Page 82 of Wanting

Lust.

Want.

Sick desire he shouldn’t feel for me.

Oh God…

“You can’t do this,” I whispered, trying to back away from him even as he grasped my hair tighter in his fist. Shoving against his chest proved ineffective, and I whimpered at the rapid racing of my heart.

His hold on my hair ripped at the roots, and my eyes filled with tears at the sting.

“Ow…p-please, Lloyd.” I shoved at his chest again, the need to flee tensing every muscle in my body. “Let me go.”

“I helped save you from the attentions of a boy who would have fucked you, stole your heart, and left you for California in May,” he stated quietly, his focus on my mouth. “And while I hate he took a first from you I had every intention of claiming, the rest of your firsts will be mine, just like I’ve been fantasizing about.”

“No!” I clobbered his shoulder with a wild hook, and he grasped my wrist hard enough I gasped.

“Don’t fight me, sweetheart.” One twist of my arm sent me face first onto my mattress, and he held me down, his hold on my hair crushing my cheek against the comforter. “You’re going to take what I give you.”

“No!” I screamed, scratching at his hand as he pressed my face into the mattress. “Let me go you s-sick f-fuck!” I screamed harder, flailing—punching and kicking whatever I could reach, my chest threatening to explode with how hard my heart pulsed adrenaline through my system.

His hand disappeared from my hair.

I jerked beneath him—and a smashing blow against my temple rang my ears. Knocked me senseless. I lay like a limp rag, breathing. Blinking at the spinning, liquid-like wall of my bedroom. Pain radiated between my ears as I fought to focus.

Stay awake.

“I’m going to give you the world, sweetheart,” Lloyd whispered against my ear, his hand sliding up the inside of my limp leg. “And you’re going to let me because we both know what a whore you really are. Your mother won’t believe you—” he groped me between the thighs “—so don’t bother telling her. And if you do?”

Cool air slid over my core as he ripped my leggings clean off my body.

“I’ll make it hurt,” he promised with a tone I knew to be truth.

Nightmare, I told myself while trying and failing to make my body move, fight him off as he shoved my thighs wide. This isn’t happening.

Two months earlier, I’d thought my life sucked, that my reality couldn’t get worse.

What I wouldn’t have given in that moment to have my pre-sixteen days back when all I had to think about was hating how my body reacted to Gideon.

My protector I’d betrayed had tried to warn me while being hauled off in cuffs. He’d told me to stay away from him.

If only I’d known he’d meant his father.

THE END

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