Dirty Filthy Rich Boys

by Laurelin Paige

  “I think I’ve taught that ethics have to be personally defined.” Donovan sat back and crossed one ankle over his knee. He searched my face before taking another puff of his cigar. “The offer still stands.”

  “What offer?” I blinked once before realizing which offer he meant. “Did you miss the part where you’re my teacher?” And why was I still standing here talking to the guy? I should have left by now. But I was glued in place, as fascinated with this discussion as I’d ever been with Weston King.

  “I’m not actually your teacher. I’m the teacher’s assistant.” This was technically true. Mr. Velasquez officially taught the Monday, Wednesday, Friday class. But he only taught half of the time, and even when he did teach, Donovan still sat at his corner desk and graded papers or read or did whatever it was that he did while the rest of us listened to the lecture.

  Apparently one of the things he did was watch us.

  Or did he just watch me?

  A string of goose bumps popped up along my skin at the thought. I hugged myself and rubbed my hands up and down my arms.

  Donovan’s lip quirked up, as if he knew exactly the reaction he was having on me. “It’s not officially against school policy if I fraternize with students.”

  I shook off a shiver. “By my own personal definition, it would be unethical.”

  “And why is that?” His voice wasn’t just smooth, it was warm. Coaxing, even with its bitter edge.

  “You grade my papers.”

  “So?” His stare was direct. Intense.

  And this conversation was ridiculous. I wasn’t considering it. Was I?

  I glanced up, just to get my eyes away from him for one minute, and my gaze landed on a framed portrait on top of his fireplace. It was a picture of Donovan with a woman, both laughing as though they were caught candidly. It couldn’t have been taken too long ago—Donovan looked nearly the same age as he was now, but his hair was short and clean-cut. And I’d never seen the woman. Maybe she was someone waiting for him back home. Or someone he’d broken up with. Or someone he was cheating on by flirting with me.

  I looked back at him and realized he’d caught me looking at the picture. “If I fooled around with you, my scores might be affected,” I said, answering his last question.

  “If you don’t fool around with me, your scores might be affected.” His tone seemed hard now. Cold.

  I smiled tightly and shifted my balance from the ball of one foot to the ball of the other, trying to decide if he was kidding.

  His expression said he wasn’t.

  I swallowed. “You’re an asshole.”

  “Am I? You’re the one who came up here trying to get something from me.”

  “What do you mean?” The conversation had totally gotten away from me, and wherever it had gone, I was sure I didn’t want to be there.

  “You’re alone with me in my bedroom. What else am I supposed to think you’re after?”

  A chill ran through me. The hair stood up on the back of my neck. The blood drained from my face.

  Donovan set his drink down on the side table and leaned forward so his forearms rested on his thighs.

  “Get out of here, Sabrina. This floor is off limits during our parties. Next time you attend one, maybe you’ll think about the ethics of obeying house rules.”

  I turned around and dashed downstairs without hesitating another second.

  2

  I grabbed my coat from the bedroom on the main floor where everyone stacked their jackets and ran outside, tying my belt around my waist while I bounded down the front steps of The Keep. I pulled my phone from my pocket and looked at the time. It was too late to risk walking back to my apartment alone. It wasn’t far, but this was campus territory, and I was a better-safe-than-sorry kind of girl. I used my app to arrange for an escort, put my phone away and then rubbed my hands together to keep warm.

  It was a cold night. Fall set in right on time in Massachusetts. But like hell was I going back inside. I’d rather freeze.

  Which was dumb. I was only punishing myself when I really wanted to punish Donovan. What the fuck was that anyway?

  I replayed our entire conversation as I paced the front walk, trying to figure out exactly what had happened between us. All of it had been strange and borderline inappropriate, but there had been something else going on. Hadn’t there? Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I should never have engaged, wouldn’t have engaged in a hundred other similar situations, yet I’d been drawn to him. He’d drawn me to him. That’s the thing about Donovan Kincaid, the thing he was famous for—he was a known puppet master. He was a man who pulled the strings, and he’d pulled me to him.

