Page 3 of Demise

A short laugh escapes him as he shakes his head.

“My love, I’ve watched you get spit-roasted over a dozen times. You’re a slut.”

His hand cracks on my bare thigh as he rips the material down my legs before tossing them behind him. I feel his hand raise, pinching my face, squeezing my cheeks together punishingly, forcing my lips to pout as he speaks.

“But you’re my slut,” he says before crushing his lips to mine.

Nausea rises inside me as I do everything I can to fight against him. My legs thrash, and my tied hands pound against him, but nothing works. He’s stronger than he looks, a lot stronger. Bile begins to pool at the back of my throat, but instead of trying to push it down, I let it go.

Vomit spews out of my mouth and all over him as I heave. He shouts, shoving me to the ground, wiping the puke from his face before grabbing the rope and quickly tying my legs up as I begin to crawl away. My nails dig into the long carpet, and for a moment, I think I have a good hold. Until one sharp yank from him has my bare legs dragging across the carpet and beneath him.

“Stop fucking moving!” he snarls. “Ugh, disgusting!”

When he finishes the knot, I do the only thing I can think of, I kick. Granted, with my legs tied together, it isn’t all that effective, but I do land a kick to his knee that seems to take his breath away. Until rage turns his eyes black, and he draws his leg back, delivering a kick to my gut. Then another, and another. By the fourth kick, I’m vomiting all over again. I don’t know ifit’s from the drugs, the fear, or the pain. It doesn’t matter either way.

On the last kick, I hear a sharp crack that steals all the air from my lungs and forces me to lay on my back. I howl and scream in pain, and it seems to shake Professor Corwin from his anger fueled haze. He stares down at me for a moment, what looks like remorse across his face, as he turns his back and stomps off towards the shower, shutting the bathroom door behind himself.

There I lie, half-naked, covered in vomit, hurting, and absolutely terrified of what’s to come.

Chapter Two

Wesley

I’m sitting at the kitchen island, filtering through security footage from the school, desperate for a clue, any clue. I’m amazing at what I do, always have been. There has never been a mission or task that I’ve been given that I haven’t completed with exemplary performance, hence why this entire situation is so goddamn infuriating.

Whoever it is, they are smart. They never make a mistake. They always have their footsteps covered and are apparently fantastic at leading us on a wild goose chase. At first glance, Andrew Hutchinson was a perfect suspect. He had the motive and the means, but him allowing me to triangulate his location while facetiming me busted that theory. Clark Lewis was a close second, he was her mother’s age, had resources to pull off most, if not all, of the stalker’s moves, and he had several motives. That, again, was a bust.

Fuck, at this point, I’m looking into Skyla’s best friend, Maggie, again. Ronan had already looked into her, and I did the same. The most I could dig up through her phone records was that she used to fuck her stepsister. Interesting, but not what Iwas looking for. Who knows, though, maybe she’s more clever than she’s letting on. The motive is definitely there. Fuck, I don’t know. At this point, I’m just pissed off.

Things could be worse, I suppose. How mad can a man be when he finally got the girl?

Okay, maybe that’s a stretch. I don’t know if I exactly got the girl so much as got to eat her delectable cunt while one of her boyfriends watched and jacked off to it.

Fuck, that was hot.

I’ve wanted Skyla from the first moment I laid eyes on her. With every day that passed, my desire for her only grew until I could hardly see straight unless I was with her. That seven-mile drive to and from the university was the highlight of my day, every day. Sometimes, I’d take alternate routes, complaining of traffic when really, all I wanted was a few extra minutes with her. A few more minutes where it was just her and I before her horde of men came rolling in, all quickly and efficiently showing me the way out.

I can’t blame them, if she was mine, truly mine, I wouldn’t want to share her with anyone that I didn’t have to. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve crossed that line in her mind that she ‘has to have me’ but I will. Soon. Even if I have to win over every single one of the guys to do it, or beat the fucking shit out of them until they agree. I foresee that being the only plausible route when going through Griggs.

For now, though, I’m calling her mine. She got really drowsy earlier, no doubt the exhaustion from all the stress finally catching up to her. I carried her to her room and laid her down before I came back down here to work. Kinda tempted to crawl into bed beside her. Maybe she’s already awake. I’d be more than interested for round two with her; even Liam could join again.

Conveniently, Liam gets up from his bed in the living room, limping his way over to the kitchen to grab a drink and snaggingmy attention. Has he been awake this whole time? His stupid comedy movie from the nineties ended over two hours ago. I thought he was passed out. I don’t miss the way he’s watching me, and I don’t attempt to hide the way I’m watching him.

Skyla is absolutely the goal, but a time or two with one of her guys wouldn’t be the worst way to spend an afternoon. It may sound stereotypical, but in the military on missions where we couldn’t leave our position for days at a time, needs arose, and we all found ways of…release. Then, when we would return back home or to base…well, let’s just say I’m not a fan of labels. Love is love, and pleasure is pleasure; nothing more to it.

Ronan told me he caught Liam and Asher together with Skyla. He seemed completely shocked but not judgmental. I, on the other hand, wasn’t surprised at all. I’d noticed a shift in their dynamic over the last few weeks. I guess that’s the beauty of being the man on the outside. I had a perfect view of everything.

Liam fills up a glass with water, turning around to face me as he drinks it. His light green eyes stay on mine as his Adam’s apple begins working the liquid, pushing it down until the glass is empty. His tongue runs along his lips before lifting the hem of his shirt up, dabbing at his chin where I know there is no water. It does give the opportunity to show off his toned abs.

This kid doesn’t know what kind of fire he’s playing with. It seems like it’s a game to him, like he’s trying to goad me. He’s gonna be shocked when he realizes that I don’t bluff.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“Nothing.” He smirks, dropping his shirt and sauntering as best as he can towards me.

Broken leg and the guy is still trying to swagger.

His forearms rest against the counter, and he leans onto them, placing his face only a few inches from my own.

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