A Hurt So Sweet Volume One: A Dark High School Bully Romance

by Rosewood, Betti

  He grins, not responding as he takes a step closer. Thoughtfully, he wraps a strand of my dark brown hair framing my expertly painted face around his pointer finger. I inhale sharply. I’ve never been this close to a boy before.

  But from this close, Dexter Booth is nothing like a boy.

  He’s all man.

  “Do you know what I am to you?” he asks. “What our relationship is?”

  “You’re my…” I can’t force the word out of my mouth.

  Finally, I spit it out, a shiver going down my spine as I do.

  “My fiancé.”

  “That’s right,” he smirks.

  “Listen.” My voice is desperate, because I’m desperate. “You need to help me, Dexter.”

  “Help you?” His eyebrows shoot up in amusement. “Why would I help someone I barely know?”

  “Please.” I don’t care how frantic I sound. “My father, he’s… he’s fucking crazy. I need to get away. You need to help me get away.”

  “Wait a second.” He glares at me. “So, you’re actually asking me to help you run off? Do you know what your father would do to you if you did that? What he’s capable of?”

  “I do,” I grit out. “That’s why I need to go. Before he ruins me. Before he hurts more people.”

  He turns more serious when I mention this. I’m surprised by it, never expecting him to actually give a shit about me, but the moment is over the next second, as if he’s realized he’s shown me his vulnerable side and decided to cover it up right away.

  He runs his hand through his hair, asking, “Has he hit you?”

  I shake my head, ready to speak up, but he holds a hand up.

  “Has he beaten you, or hurt you?”

  “No, but he made–”

  “No,” he interrupts. “I can’t help you. I’m sorry.”

  I stare at him in disbelief, spitting out the next words.

  “What kind of man… what kind of monster refuses to help someone who’s in danger?”

  “Your fiancé, dearest,” he replies with a smirk.

  “You’re a fucking dick,” I growl. “I thought you were normal. Better than the rest of these people. But you’re just like them, aren’t you?”

  He takes a step back, letting his hand fall away from my face. “It’s this town, toy. It fucks us all up.”

  Toy?

  “You’re actually refusing to help me?”

  “I help those who matter.” He takes a step forward. “But you… you don’t matter to me yet, little toy.”

  My brows furrow when he uses that nickname.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Why ever not?” he mocks. “That’s what I call all the little sluts that get my dick eventually.”

  I huff with anger at his crudeness, my first impression of him shattered by his dirty language.

  “Even her?” I can’t help but ask. “Even the girl before me?”

  His gaze darkens. “I would never call her a toy. That’s all you are to me. She was special. You’re… nothing.”

  “I’d rather be nothing than be special to you.”

  My voice is bitter, and I hate myself for the pang of pain his words send through me. I’m immediately defensive, eager to hold my head high in front of this boy I’m supposed to obey for the rest of my life.

  I step away from the edge of the cliff, separated from him by only a foot or two.

  “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m Lily Anna Oakes now. The real Lily Anna Oakes.”

  “You’ll never be Lily Anna Oakes,” he reminds me, stabbing another knife into my chest, then twisting, hard. “I don’t give a shit if you’re their blood. You’ll never replace her. You’ll never be anything like her.”

  “Wow, someone sounds hung up,” I snicker in response.

  But I can tell he’s haunted by the past. The death of Lily Anna has scarred him. It’s plainly visible, in the way his jaw has tightened, in the tug of his lips, the flash of anger in his eyes. We switched from being cordial to insulting one another way too fast, and I hate the way my heart’s pounding because of it. I fight against my own quickened heartbeat, focusing on his sharp jaw and watching the way it sets firmly in place as he regards me with distaste.

  “I get that you’re distraught she died, but it’s not my fault she’s gone. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want it. So maybe you should stop being a bad-mannered prick to your fiancée.”

  “I don’t want to hear you speak of her ever again,” he snarls in my face.

  I notice absentmindedly he looks almost more handsome when he’s this angry.

