by Laura Lee
She laughs derisively. “Oh, please. Don’t try to blame me for your deviant tendencies. Why would I ever want to broadcast the whore at work?”
Kingston takes a step forward, but I grab his shirt, and he seems to think better of it.
Bentley’s searching through the media cabinet when he shouts, “Found it!” He holds up a thumb drive.
“Is that the only copy?” Kingston grits out. He’s glaring at Peyton with unadulterated hatred right now. I’m honestly surprised she’s not crumpled in a ball, begging for forgiveness.
“How would I know?” Peyton parks a hand on her hip. “I had nothing to do with this.”
I don’t fucking believe her for one second. Based on Kingston’s expression right now, I’d say he doesn’t either.
Barclay What’s-His-Name starts laughing. “I gotta say, Davenport, I didn’t get it at first, but after seeing how well she sucks cock, I can understand why you’d put up with the trash.” He looks at me and winks. “How much do you charge, honey? I’d like to give it a try.” Barclay puffs his chest out when laughter surrounds us.
I don’t even feel sorry for the bastard when Kingston’s fist flies out and takes Barclay down with one punch. Unfortunately, that single hit also sparks an instant full-on brawl.
“Ah, fuck,” I mutter, right before some Barbie wannabe bitch-slaps me.
Oh, hell, no. I don't even know who this chick is! I raise my fist and clock her right in the jaw. She goes stumbling back into the wall, eyes widening when I stalk after her, getting right in her face.
“Touch me again, and I’ll make you regret it,” I snarl.
“I’m sorry!” Barbie holds her hands up and recoils when I fake a punch.
I catch sight of Bentley diving into the fray, and part of me worries he's too fucked up to handle himself. However, my concern only lasts a second when I see Bent expertly dodge a punch before he starts wailing on the idiot who tried to hit him. Fists are flying everywhere. Girls are screaming. Half the partygoers are throwing down—some of them looking way too happy about that—and the other half are tripping over each other to get away. I lose sight of Bentley and Kingston in all the ruckus, but I'm too busy to worry about it.
Some asshole lunges for me, so I jab the heel of my hand into his throat. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to never hit a girl, dickhead?”
He clenches his neck, wheezing. “Stupid bitch.”
Oh, no, he didn't!
I slam a hand down on his shoulder for leverage and knee this motherfucker in the balls as hard as I can. He drops to the ground instantly, whimpering in the fetal position.
“Think about that next time you want to beat on a woman.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Peyton trying to run away. She’s fucking kidding herself if she thinks I’ll let her get past me. I know she’s responsible for that video. I don’t know how she got past the lock on the bedroom door, but the skank figured it out somehow.
I leap over the asshole clutching his balls and give chase. As soon as Peyton sees me, she veers left and darts up the stairs. Clearly, she's never watched a horror movie in her damn life, because she would've known she had a much better chance of escape had she run outside instead. When I reach the top level, I look around but don't see her. I start opening the doors, one by one until I hit a roadblock. The second to last door is locked, and I know she's behind it.
I pound on the wood with a closed fist. “Come out here and take your ass-kicking like a real woman, Peyton!”
“Fuck you!” she yells through the door.
I study the doorknob, trying to figure out whether or not I can break in. It’s not a key lock, but it is one of those pinhole ones like Charles has in the mansion, so I’d still need a tool to get in. Fuck. How am I going to—
Something hard whacks me on the head from behind, slamming my face into the door with a resounding thud. Spots dance before my eyes as I stumble backward. Before I can catch my balance, I’m pushed to the floor with such force, my teeth clank together.
“Fuck,” I mumble, the spottiness getting worse.
I grunt as a knee lands in the middle of my spine while a strong hand pushes on the back of my skull. My arms are trapped beneath me, and my face is being smashed into the carpet so hard, the skin on my forehead and the bridge of my nose is getting massive rug burns.
