Page 395 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

But then her nipple hardens under my palm. And when I smooth my hand over her breast, that tight little bud pokes me through the fabric.

“So this is who you are,” I murmur, locking eyes with her as I rub a slow, soft circle with my palm. She starts squirming, lids shuttering but never closing.

“Stop,” she whispers, tight desperation in her voice. “Please, Jude. Stop.”

“You wanted to know how to make this right,” I murmur.

“And then you said you didn’t want to fuck me.” Her mouth trembles around the words. “So which is it?” There’s still a flicker of anger, the tiniest bit of defiance, even though I can feel her starting to tremble against my body.

“I need to make sure you’re not hiding anything from me.” And before she can figure out what I mean, I shove a hand up her skirt.

A gasp rattles through her throat, and I instinctively tighten my grip on her long neck. Winter-sky eyes widen when I wedge my legs between her thighs and pry them apart.

“Only thing you’ll find down there is a tampon.” Her voice shakes but silent fury sets her eyes alight. “Which needs changing, so if you’d be so kind to grab a fresh one from?—”

She cuts off with a gasp when I slap her pussy through her cotton panties. Which I discover are already wet. I slide a finger over her underwear and lift my hand out of her skirt, showing her my glistening finger and the complete lack of blood on it.

“More lies,” I murmur, and following her mouth when she twists her head aside to stop me smearing that wetness over her lips. “What am I going to do with you?”

Chapter 17

Harper

My pussy stings from the slap Jude planted on me, and now all I can smell is my own arousal. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be scared, or angry, or turned on. Jude’s fierce eyes aren’t helping, nor is his dark smirk.

I try to struggle out of his grip again but when he squeezes my throat, I freeze up like a deer in the headlights. I can’t help it—I’ve heard too many rumors this week to pretend that he can’t hurt me if he wants to. I know Jude isn’t the perfect son he makes himself out to be. When I met Talia earlier today, she told me how wary the football team is of Jude, which she doesn’t understand because Jude’s never been in a fight in school.

Although Cinderhart High has a zero-tolerance policy for violence, I’ve heard that some kids—those with influential parents—can get away with anything.

Which makes me wonder if Jude is one of them. I don’t know how much power Mr. Dearth has in Cinderhart, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he was one of those parents that could make thingsdisappear.

Jude hikes up my skirt, baring my drenched underwear, and gives me another slap. This one stings even more, and the feeling lingers as a hot ache seeps into my core.

“Okay, okay!” I push against his chest. “No more lies. That bottle was the last of it, okay? And...and I won’t drink at school anymore. I promise.”

That’s what he wants, right? He wants to make sure I don’t get him in trouble with his dad. I can do that. Fuck, I’d doanythingto get this monster off me.

But Jude’s not buying it. That, or he simply doesn’t wanttohear reason. Because it doesn’t matter how much I simper, how much I whine, he grabs my panties and wrenches them down my legs so hard they leave behind fabric burns.

“Jude!” I ball up my hand and punch his chest, but he just snarls at me.

His third slap stings like fire. My entire body goes rigid, my thighs tightening against his legs as I try to close them.

“Fuck!” I punch him again. “You fuckingfuck!”

He steps back in a rush, and I stagger as I hit the ground, my legs not expecting to have to support my weight again so soon. That’s when I realize his chest is rising and falling faster than normal, that the sullen anger in his eyes has changed into something carnal.

Jude holds out a hand and snaps his fingers. “Give,” he says, and then points at the panties bunched by my knees.

“Wh-what?”

Frustration bunches his already hard jaw. He surges forward, pins me against the wall with a hand between my breasts, and rips my underwear down my calves. My eyes squeeze shut when he taps my ankles—first the one, then the other—so I’ll lift my feet for him.

And just when I think it’s over, that this entire humiliating incident is finally done, he shoves my wadded-up panties between my legs and swipes them over my pussy.

He taps the side of my face with his hand so I’ll open my eyes.

“That’s my girl,” he says, words dripping sarcasm. “Now clean yourself up and get your ass in my truck.”

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