Page 91 of Virgin Sacrifice

He took in a deep, appraising breath, his normally expressive eyes rolling over me from head to toe without betraying so much as a single emotion. For a couple moments he said nothing, and I briefly considered that I might have miscalculated.

Then a satisfied smirk broke out across his face as he tugged me even closer. “I didn’t know you liked to party,” he said with a devious grin. “You’ve been holding out on me all semester with the goody-two-shoes routine.”

“Oh please, Mr. Premed, your nose is stuck in a book just as much as mine, but even tryhards like us need to let loose once and a while,” I said, bumping his hip as he started to lead me away from the kitchen and back to the front of the house.

“Oh, sweet Luz, you have no idea.”

We started to make our way up the sweeping staircase that dominated the frat house foyer. As we rounded the bend, I was able to look out across the party, all the way into the living room, where I could still make out Autumn dancing with Simone. The other woman caught me watching them as Aaron leaned into me, whispering nonsense into my ear, and I swear I saw fear building in her eyes. Her body went rigid, and she went to reach for Autumn.

I swiftly shook my head as I continued to climb up the steps, praying she would understand me. She froze in place, looking surprised and confused, worry still etched on her features. I shook my head at her once more, just as we rounded the bend and disappeared from her line of sight.

For the first time that night, my heart thrummed nervously in my chest. I hadn’t accounted for Autumn’s mystery woman, and her sudden concern presented a whole new set of issues. All I could do was hope that she stayed where I needed her, by my best friend’s side.

Aaron paused at the top of the staircase, needing a moment to catch his breath as another cough racked his body.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Peachy,” he said in a hoarse voice, tugging me down a dark hallway that took me back to the night I stumbled on the Blackwell twins.

Grunts, and the sound of flesh slapping on flesh bled out into the darkness as we passed by closed doors, and not for the first time, I considered the risk of venturing into a quiet corner alone with a male much bigger than me. Eight out of ten sexual assaults are committed by someone the victim knows. It wasn’t the stranger in the dark you had to fear, but the friend at your side.

“Here we go,” croaked Aaron as we came to stand in front of one of the last doors at the end of the hall. Much like every other door we had passed, the sound of sex coming from within was unmistakable, and I stilled for a moment as a female participant let out a particularly loud moan.

“Awww, don’t be scared, baby girl. I’ll protect you. Besides, that’s just for cover.”

“Cover?” I said, confusion evident in my voice.

“You’ll see,” he replied with a casual confidence before swinging the door open.

As anticipated, a small orgy was fully underway in the nondescript bedroom in front of us. Two girls screamed, semi-believably, with pleasure while two different guys railed them each from behind and a third guy kneeled behind the couples, dick in hand, occasionally trying to coax one of the girls to suck him off, only to be brushed off and relegated back to jerking off.

Guess five was a crowd in this case.

“I wouldn’t have guessed you like to watch,” Aaron said with leer, and as much as I wanted to roll my eyes and inform him that I enjoyed this the same way a crowd gathered around a trainwreck, I simply giggled and shrugged.

“Come on, this way,” he said, stepping to the side to place his hand on the small of my back. His palm felt clammy against my sensitive skin, and I suppressed a shudder. Aaron was sick; it wasn’t his fault he felt disgusting.

He led me across the room toward another door, swinging it open to reveal another, smaller bedroom, furnished simply with a futon, some side tables, and a dresser. I was just about to make a smart remark about this not being up to code when I noticed the large window opened up to what looked like a fire escape.

“Cool, it’s snowing,” Aaron said, sidling up behind me and wrapping his hands around my waist to pull my back flush with his chest. I tried to take a step out of his grasp, but he dug his fingers painfully into my hips.

“Snow and dark, and the winter comes. Nothing remains the same,” I whispered as he pressed himself up against me.

“What was that?” he muttered as he started to nuzzle me with his nose.

“Elyne Mitchell, Australian writer, celebrated children’s author, champion skier, and accomplished horsewoman,” I said almost clinically.

“What?” Aaron said, grinding himself aggressively against me despite my complete lack of responsiveness to him.

Rolling my neck to avoid his lips on me, I decided to briefly attempt to gain his attention one more time. “What do you have, Aaron?”

“Huh?” he mumbled into my neck.

“What drugs do you have?” I said loudly, enunciating each word as if he were a child.

“Is that the only reason you came up here?” He snickered into my ear.

“Come on, Aaron, you know it is.” I allowed a hint of exasperation to creep into my voice.

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