It’s almost midnight, and I’ve heard scuttle around campus about big raves going down somewhere in the city. I’m guessing that’s what the old guy is referring to.
Before I say thanks, I spot a weathered, worn ball cap in a carriage near the old man. “Sir, I’ll buy that hat from you.”
He grapples for it with shaky hands. “Twenty bucks.”
I pay the crotchety old man his money and place the dirty gray cap on my head. I don’t know if the hat will do its job, but I can’t afford for anyone to notice me.
Making my way the two blocks, I keep scanning the street for any sign of life or Ray and his goons. I wouldn’t put it past him to be lurking in one of the buildings. But I don’t see anyone. And if what the homeless lady said is true about a party, I’m scratching my head as to why I don’t see any cars parked on the street.
But as I get closer, the highway noise is overpowered by the thump of loud music, and a garage on my right is packed with expensive vehicles. None are an Aston Martin, that I can tell, but the Mercedes and the BMW are still worth a pretty penny.
A guy about my age stumbles out of a graffiti-strewn building in front of me as the bass of the music rattles the broken windows. Rushing to the curb, he bends over and pukes.
I hang back for a second in the shadows until he’s done so I can ask him some questions. I’m still cautious that Ray set me up. With my luck, the cops are on their way to break up the party going on inside.
When he finishes, he spins on his expensive leather loafers. Rich kid, for sure. He probably drives the Lamborghini I spotted back there.
His glare finds mind. “What the fuck are you looking at? Haven’t you seen someone lose their lunch?”
Plenty of times, sadly.
I flick my head at the door. “What’s the party all about?” I ignore the jerk and his belligerent attitude.
A strawberry-blonde rushes out of the building, almost falling as she sways in her four-inch heels. “Zach, are you okay?” She stands in front of him, cupping his face.
That voice. Whoa! Her raspy Southern lilt sends heat straight to my groin.
I watch in quiet fascination as she dotes on her boyfriend. This also gives me time to sweep my gaze over her, and what a sight she is.
Her long, toned, and tanned legs go on forever underneath her black mini skirt. Her gorgeous hair falls in soft waves down her back. Her tits are visible from my side view, and I stifle a moan. They are perfectly round and big, poking through a clingy top that falls off one shoulder.
Thoughts of biting that shoulder and taking my time to explore those tits are causing my dick to grow. In an instant, I’m hard as the stone foundation of this dilapidated building. When she sets her ocean-blue eyes on me, I lose my breath.
“What are you staring at?” she snaps in her raspy, ball-squeezing voice as she turns to face me.
It takes a second to get air in my lungs. I’m thankful it’s somewhat dark where I’m standing. Otherwise, she might catch a glimpse of my raging hard-on throbbing to get free.
What the fuck?
Zach wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his amber gaze full of disgust. “Dude, are you mute? Drunk? High? Or just a fucking weirdo?”
His last question fractures my lust-filled thoughts. I’m here to sell drugs, not fuck anyone.
“Maybe, he’s into threesomes,” the babe says, sneering.
Annnddddd now my brain is picturing a threesome but not with Zach. Definitely with her though.
These two are quickly reminding me that I haven’t been laid in months. The last girl I fucked was at Carter’s big blowout party at the end of June. One of only two parties I went to and let loose.
“Come on, Em,” Zach says, slurring his words a little. “Ignore him. We should call that new de…contact. What’s his name?”
“Wrangler,” she whispers, shooting me a suspicious look as she drags the back of her hand across the sheen of sweat on her brow.
My street name on her lips injects me with another dose of lust. But I shake off all sexual thoughts, put on my sales hat, and walk over to them. “Are you two looking for Molly?”
They stiffen, narrowing their eyes at me at the same time. The muted light spilling out of the building hits the girl’s face, and her blue eyes up close are even more mesmerizing. Suddenly, she seems awfully familiar like I’ve seen her before.
