by Mariano, Sam
“Or maybe I had to pee and I just don’t like you,” I suggest. “Much simpler explanations.”
“That can’t be it. You liked me fine a couple days ago. Oh, wait,” he drawls, annoying the everloving fuck out of me. “You’re not salty because of me and Jenna, are you?”
I want to tell him to go die, but that would only verify I am annoyed by his flirting. “Nope. Don’t even know who Jenna is. New girlfriend already?”
“Nah, you know me. Not big on girlfriends. I prefer playthings.”
Somehow, that hurts more than hearing he has a new girlfriend. My heart shrivels up until it’s too small to fit inside its natural cavity, then it drops into my gut with a painful thud. I can’t come up with anything quick and snappy to toss back. My mind assaults me with a vision of him and the blonde, her in his bed just like I was, her arms wound around his neck, his lips blazing a hot path along her bare skin.
Now I really do want to throw up. Maybe I’m just imagining it, but I can feel his satisfaction. Whether it’s real or imagined, I want to demolish it. That’s the only excuse I have for the lie that tumbles out of my mouth next.
“Good. I’m seein’ someone else already, too. I’m glad we’re both movin’ on.”
“Bullshit,” he fires back.
I cock an eyebrow and look over at him. “Bullshit? You think you’re the only guy in the world, Carter? Not hardly. Plenty of other fish in the sea. Fish that won’t fuck around with their ex-girlfriends, crazily enough. I know, I was surprised, too. Turns out you just have to date the good guys if you don’t want endless drama and heartache.”
That dig seems to do more to legitimize my lie. He stares at me, openly confounded, then snaps, “Who?”
“None of your business,” I tell him. “You have your new plaything, I have someone who meets my needs… we both win.”
“Meets your needs?” he snaps, grabbing me by the arm and yanking me closer.
My gaze drops to his hand on my arm, then moves to his face. “Let me go.”
Instead, he glances around the hall, locates the nearest empty classroom, and drags me into it.
Chapter 41
“Carter,” I object, trying to pull my arm out of his steel grip. Given what happened last time I was alone in a classroom with him, I’m not eager to see why he needs privacy today. “Get your hands off me.”
“I’ll put my hands wherever I damn well please,” he tells me, shutting the door with a quiet click, then hauling me away from it so we aren’t visible through the window.
“No,” I say firmly, trying in vain to free my arm from his grasp. “We are not doing this again.”
“Why not? Afraid your boring new boyfriend might get jealous?” he shoots back.
Narrowing my eyes, ridiculously protective of this made-up person, I admonish, “He is not boring. I didn’t say boring.”
“Sure you did,” he disagrees. “You said he was a good guy,” he says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “I damn near fell asleep.”
“Spend enough time with a depraved sociopath, you might be surprised how nice good guys start to sound,” I shoot back.
“He’s a palate cleanser, at best,” Carter states, dismissive of my imaginary boyfriend. “You need someone who stimulates you, not someone who puts you to sleep. You might not want to admit it, but you liked all my fucking damage. You craved my depravity. You don’t want a good guy, Zoey. You want me.”
Since he was pretty damn mean to me in class, I feel like giving him a little dose of his own medicine. “And yet when you asked me to stay with you, I told you no thanks.” I cock my head, tapping my chin as if confused. “Funny, that doesn’t sound like someone who wants you.”
Easily deflecting my well-placed shot, Carter smiles at me. “I can do ‘mean’ a whole lot better than you, princess. I wouldn’t go there, if I were you.”
“You think so?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow. “You make me feel pretty mean sometimes. For instance, right now. I’d like to scratch your face off.”
“How ‘bout you drag those nails down my back instead?” he suggests.
“How ‘bout I drag them down someone else’s back?” I offer back, bitingly. “You’re not the only one with urges, you know. You’re not the only one who can play.”
