Untouchable: A Bully Romance

by Mariano, Sam

  “It was a stage kiss,” I assure him. “Nothing more.”

  “Uh huh,” he says, unconvinced. “Why are you flustered, then?”

  “I’m not flustered,” I mutter.

  “Aw, are you blushing?” Cartwright asks, smirking at me. “She’s blushing.”

  I look up at him across the table. “Et tu, Brute?”

  Cartwright frowns. “Huh?”

  “I’m gonna buy you a book for Christmas,” I tell him. “Even in the likely event that we have nothing to do with one another by then. If you get a random copy of Julius Caesar slipped into your locker, know it was from me.”

  “Nicer than what he’s slipped inside your locker,” Carter murmurs.

  I cock an eyebrow and look up at Cartwright, remembering the lube someone put into my locker all those weeks ago. “Really?” I ask him.

  He has the good grace to look bashful about it, but I know it’s only because I’m in Carter’s good graces today. As much as I might like to write Erika off, more than anyone else at either of these tables, I know she’s not entirely wrong about Carter. Right now, she might be between his crosshairs, but he could turn on a dime and treat any one of us the exact same way. He could tire of chasing me tomorrow, and by this time next week, have Cartwright lubing up my locker again without remorse.

  It’s a shallow, unreliable world, this world of Carter’s. One might think it would be a comforting thing to have friends like these who do his bidding without question, but I can see why it isn’t. Because something Carter said to me a long time ago is so very true. These people don’t like him, they like what their closeness to him does for them. They don’t follow his orders out of loyalty or a genuine desire to support him, but out of fear—fear that if they step out of line, he will banish them, and all the benefits of his friendship will disappear in a puff of smoke.

  Erika was wrong. None of Carter’s friends think they’re safe, they just make sure not to cross him so that he never has a reason to throw them to the wolves.

  Looking over at him, I feel a strange stab of sadness for him. In so many ways, he is so spoiled, but in the most basic ways, I think he might be starving. Like he said to me once before, I am the first real thing Carter has ever encountered. To have gone this many years never believing a single person likes who he is… I can’t imagine how lonely he must be, despite his superficial fans and his army of minions.

  My own thoughts make it even harder to stick to my guns. I yearn to wrap my arms around Carter and give him a big hug. To tell him even when I’m so angry at him I want to scream, I still like him. I always like him—and not the shiny, perfect side of him, either. I like the filth and the sadness and the darkness. I do crave his depravity, because I know it’s inside him whether he has somewhere to put it or not.

  I love being the place he puts his darkness. I love being the keeper of the secret of who Carter really is.

  I love him, dammit. I didn’t entirely mean it when the words slipped out that night in a post-orgasmic bliss bubble, but God help me, I do.

  I love Carter Mahoney, and that means I am well and truly fucked.

  Chapter 48

  “Carter, no!”

  His hand roughly covers my mouth, cutting off anything else I intended to say as he drives his cock inside me. I close my eyes and groan, relieved that he stole my ability to speak. It’s getting harder and harder to beg him to stop when all I want is for him to keep going.

  “Not another fucking word out of you,” he says roughly, his fist tightening as he yanks my hair.

  God, yes.

  I shake my head and try to utter a muffled no, but his hand is closed over my mouth too tightly. He draws back and pistons into the tight, hot wetness between my shaking legs and I cry out against his hand. My whole body needs release more than it needs even the most basic necessities. I’ll give up oxygen for the next two minutes and take my chances if he’ll just let me come.

  Carter moves his hand from my mouth after only a minute, telling me, “I hear your voice, I smack your ass. Keep your mouth shut.”

  “Fuck you,” I spit back.

  His low growl sends a thrill down my spine, then Carter’s hand comes down across my ass and I let out a little yelp, clutching his bed sheets and holding on for dear life as he fucks me harder. I’m too close to the edge of the bed for him to be thrusting this hard. It’s hard to think straight when he takes me like this, but a sudden awareness of how much closer I’m moving to the edge with every thrust has me grabbing for purchase and trying to stop him, for real.