Zach pulls the girl close to him as if I’m about to attack. I don’t miss how she flinches either, so I take a step back. “I have Molly if you’re interested. That’s the only reason I’m here.” It guts me to think any girl would be wary of a guy like me. But I can’t exactly blame her. I’m a guy who walked out of the shadows, a stranger lurking and watching like some moron. Still, I get the feeling someone in her life hurt her. I would bet on that.
Em continues to eye me cautiously as she gives me the once-over, and I spot a brief flicker of interest before she shuts that shit down.
Her eyes have that manic, unfocused stare junkies have when they’re high, and a lump forms in my throat.
Man, I’ve seen many strung-out people in my life, and I hate the thought of selling poison to this girl, because this shit fucks with your body and your mind.
For a split second, I question what the fuck I’m doing.
Until Phoebe flashes in my mind.
I can’t afford to grow morals or start worrying about who I’m selling to. If they don’t buy from me, they’ll buy from someone else. It’s a simple case of supply and demand.
I tug my ball cap down a little, allowing the bill to shroud my identity as much as the hat can.
“We’re not interested,” Em says, as though the shit I have in my pocket is made of dirt.
Dealers have been known to cut their Molly with other chemicals, and whether Ray does or not, I’m not one to question him. I’m out on the streets to sell the drugs, nothing more.
“What if I told you I’m Wrangler?” I say, knowing she won’t believe me.
I don’t give a crap if Zach believes me or not. He bares his teeth, his bloodshot eyes narrowing. “Fuck off, man.”
I shoot him a cheeky grin when Em whispers, “Call Wrangler. Ray gave you his number earlier, right?”
I’m surprised Ray gave anyone my number if he’s testing me. He hasn’t exactly given me the thumbs-up as one of his dealers.
Still, my shit-eating grin only gets wider as I lean casually against a fire hydrant, waiting for the inevitable.
Zach gets out his phone, fumbles a tad, and then taps on his screen.
The burner phone that Ray gave me rings. I pull it out of my back pocket. “Hello.”
Both of them stare at me, their jaws hitting the sidewalk.
“So,” I say. “Ready to do business?”
4
Emily
“You want a beer or vodka,” Scarlett asks as we push our way through the heaving crowd to the makeshift bar at the back of the room. Alpha Sig is hosting an All-Greek party as they do every year, and they always draw a decent crowd.
I’ve come down from my high after the warehouse party last night, and I’m raring to go again, but Scar and I like to have a few drinks first, waiting until later in the night to avail of our drug of choice. Attending parties on campus makes me wary, so I try to keep most of my crazy for the warehouse parties in town where no one knows I’m the offspring of Coach Parker and President Parker.
“I’m in a vodka mood tonight,” I say, smoothing a hand down the front of my fitted, black jersey dress. It’s pretty plain, as dresses go, but most of the girls don’t go overboard at these parties, and I don’t like to stand out, preferring to blend into the shadows. I like how it hugs my curves without being obscene. It’s off the shoulder, and it stops mid-thigh, showcasing my long legs. I’m wearing my black-and-white Vans, and my purple sweater is tied around my waist.
“Let’s get fucking shit-faced!” Scar says, handing me a red cup filled with vodka cranberry as she drinks beer from her own cup
.
“Amen to that, sister!”
We knock our drinks back in record time while we check out the room, and then I refill our cups.
“You and Zach looked cozy last night,” she says, winking as she inhales her beer like it’s liquid oxygen.
“Zach is fun, but it’s nothing serious. You know he fucks around a lot.”
“I know he’s got a big cock, and he knows how to use it!” she hollers over the music, which has suddenly ramped up a few decibels.
I almost choke on my vodka. “Tell the room, why don’tcha?”
“Girl, you know these frat parties usually descend into orgies. No one gives a shit.”
“Do you ever wonder what it’s like to be normal?” I blurt, draining my drink and grabbing new refills for both of us before we make our way toward the main room.
“Normal is boring,” she says, eye-fucking a guy with massive shoulders standing in the corner talking to two other guys.
“You really think that?”
She sighs. “No, but there’s no point wishing for a different life. This is the one we have, and it’s not too shabby.”