  “I pity you for what you’re about to go through, toy. I pity you, because you’re going to be the laughingstock of Eden Falls. The bitch we take our frustrations out on. I’m going to make your life miserable. You thought people hated you? Just wait until you see how bad things get at school. Just wait until you’re the punching bag of every Firstborn in this town.”

  His words make my eyes water, bringing out my bratty side, but my inner bitch settles down at the look of pure rage in his eyes.

  “How can you be so cruel?” I ask him. “There are lives in danger. My father… he threatened my… my other family.”

  “Lives that don’t matter to me,” he shrugs. “People I don’t give two shits about.”

  “You’re a monster,” I whisper.

  “That’s right.” He smirks. “Here’s your first lesson on this town, toy. Everyone looks out for themselves. And nobody actually gives a shit about you.”

  His hand grabs the front of my pristine white dress, the one I’d found waiting on my bed that morning, a sign of my innocence.

  His thumb and pointer finger locate my nipple under the lace bodice, and I gasp as he twists it with the intent to hurt me. I’m too shocked to move away. No one’s ever touched me there before. It’s not a welcome sensation, but his punishing grip sends waves of guilty pleasure through my body.

  “This is how it’s going to be from now on,” he says smoothly. “You do as I say, and you don’t get hurt.”

  He pinches me again and I gasp.

  “You like this?” he mutters, and when the traitorous blush tints my cheeks a rosy pink, I know I’ve been caught.

  He smirks, pleased by his new discovery, and intent on using it against me.

  “Dirty fucking toy. You think your father’s the only one capable of hurting you?”

  I don’t answer. The pressure on my nipple intensifies, making me mewl out in desperate pain as the boy tugs on my sensitive skin.

  “Answer me.”

  “You’re just a spoiled rich kid who thinks he can get away with anything,” I say, hoping to whatever god is listening that I’m right. “A rich kid who’s too afraid of my father to disobey him.”

  The pressure of his fingers changes, and he smoothes down my dress, his palm coming to rest on my chest. Our eyes meet, and I find myself blushing again as he smirks in my face. Then, his hand shoves me back, hard.

  A scream tears itself from my lips and I close my eyes, accepting the fall that never comes.

  Instead, his fingers wrap around the fragile lace at my throat, holding me in place. I’m struggling. The only thing separating me from falling is his firm grip on my dress. But the lace isn’t strong enough to hold me. I hear the fabric of my designer dress slowly ripping and tearing, and I cry out in protest.

  “Please, please don’t!” I cry out, realizing a moment too late what I’ve said. “You’re crazy!”

  He holds me in place. I’m shaking all over. His fingers touch the inside of my thighs, gently stroking the skin there and making me gasp in a combination of fear and expectation.

  “Girls are so easy,” he says, sounding bored. “Gone from wanting one thing to the other in a split second. You bore me. Your plain face. Your uncultured attitude. Your tits are a fucking saving grace. We’ll see if that slit between your legs can make up for your average looks.”

  “No!” I struggle against him b
ut freeze on the spot when the fabric rips further. “Stop it! Please, stop it! Let me go!”

  But he ignores my pleas. The dark clouds above us crackle with thunder and lightning. He’s squeezing hard enough to leave bruises. I claw at his strong fingers. The places where they’re digging into my skin are already hurting.

  He smirks at me, taking a step closer to the edge. He’s holding me right above the precipice now, and I pale as I realize I’m completely at his mercy. But I’m not going down without a fight.

  “Don’t you dare hurt me,” I snarl. “I’ll tell my father.”

  “You’ll tell your fucking father? He’s got nothing on me.” Dexter laughs out loud. “Why do you think he’s so eager for us to get married? For me to put a kid in your belly?”

  “I… I…”

  “You have no idea, do you?” He clicks his tongue. “Poor, stupid little toy.”

  “Let me go. Please. I’ll be good. Just don’t hurt me.”

  I half-scream as my feet struggle against the slippery ground. I’m going to fall soon.

  “Please, I’ll do anything you want!”

