritted teeth, Camdyn drills me. “Whadaya know about him?”
“He’s the realest motherfucker at DuPont.”
I’m yanked onto the soft linen beneath Camdyn. “What else?”
My mouth curves as I imagine the judgmental crap I told Christian after my first day at school. “He’s thoughtful, Cam. Like really thoughtful.” I pause. “Too thoughtful for me. I mean, I told you how I treated my girls last night.”
Camdyn’s tight abdominal muscles snatch. The hard ridges ride titillating over my achy nipples and stomach.
“Ye were being a bitch, Willow. So, you deserved me, then? Not someone like Jamie?”
“Did I say that?” Yes.
Camdyn scoots down my frame, linking my thighs over his shoulders. “Here, I thought I was revitalizing your pretty wee soul.”
“Ehh, more like sullying it with your darkness.”
“Ye haven’t seen dark.” Something passes over Camdyn’s incredibly beautiful face.
“Are you ang—fuck!” I screech as his teeth sink into the inside of my thigh. My sex percolates. “Why?” I groan, air sucked through my gritted teeth.
“I’m giving you what you asked for, Willow. Punishment.” Soft air blows over the white-hot branding. “Michelle ran all over you. Instead of vindicating yourself, you let that bitch off. You tortured and alienated yourself.”
I groan. I was in such a rage when Michelle said vigil. I threw the candle to the ground near a stack of papers and flammable paint. The cheer squad had left out their craft supplies, and it was catastrophic. It was an emotional mistake.