“Do you ever think about the future and how much this shit could fuck us up?” In brief moments of vulnerability, I let the stuff I learned in rehab torment my mind.
They spent hours explaining the side effects and consequences of long-term drug use, but it was a scare tactic that only worked on me for a while. I don’t really see any issue with my lifestyle. It’s not like I’m using every day, and I know how to handle it. Life is stressful, and anything that helps take me out of my head for a while is a good thing.
“Sometimes.” She pins me with serious eyes. “But I sure as fuck don’t want to think about it tonight. And you shouldn’t either.” She pulls me into her side, talking in my ear. “We’re here to have fun. To forget about reality. To find some sexy guys to fuck, and I think I’ve just spotted our prey.” She turns me around by the shoulders, gesturing at the guys in the corner. “They’re hot.”
“How can you tell? Two of them have their backs to us.”
“Their bodies are to die for. I want to climb both of them like a spider monkey. Preferably naked.” She flashes me a cheeky grin, and heat crawls up my neck, onto my face, as I remember all the times we’ve indulged in group sex.
Both guys shirts are stretched tight across wide shoulders and glued to their toned backs and bulging biceps. She licks her lips, her eyes lowering. “And check out those fine asses.”
My eyes drift to said asses, and I’ve got to admit both guys have drool-worthy buns, leading to muscular thighs squeezed into dark jeans. “They’re football players,” I surmise, shaking her hands off my shoulders, and turning toward the crowd jumping around the dance floor. “Which means they’re off limits to me.”
I used to attend all Dad’s games when I was in high school, but I haven’t gone to a single one since I started college, and he hasn’t mentioned it. He doesn’t want me there because I’m too much of an embarrassment, and I don’t want to go because the last thing I need is to draw the attention of any jock.
Keeping my parents in the dark about my drug habit means I keep a low profile on campus. I don’t date, and I only have sex with guys within our circle. I haven’t even made any friends in classes, preferring to stick to myself. Scarlett is my sole friend, and I only know her through the drug scene. A lot of the girls in the circle are bitchy and unfriendly, but Scar and I clicked from the instant we met. Although our backgrounds growing up were vastly different, there are enough similarities to share a kindred spirit.
I love hanging out with her on weekends, and I sleep over at her place because her roomie goes home to see her boyfriend. My parents turn a blind eye because she lives in one of the dorms, and they think that means I’m sheltered, which is laughable.
One would think Mom, as college president, would be more clued in about the shit that goes on around campus, but I think she deliberately ignores it, because she doesn’t want to deal with it.
It’s bad enough dealing with her wayward drug-addicted daughter—her words, not mine—so, knowing the drug culture is alive and thriving on her campus wouldn’t go down well at all.
“Well, that fucking sucks.” Scar pouts. “C’mon.” She drains her drink, tugging on my elbow. “Let’s dance.” I knock the rest of my vodka back and let her drag me into the center of the mayhem. A happy buzz descends as alcohol mixes with the blood in my veins, and I sway my hips to the rhythmic beats pumping out of speakers dotted around the room, closing my eyes and losing myself to the lure of the music.
“Those football players are watching us,” Scar murmurs, a few minutes later.
“They’ve probably recognized me,” I reply without opening my eyes. Although I don’t attend games, some of the football players know who I am.
Sucks to be me.
“Hey, sexy.” Meaty hands land on my hips, and I instantly jerk my eyes open at the sound of his voice. He pushes my hair aside, running his tongue along the column of my neck, and I almost gag. “What a lovely surprise to see you here,” Weston says, and bile floods my mouth as I recall the forced blowjob in his SUV during the week.
“Get fucked, Wes.” Scar flips him the bird, as I shove him away, and I couldn’t love my pint-sized friend anymore. Even though I tower over Scar, she doesn’t let her five-foot-one-inch frame, or her petite figure, hold her back, and she’s as fierce as they come. “She’s not interested.”
Wes cocks his head to the side, smirking. “That’s not the impression she gave me last Wednesday.”
