by Nina Lincoln
“Fuck, Griff,” I moan, to which he pauses but keeps going, and in the recesses of my mind, I realize I called him by the nickname I’ve refused to use for years, at least not without being snarky about it.
Clenching my thighs between his hands, he flicks his tongue inside me and fucks me heatedly. I buck against his face, riding him as I surge toward orgasm, but as soon as I reach the peak, he pulls back and stands, licking his shiny lips.
I sag against the counter in disappointment and go to pull away, but he stays me with a hand on my leg, dropping his shorts and palming his length with the other. My breath leaves me in a whoosh as I watch him tug on his brutal erection, precum beading deliciously at the tip.
“You want this?” he asks gruffly, and I raise my eyes to his.
His nostrils are flared, his mouth pulled back in a pleasurable grimace, but his eyes are determined, and I hesitate because I sense this is a punishment. When I don’t reply, he steps back, pushing and pulling on his dick while staring coldly into my eyes, and because I refused to beg, he brings himself to completion before stepping in to rub his pulsing dick over my clit.
Tingles shoot through me at the contact, and I arch, but he steps back, denying me as he sprays my core with his seed until he’s tugged the last bit of cum from his dick, and he steps away altogether.
Briefly, we stare at each other, his eyes boring into me fiercely before I drop mine, both disgustingly turned on and humiliated. Closing my legs, I hop from the counter and pull my shorts up with trembling fingers, refusing to look him in the eye while he stands there naked and sated.
Only when I step from the bathroom does he speak, in a strangled voice, “Grab your suit. We’re going up the road.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I rasp, my throat tight. Why? I don’t know, I should have expected this from the guy who continuously pushes me away.
Grabbing my arm, he pulls me around with a steely gaze and says, “You are. Get your shit.”
“Griffin,” I say, pulling away from his grasp. “Why?”
“Because it’s what I fucking want. Now go.”
Bewildered, I study his face before turning away because there are no answers beyond his icy-cold stare. Why?
And with some disappointment, I realize it would have been the perfect time to look through his room, too. Fuck.
Griffin’s waiting for me when I emerge, and with a dark smile, he turns so I can follow him down the stairs, where twenty or so people are piling into any available vehicle. But when I go to sit with a bunch of strangers, because I’d rather be anywhere than with him, he grabs my arm and deposits me in the front seat of his Suburban.
With a petulant frown, I stare out the window as a bunch of others squeeze in the back before Griffin pulls out and leads the caravan up the road. Trees fly by outside the window as we slowly climb the mountain, and after only a few minutes, we pull into a dirt road, ending at a cliff.
Sullenly, I sit in the car when the others exit, and for a moment, I think I’m going to get away with it as Griffin walks ahead, smiling at something one of his jerk friends says. But some chick shrieks out a laugh and grabs his arm, and he looks down at her before turning back to me, and with a single raised brow, he confirms his expectation.
Sighing, I exit and follow behind the masses, smiling halfheartedly when David sidles up next to me and says, “Hey, there you are. I was looking for you earlier.”
“Oh, um—”
“She was with me,” Griffin butts in to say, grabbing me up obnoxiously and pulling me under his shoulder. I walk stiffly in his embrace, all kinds of confused because Griffin hasn’t ever shown possession when it comes to me. Why now?
Is it because of David or something else? Fuck, I’m so confused and frankly still a little turned on, which means being under his arm and next to his achingly beautiful chest isn’t helping.
But my efforts to pull away are stymied when Griffin just pulls me closer and mutters, “Relax.”
I should be annoyed he essentially stepped between David and me, but I can’t concentrate on anything but the pulse in my core and my blood rushing through my veins on waves of fire.
He may be a world-class jerk, but he lights me up so easily, it’s not hard to make me beg, although at least I resisted the last time, except right now, I’m the one being punished.
After a few hundred feet, we emerge through the trees to a sharp cliff that overlooks the lake below, and Jason is before us, pulling off his shirt as he stands at the edge to jump over.
