Page 44 of Wilder Love
“You give zero fucks.” He slid his seat back as far as it would go, our little chat over. “Now. Where were we? Oh right. You were about to give me a blowjob.” He unzipped his jeans and leaned back in his seat. “Get to work, dirty girl.”
17
Remy
It had been three weeks and five days since I’d given Tristan Hart a blowjob. Three weeks and five days since Shane left for Australia. He was coming back late tonight. Could I just pretend that it had never happened? I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror and tried not to flinch.
Get to work, dirty girl.
Shane never has to know.
I’d shove it into that place where bad memories lived.
“Remy,” Dylan yelled, banging on the door. “If you want a ride, you’ve got two seconds. I’m out of here.”
I walked out of the bathroom and he was halfway out the door already.
The drive to school was silent because Dylan barely spoke to me anymore. I barely saw him these days. He was out every night doing God knows what and since most of his classes were at the community college, he rarely set foot inside the high school these days.
I slammed out of the pick-up truck he’d bought with money he got from some unknown source and darted around Tristan and his jock friends standing by the door.
I’d been avoiding him since that night I had his dick in my mouth and planned on doing it for the foreseeable future.
Six more weeks. Only six more weeks and I was out of here.
I repeated the words like a mantra as I weaved through the students in the hallway and stopped in front of my locker.
I took out the books I needed for this morning’s classes and replaced them with the ones in my backpack.
“Tonight,” he said, his voice low in my ear. “See you at seven.”
“For what?” I hissed. “You got what you wanted.”
Tristan laughed. “Not yet. But tonight I will.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means… I’m going to fuck your brains out.”
I shook my head, trying to swallow down the fear. “No. We’re done. That wasn’t the deal.”
“We’re done when I say we’re done.” He held up his phone in front of my face. A photo of Shane in a HartCore jersey stared back at me. His white smile was wide, his hazel eyes looked green, and his hair was messy, tousled perfection. The caption under the photo said: Wilder is back in top form and secured the first win at Bells Beach.
Tristan smirked as he pocketed his phone, knowing he had me right where he wanted me.
* * *
Tristan tieda knot in the condom. So carefully. So precisely. My gaze followed him across my bedroom floor and out the doorway. Seconds later, I heard the bathroom door close and the toilet flush. Then the shower running. He brought his own shower gel in his gym bag, so he could wash off all traces of the dirty girl on the mattress. Tonight, I had removed myself from my body. Like I was watching it from a distance, and it wasn’t really me. But now that it was over, I knew it hadn’t been a dream. It had been real.
The scent of his cologne filled my nostrils. The soreness between my legs told me he’d been brutal in his assault of my body. Tristan had pounded into me over and over, chasing his own release with no regard for me.
He didn’t care that it hurt. He didn’t care about me at all.
I got dressed in the same tank top and ripped jeans I’d been wearing earlier. Then I lit a cigarette and sat with my back against the wall, staring out the window at the sunset. The sky was streaked pink and orange, a beautiful evening. A beautiful sunset. I blew the smoke out the window, poisoning the sweet spring air with toxic chemicals.
Funny how some things made you feel like crying. Like missing Shane. Or when Dylan occasionally said things that were so sweet a lump formed in my throat and my eyes stung with tears. Or when Shane told me he’d wait for me because I was worth it. He thought I was special. He told me he loved me. I could count on one hand the things in my life that have made me cry. And most of my tears have been shed for the people I love. My mom, Dylan, Shane.
Tristan Hart did not deserve my tears, so I gritted my teeth and dug my nails into the palms of my hands and I refused to let the tears fall. If I broke down, he would revel in it. I refused to give him the satisfaction.