  “Carter, wait.”

  He ignores me, pounding into me even harder.

  “Carter, stop,” I call out, unsure how to get his attention. “I’m serious, I need to—”

  With one more brutal drive, he sends me right off the edge of the bed. My arms shoot out and I catch myself on the ground a split second after our bodies disconnect. I roll to a sitting position and start to laugh, feeling stupid for literally falling off his bed, but Carter cuts off my laughter, grabbing me and shoving me down on the floor.

  Oh, shit.

  I’m not sure how it’s possible, but I feel myself get even wetter. Before I can utter a sound, he grabs my hips, positions me, and shoves his cock back inside me. My insides explode with sensation and I try to put my palms on the floor to brace myself, but as soon as I try, he knocks my hand out from under me and pushes me down face first.

  “Ass up.”

  Lust coils through me, even as he moves inside me. I don’t know what he’s doing to me, but I can’t get enough tonight. Maybe he needs it more than usual and my body is responding to that. I love to give him what he needs. I love to be what he needs. He’s the one with two rounds left, and I’m the one dreading the last time this happens.

  The last time.

  Sadness lands like a boulder in my gut. Even if I let him keep playing these games with me for the rest of senior year, it has to end when he goes off to college. We’re going to school too far apart, and I know firsthand now, Carter will not go without sex. If he can’t get it from me, he’ll get it elsewhere. Long distance won’t work with him. No way.

  My own thoughts screw me over, dampening the arousal that has been building since Carter got me back to his house after the movie I swore I wouldn’t go to with him. We were barely inside his bedroom when he told me to get on my knees and pay my debt. As expected, a blow job turned into sex, and the sex got dirty. It’s hard to build to a climax when you’re dousing yourself in sadness though, and Carter isn’t in a giving mood tonight to begin with.

  I can tell by his increased speed and the guttural noises as he takes my pussy that he’s getting close. Shit. I missed my chance. Stupid brain, wandering too far off base.

  Sure enough, a moment later, Carter drives deep and groans as he shoots his release inside me. I clench my feminine muscles, squeezing him as he does, trying to maximize his pleasure.

  When he finishes, he collapses beside me on the floor and pulls me into his arms. I snuggle close and rest my head on his bicep. It’s not a comfy pillow, and the floor certainly isn’t as welcoming as the bed, but I know he just came, so he’s probably not eager to stand up and relocate right now. I’m feeling cuddly anyway, so I wrap my arms around him and hold him close.

  Once he catches his breath and his heartbeat returns to a steady pace, he looks over and asks me, “You all right?”

  With a little smile, I nod my head. “Yeah.”

  “I couldn’t tell if you meant it this time,” he admits, looking up at the ceiling. “When you were asking me to stop.”

  “Oh. Well, I did, but only because I could feel myself about to fall off the bed. If I’m going to have bruises from you fucking me, I’d prefer it not be because I fell off the bed.”

  That catches his attention and he looks over at me, slightly alarmed. “Have I bruised you?”

  “Just a little. Barely worth mentioning. Sometimes you grab a little harder than I think you mean to, and you hav
e the strong hands of an athlete, go figure. I get the occasional thumb print.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry.”

  I smile faintly. “It’s not a big deal. It’s usually not anywhere someone would see it, anyway. Maybe if I’m wearin’ a bikini, but oddly enough, I don’t spend a lot of time in a bikini.”

  “You should,” he advises. “We do have a pool, you know.”

  “Chlorine does unpleasant things to my hair,” I inform him. Then, dragging a finger saucily down his chest, I add, “Besides, if we went swimming alone, I’m sure we would both be naked.”

  Carter smiles, curling his arm to drag me closer so he can give me a kiss. “Good point. You don’t need a bikini. The fewer clothes on you, the better.”

  I sigh with pleasure as he bends his head and starts kissing my neck again.

  “Want to hear something funny?” he asks.

  “Sure,” I answer.