Is it a sin to hope he hits his head and suffers permanent damage? Oh well, I think I’m going to hell anyway—the dick might as well meet me there.
All thoughts of which fade when Griffin pulls me toward the ledge and goes for my sweater, still tucked firmly around my shoulders. With horror, I step back and slap at his hands, saying, “No fucking way. I’m not jumping.”
His eyes light up with genuine amusement, causing a burning throb in my chest as he says, “When did you become such a pussy?”
Stepping out of his reach, I snap, “Asshole!”
But he just laughs and picks me up, and I’m mid-shriek when he jumps with me in his arms, only letting go when we hit the water. I’m pretty sure I screamed like a bitch the whole way down, but can you blame me? This is why when I hit the surface, I swallow a good dose of water, coming up with a spluttering cough and rage.
Glancing around, I spot Griffin emerge beside me with a wide grin, and I swim toward him quickly, my arms slicing through the water seamlessly. I’m just reaching him when he turns and spies me, smirking as I rush into his arms and crawl up his body.
Griffin laughs as I try to dunk him, but I’m so fucking mad the amusement only enrages me more. Fighting off his hands, I slap at his head, desperate to make him hurt. When he realizes I’m pissed, he picks me up off him quickly and throws me, and I swallow another dose of water but come up calmer.
Strangely, I think what Griffin did brought out a trauma-induced response because for a minute there, I wasn’t seeing him. No, I was seeing one of my rapists, as I struggled against their hands, holding me down and stifling me to keep me quiet. With the new dunking, that panic has faded away, and I’m still angry, but I’m not rabid.
“You calm now?” Griffin asks gruffly, grabbing me up from behind.
“Fuck off,” I say at his condescending tone.
Tightening his grip, he pulls me around a corner so we’re behind a rock and out of view before turning me around in his arms. For a minute, a single moment of weakness, I’m so caught up in the feel of his arms around me, I forget to be angry.
His sun-kissed chest gleams as it warms my cool skin, and his ginormous arms bulge around me as his erection brushes my core.
Oh.
Raising my eyes, I find him looking at me with a fiery stare, and my heart trips in my chest when one corner of his mouth pulls up in a sexy smirk, and he asks, “Still hurting, sweetheart?”
Huh? Oh. Fuck.
“Fuck off,” I say because apparently, they’re the only words I know around him.
“Hm,” he rumbles, pulling me tight against his chest and bucking into me with a groan.
“Griffin,” I say breathlessly, need surging through me wildly, as it always does around him.
“Mm, I know, sweet.”
Ignoring the pulse of warmth in my chest at his endearment, I comply when he pulls my wet sweatshirt off and sets it on the rock beside him with a plop before doing the same with my shorts and bikini bottoms.
Bobbing before him practically naked, I shudder heavily when he groans and pulls me up into his embrace before thrusting into me. And it’s so good, I cry out, to which he covers my mouth and sucks me down as he takes me to paradise, and I spasm around him.
“Fuck,” he moans, pulling away as he pumps into me desperately, chasing his own release.
It’s not by design, but someone comes around the corner, and he stops abruptly, leaning his head against mine as he br
eathes harshly and closes his eyes in frustration.
“Yo, stop fucking the bitch and let’s go,” whoever says.
“Fuck off!” he snaps, twitching inside me, and with a whimper, I meet his gaze, his eyes boring into mine with so much need that I spasm around him instinctively.
His eyes flash as he covers his groan before he pulls away from me roughly, and I’m left bewildered and shell-shocked because he’s never cared about fucking in public before.
Why did he stop?
Turning away, I reach up for my clothes, just out of my reach, and resign myself to flashing someone when Griffin grabs them over my head and shoves them at me before swimming away.
My sweatshirt is soaked, weighs a ton, and looks ridiculous, but I have no other choice, so I pull it on and emerge from the water with a shiver.
Griffin eyes me strangely but doesn’t comment until we’re back at the car, when he says gruffly, “Take that off. It’s too wet.”
