Chapter 15 #2
Skeeter raked his eyes over me as he smoked, blowing it in our direction and causing the scent of weed to fill my senses.
“Line up yourself, asshole,” he replied, still watching me. “You want to get fucked up, baby girl?”
“Always,” I winked, a snort of amusement leaving him as he leaned forward and snagged a small baggie, tossing it onto the table in front of us. “That ought to do it then.”
Tyler reached around me to line it up, holding a bill out to me when he was done. “Ladies first.”
“Such a gentleman,” I teased, his fingers raking through my hair before he held it in one hand.
“I’ll even hold this out of the way for you.” He pulled slightly, making me groan as my pussy clenched.
“If you’re going to fuck, maybe go upstairs,” Skeeter scoffed, reminding me we weren’t alone.
I got my shit together and leaned forward to snort a line, giving the bill to Tyler next as I rubbed the residue from my nose as the burn hit.
“Come here,” Skeeter said as he leaned back on the couch, waiting for me to do as I was told. Tyler grumbled but let me stand, and I lowered myself onto Skeeter’s lap to get comfortable.
His hand snaked up my front to my throat as he pulled me back against his chest, my eyes fluttering closed as I soaked in his rough fingertips on my skin.
I squirmed as he nipped my earlobe, hyper aware of his cock hardening under my ass.
Just as he placed a hand on my thigh to slide it higher, his phone started buzzing, making him growl out a curse.
He fished it from his pocket, pressing the phone to his ear. “What?”
I couldn’t hear what was being said, and apparently neither could he since he patted my leg to stand before stalking from the room and motioning to Diesel and one of the other Psychos to stay.
I held up the almost empty bottle of whiskey and waved it at Diesel with a grin. “Thank you.”
He nodded with a smile but kept his eyes on our surroundings, looking for trouble.
By the time Skeeter came back, Tyler and I were making out and enjoying the cocaine way too much, but my mood instantly soured when Skeeter spoke to Diesel.
“Yeah, he’s on the way. Still sounds like he’s in a shitty mood though.”
“Who?” I asked, pulling away from Tyler to look up at Skeeter.
“Slash. I told him to be nice or I’d kill him for ruining your birthday,” he promised, having no idea that his boss already fucking had.
“I’m going to grab another drink,” I said as I stood, and Tyler frowned as I took off, needing to calm the panic inside of me before anyone noticed.
How dare Slash come here after what he did earlier today.
The anger mixed with slight fear of what he was going to do, and part of me wondered if I could leave discreetly before he arrived. I didn’t want to face him, I wasn’t ready for that.
I used the bathroom for five seconds of peace, then I grabbed more whiskey from the cupboard and headed outside for some fresh air.
Thankfully, no one seemed to notice I’d come out here, so I toed off my shoes and rolled up my jeans, sitting on the edge of the pool to put my feet in the water.
I lit a cigarette and took a few minutes to get my shit together. Hopefully, by the time I went back inside, Slash had been here and gone again.
I was on my third cigarette when I heard footsteps behind me, knowing the guys would’ve noticed me gone eventually.
“I didn’t run away,” I joked, peering over my shoulder and freezing when I noticed it was Slash.
“Rory, I—” His voice sounded raw like he’d been yelling for hours, but I didn’t want to hear what he had to say.
“I want you to leave,” I spat, getting to my feet to glare at him. “Now.”
“Please, I didn’t know it was your birthday,” he insisted, making me snort.
“So you wouldn’t have cared if it was any other day? Did you really come here to say sorry? You didn’t trip me in the hallway or dent my car. You fucking raped me!” I snapped, his body recoiling like I’d slapped him.
“I didn’t mean— Fuck. I don’t know what to say, I just wish I could take it back,” he gritted out, fisting his hair with frustration. “I don’t believe in punishments like that. I—”
“There was nothing to punish me for! You don’t have to like everyone in your life. Those you hate don’t need to feel your wrath. You could’ve continued hating me silently.”