Warm breath infused with alcohol hits my ear as a deep voice growls, “You’re not so tough now, are you? You know, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” I cringe when he nuzzles his face into my hair. “How badly I want to make you scream as I take your pretty little cunt. Although, after seeing that video, I think I’d much rather fuck your face first. You’d look incredible choking on my cock, tears streaming down your face.”
I try not to go there, but I'm suddenly back in those woods, bleeding and broken. How could I not think about it, when the same man who tried to rape me is currently crushing me with his weight, and his musky bergamot cologne is infiltrating my nose?
“Please don’t do this,” I sob into the thickly carpeted floor.
My voice is so muffled, I'm not sure he can hear me. I definitely know I can't manage to scream for help like this. God, I hate being so weak, but I can't fucking breathe. Can't move. My heart feels like it's trying to claw its way out of my chest. How sad is it that I hope Peyton comes out of that room and scares this guy away? I doubt that's going to happen though because there's a real possibility she just set me up.
“Oh, Jasmine, you don’t get to run the show here.” I stiffen when he says my name. “Yeah, that’s right; I know exactly who you are. Where you live. I’ve been watching you. Waiting. Your boyfriend just gave me the perfect opportunity by starting that fight. Maybe I should send him your panties as a thank you after I rip them off your body.”
I whimper.
He wraps his fist around my hair and pulls so hard my eyes water. "What do you say we take advantage of one of these bedrooms? I’m sure I can find something to tie you up with. I’d have to blindfold you, too, but I’m sure you understand why.”
The guy curses when someone downstairs yells, “Cops! Everybody get the fuck out!”
Oh, thank God.
Out of my peripheral, I see a meaty fist coming at the side of my head, but I can’t do anything to stop it. The last thing I hear before I blackout is, “This isn’t over, bitch.”
“JAZZ! WAKE THE FUCK up!”
Someone rolls me over. My eyes flutter open, and I gasp for air, trying to slap their hands away. I scramble to break free, but I can't. A low cry hits my ears, and I realize it's coming from me.
Firm hands grab my shoulders and shake. “Jazz! It’s me. Calm down.”
I still at the sound of Kingston's voice. I blink a few times, waiting for my eyes to focus. Kingston is hovering above me, alarm evident in his forest-green eyes. Bentley is standing behind him, wearing a similar expression.
“Oh, thank fuck.” Kingston presses his forehead against mine, making me wince. When he pulls back, he gently brushes his fingers over the raw skin right below my hairline. His eyes narrow as he says, “What the hell happened here, Peyton?”
I blink a few more times and find Peyton leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest.
“How should I know? I already told you, I didn’t see anything. One minute, this psycho was chasing me up the stairs, and in the next, she was out cold.”
Psycho?! Hi, Pot, lovely to meet you. I'm Kettle, your less snotty counterpart.
I chuckle, amused my sarcasm is still going strong, even with another head injury. Kingston’s concerned eyes flicker back to me, likely wondering what’s so entertaining. Or maybe he thinks I’m a lunatic. I’d say the odds are fifty-fifty. That thought makes me snort-laugh.
"Jazz, what happened?" Kingston asks cautiously. I just now notice bruises are blooming on his cheek and around his left eye.
I moan as I try sitting up. Kingston helps me into a seated position, propping me against the
wall.
"I was jumped from behind... the same guy from the woods. Got hit in the head." I reach behind me and rub the sore spot.
Kingston releases a sharp exhale when he copies the motion and feels the big lump. "Jesus, fuck. Bent, will you go raid the freezer? Get me an ice pack, or some peas. Whatever."
“Well, this has been fun and all, but I’m leaving.” Peyton waves her hand in my direction. “Have fun with that.”
“I’m not done with you, Peyton,” Kingston warns. “We’ll be having words as soon as I’m sure Jazz is okay.”
She flips her bleached blonde hair over her shoulder. “Whatever. You can talk all you want, Kingston. It’s not going to change the fact that I don’t know anything.”
I wait until Peyton leaves before speaking. “He knew my name. Said he knows where I live. He’s been watching me. He saw the video...made a pervy comment about it.”
Kingston’s jaw clenches. “Motherfucker.”