  “My mom asked me this morning if you were pregnant. Heard it around town.”

  I sigh heavily. “Hilarious. Did she tell your dad? Should I be on the lookout for a hitman now?”

  “Nah. They don’t handle unwanted teen moms with hitmen, a checkbook is their weapon of choice. You wouldn’t be unwanted anyway though. If we had a baby, it would be different. We’re more or less old enough for that now.”

  “Okay. I’m gonna reiterate one more time that I am not pregnant.”

  “I know, I just thought it was funny hearing my own rumor echoed back to me.”

  “I’m just tickled, let me tell you.”

  Shrugging unrepentantly, he says, “Shouldn’t have told me you were fucking someone else.”

  “I didn’t. I told you I went out with someone else, and I’m not you. A date doesn’t necessarily lead to sex with me.”

  “No kidding,” he says, as if I made him wait an eternity. “Sex doesn’t always lead to dates, either. You’re a weird girl.”

  Since he has given me an opening to ask a question I’ve been tempted to ask, I set aside my wariness of the answer and take the plunge. “Anyway, you’re the one who actually went out with someone else,” I begin, lightly enough, considering how hard my heart pounds as those words tumble out of my mouth.

  “‘Went out with’ might be an overstatement. We didn’t go anywhere, I just used her to fuck with you.”

  He’s so fucking mean sometimes, I swear. Not even to me in this instance, but to stupid Jenna. “You didn’t like her at all?” I question, heart in my throat. Despite being grounded in reason much of the time, my heart thuds like its continuing function depends upon his answer. Stupid, stupid heart.

  His dark gaze locks with mine and he shakes his head in such a way that I feel foolish for asking. Even though it’s completely possible he could have liked that girl, the look on his face tells me otherwise. “I like you,” Carter answers, simply.

  “Have you slept with her or anyone else since me?”

  “Not yet.”

  My heart soars and then stalls at his answer. Such a bittersweet reminder that he could, if he wanted to, but he doesn’t—yet.

  In a sense, for me at least, it feels like that is when it will really be over between us. That is when whatever ties us together will dissolve, when I will actually be free to move on with my life and veer in a direction that leads entirely away from him.

  It’s hard to imagine grasping that any other way. It will happen when he sleeps with another girl, because I sure as hell won’t be the one jumping into bed with anyone else right on the heels of whatever this is.

  He will, though. He did already, when I didn’t put out expediently enough to satisfy his baser needs.

  “You know me. If I had wanted to get off, I would’ve made you do it, not called in a sub.”

  His words that night come back to mind. I’m mulling them over, trying to put together an impossible puzzle. How do I have Carter and also some semblance of safety? How do I ask him not to sleep with anyone else, without promising to meet his needs myself? For that matter, how do I ask him not to see anyone else—period—if I’m not ready to jump back into being his girlfriend? I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair.

  My head and my heart couldn’t be further apart on this issue, though, and before I can stop it, my heart recklessly throws a hand on the wheel and hurls us around a scary corner. “I don’t want you to.”

  His eyebrows rise in surprise at my frankness, while my formerly ballsy heart drops right down into my stomach. “Then you want to get back together.”

  No. That’s too scary. I shake my head, dropping my gaze to his chest so I don’t have to look him in the eye.

  “You’re gonna have to help me out here, babe. I don’t know what you want,” he tells me.

  I want a time machine that can travel back to the night he told me nothing happened between him and Erika, and I want him to tell me the truth instead. Or a trip ahead in time, so I can see if giving him another chance would lead to a much deeper heartache down the road.

  I don’t always need to be comfortable, but I really hate feeling stupid, and if I give him another chance and he ends up cheating on me, there are not words for how unbelievably foolish I will feel.