“Let me make something crystal clear, Zoey,” he says, shifting his hold on me. He releases my arm and takes my books, setting them on a nearby desk. Then he drags me fully against him, locks his arms around me, and gazes down at me patiently, like a teacher with an unruly pupil. “If you fuck someone else just to spite me, you will regret it. Not as much as he will though,” he adds, silkily. “I might not have the heart to destroy you, but I damn sure won’t feel so merciful toward him. Any asshole who is seen alone with you from now on will wind up between my crosshairs. Understand?”
Rage bubbles up inside me, heating my skin. “How dare you. You’re allowed to do whatever you want with any damn girl you want, and I’m, what, supposed to stay home and knit?”
“No, you’re supposed to stay home and study. That’s why you dumped me, right? Can’t have a boyfriend and do well in school? Well, I’d say that applies to other guys, too. I’m just looking out for your best interests.”
Glaring up at him, I tell him, “No, you’re being a jealous asshole, and over a girl who isn’t even yours. How would your new toy feel about that?”
I’m caught off guard when his arms drop from around me and he grabs a fistful of my hair. I gasp as he uses it to pull my neck back. Leaning forward, he doesn’t stop until his head is bent, his lips hovering mere inches from mine. My heart thuds in my chest and I try to pull away, but that only causes his grip on my hair to tighten.
“Not mine?” he asks lowly, dangerously. “Oh, you’re still mine, Zoey. You’ll always be mine. You made the mistake of letting me be the first. No matter what happens, no matter the circumstances, you never forget your first. They always own a little piece of you, whether you want them to or not.” With his free hand, he grabs me between the legs. I gasp, surprised, but my body is so accustomed to his roughness already, it responds with interest. Arousal swirls inside me and my eyelids grow heavy. They want to drift closed, to give him free rein, since he’ll take it even if I don’t. My body doesn’t care about the stupid words he’s saying, it cares about the warmth of his hand against my pussy, the closeness of his lips and the lovely things he can do with them.
Shit, I need to get out of this classroom.
“I think ‘letting you’ might be a slight overstatement,” I tell him, my chest starting to work too hard. Hopefully if he notices, he attributes it to anger and not the stirring of arousal. “Now, get your hands off of me.”
“Who is the guy?” he asks again.
“There is no guy,” I state evenly. It’s the truth, but the funny thing is, now he doesn’t believe me. Now he thinks I’m just protecting someone else because he threatened to target them for daring traipse on his territory.
“All right, I’ll guess. Can’t be the pastor; he’s married and you’re too Christian to do something like that without immense shame. No shame, so… Not Jake, you don’t like him. I guess you could go out with him out of spite, but I don’t think you’d do that. Too principled to use someone so blatantly.” When I show no signs of guilt, I guess, he nods. I see him going through the mental inventory, then his gaze sharpens and his eyes lock on mine. “The cashier. The pastor’s brother. The one you didn’t want to see us together.”
“No,” I say quickly. Too quickly. Carter’s eyes light up with momentary victory, then dull a little, then shift to amusement. “Really? That fucking guy? He’s gotta be a virgin.”
I’m tempted to say “He was,” just to piss him off, but I don’t want to put a target on Luke’s back, so I hold my tongue.
“I’m telling the truth, Carter, there’s no guy. I made it up. I was… mad. It doesn’t matter,” I say, trying to shake my head, but pulling my own hair in the process. “There’s no guy. Don
’t start watching me, trying to figure it out. There’s nothing to figure out.”
Instead of accepting the truth, Carter gets angry enough that his jaw locks. “Do not try to protect some other guy from me, Zoey.”
“I’m not tryin’ to protect anyone,” I insist.
“I’m gonna have a talk with Luke.”
My eyes widen with panic at the mental image of him accosting poor Luke in the hall. He wouldn’t even know what was happening. “Don’t you dare!”
“When did he even have time to move on you? You had youth group on Wednesday, didn’t you?” he muses. “Did he hit on you at youth group? That’s fucking lame.”
“Why aren’t you listening to me?” I demand. “It isn’t Luke. I’m not with Luke. I’m not with anybody. I lied before, but I’m tellin’ the truth now.”