“Shit,” Bentley says at the same time.
“Yeah.” I start to nod but wince when it makes the pain worse. Jesus, I have the mother of all headaches.
“I’m gonna go get that ice.” Bentley takes off, presumably to the kitchen.
I sit there in a bit of a daze until Bentley returns a few moments later with a bag of frozen vegetables and a paramedic.
When I give him a questioning look, he says, “Figured it wouldn’t hurt to have him take a look. Some girl called ‘em after her boyfriend’s nose got broken.”
“Awesome.” I sigh.
Kingston shrugs. “At least the place cleared out quickly when people heard the siren. Made it easier to find you.”
The man kneels in front of me. “Hey. Jasmine, is it? I’m Dan. I understand you have a head injury. May I take a look?”
“Go to town,” I mumble.
Dan inspects the back of my head and my temple, instructing me to hold the peas on the bump while he takes my vitals. He flashes a light in my eyes and tells me to follow his finger in all directions while asking a few questions. Kingston brings the paramedic up to speed on my recent concussion while he's packing up his medical bag.
"Well, I think it's just a nasty bump, but I'd still recommend coming in for a CT scan, especially given your recent medical history. We can take you via ambulance, or you can have someone drive you."
“I’ll drive her,” Kingston tells him.
The paramedic looks at Kingston for a moment. "I'm obviously not a police officer, but I'm going to ask anyway. Have you had anything to drink or taken any drugs?"
Kingston glares at the poor guy who’s just trying to do his job. “I haven’t had a drop of anything all day. I’ll take her.”
Dan nods. “Okay. Good luck, Jasmine.”
“Thanks.”
Bentley takes a seat on the opposite side of me from Kingston. “You need to stop scaring us like this, Jazzy.”
“I’ll do my best not to get assaulted again,” I deadpan.
Kingston takes my hand and helps me stand. “You’re sure it was the same guy?”
“I’m positive.” I suppress a shudder.
Bentley takes my other hand as they carefully guide me down the staircase. “So, is anyone going to point out the obvious?”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“The only people at this party were Windsor students.” Bentley goes ahead of us and opens the front door before continuing. “That guy mentioned seeing the video, right? Well, he could’ve only done that if he was part of the crowd.”
“Which means he’s been in front of us this whole time.” Kingston tightens his grip. “Jazz, did you recognize his voice at all?
“No.” I shake my head slightly. “There’s nothing about it that stands out. Just your standard deep guy voice.”
Kingston opens the passenger door to his Range Rover and helps me inside. “We’re going to find this guy, Jazz. I’ll get the truth out of Peyton one way or another. I know she’s hiding something.”
Bent climbs in the back and adds, “In the meantime, maybe we should skip the parties.”
You can say that again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
KINGSTON
After Jazz got the all-clear from the hospital, I brought her back to my place. I'm glad she didn't want to go back to Casa Callahan because there's no way in hell I would've allowed that, which would've inevitably started another argument. Even though my dad is back in LA, I still feel like she's better off with me out here in the pool house. I need to know she's fucking safe, and I can't do that if I can't see her with my own eyes.
When I realized Jazz wasn't where I left her at the party, I was terrified. I ripped Bentley away from the dude he was fighting, and we went on a mission to find her. Thankfully, at the same time, people started fleeing the scene because they heard an ambulance approaching. Sirens at a party where there are underage drinking and drugs are never a good thing. Nobody took the time to determine what kind of siren it was, or why they were there; they just bolted out the back door.
Fuck, when I finally found Jazz and saw that she was once again unconscious, I think my heart stopped beating. My chest heaved as I struggled for breath. The darkness inside of me was brewing, fighting for supremacy. It wanted to hunt and destroy the motherfucker who did that to her. For a few seconds there, I legitimately thought I was going to lose it. Like, full-on raze a village, kind of lose it. I haven’t felt that out of control since I first suspected my father arranged to have my mom killed.
“How’s your head feeling?” I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and hand it to Jazz.
She takes a long sip. "Much better after the Tylenol kicked in."