  Then why had he turned so icy at the end?

  Obviously that was his game the entire time. He was messing with me. He caught me where I shouldn’t be, and he made me pay for it. I deserved it. Didn’t mean I liked it. And it definitely didn’t mean I liked Donovan.

  I glanced up at his window and shivered. Was he standing there right now? Watching me through the glass?

  I could almost see the flare of his cigar in the dark. Could almost feel his eyes crawling along my skin. Imagining it made me feel both warmer and colder all at once. Like I was less alone and more alone than ever.

  The front door of The Keep opened then, startling my attention in that direction. Theo, a guy I’d seen around a few times, ambled onto the porch and sniffed the air. “Fuck! It’s cold as balls out here.”

  Ginger Baldwin followed out behind him with a guy that I guessed she was going home with based on the way they were hanging on each other. “Your balls are cold?” she asked with a giggle. “Is that a normal thing?”

  “My balls aren’t cold,” her boyfriend of the night piped in, as if the idea would turn her off. “You’ve got a problem with your anatomy.”

  “Har har.” Theo adjusted himself. “My anatomy is fine. Shall we whip them out and compare?”

  “You’re always trying to get me to whip it out. Are you sure you’re not trying to tell me something?”

  Theo huffed, angrily. “You know what? Fuck off.”

  I lowered my head and eased into the shadows on the side of the steps. Casual socializing wasn’t my forte when all the participants were sober, much less when some were as drunk as these obviously were. I wasn’t in the mood for talking to anyone at the moment, anyway.

  Unfortunately, the movement must have caught Theo’s eye. “Who’s that over there?”

  I pulled out my phone and pretended to be texting someone, pretended not to be listening to them, but I could feel their eyes on me.

  “I know her. She’s in my statistics class,” Ginger said quietly. Then louder as she came down the stairs, “Hey, Bree. You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I pocketed my phone. “Just waiting for my escort.” Like a loser. With no one to walk her home like the cool kids. I’d managed to drag my roommate to one of the early parties, but it hadn’t been her scene. Besides, Sheri and I weren’t that close, for no other reason than that our schedules didn’t match up and she had a boyfriend who occupied her time.

  Ginger smiled a little too widely, and I could imagine her thinking, thank god, I didn’t really want to deal with you, so I’m glad I don’t have to, while she kindly said, “Awesome. Glad you used the app.” She followed her boyfriend to his car parked in front of the house.

  Her escort, like a gentleman, opened the door for her, then called out to his friend still standing on the bottom step. “Theo, you coming?”

  Theo ran both his hands through his hair and shrugged. “Nah, I’m going to walk.” But instead of stepping down to the sidewalk, he strode over to me. “First, I’ll look out for Sabrina while she waits. That’s cool with you. Right, Bree?”

  I didn’t know the guy except from having seen him at previous parties. The offer was odd and out of place. “It’s really not necessary.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Ginger’s date said, standing with the door open on the driver’s sid
e of the car. “Shouldn’t be out here alone. You can never be too careful.”

  I wasn’t alone. There was a whole houseful of people behind me and an escort on the way. But if Theo felt like a good scout to wait with me and if it gave Ginger and her guy an easy way to get rid of their third wheel, so be it. “Right. That’s true. Thanks.”

  If Theo thought I was going to be chatty, though, he had another think coming.

  The car had just barely taken off when I realized it wasn’t chatting that Theo was interested in.

  “Sabrina,” he said, inching closer to me. Closer than I liked. “You’re a lot prettier than you let on. I’m sure you get told that all the time, don’t you?”

  “No. I don’t. Thank you, but.” I pulled on the back of my ponytail and turned my head from him to look at the curb. The problem with the escort service was it was understaffed. Especially on Saturday nights. There was no telling how long it would be before it would get here. Maybe I should have waited inside after all. It wasn’t too late to change my mind.