Carter is having another one of his conversations with himself, though, ignoring my contribution at this point. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll handle it. I’m gonna scare the choir boy off, and if you try to date anyone else, I’ll scare him off, too. And the next one. And the next one. And the next,” he finishes, dipping closer.
Before I can pull away, he kisses me. I jerk away and his hand between my legs moves to cradle my neck, to give him better control. He walks me backward as his lips claim mine, soft and sensual, but possessive and demanding at the same time. My heart races, but I don’t know which instinct is more pressing. I can’t see where I’m going and I’m not sure I trust him to navigate. I gasp into his mouth when the backs of my legs hit a desk.
I’m wearing a cream colored top and a caramel brown skirt, just like the first day he had me in this room. Memories of that encounter flash to mind, so when he finally breaks the kiss, my gaze is a little more guarded as it rises to meet his.
I’m so conflicted on so many fronts. I can’t get my head and my heart on the same page when he’s around. Right now, looking up into his handsome face, all I want to do is thread my fingers through his dark hair and pull him close. I want his strong arm to lock around my waist, his other hand to cradle my face. I want things I can’t want anymore, and it’s incredibly frustrating.
Carter’s brown eyes move down my body, surveying the property he claims belongs to him. If we were still together, I might find that sexy, but I’m trying so hard to dump him, and he’s not making it easy.
“This is the same skirt I peeled off you before,” he realizes.
“Which time?” I ask dryly, since I have two similar looking skirts, and the jerk has peeled both of them off me against my will.
His lips tug up like he finds that amusing. “We need to get you some new clothes.”
“Clothes cost money,” I mutter. “I don’t need new clothes, anyway. I have perfectly good clothes already. If you don’t like my skirt, don’t look at it.”
“You’re being pretty mouthy for someone so completely at my mercy,” he observes.
“I’d say do your worst, but you already have.”
“Nah, I haven’t done my worst,” he says dismissively. “Not to you. Don’t intend to. I like you too much.”
If he hasn’t done his worst to me, I’m not sure I even want to know what his worst entails. I am curious, though. On his damage scale, where do I fall? I have to score pretty high. He already told me he never did to anyone else what he did to me, and while I’m not sure where his limits are, I hope they stop somewhere before murder. He never did give me the details about Chloe’s mother, but for all that I quasi-joke about him being a sociopath, I can’t imagine he has ever actually killed someone. He probably wouldn’t dirty his own hands even if he did have a problem he needed to get rid of. There’s an aura of darkness around his past, but it’s a locked door and he wouldn’t give me the key even when we were together, so there’s no chance he’ll give it to me now.
While I’m thinking about the darkness in his past, the darkness in his present emerges. I don’t immediately notice, too distracted by my own thoughts, but then I feel his fingers slipping the buttons through the holes of my skirt. My skirt loosens and before I can reach to grab it, it falls down my hips.
“Don’t,” I object, grabbing at the material.
“Let it go,” Carter commands, grabbing my hip and turning me around.
“What are you doing?” I ask, catching my palms on the desk when Carter pushes me down.
Before he even has time to answer, I realize he is bending me over the desk. I have enough time to piece it together, but not enough time to move out of the way. The sound of his zipper is so loud in this empty room—nearly as loud as the blood surging through my veins like a tidal wave.
“Carter—”
“No,” he interrupts, pressing on my back until I’m flat against the surface. Kicking my legs apart, he moves up behind me. He’s still holding me down against the desk, and it reminds me of the night he held me down in his living room floor. Lust grabs hold of me, but I try to fight it off, to remain focused on getting away. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you, Zoey?” he asks, almost soothingly as he works my panties down with one hand. “So why don’t you act like one. Close that pretty little mouth, spread your legs, and take your punishment.”
Struggling to push against his hand, I bark, “You don’t get to punish me. I didn’t do anything wrong, and you’re not my—”
Smack. Before I can finish that sentence, his hand comes down hard across my bottom. I yelp at the bite of pain and grab onto the edge of the desk.
“Try again,” he tells me, rubbing his hand over the smarting skin to soothe it.