Scar frowns, glancing up at me. As far as my bestie is concerned, Weston is blackmailing me into dating him. She doesn’t know he’s forcing me into the role of sex slave, and I didn’t tell her what happened the other evening because I was too ashamed.
But Wes is insinuating it was something different, and I’m fucked if I’m hiding the truth from my friend anymore.
“Blackmailing me into blowing you is nothing to be proud of,” I hiss at him, and Scar’s claws emerge.
“Sexual assault is a crime. Something I’m sure you’re aware of as a pre-law student,” she snaps, glaring at him. “If you don’t drop this blackmail bullshit, we may have to resort to a little blackmail of our own.”
“Just try it, sweetheart.” He puts his face right into hers, and an ugly sneer washes over his features. “And see where that gets you. You’re Scarlett Morgan, right? A junkie whore from Bennettsville. I hear your uncle’s getting out of prison soon. Maybe I’ll pay him a visit.”
“You fucking bastard.” Scar’s trembling, and I clutch her hand for moral support.
“Leave my friend alone.” I jerk my chin up, piercing him with a warning look. “This is between you and me.” I ignore the rapid pounding of my heart. “What do you want?”
“Good girl, Emily. I’m glad you can be reasonable.” His patronizing tone grates on my nerves, and I grind my teeth hard. “You’re coming with me.” He grabs hold of my arm, cutting off my circulation.
“Don’t do it, Em.” Scar recovers her composure, pulling on my other arm, her eyes pleading with me.
“Hey, babe.” A strong, muscular arm wraps around my waist from the side, extracting me from Scar’s and Weston’s grasp.
“Who the fuck are you?” Wes demands, glaring at the newcomer. I haven’t risked glancing at him yet, curious to see how this plays out.
“I’m Adam. Emily’s date.”
I’ve no clue who this guy is or why he’s ridden to the rescue, but I’m not stupid enough to turn help away.
“Yeah?” Wes steps up to him. “Well, I’m one of her oldest friends, and we’ve got plans, so screw off.”
Tension radiates off Adam in waves as he places a gentle finger under my chin, forcing my gaze to his. I suck in a shocked gasp.
Adam is Wrangler.
Our new dealer.
The guy I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since meeting him last night.
&
nbsp; Adam is drop-dead gorgeous with his strong jaw, lush dark hair, beautiful emerald-green eyes, and a body honed to perfection. All I’ve thought about since last night is what it would feel like to roam my hands over those broad shoulders and trail my tongue along the grooves of those rock-hard abs while grabbing onto his bulging biceps. And how it would feel to have him thrusting inside me as he screwed me senseless.
My thoughts have shocked me.
Because it’s been forever since I’ve lusted after any guy in this way.
His eyes penetrate mine, seeking permission, and I subtly nod. “You want to go with him?”
I’ve no clue how he’s here, or what he thinks he’s doing, and I don’t know him to trust him, but I’d still rather stay with him than go with Wes.
I shake my head. “I want to stay here with you.”
“That wouldn’t be smart, Emily,” Wes warns, and anger bubbles up my throat.
Fuck. Him.
He’s not going to blackmail me into doing his bidding every time he feels like it. If I don’t take a stand now, he’ll trample all over me. Challenging him is risky, but I doubt he’ll tell my parents.
At least not yet.
Not while there’s something to gain. He enjoyed my lips on his cock, and I know he’s banking on more.
If he turns me in, he’s saying no to more sexual favors. That’s not part of his playbook.
Although I could be wrong.
He could go straight to my parents and tell them everything.
Maybe it’s not smart to antagonize him, but life is all about taking calculated risks. I don’t want to look weak in front of Adam or Scarlett, and I don’t want Wes thinking I’m his little puppet bitch.
Adam must sense something coming, because he pulls me in closer to his side, keeping a firmer hold on my waist. His spicy and citrusy scent wafts around me, reeling me in. He smells incredible, and, against my better judgment, I instinctively lean closer.
“Wes?” A stunning blonde with sultry brown eyes and a rocking body materializes at his side, looking at him with a frown on her face. “I thought you said you couldn’t come tonight?”
Holding on to Forever Page 4