  “Why do you hide all that pretty?” Theo reached his hand out and tugged at the belt of my coat, pulling it open.

  “Excuse me?” I turned my head sharply toward him and yanked my coat back from him, but he wouldn’t let go.

  “I bet you have a gorgeous body too.”

  “Theo, thank you, but I’m uncomfortable with what you’re saying. And what you’re doing.” He was drunk. That was all. He was just being playful.

  Except he wasn’t just being playful. He stepped closer. “I don’t really care if you’re comfortable with what I’m saying, Sabrina.” His breath smelled faintly of beer, but his words weren’t slurred. He was in complete control of himself. He knew what he was doing.

  I tried to step around him, but he put a hand up on the wall behind me. I had nowhere else to go. I’d made a mistake when I’d ducked into the shadows earlier because now I was in the corner where the stairs met the house, and Theo was blocking my escape.

  “Theo. Please.” I swallowed the ball at the back of my throat.

  He sniffed, the second time I’d heard him, either from the cold or from snorting, I wasn’t sure. “Please what?” he said as if he really didn’t have any idea what I was asking.

  “Let me go.”

  He feigned consideration then shook his head as if he was sorry he couldn’t comply with my request. “Look.” He pulled his thumb along my bottom lip, which quivered under his unwanted touch. “I don’t want to draw this out, so here’s how this is going to go—I’m going to fuck you. You can either make it easy or you can make it hard. Either way, we both know who has the power here.”

  I didn’t even think. I just opened my mouth and started to scream. “Hel—!”

  Theo was ready for me. He clamped his hand over my mouth—cutting me off before I could get any real sound out—and grinned from ear to ear. “I was actually hoping you’d choose the hard way. I like it when girls struggle. It will be better for you too. I’ll come a whole lot faster.”

  “Fuck you,” I said, muffled against his claw. And though I hated giving him what he wanted, though he was at least six feet tall and probably two hundred pounds, though I had no chance in hell at getting away from him, I fought back. I pushed against his shoulders with all my strength. I kneed at him. I wriggled. I cried.

  Theo only chuckled. “Just like that, baby.” He pressed his body in tighter against me, using his thighs to keep my lower body from squirming. With his free hand, he undid his pants and drew out his cock.

  I started crying harder. I’d seen a penis before. I was a virgin but not a prude. I’d had a high school boyfriend. I’d given him blowjobs and handjobs and he had done enough to me in return that I wasn’t even sure my hymen was still intact.

  But looking at Theo’s cock made me want to throw up. It had to be the ugliest thing I’d ever seen. Everything about it was disgusting. I didn’t want it anywhere near me. Definitely didn’t want it inside me.

  I had to get out of this.

  I brought my hands up to his face and scratched as hard as I could. Scratched until I drew blood.

  Theo cursed and let go of his dick so he could wrestle my hands down instead. When he had them pinned tightly under my breasts, he moved his other hand so it covered my nose as well as my mouth.

  “I can keep my hand like this, and in a couple minutes you won’t have the energy to fight me. Would you prefer that, Sabrina? Is that the way you want to do this?” He locked his eyes right on mine, got right up in my face so he was sure I understood what he was saying. So he was sure that I understood that he was giving me the choice of whether or not he let me breathe.

  I shook my head.

  “So you’ll be good?”

  Did I have a choice? My lungs were already aching. My eyes were already seeing spots. My brain was already panicking with the impulse to take a breath.

  I nodded.

  He didn’t move his hand.

  I nodded harder. I cried harder. Desperate.

  Finally he moved his hand down ever so slightly so that my nostrils were uncovered. I inhaled cold air in long, sputtering draws, taking as much as I could get in through my nose. My chest rose and fell with each gasping breath.

  Slowly, Theo let go of my hands, giving me another warning look as he resumed stroking his cock.

  I got it. He had the power. I did not. Lesson learned. Lesson fucking learned.

  I still struggled. I couldn’t help it. It was like a reflex. Like that one time I’d gotten a pedicure and couldn’t help kicking the technician because I was so ticklish. I willed myself to cooperate with Theo, and still my body fought him.