“Why haven’t you told him?” he asked quietly, flicking his gaze towards the door to make sure we were still alone.
“How do you know I haven't?”
“Because there’s no way I would’ve walked through that house if he knew. Please, I’m really fucking sorry.” He was practically begging, and I sneered at him as I went to walk past, my whole body going stiff as he reached out to grab my wrist, stopping me. “Please.”
“Don’t fucking touch me!” I shouted, angry tears burning my eyes as he held on. “Get your hands off me!”
I swung the bottle at him and he blocked it, the glass slipping from my hands and smashing on the concrete close by.
“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmured as he hauled me closer. A shudder rolled through me as he hesitated before reaching out his free hand to my face, running his fingers through my hair slightly. “I’m sorry.”
I wanted to push him away, punch him, and kiss him at the same time. Part of me wanted to relax into his hold, but the other part of me knew he was nothing but a monster.
He barely reacted when I swung my fist at his face, connecting with his cheek as I yanked back, his grip finally loosening.
“Stay the fuck away from me. I don’t care if you’re sorry,” I said with a dry laugh, shaking my head a little. “Congratulations on proving that you’re stronger than me. But you know what? You didn’t fucking break me, and you never fucking will.”
When he moved to grab me again, I slapped him, reaching for my knife but stopping when Diesel appeared beside me.
“What the hell is going on?” he asked flatly, already glaring at Slash, who put his hands up.
“I just wanted to talk to her.”
“Skeet already told you to leave her alone. You really decided to come here just to fight with her? On her birthday? Be an asshole another time,” Diesel scowled, and I turned to head back into the house without another word, my shoes forgotten.
I heard Slash call for me, but I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t handle this shit, and my mind was at war with itself once more.
There was something wrong with me if I was still attracted to him after what he’d done.
I needed to get fucked up enough to shut my stupid head up.
Tyler
“What’s up with her?” Caden asked with a frown, motioning to Rory as she stumbled past us to the kitchen for a fresh beer. She’d snuck off earlier before Slash had arrived, returning with a pissed off look on her face, no shoes, and a determination to write herself off.
Slash had slipped out without saying goodbye, but Diesel was acting cagey about it.
They’d probably had some crew business to deal with or something.
“What do you mean?” I asked as I sipped my whiskey.
“She’s been acting weird all night,” Caden replied, sliding his gaze to Diesel, who followed her. Rory was a mess, but I’d just put it down to her hating her birthday and wanting to fuck herself up.
“I think she’s struggling with her trauma,” Jensen stated as he joined us, obviously watching her too.
“How was she this morning?” I asked, looking at Caden, who shrugged.
“She was fine. Mom did a big breakfast for her and they hung out. She bought her some new clothes and a few small things, but she didn’t want to overwhelm her. I think it’s just been a lot lately, so let her go crazy tonight to let it all out.”
“She’s getting too friendly with Diesel,” I grumbled, watching as she laughed at something he said and leaned against him, his arm shooting out to hold her up as she stumbled slightly.
From the way Skeeter was glaring at them from across the room where he was selling coke to someone, he must have been thinking the same thing.
The house was packed, music thumping as people drunkenly staggered around doing shots. No one here really gave a shit about Rory, and part of me wished we’d just done something here for us.
I headed towards Rory with a grin, swatting her butt playfully. “Hey, birthday girl. You want to dance with me?”
“She’ll probably throw up on you if you spin her around the dance floor,” Diesel warned, his arm remaining around her to hold her up, but she groaned.
“Don’t be a buzzkill! I can totally dance!”
“She needs some water,” he said, ignoring her. “Alcohol poisoning for her birthday would suck.”
“She’s fine, dude,” I said and rolled my eyes, taking Rory’s hand to tug her against me.
“I need to pee,” she announced, swaying as she tried to walk off on her own.