“I’m cold,” I protest, my teeth chattering as I hold the door open.
“You’re cold because you have that stupid thing on,” he says impatiently, wrenching it off my shoulders.
Before I can protest further, it’s gone, and I clutch my arms, but my hands are no match for Max’s, and of course, Griffin’s eyes zero in on the bruises with a wide-eyed stare.
His brows slam over his nose as he backs me against the door. “Who did this?”
Shivering under the violence in his stare, I turn my head away and whisper, “It’s nothing. I—”
Grabbing my chin, he pulls me back toward him, his eyes burning into mine. “Who?”
Going on the offensive because I’m desperate and scared, I mutter, “It doesn’t matter, right? I’m a fucking liar. You can’t believe anything I say. I probably did it to myself, for attention.”
Releasing me, he steps back, looking me over with a pained expression before someone calls out, and he turns away. Relieved, I slide into my seat and look out the window the whole way back, fighting off tears because I’m tired of the lies, but I’m in too deep to back out now.
This is so messed up.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The stars don’t shine so bright now.
Hiding out in my room, I lie curled in a ball, staring at the wall because I’m afraid of what might happen now, and I don’t know what to do. Maybe I should tell Griffin, but what if he doesn’t believe me? It would only make things worse with Max.
I’m caught, and I’m scared. Fuck me.
Even worse is the thought he might actually believe my lie and think I hurt myself on purpose. It’s a vicious cycle in which I want him to believe me even when I desperately create stories for the sole purpose of keeping the truth at bay. In this, the jerk can’t win, and I guess I understand his confusion.
The sounds of a party rage into the night, but I ignore it all and doze until the distinct sound of someone unlocking my door rouses me, and I open my eyes enough to spy Griffin stepping through.
It defeats the purpose of a lock when the dick comes in whenever he wants, but I resist the urge to point it out because what’s the use?
Without a word, Griffin picks me up and carries me into his room, closing the door behind us and laying me on his bed. Quietly, I watch him undress before he slides in beside me, hovering over me as he brushes my hair out of my face, and the action is so at odds with his usual demeanor that my heart stutters in my chest.
Maneuvering between my legs, he runs his fingers over my shorts before pulling them free, and with a grunt, he slides inside. Arching to meet him, I moan low in my throat, straining to see his expression in the moonlight, but I’m robbed of the option and can only feel as he rocks against me gently until I come in a wave of sweet pleasure, and he spills inside me.
My heart clenches in my chest once more at his sweet moan as he whispers my name softly, “Halsey.”
After, he collapses beside me, and I stare at the ceiling, tears pricking my eyes because once upon a time, I wanted this with Griffin, and now it’s too late.
Even if this were real, and I have my doubts, I have too many lies piling up around me, and if he were to ever learn the truth, he would truly hate me. I may have eventually said no to those boys but not before begging first.
After a while, I fade off to sleep, waking once to the feel of him wrapping his arms around me from behind before I snuggle close and sleep once more.
∞∞∞
When I wake, I’m alone, and the low rumble of people starting up another day of festivities can be heard outside. Yawning, I turn to my back and stare at the ceiling blankly, wondering how I get into these situations—not to mention I’m super confused.
Griffin has insisted for years he doesn’t care and wouldn’t fuck me with a ten-foot pole, and now he’s inviting me into his bed—talk about weird.
To top it off, even though he’s being douchey about it, part of me yearns for it to be real because I’ve waited years for him to come back to me. But it doesn’t matter because either way, it’s the wrong time, and I’ve got too many secrets I’m juggling, afraid to drop one for fear of the consequences.
What would Griffin do if he knew I was planning to steal his grandmother’s necklace?
I mean, when he thought I gave it away, he iced me out for years.
Shit.
Not to mention the whole fiasco last year—I can’t stand the thought of him seeing me wasted out of my mind and acting like a slut.
I hate that girl for not having more self-respect. Which makes me wonder just what the hell I’m doing now? Idiot.
