Page 448 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

Chapter 53

Jude

God, this is just how I pictured it. Although I thought Harper would be struggling more. That I would have to have her pinned down, eyes peeled open as I force her to watch her own amateur porn video. I wasn’t lying earlier—I had to take at least six breaks while I was splicing this thing together on my video editing program so I could jerk off.

I don’t know how the guys who make porn videos handle it. Maybe they have a dedicated room where they can take the pressure off before going back to work.

Harper jerks on my lap, then again. At first I think she’s trying to escape, but then I hear her sobs.

“What’s the matter, princess?” I murmur, taking my fingers out of her so I can trail my hand down her breast. “Don’t like the camera angle?”

I paid $10,000 for this short clip. Spent hours turning it into a work of art. Blurring out the guy’s faces, adding filters and a new soundtrack. I couldn’t very well leave in the original. In that one, Harper’s begging them to stop and that wouldn’t play into the persona I’ve created of Harper the Whore.

“Two guys at once? Harper, you bad, bad girl,” I murmur.

She shakes again and leans forward, an awful, breathless sound dragging out of her throat. I stroke her hair, urging her back against me. “Ssh,” I whisper. “It’s over now. It’s done.”

“Wh-Wh-Wh?—”

“You seem surprised. Did no one at school tell you about this?” I lift my hips, crushing my rock-hard dick against her ass and wishing there wasn’t all this clothing in the way. I nearly take my dick out, but she’d fight me tooth and nail if I tried to touch her again—and I’m enjoying myself too much to get punched in the cock.

Another sob, this one as dreadful as the last. I hate the way it sounds, how pathetic she is right now. I shove her off my lap and stand over her as she lies in a crumpled heap on the carpet.

“Sounds like you were really enjoying it,” I tell her, cocking my head. “I’m sure one of the jocks will ask you out after they see this. They can’t get enough of sluts like you.”

She drags her head into her arms and lets out a wail that, despite being muffled, does something nasty to my insides. I step back, sneering. I desperately want to keep spouting insults at her, rubbing salt into the deep, deep wound I’ve given her...but I’m suddenly sick to my stomach.

Must be the glass of Cognac I had to celebrate. But it’s made me woozy, and, apparently, nauseous.

I crouch beside her, grab a fistful of her dark, silky hair, and wrench her head up. “It’s over, Harper.” I touch the side of her mouth as it contorts, slip my thumb inside. She moves her head away, tries to spit me out.

“We’re even now.”

Chapter 54

Harper

As soon as I hear Mom’s car leave, I scramble out of bed and grab my backpack. I catch sight of my reflection in the dresser’s mirror and falter. There are dark rings under my eyes, and the messy bun I’ve pulled my hair into is already fraying. I’m dressed in my school clothes, but they look as if they don’t fit me right anymore, which is fucked up because they fit me just fine yesterday.

Fuck, I’d have thought something would have changed in the months I’ve been here, but if anything I look younger, more vulnerable, than when I arrived.

Thanks, Jude.

I pause at my door, listening intently before easing it open. Outside in the hall, the house is silent. I make it a yard before Rosie’s door opens. She comes out mumbling to herself, her head bobbing. I freeze, holding my breath like it could somehow make me invisible.

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t?—

Rosie fiddles with the multi-colored belt keeping her jeans up, only looking up when she gets close to the stairs. She standson the top and then does this weird hop down the first few steps before taking them normally.

I only start breathing again when she’s on the ground floor. I only start moving when I hear the front door open. I head for the kitchen, glancing up the stairs to make sure Jude hasn’t come out of his room. I heard music thumping in there last night before dinner. I told Mom I had period pain and just wanted to chill in bed with a hot water bottle. She brought me painkillers and a mug of hot chocolate, which made me sob into my pillow for a good few minutes before I could control myself.

I’m all cried out now. Ready.

In the kitchen, I make myself three sandwiches and shove them along with some apples into my backpack. I’m starving after last night, but this should see me through. If I could eat right now, I would, but I have to get a move on. I don’t want to run into Jude.

Outside, the day is crisp and bright. I inhale a breath charged with early morning energy, feeling a million times better just being out of the house. But I only get as far as the gate before I turn back. I hate myself every second of the way back to the front door, but I don’t have the willpower to fight this right now.

Maybe ever.

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