“I’ve got her,” I chuckled as Diesel went to help steady her, and I guided her from the loud room and upstairs to my bedroom to use my private bathroom.
I had to help her get her jeans down so she could sit on the toilet, her arm braced on the wall beside her to stop herself from pitching forward. I’d never seen her this wasted before.
She giggled to herself as she relieved her bladder, and I winced as she yanked half the damn roll of toilet paper off the holder and almost fell forward as she went to wipe.
“Do you need me to help you?” I asked dryly, not particularly wanting to get that kind of personal with her, but not wanting her to crack her head open if she fell off.
“Ew, no,” she whined, and I stepped closer so she could hold onto me.
She managed to sort herself out now that I was stopping her from falling, but I had to help her button her jeans when she stood to flush.
We didn’t make it far from the bathroom before she was saying she felt sick and I had to help her back to the toilet, just in time for her to drop to her knees and throw up.
I sighed, holding her hair out of the way as she heaved. “If it makes you feel better, this is how my eighteenth ended too.”
“Is she okay?” Skeeter asked from behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see him standing in the doorway with a frown on his face.
“Overdid it a little, I think,” I said with a grimace. “Can you get her a bottle of water from the fridge? I think she’s done for the night.”
He eyed her for a moment before leaving to do as I’d asked, and I reached out to stroke her back, making her jerk in a panic. “Whoa, just me.”
She threw up again, concern building inside me when I noticed she was crying and her mascara was running.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, trying to wipe her eyes and practically missing her entire damn face.
“What for? You don’t think I’m usually the one hunched over the toilet? I’m the king of the porcelain throne, babe. Are you good for a second? I’ll get a washcloth for your face,” I murmured, waiting for her to nod before letting her hair go and moving across the room to the cupboard.
I quickly cleaned her face of mascara and tears, grabbing her hair carefully in time before she was throwing up again.
The door creaked as Skeeter entered, uncapping a bottle of water and giving me a dirty look when I reached for it. Apparently, he wanted to give it to her.
She sat back enough so he could let her sip it, not that it stayed down for long, and he took over holding her hair so I could find a bucket to put beside the bed.
I jogged down the stairs, almost running into Lukas and Jensen.
“Where is she? Skeet was taking her some water?” Lukas asked, and I cringed.
“Yeah, the birthday girl’s done for the night. She’s violently throwing up the contents of her stomach in my bathroom. I’m going to get her a bucket and try to get her into bed.”
“She’s sick?”
“Drank too much. She’ll be okay in the morning.”
He glanced up the stairs and I motioned for him to go and check on her, not surprised when he took the steps two at a time.
“Should we take her to the hospital?” Jensen asked as he followed me through the house.
“She needs water and sleep. She’ll be fine.”
“Ty—”
“I’m like that all the time, and I don’t need a hospital,” I reminded him, slipping into the laundry room for the bucket. He crossed his arms to watch me, not seeming convinced.
“You’re used to it.”
“So?”
“She’s not overdosing or something, is she?”
“She’s just had too much to drink, dude.”
He blew out a breath and followed me back upstairs, and I texted Caden to shut this shit down on my way.
Rory needed to sleep, and this party would just keep her awake.
My feet moved faster when I heard her crying from down the hallway, and I pushed into my bedroom to find Skeeter trying to restrain her as she fought him.
“Would you stay still? You’ll make yourself sick again,” he demanded.
“Don’t touch me!” she sobbed, making Lukas scowl.
“Let her go, man.”
“She can’t even sit up by herself,” Skeeter gritted out, releasing her and watching as she fell back on the bed and tried to draw her knees to her chest, but her limbs were sluggish. “She’s going to choke on her vomit in her fucking sleep.”
“I’ll stay up with her,” I answered, putting the bucket beside the bed and reaching down to brush her damp hair from her forehead. She heaved, and we managed to sit her up and hold the bucket under her in just enough time.
It was going to be a long night.