Page 57 of The Guilty One

A bit of vodka spills out onto her chin and down her neck when she swallows, and I lower my mouth to her collarbone, running my tongue across her skin, lapping the liquor up. Her throat pulses as she swallows again, and I trace her jawbone with my teeth. “What a good girl you are, Professor. My good girl, aren’t you?”

“Come on, man,” Matteo says, and I’m nearly sure he’s crying over there. “Please, stop this.”

“Do you want me to stop?” I demand, holding my hands up.

He nods.

“Really? You want me to stop? Because I thought you’d want a few drinks in all of our systems before what comes next, but if you’re already ready to move on, then I’m happy to oblige.”

Even in the light of the fire, I see his face pale. “Please don’t hurt her. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t hurt her.”

I grin, grabbing hold of her hair and tilting her head back, pouring the remaining contents of the vodka bottle into her mouth and all over her face as she struggles and screams and tries to get away.

Matteo bellows like an animal, fighting them with all of his might.

“Hold him back!” I warn the guys.

When I run out of vodka, she’s gasping for breath, her hair and clothing drenched in the alcohol. Her chest shines in the firelight, rising and falling with every panicked inhale or exhale. It’s as if she can’t get the oxygen into her lungs fast enough.

I drop the bottle on the ground, and our eyes meet. Nothing exists in this moment except the two of us. She wants me, even if she doesn’t know it yet. More importantly, I want her.

“Now”—I hold up a finger toward Matteo, still looking only at Aubrey—“here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to let your girl suck my cock, and you’re going to watch it. And you’re not going to say a single fucking word, and you’re not going to look away, do you hear me? You’re going to watch her worship me. You’re going to watch this hungry girl drain every last drop like it’s your favorite television show. Because if you…if you so much as blink your goddamn eyes, I’m going to make sure she spends the rest of the night on her back taking every single one of the rest of us in every hole she has. I’m going to make you listen while she shouts every one of your friends’ names, while she begs us for more, do you hear me? You won’t leave this fucking place without that image scarred into your mind, I promise you.”

Her eyes are wide with fear as I start unbuttoning my pants. “Just like last time, baby,” I whisper, grabbing hold of the back of her head and jerking her forward until her lips graze me. “You’ve got it. Show him how good you are for me. Be loud, baby girl, okay? I want him to hear how much you love my dick.”

She closes her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks as her mouth opens and her lips wrap around me. “Eyes open,” I warn her as she slides down my length.

On command, she opens her eyes. I look up at the sky and scream, power coursing through my veins. I’m unstoppable. All powerful. I am a fucking god.

Then: pain.

Pain like I’ve never felt before.

Pain that tears your eyes from their sockets and peels your skin from your body. I rip my head down, looking at where she’s attached to me, her teeth locked onto me, biting down. In her eyes, there is a challenge. If I pull away, she’s going to rip it off.

I shout and scream and punch her in the face, but she doesn’t let up. I’m going to kill her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CELINE

With the boys at school, once I get ready, I immediately head for the restaurant Aaron suggested we meet at. Reggie’s is a small, run-down diner that somehow manages to look both Western and regal.

From the parking lot, I text my phone from Tate’s and give Aaron’s name and the address of the place we’re meeting. I don’t think I’m in danger, but I have to be careful. If anything happens, I want someone to know where I was and who I was with, but I don’t want to alarm my parents if nothing bad is going to happen.

Inside, there’s a sign that instructs us to seat ourselves, so I find a booth and take a seat. When the waitress comes over, dressed in denim from head to toe, I order a coffee and scan the restaurant for any sign of Aaron.

The place is quiet, but they have Dolly Parton’s “I Will Always Love You” crooning through the speakers, which will make it easier to have a private conversation. I watch the door like a hawk, studying the parking lot for any sign of him, but there is none. He’s not here.

When he’s fifteen minutes late, I start to worry I’ve been stood up. But why? Why would he want me to come here? What good would it do? Did he chicken out? Has he decided not to help me after all?

After thirty minutes, I try to call him from Tate’s phone, but he doesn’t pick up, and I have to accept that this was a waste of time. It makes me angrier now, perhaps more than ever before, to have my time wasted. Maybe because I understand how precious time is. Perhaps because I made my parents pick the boys up from school on a day they didn’t have to, perhaps because I’m missing precious time with my boys when I feel like I haven’t seen them much at all lately, when they need me more than ever.

Either way, when the waitress comes back around, I ask her for the check with a bitter resentment burning in my chest. As I’m grabbing my card from my wallet, the restaurant door opens once more, and I look up.

Aaron scans the restaurant, the skin around his eyes wrinkling as he searches for me. A hint of recognition flashes across his expression when his gaze hits my face. It takes him a few seconds to be sure it’s me, and I wave at him before he starts walking my way.

When he reaches the booth, he slips down across from me. “Sorry I’m late. I got held up in traffic.”

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