  “I don’t have anything new to offer you, Carter, I was just being honest,” I explain. “I like that you and I can always be honest with one another, even if the truth isn’t pretty. I like that we’re not afraid to talk about anything, no matter how messed up, and I feel like that’s a large part of what I lost. That’s why our relationship stopped working for me. Maybe you need sex more, but I need openness and an unshakeable mutual trust. I don’t need you to be that way with anyone else, but I do need you to trust me, and to know I can trust you. You never lost your supply, but I did. I stopped getting what I needed out of us, so… yeah, I still have conflicted feelings, and I still care about you, but that’s where we are. Nothing you’ve done since has given me back that feeling I had before, that… awe. I don’t want you to be with anyone else, I don’t want to watch you move on, but I don’t want to take another chance on you, either. That means it’s over, and at the end of the day, you will move on. Maybe then it will be easier for me to move past this.”

  “Okay, that’s not entirely true. Most of it is,” he amends, before I get defensive. “I know I’m going to sound like an asshole saying this, but you claim my supply was never interrupted, that I got everything I needed from you, but…” He trails off, uncharacteristically hesitant.

  I brace myself, knowing something unpleasant is coming my way.

  “I didn’t know we were going to have sex that weekend, Zoey. When I went to her house, I had no idea where you and I were heading. Don’t get me wrong, I like the occasional blow job as much as the next guy, but I didn’t know I’d get you into bed so fast. You have the reputation for being a stuck-up virgin who spends her free time at church, for Christ’s sake. I figured it would take a little longer to wear you down, and I didn’t really want to go without while I was waiting. That’s the truth. It’s selfish and ugly, but yeah, I do have needs, Zoey. I’m not a slave to them, I wouldn’t have cheated on you once we were together, but we weren’t quite together yet. The timing was shit, and if I had known I could have you if I just waited another couple of days, obviously I would take it all back. I wouldn’t have gone to her house. I wouldn’t make that mistake again. I should’ve been honest with you. I should’ve known that you could take it, and I’m really sorry I lied instead. I know better now.”

  “Did you sleep with her?” I ask.

  “No,” he answers, seriously.

  “Did she go down on you? Or get you off another way? Any variation of sex acts between you two?”

  “Nothing happened beyond kissing. I got a copy of the video, I can show you the proof if you want to finish watching it. Well, listening to it.”

  I shake my head. “No, I never want to see that again.”

  Grabbing my hand and interlocking our fingers, he says, “Nothing happened, Zoey.”

  �
�She said she got you off,” I remind him.

  “She was lying to rile you up. That part was not true. Even showing you the video was a calculated bluff, because if you had kept watching, you would have heard me come around to my senses and leave.”

  I want to fire more questions at him while he’s being open again, but I don’t really know what to do with the answers. After the scene at lunch, Kasey filled in all the gaps in my knowledge. Apparently, someone confessed to the principal that they saw drugs in Erika’s locker when she had it open. An unannounced locker search—which Kasey sent me the picture of some part of—turned up a plastic bag filled with narcotics. Erika swore she was innocent, that she didn’t do drugs and had no idea where those had come from.

  She was suspended from the cheer squad, pending a drug test. If it comes back clean, she will be reinstated. If it doesn’t, she will be kicked off the squad permanently, possibly suspended from school, and she could even face criminal charges.

  “Did Erika do drugs?” I ask.

  “Has she ever? Sure.”

  I give him a droll look. “No, not has she ever. Are you responsible for what’s going on with her right now? The drugs in her locker? Getting kicked off the squad?”

  He shrugs. “She should have known better than to fuck with me. I warned her more than once. At a certain point, you have to act or no one believes you anymore.”

  “So, you framed her. Just to scare her? What happens when the drug test comes back clean and she’s back on the squad this week? She’s gonna be pissed.”

  “Who says she’s going to pass the drug test?” he asks, rhetorically.

  “She’s not doing drugs. Your rewording of my question said as much.”

  “She won’t be back on the cheer squad,” he says, simply. “She’s done. Suspended for the rest of the season, just like her buddy Jake.”

  “I got Jake suspended because he was sexually inappropriate with me. He violated actual codes of conduct. That’s not the same thing,” I tell him.

  “Erika cost me you,” he says, simply. “That’s a good enough reason for me.”