“Well, well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Max says, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.
“Max!” I gasp, pulling the covers to my chin.
“Relax, it’s not like I haven’t seen tits before,” he sneers, to which I give him a dirty look as I wrap the sheet around me and step from the bed.
“What are you doing in here?”
“Did you find it?” he asks, pulling out drawers and rifling through them.
“No. What are you doing?”
“Giving you a hand,” he says casually, pulling out the next drawer.
“Stop! He’s going to know if you do it like that!”
Pulling the drawer from its hinges, he looks at me with a triumphant smirk as he dumps the contents to the floor. “No, dear sister. He’s going to know you did.”
Appalled, I grab his hand, but he shoves me away, and I step back, watching helplessly as he creates another mess I have to clean up. “Why are you such a jerk?”
“Fuck off, golden girl!”
Flinching, I stare at him incredulously because it’s odd for him to be bringing it up, but I guess it goes along with his paranoia. When we were kids, that’s what my dad used to call me until I think we both grew out of it.
Was I treated differently? I don’t know. I’ve searched my memory, but nothing about our lives seemed off. I mean, even now, he’s treated like a fucking prince.
If anything, he can do no wrong while I’m watched like a hawk, and it’s infuriating for him to be throwing everything away. And for what? A lie? That was probably to protect him?
“Why didn’t you tell anyone you were bi?” I ask as he tears through the room.
Pausing before the nightstand drawer, he stares at me blankly for a minute before saying, “I’m not.”
“But—”
“What? Just because I fuck guys doesn’t mean I’m bisexual,” he says.
“Then what does it mean?”
Closing the door with a thud, he gives me an impatient look. “Nothing!”
“Max,” I whisper, “why won’t you talk to me?”
“Because,” he says, turning to me with a cruel look in his eyes. “I hate you.”
“But why?”
“Ha! Even now, you’re fucking pathetic. You think Griff wants you? You’re a challenge, that’s all. As soon as he knows you’re still panting after him, he’ll walk.
”
“This is about Griffin?” I ask tentatively. “Do you…love him?”
Max stands so quickly that I step back as he comes around the bed like a bull and grabs my arm, swinging me to the floor.
Dropping to my knees, I stare up at him mutely, his eyes wild as he glares at me. “If you ever say that again…”
Nodding, I breathe a sigh of relief when he lets me go, and sadly, I watch him stalk toward the door before stopping at the threshold.
“He’s always wanted you,” he says quietly before exiting and closing the door behind him.
Stunned, I watch him go before shouting outside makes me jump out of my skin, and I hurry to put everything back, praying Griffin doesn’t notice anything out of order.
But it’s a stupid thought because I don’t even know how it looked to begin with.
∞∞∞
Thankfully, I finish and escape, but I sweated like a pig the whole time and was sure he would walk in at any damn moment.
Now I’m shaking like a leaf from adrenaline overload and standing in the kitchen staring into the refrigerator blankly. I didn’t eat dinner yesterday, and I’m starving, but I’m also freaked the fuck out.
“Hungry?” Griffin asks behind me, and I gasp, jumping a foot before turning around and giving him a weak smile.
He glares at me suspiciously because, yeah, I’m acting suspicious. Moron.
“What’s going on?” he growls, stepping into my space.
Looking up at him, I try to find some semblance of calm, but now I’m trembling even more, and when he glances down and back at my face, he’s grim as he shoves me into a chair. “Did you eat yesterday?”
“Yes,” I whisper, sitting on my hands as he opens the refrigerator.
Get your shit together, Halsey.
“When?” he asks, turning back with sandwich fixings in his hands.
“Um,” I mumble. Is he making me a sandwich?
He just rolls his eyes and commences with chopping up a tomato and lettuce before spreading it all on bread with mayo and turkey. All the while, I stare like an idiot.
When he’s done, he takes a bite, and I relax because this I expect, but he smiles at me devilishly and shoves the plate my way to my further confusion.