“You tired?” I grab her hand and lead her into my bedroom. “Or do you wanna talk about what happened yet?”
Jazz hasn’t said much since we left the party. I know she’s shaken up from her encounter with that bastard, but she doesn’t want to talk about it because she’s not big on sharing feelings. Hell, I’m not either, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to know everything that goes on inside her head.
“I already told you everything that happened, Kingston.”
I grab the bottle out of her hand and set it on the nightstand. "Not what I was talking about, and you know it. I want to know how you feel about what happened.”
Jazz shakes her head. “Not tonight. Tonight, I just want to forget.”
I groan when she reaches out and strokes my length through my jeans. “As much as I love where you’re going with this...” I wrap my hand around her wrist and pull it away from my dick. “Stuffing this into a box in the back of your head isn’t going to help.”
“I know that.” Jazz takes a few steps back and shimmies out of her tight pants, kicking them aside. “But I don’t want the memory of him to be the last thing I think about before I fall asleep. Nor the thought of all those people who saw us naked, sullying what was supposed to be an intimate act with their greedy eyes.”
“Jazz—”
She lifts her shirt over her head and tosses it behind her. When she loses the bra, too, I automatically step closer.
“I want the memory of your hands touching me,” she continues. “Your eyes on me. When I’m dozing off tonight, I want to feel the delicious ache you leave behind after you’ve been inside of me.”
I look to the ceiling for some divine guidance. “Fuuuuuck.”
Jazz’s full lips turn up in the corners, probably because she knows she has me.
“Kingston, I want you. We can deal with the real world tomorrow.”
I place a soft kiss over the purple bruise forming on the side of her face, pausing there for a moment. When did I become the guy who does something like this? I'm touching a nearly naked, stunning woman, and my lips are on her fucking temple. Jazz brings out a side in me that quite frankly, I didn’t know existed.
“Lie down.”
Jazz lowers her body onto the mattress, scooting back toward the headboard as I strip down to my bo
xers. Her dark hair fans across the pillows, and I can't help but think about how right she looks in my bed, eyes hazy with desire. I crawl onto the bed until I'm hovering over her, trailing my fingertip across her collarbone and down her arm.
Jazz's nipples pebble into tight buds as goosebumps scatter along her bronzed skin. My beautiful girl moans when I seal my lips over one peaked tip, swirling my tongue around it. She death grips my biceps when I switch to the other.
“Kingston...” Her hips buck upward. “This feels so good, but I don’t want gentle. Don’t treat me like I’m made of glass.”
I raise myself into a plank position and stare into her eyes. Jazz’s cognac orbs bounce between mine, pleading with me to listen.
I cock an eyebrow as I give her a wolf-like grin. “Oh, princess, you’ve gone and woken the beast.”
Jazz’s eyes glint with excitement right before I wrap my hands around her tiny waist and flip her onto her stomach. She squeals when I push her ass up, leaving her upper body flat on the mattress. I bite one cheek before looping my fingers beneath the flimsy straps of her thong and roughly yanking it down.
Fuck.
She's already wet and needy, and I can't wait for a second longer to put my mouth on her. Without preamble, I give her one long lick from crack to clit. Jazz gasps as I dive in, kneading her round cheeks with my hands while my tongue fucks her pussy. She eagerly pushes back into me as I devour her, fisting the sheets and begging for more.
“You taste so goddamn good,” I mumble, alternating between licking and sucking her hot flesh. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll see stars.”
“I’m good with that,” she pants. “Space is pretty.”
This girl: Always such a smartass.
Jazz moans as my laughter vibrates her pussy. I slide two fingers inside her and pump them in and out while ravishing her clit with my tongue.
“God,” she pants in that breathy voice I love so much.
“God’s not the one who’s about to make you come, sweetheart.”
I don’t give her time to formulate another sassy reply. Instead, I feast on her cunt like a man starved, licking and sucking and finger fucking until she’s screaming my name. I don’t even give her time to recover; I shove my underwear down just enough and plunge into her while she’s still spasming.