  “Undo your jeans,” he ordered after he’d jacked himself for a minute, his voice tight.

  No. Please no, don’t make me. I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

  He inched the hand over my mouth slightly toward my nose—threatening—but I was already undoing the snap. Unzipping the zipper.

  Tears leaked down my cheeks as Theo shooed my hands away. He licked two of his fingers and said, “Don’t want to go in dry,” then he stuck them inside my panties, searching for the hole he wanted.

  A sob bubbled deep in my chest, and I closed my eyes, wishing I could be someplace else, surrendering to a deluge of mismatched thoughts that went on and on randomly. A panicked stream of consciousness. I’m not here. I’m somewhere else. I’m on the beach. I’m in the Riviera Maya. I can’t tell my father. He’ll be so mad. I haven’t shaved. Can you get frostbite in October? That redhead had nice breasts. What was her name again? It’s just my virginity. It’s just sex. Will I tell my sister? This is so embarrassing. I should have waited inside. It’s so cold. Who was the blonde in that picture in Donovan’s room? That last trip we took with Mom to the Riviera Maya was in October. It will be five years this December. What if he hurts me? What if he really hurts me? I hope no one comes out and sees this. I can’t tell my sister. I can’t tell anyone. Nichelle. I keep forgetting her name on purpose. I miss my mom. Please, God, let someone come and stop this!

  I was still aware of everything around me. Hyperaware. I knew I’d forever be able to identify the smell of Theo’s shampoo. Of his cologne. His watch ticked in the quiet, each second sounding after an eternity while his fingernails scraped along the walls of my insides.

  But I must not have been as attentive as I thought I was, because I never heard the door open or the footsteps on the stairs. I didn’t see Donovan grab Theo by the back of his jacket and pull him off of me, but I did see him punch Theo squarely in the nose, heard it crack, saw the blood gush.

  “What the fuck?” Theo howled, one hand holding his nose while he quickly pulled up his pants with the other. “Jesus, Kincaid!”

  My knees nearly buckled in relief. I was free of Theo, free of his sweaty hand and his oppressive body. I scooted away from the corner I’d been trapped in, afraid I might somehow end up imprisoned there again, and fastened my pants as fast as I could. Shock halted my tears, and tho
ugh I felt steady, I could see my hands were shaking.

  Theo, seeming to see that he might be in trouble, took a step away, but Donovan grabbed his arm and yanked him back. “Did I say we were finished?” Theo had Donovan beat on size, yet Donovan didn’t seem concerned at all.

  I bit my trembling lip and hugged my arms around myself. Donovan might not be scared, but I was. Too scared to leave to get help. Too numb.

  “Hey, I don’t know what you think happened—” Theo started to say, but Donovan cut him off.

  “You don’t get to talk.” Donovan yanked Theo’s arm again. Hard. “It’s up to Sabrina whether she presses charges. Sabrina?” Donovan looked at me, his green eyes searing into mine, searching as though he was afraid I was lost.

  Maybe I was lost.

  I blinked. He’d asked me a question. “What was that?” I managed.

  “Do you want to press charges against Theo?”

  The reality of the situation came crashing back on me full force. I’d been assaulted. That asshole had had his fingers inside me. If Donovan hadn’t shown up, he’d have raped me by now.

  I choked back bile.

  Of course I wanted to press charges. Except…

  I thought about it again. Went quickly through the scenario—white rich boy accused of assault by a nobody girl. Alcohol involved. No actual rape. Scholarship at risk. There was no way this would end in my favor, as much as I wanted it to. As much as the world needed brave warriors for violated women, it wasn’t what I wanted for myself. It shamed me, but it was my truth.

  “It’s fine,” I mumbled, a tear slipping down my cheek. I just wanted to forget all of this. Go home, take a bath. Pretend none of this ever happened.

  “What?” Donovan asked, forcing me to repeat myself.