  “You know you can’t break a promise to your dearest fiancé, don’t you?” he says.

  I nod helplessly, risking a look over my shoulder and paling when I see the distance from the top of the cliff to the rocks below from a new perspective. Fuck. If he lets me go, I’m as good as dead.

  “I kn-know,” I stutter. “I’ll do everything you want. I swear. I swear I will.”

  “For how long?” he demands.

  “The w-whole school year, the first year of Prep.” My heel slips and I cry out. “Please! I swear! I promise! Please!”

  He laughs in my face and pulls me back to safe land. He throws me down like a broken, worthless toy he’s gotten sick of, and watches me with a look of disgust on his classically handsome face. He buttons his expensive blazer and steps on my dress, dirtying up the white lace as he gives me one last disgusted glance.

  He hates me, but not as much as I hate him.

  Yet my core is vibrating with the need for him to touch me again. My body doesn’t seem to understand how much I despise the boy. He looks like he would detest spending more than another second with me, and as he watches me rasp on the ground, I’m convinced he’s going to spit on my trembling body.

  “Pathetic,” he says instead. “Say thank you for my mercy, toy.”

  I pick myself up on my elbows, my bottom lip jutting out and trembling in unspoken fear. My heart races at the nickname he used for me. I hate my body for betraying me.

  “Fuck you,” I cry out.

  “Oh, I will,” he grins. “Soon enough. Now obey. Or do you want this getting back to your father?”

  I think about my possibilities. In the short time I’ve spent with my father since I came back from my stay at the boarding school, I’ve come to realize he’s as ruthless as he is cruel. There’s no doubt in my mind that I’d be punished if he finds out I defied Dexter. I don’t really have a choice here.

  “Thanks,” I grind out.

  “Say thank you properly, toy.”

  “Thank you,” I snarl. “Thank you for your mercy.”

  “Thank you for your mercy, Sir.”

  “Sir?” I repeat the word.

  He’s barely a year older. He’s not even twenty-one. But his twisted face tells me he’s not going to let me get away without saying it the way he wants to hear it.

  “Thank you for your mercy, Sir.”

  “See? You can be such a good little toy when you actually try to please me.” He kneels next to me, letting his fingers wander over my lips. “I’m going to have so much fun torturing you.”

  Then he smirks, walking away from me and leaving me to tremble on the floor, my gown ruined, and my pussy wet as fuck.

  “Oh.” He turns around, smirking at my trembling body on the ground. “I almost forgot. Welcome to Eden Falls, toy.”

  Three

  Pandora

  Dexter Booth isn’t the kind of boy who gets bored of his toys.

  He’s the kind of monster who breaks them on purpose.

  I ponder this as I walk through the garden, exchanging polite smiles with people who pretend to care about me. They're too afraid of my father not to, but I can see the secret contempt behind their eyes. They all hate me. But I don't care. I don't plan on sticking around for long, anyway.

  "Daughter!"

  It takes me a moment to realize the voice is calling out for me. I’m too late to react, regretting my belated response as my eyes meet my father's. Guiltily, I look back down at the ground and make my way to stand by him.

  "I'd like you to meet my business associate, Mr. Hawthorne. This is his son, Steven." He points to an older gentleman and his younger carbon copy. "They're from out of town and came to meet you especially."

  I narrow my eyes at the man. I’ve heard that name before countless times.

  “Any relation to Estella Hawthorne?” I ask, and the man smirks.

  I’m so desperate for a connection with my old life, I’d even take this piece of shit over nothing.

  “Her father is my brother,” he explains. “Though we don’t really keep in touch.”

  “You need to tell me how she’s doing,” I beg him. “Please. Do you know anything?”

  Hawthorne laughs in my face, glancing at my father as if to check if he’ll let me get away with this. He seems none too pleased with my behavior, and he digs his fingers into my hip as he forces the next words out of me.

  "Pleased to meet you.”

  I don't smile, just nod my head in acknowledgement. I’m desperate to ask about Estella again, but I’m too scared.

