Page 3 of One Twisted Lie

“What?” I ask, trying and failing to get my arms out of his grasp. “What makes sense?”

“You liked it,” he says with a smirk.

My blood runs cold. Those late-night thoughts come drifting to the forefront of my mind. I had a dream last night—no, a nightmare—about Carter and me. Before I could wake up, I imagined his hands on me the way they were when we kissed. His fingers were wrapped around my neck as he pinned me against the wall. He was so commanding, so authoritative, so dominant. In my dream, it turned me on. I whimpered for him, begged for anything he could give me, and asked him to use me however he wanted to.

When I woke up, alone and hard as fuck, I felt so disgusted with myself that I took an ice-cold shower because Irefusedto jack off to thoughts of him.

“I did not like it,” I deny, hating the fact that I’ve started to tremble, hating the fact that my previously soft cock is starting to harden.

“You got hard for me.”

“Yougot hard forme.”

“The body’s natural reaction in that situation,” he says with a shrug. “You didn’t drag me in here to threaten me.”

“No?” I question, slightly out of breath as he starts slowly pushing me back until I’m pressed against the locked door. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m the smartest person in this fucking school. I’m never wrong,” he says smugly, his smile widening as he places his hands against the door on either side of my head. “You want a repeat.”

I don’t know where his confidence comes from. Carter isn’t like this. Carter isn’t assertive and he definitely isn’t sexy. Fuck, why do I think he’s sexy? I hate this fucker.

“I don’t want to kiss you,” I say, shaking my head slowly and tensing when his fingers start playing with my hair.

“No, what you want is much worse, isn’t it?” he teases cruelly, leaning in and brushing his soft lips against mine. “You want to get down on your knees, open that fucking insufferable mouth for me, and suck my dick.”

Is he fucking kidding? I don’t want that. Ican’twant that. I have no idea where he got that idea from but he’s so fucking off-base. “What the fuck? You’re crazy.”

“Admit it. You’re curious,” he says, gently tugging my hand down until it’s rubbing against his hard bulge. “You want this. You want my cock in your mouth.”

I hate the fact that I don’t pull my hand away. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction, even though my body is thrumming with anticipation. Because he’s partly right. I am curious. That’s what my dream was last night. I try to push it from my mind, but his growing dick in my hand is enticing.

“Why would I ever want to suck your cock?” I ask, my hand twitches as it cups his bulge, my own cock thickening as he presses his body fully into me. “I don’t—”

“You’re saying you’re too chickenshit?” he laughs, dropping his head to kiss my neck.

I snort, pulse thrumming under his touch. “Are you really daring me to blow you?”

“It’s not a dare if you secretly want to,” he says, undoing his belt and then dragging my other hand into his pants. “Tell me you don’t, princess.”

The word princess sends a shiver through me. I go to say exactly that, that I don’t want this, but nothing comes out. I’m left like an idiot, mouth open and waiting as his infuriatingly hot face smirks at me.

“I hate you,” is all I can say, but it’s not a no. It’s not the no my mind is screaming at me to say. It’s not the no that my common sense tells me needs to be said.

“The feeling is mutual, princess. Now, are you going to stand there like an idiot or are you going to let me fuck your face?” When I don’t say anything, and I don’t push him away, he chuckles. “Maybe you need some encouragement.”

I gulp. “Carter…”

“Get on your fucking knees.”

It’s embarrassing how fast I fall. It’s like my body has a mind of its own. It won’t listen to reason, and it won’t remember the fact that I hate this guy. Either way, I’m on my knees now, watching as Carter unbuttons his pants. As he lowers his zipper and then pushes his boxers down, it’s as if I’m in a trance. A shiver runs through me when the snap of the metal from his belt clatters against the floor.

I can only stare, trapped and entranced as his hard dick bobs in front of my face. It’s weird, seeing a dick that isn’t mind—thick and long, angry and swollen, curved slightly to the side—but my body doesn’t get that. My body is a fucking whore, leaning forward, mouth still slightly open, ready to feast on the meal in front of me.

“I’m going to say this because consent is important, even if I fucking hate you,” he begins, shoving his thumb in my mouth as he works my jaw open. “I need to hear you say yes.”

No. No. No. I can’t. I won’t. I don’t want this. I shouldn’t do this. This is a mistake—

I grab his thighs and lean into him, whispering, “Yes.”

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