Page 69 of Wicked Sins

“Candy, calm down!”

“Don’t you fucking touch me, you sick fuck! Stop!Stop!” I don’t recognize my voice. I can’t believe my own strength. The muscles on Patrick’s arms cord as he tries to restrain me, to—

they saw me touching myself

—hold me down so he can fuck me.

“Winny, bring me some benzo!” Patrick yells.

“No! Stop!”

One of the girls—Dee, I think—starts crying.

“Don’t touch me.” My protests dissolve into banshee-like wails of fury.

My knee connects with Patrick’s jaw. He pushes away from me with a muffled curse, and I’m on my feet a second later. I don’t get very far, though. He runs at me from behind, wrapping his arms over my chest and bearing us both to the ground.

I lose all control.

My teeth sink into his arm. I’m bucking and heaving like a wild horse, screaming. I hear words, but they’re not mine.

Motherfucking dick head piece of shit cunt. I’ll kill you. Cut you open. Touch me again, you fucking cunt, and it’ll be the last.

Then something jabs into my arm. It rips free, but I barely notice that sliver of pain because the only thing I’m feeling right now is Patrick’s dick trying to get inside me.

I yell out, somehow manage to flip around, and knee him as hard as I can in his groin. I rush to my feet, and fumble around my knees for my underwear.

Patrick’s on his side, retching. But his pants aren’t around his knees like I’d thought. He’s cupping his groin, so I can’t see anything, but when I reach up under my shirt, my underwear’s still there.

I didn’t just imagine that. It’s…impossible.

What is? What is!

I lurch to the side as the room takes a slow spin around me. Shit, am I drunk? How?

I giggle, hold out a hand, and manage to grab Trinity’s shoulder. She buckles, and I fall hard on my side. I’m facing Patrick now. He’s groaning through pale lips, eyes fluttering open.

I stab out a finger, almost catching him in the eye. “You don’t touch me, cunt,” I murmur. The room starts going dark. “Never again.Neveragain.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Josiah

“Bullshit,” I say, shaking my head.

I grab my toothbrush, but Sylvester snatches it from my hand. He looks worse for wear this morning with those dark smudges under his eyes and his hair standing every which way. He reeks of booze, too. I’m surprised he hasn’t jumped in the shower yet—if Brian or Angie catch him like this, he’ll get a first-class ticket to solo.

“I’m not fucking around,” he tells me.

I sigh, leaning my hip against the basin. “Where the fuck would she have gotten meth from?”

“I dunno,” Sylvester says. “But she had to be smoking something. Trinity says they’ve got her holed up in the sick room, doped up on shit, so she doesn’t try and kill herself.”

I roll my eyes and hold out my hand for my toothbrush. Sylvester gives it back, but with a heavy frown. “You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t care,” I say before getting started on my teeth.

Sylvester shrugs, looking utterly perplexed when he leaves the bathroom. I glare at my reflection as I brush my teeth.

---