Promiscuous

by Missy Johnson

  Promiscuous

  By

  Missy Johnson

  Copyright © 2014 Missy Johnson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or

  mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems,

  without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a

  reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either

  are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any

  resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely

  coincidental.

  ISBN

  First Printing: February 2014

  Missy Johnson

  Other books by Missy

  Seduce (A Beautiful Rose Prequel)

  Beautiful Rose (Beautiful Rose #1)

  Captivating (Beautiful Rose #2)

  Tease (Tease #1)

  Promiscuous (Tease #2)

  Always You

  So Many Reasons Why

  Incredible Beauty

  Desire

  Inseparable

  Social Media

  Email: missycjohnson@gmail.com

  Twitter: @MissycJohnson

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/MissycJohnson

  Prologue

  Beth

  Fucking Coop.

  I was so pissed off at him. We had arranged drinks for tonight weeks ago, and he just didn’t show up? A short text, half an hour later, explaining that Mia was jealous of our friendship was not fucking good enough. No call. Not even an apology.

  And as if that wasn’t bad enough, Ivan, my manager, just happened to be at the same bar I was? I wouldn’t put it past him to follow me. That was just the kind of creepy, weird thing he’d do.

  It wasn’t the first time I had seen him when I was out. I was sure my reputation as a party girl was behind it. Maybe he thought if I got drunk enough, he could be there, waiting . . .

  And what do you know, he had been. I’d barely finished reading Coop’s rejection text when there was Ivan, a drink in hand. I’d been too annoyed at Coop to turn down a free drink, even if it meant putting up with Ivan’s company for a bit.

  “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone?” He smirked. He pushed the drink along the bar, his stubby fingers tapping on the counter. “You haven’t been stood up, have you, Bethy?”

  Ugh. The mocking tone of his voice made me cringe. He eyed me, every inch of me, from my curled blonde hair down to my black stilettos.

  “My friend couldn’t make it,” I replied. I kept my voice cool, hoping he’d get the message. He didn’t, and I shuddered as he chuckled to himself.

  “Good thing I’m here then, huh?”

  No, not really. All I wanted was Coop, but unfortunately he had deserted me. I sighed and downed the rest of my drink, much to the delight of Ivan. He reached for the empty glass. I jumped as his fingers brushed over mine slowly and deliberately. His lips cracked into a smile, revealing his hideous, yellowing teeth, which made my stomach turn.

  “I’ll get you another,” he murmured, smacking his lips together as his beady little eyes openly gazed at my chest.

  “Sure,” I said dully, my mind still on Coop.

  A few drinks later, I’d had enough. Standing up, I reached for my jacket, Ivan’s fingers brushing past my arm.

  “Leaving so soon?”

  “It’s been a long day,” I muttered.

  “I was just leaving too.”

  I eyed his near full glass of beer and raised my eyebrows. He chuckled, and stood up.

  “Let me give you a lift. I’ve got some papers that need your signature in the car anyway.”

  In my gut I knew it was a bad idea, but I was so angry at losing my only real friend that I’d just wanted to get home as quickly as possible. As much as I disliked Ivan, I’d known him for years. I never thought he would actually try anything.

  Only, I hadn’t expected him to follow me up to the door, or push his way inside my home. He had waved a handful of papers at me.

  “Contracts,” he said in his slight Irish accent, dampened by ten years spent living in the U.S. He grinned as he ran his fingers through his curly, ginger hair. My stomach backflipped as I nodded, trying to mask how uncomfortable his attention was making me.

  I stood on the other side of the sofa, as far away from him as possible. My hands twitched nervously behind me as I took in his tall, wiry frame. I don’t know why, but tonight he was creeping me out more than usual. For Ivan, that was a hard task. He was always a first-class weirdo, but tonight, there was something more than just his usual creepiness. The look in his eyes . . . I shuddered, and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood up and sent shivers down my spine. My breathing began to shallow. I couldn’t explain it—even when I wasn’t looking at him, I could feel his eyes on my body.

  He slowly inched toward me as my instincts kicked in, telling me I needed to get away from him.

  “Just leave them on the coffee table and I’ll have a look over them tomorrow.”

  “Okay then.” He threw the papers down on the table, his brown eyes not breaking away from mine as he continued to move toward me.

  “Uh, so, I’m kind of busy. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for the lift home,” I muttered. I was done trying to be nice. I just wanted him gone. The sooner he left, the sooner I could end what had been a hell of a day with a hot bath, and sleep off the several drinks I’d consumed.

  I tugged at the hem of my short, red dress as Ivan’s eyes lingered on my legs before very slowly moving up and over my body. I hated the way he leered at me, as if I was a piece of meat.

  He walked towards me, his grin widening. I tensed and backed up until he had me pressed against the wall with nowhere to go. I swallowed, a lump forming in my throat as he reached out and touched my stomach.

  The feel of his fingers running down the soft silk of my dress made me cringe. I tried to get away. I tried to maneuver my way from under him, but his arm shot out against the wall. I was blocked in. His weight was up against me. He was so close I could feel how aroused he was. As he surrounded me, his intentions becoming clear, I began to panic.