  The two men watch me closely, their scrutinizing eyes drinking in my muddy dress and the tendrils now escaping my expert updo. My father seems to notice the disarray I'm in at the same moment they do, and his mouth pulls down in a sneer.

  "Well, she's not much of a looker, is she?" the older man laughs, and I feel a blush creeping into my cheeks. "But she's got a nice body. She should do well for you, Oakes. Very well indeed, as long as you prime her well for what her purpose is."

  I glare at him, hating how he's reduced me to an object before spending even five minutes in my company.

  The girl that came before me – Andromeda's real sister – had it so much better than I did. Then again, she's the one who decided to take her own life, unable to bear the thought of being separated from her luxurious lifestyle. I need to be stronger than she was. I need to learn from her mistakes and make sure these people don't get to me like they got to her.

  "Oh yes, I know how important appearances are around these parts," I tell Hawthorne sweetly. "Even for people at an advanced age, like you, Mr. Hawthorne.”

  A shocked silence falls on our little group, and Hawthorne glares at me as if I've just slapped his face.

  My father's fingers snake around my wrist, jerking me closer to him. His thunderous eyes meet mine, and I can tell just how pissed off he is.

  "What did I tell you about talking back?" he says, his voice only more frightening because of how calm and collected it is. "Do you really want me to discipline you right here, in front of everyone?"

  “Oh, you’re actually going to dirty your own hands?” I scoff at him. “No one to do your dirty business around now, is there, Father?”

  I raise my chin defiantly. My heart throbs in my chest with the knowledge that I've fucked up again. My father doesn't take easily to these slip-ups I've been having since I arrived at Oakes Estate. He doesn't shy away from punishing me for my mishaps, either.

  "Apologize." His fingers dig into my skin, the nails leaving red crescent moons on my tender flesh. "Right now."

  "I..."

  I look up at my father, ready to defy him, but end up hanging my head when I see the pure rage in his eyes. He's not going to take no for an answer.

  "I'm sorry."

  "Not to me." He forces me to turn around and face Hawthorne and his son. "To them."
/>
  "I'm sorry," I repeat again, hating how compliant I sound.

  But I need to play along with their sick, twisted games. It will make getting away from here easier if they don't suspect I'm already plotting my escape.

  "Are you really?" Hawthorne narrows his eyes at me.

  Despite my rude remarks, he's a handsome man, but I'm revolted by him. The mere sight of him makes me feel uneasy.

  "Or are you just saying that, so Daddy dearest doesn't turn you into pulp in front of us?"

  I grit my teeth together, fighting the nasty response that's on the tip of my tongue. Instead, I look meekly at the ground.

  "I'm not about to be insulted by a girl plain enough to be the help," Hawthorne tells me coolly. "In fact, I think you should apologize again. Properly, this time."

  I glance at my father for backup, but he's standing still, refusing to look at me. He crosses his arms, smirking at Hawthorne but not correcting him. So, this is actually happening. Fuck him. Fuck them all.

  "What do you want from me?" I ask the man, holding back the sneer.

  "How about..." He takes a step closer, taking my chin in his fingers and inspecting my face. "You get on your knees and bow to me."

  I recoil in revulsion. He can't be for real. But a look at my father's face reveals what I'm most afraid of – I'm going to have to do this, right now.

  "Now!" Hawthorne adds, pointing to the ground and letting go of my face.

  Next to him, his son chortles. They're loving this.

  I promise myself I'll have revenge for this as I let my knees sink to the ground. My long white dress is dirtied further by the grass and dirt as I kneel in front of them, casting my gaze to the ground.

  I hate myself for following through. But not as much as they'll hate themselves for doing this to me when it's my turn to have vengeance on them.

  "Now, I really don't think this is enough," my father says thoughtfully. "She did offend you greatly, didn't she, Hawthorne?"

  "Indeed, she did," my father's business partner drawls out, seemingly pleased with my father's assistance.

  What kind of father demeans his own daughter to please a business acquaintance?