Fuck. I miss this bullshit, and I didn’t even have time to get used to it in the first place. Fury snakes through me again, but this time not at what he’s doing. This time the live wire of anger is what he cheated us both out of with his assholery.
“Fuck you,” I fling back.
His hand comes down across my ass again, then again, and again. By the third time, I’m squirming, trying in earnest to get away. The strikes are hard, clearly some anger on his end, too. Another smack lands and it feels like my skin is on fire. “Carter, stop,” I beg, pushing against the hand on my back. He presses even harder, then spanks me again. I’m starting to notice the harder I squirm, the harder he smacks.
Another smack makes me yelp, but instead of fighting, I stop. I hold onto the desk, but I stop pushing against his hand, trying to move from the position he put me in. I’m breathing heavily, so I take a couple of calming breaths. Carter’s hand moves across my burning ass again. “Had enough yet?”
Swallowing down my feelings of rebellion, I nod my head. “Yes, please.”
“Mm, good girl,” he says, rubbing my back with the hand that was holding me down only a moment ago. “You’re fucking perfect, you know that?”
He asks the question casually, but it still makes my achy heart drop. If I’m so perfect, why did he jeopardize what he was building with me over something he didn’t give a damn about?
I can’t ask, so I ignore his comment like he ignores me when I say things he doesn’t like. I don’t know exactly what to do. On one hand, I don’t want to let him fuck me when we’re no longer together and I don’t know where he’s been since. On the other hand, I probably don’t have a say in the matter.
My heart thunders in my chest as Carter slowly slides a finger inside me. “Carter,” I say on a gasp.
“Yes, princess?” His tone is patient while he caresses me.
Trying to get my bearings, I keep my tone soft despite my words. “I’m not your plaything anymore. You can’t do this. You lost the right.”
“And yet, here I am,” he tells me.
“You have to stop before this goes any further. This isn’t right.”
“If you want to stop me, you’re going to have to scream,” he advises. “Maybe you’ll luck out and a teacher will be walking by on their way to the lounge.”
“I—I don’t want to get you in trouble, I just want you to stop.”
“Are you experiencing déjà vu?
” he asks, lightly. “I am.”
He withdraws his finger from between my legs, but before I can have more than a passing thought that maybe he’ll honor my wishes, he guides his cock between my legs in its place. He shoves inside me, filling me up in one brutal plunge. The friction sends shivers of pleasure dancing down my spine, weakens the muscles in my legs. Thank God this desk is beneath me supporting my weight.
A moan slips out of me as he pulls back, then I cry out when he thrusts forward and drives himself inside me again.
“Fuck, I missed your pussy.” Bracing one hand on my hip and grabbing a fistful of my hair with the other, he holds onto me more firmly as he thrusts into me. “Haven’t even been away long, and still missed it. That’s mildly alarming, isn’t it?”
I don’t bother answering him. I don’t know what to do. I really don’t want to get him in trouble, my body is flying with the exhilaration of having him inside me again, but my mind balks at the mental image of him with Jenna, then the slightly older one of him with Erika. Not to mention, he isn’t wearing a condom again. I’m protected by birth control now, but the idea of him inside me after being with someone else makes my skin crawl.
“Get off me,” I tell him. “This is your last warning, Carter.”
He sounds amused. “My last warning?” he asks, pulling back then shoving forward so hard, the desk skids across the floor. “And you’ll do what, exactly, if I don’t listen?”
I can only shake my head at his stubborn arrogance. He’s already told me he won’t go all out on me, that he doesn’t want to turn the full brunt of his wickedness on me, that he doesn’t have the heart to destroy me because he likes me too much.
Carter doesn’t have the terrifying element of surprise in his hands this time, like he had the first time he locked me inside a classroom with him. Then, I was legitimately afraid he might be a monster, and I didn’t want him chasing me.
Now I know he’s a monster, but I’m not afraid of the chase.
I scream. At the top of my lungs, I scream for help.
Carter pulls right out of me, grabbing me off the desk and yanking me back against his chest. “What the fuck are you doing?” he demands.