  Oh no. Please don’t let him do this.

  I tried again to move, but I was locked into this space like a prisoner in a tiny cell. He had a good six inches and at least fifty pounds on me. He wasn’t that well built, but compared to my hundred-pound frame, he might as well have been a wrestler.

  “Come on, Beth. Is that any way to show your appreciation to a friend who helped you out of a tight spot?”

  Let me go,” I yelled as I struggled to free myself.

  He smiled, exposing those grotesque teeth, and pressed me harder against the wall. “Don’t be like that, Beth. I don’t like games, and you’ve been playing me for a while now, you little cock-tease.”

  He grabbed hold of my neck as I tried to break away from him. Pain shot through me as his grip on me tightened, his nails digging into my skin so hard I could feel my blood pulsate against the pressure of them. A cry escaped me as he groped at my breasts and forced his mouth against mine. I coughed, gagging at the taste of his rancid breath.

  He’s going to rape me. Bile began to rise up in my throat. I tried to scream. “Why are you doing this?” I sobbed, the salty taste of tears running onto my lips.

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed hold of my forearm and pulled at it roughly. I gasped, his strength winding me. With one more hard yank, we tumbled to the floor. I landed hard. He hovered over me. He was way too strong, and in complete control.

  His weight crushed down on me as I st
ruggled to breathe. His dark eyes, now overshadowed with rage, narrowed in on mine as he gripped both my wrists together and pinned them above my head while his other hand roughly pushed my dress up, exposing me.

  “Please,” I sobbed as his hand groped in between my thighs. I kicked frantically, desperately trying to free myself. I gasped as his fingers brushed my panties aside before they roughly and forcefully thrust inside of me. I felt sick, and at the same time, like this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. I’d never let this happen. I was disgusted at myself for putting myself into this situation.

  “Don’t do this. Please, Ivan, stop,” I yelled, struggling to free my hands.

  He grunted in response. It was almost a laugh. His hand curled around my black lace panties, and with a sickening rip, they were off me. Pain shot through my legs where the fabric had burned into my skin. A fresh lot of tears ran down my cheeks as I began to weaken.

  This can’t be happening.Please… please no.

  My heart dropped as I heard the sound of his zipper and then felt his fumbling between my legs. Another wave of nausea ripped through me as I braced myself for what was next.

  “No!” I shrieked, trying with my last ounce of strength to free myself.

  But he was just too big, his grip on my wrists so tight I was beginning to lose feeling in my fingers. I cried out as his fist connected with my face. My eye throbbed. My vision became cloudy as my eye began to close over. I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood.

  “Stop fighting this, Bethy,” he whispered in my ear.

  I cringed, the stench of body odor and stale cigarettes enveloping me. I whimpered as he forced his fingers inside me again and moved them around.

  “Ooh, you’re nice and wet for me baby.”

  “Stop…please stop.”

  “You can have me for free, honey. No need to go paying for it,” he whispered in my ear as his fingers groped roughly inside of me. All I could do was lie there and beg like a fucking puppy—beg him not to do what he had every intention of doing, what he was already doing. Plead with him not to take the only thing I’d had control over my entire life.

  He removed his fingers and forced himself inside, the pain leaving me breathless. I choked back tears as he fondled my breasts, his hands all over me like he had a right to my body. I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on the sound of my heartbeat. I tried to block everything else out.

  Bump, bump, bump, bump.

  “You feel amazing. Better than I imagined, honey,” he huffed as he thrust inside of me. “For a slut, you’re really fucking tight. God, oh yeah. You like that? You like the feel of a real man inside you, honey?”

  I didn’t respond. Instead, I lay there, shaking, and slowly dying inside as he moved inside of me. I gasped as his fist connected with my face again, crashing me back down to reality.

  Please make him stop. Oh God, please just make him stop.

  “Say it, Bethy. Tell me how much you want this. Fuckin’ say it,” he growled in my ear.

  “I don’t want it,” I sobbed as he raised his hand to hit me again. My eye had already closed over, and the pain I felt everywhere was unbearable. “You disgusting, fucked up excuse for a human being, I hope you rot in hell!”

  He roared with laughter, my words having no impact on him whatsoever. “I’ve caught myself a feisty one,” he grinned, licking his lips.

  I closed my eyes, repulsed…disgusted.

  Please, stop. Please just leave me alone . . .

  “No!”

  I cried out as he came inside me, the shame and worthlessness I was feeling breaking me. How could I call myself a strong woman when I let something like this happen to me? I should’ve fought harder. I should have stopped him. Why the fuck had I gone home with him? Why?

  This was like my childhood all over again. My sister flashed into my head. All those years of torture at the hands of her scum boyfriends had come to an end the day I found her dead in the bathtub. She had overdosed. I was fifteen. Fifteen, and finally free. Fifteen and alone.

  All that I’d accomplished since then meant nothing now as I lay crying on the floor, Ivan still inside of me.

  He pushed me aside and got to his feet. I sat there, crying, my knees pressed up to my chest and my hands curled tightly around my legs, creating a barrier between him and me. He stood over me as he buckled up his pants, the satisfied grin matching the evil in his eyes.

  Fucking asshole. Every part of me ached, yet the pure hate I felt for this piece of scum right then outweighed every other sensation.

  “You should be grateful anyone still wants you after the way you acted with that escort. Then you go around dressed like that?” He laughed and threw something white in my direction. “You wanted this, and you know it. You’re the biggest slut in this business.” He winked at me and turned to leave.

  As he reached the door, he abruptly turned back. “I don’t need to tell you to keep this between us, do I? Nobody is going to believe you—not with my word against yours. And don’t get any ideas about firing me, honey. I’ll sue you into the fucking gutter for breaking our contract.” He laughed. “The gutter. Right where I found you, huh?”

  I let my head fall to the floor and began to cry as he walked out the door. I spotted the small bag of white powder and reached out for it.

  Coke. He had been on something.

  I’d seen the signs before, over and over, with every piece-of-shit boyfriend my sister had let into our home. I racked my brain, trying to piece the night back together, trying to figure out what I could have done to prevent this. Was it my fault? Had I led him on? It played over and over in my head, like a scene stuck on repeat, a nightmare I couldn’t break free from.

  Wiping my eyes, I struggled to my feet, ignoring the burning pain and wetness between my legs. I clutched my right shoulder, which was aching from landing on it when he’d pushed me, and staggered to the bathroom.

  The steam enveloped me as I climbed into the scalding-hot shower. Leaning against the wet tiles, I wrapped my arms around my stomach as loud sobs escaped from me. Why had I let him drive me home? I’d never felt comfortable around him. Letting him into my house was a stupid, stupid idea.

  Fuck, Beth, what the hell were you thinking?

  But that was the point: I’d been so focused on being annoyed at Coop that I hadn’t been thinking. I couldn’t tell the police, or anyone else for that matter, because he was right—it was his word against mine, and nobody was going to believe me.

  “Leave me alone,” I shrieked, scrubbing furiously at my skin. Blood, mixed with the warm water, began to pool on the shower floor. I examined my arms. I’d scrubbed so hard the skin had begun to break. And it still wasn’t enough. I could still feel him. I could still smell him.

  I could feel him everywhere. He was on me, he was inside of me . . . he was everywhere.

  I doubled over and gagged, the bitter taste of bile and alcohol burning my throat. How could this have happened to me? As a teenager there had been many close calls, but never . . . nobody had ever gotten this far.

  My knees gave way underneath me and I fell to the floor. Why? Why me? The loud sobs escaping from my mouth sounded so foreign, as if they were coming from someone else. But they weren’t. It was all me. This had happened to me.

  My body was the only thing I’d ever had control over. I’d never been a prude, but whom I slept with and when had always been my decision. Through all the uncertainty I’d experienced over the years, my right over my own body had been the only constant.

  Now I didn’t even have that.

  ***

  I finally moved from the floor of the shower to my bed, but not before the water ran cold. Shivering, I fumbling for my phone, my hands trembling as I called Coop. No answer. I tried again and again; each time, the call rang out. I slammed it down onto the bed next to me, frustrated that he wasn’t around when I needed him.

  Every time I closed my eyes, the image of Ivan hovering over me would fill my head. So I lay there, alone,
the faint light spilling from the lamp beside my bed my only source of comfort, until I eventually fell asleep.

  ***

  The next twenty-four hours passed in a blur. I was either asleep, or crying, or running over what had happened in my mind. As soon as I’d fall asleep, I would wake up, screaming, reliving the whole nightmare. Every time I closed my eyes, he was there, on top of me.

  I couldn’t get away from him, and what I hated the most was how easy it was to let Ivan’s words creep inside my head. Maybe I had asked for it? And he was right—nobody would believe he’d raped me. I laughed bitterly. The press would love a story like this. Bethany Masters Cries ‘Rape.’

  He knew I wouldn’t tell anyone—he knew that before he raped me. My decision not to report him would have shocked some people, maybe even angered them, but from my perspective there was no point. I was convinced that this was somehow my fault, and I had nobody on my side to tell me otherwise.

  My phone beeped, scaring the hell out of me. Panting heavily, I collected it from the bed next to me and read the message. It was from Coop.

  Shit, Beth, I’m sorry about yesterday. Everything is all good now, I promise. Come over for dinner tonight, okay? I really want you and Mia to be friends.

  I snorted angrily. Everything was okay. Well, thank fucking God he thought everything was fine. He hadn’t just been raped. His whole world wasn’t collapsing around him. Tears stained my cheeks as I tapped back a response.

  Sure, whatever. See you tonight.

  Switching my phone off, I rolled over, snuggling down into the familiarity of my blankets. My body ached more today, and my head was pounding—probably from all the crying. Large blue and purple bruises had begun to surface on my thighs and my arms. I was a freaking mess, and in no condition to go out anywhere. All I wanted was someone to comfort me, someone to tell me things were going to be okay.

  I needed him. I needed him, alone with me, but that wasn’t an option.

  And right now, there was only one thing worse than the thought of spending the night with Coop and Mia.