Chapter Twenty-Eight
Charlotte
“P lease, Ryan,” I beg. “Can we go home? Talk?”
I’m sick to my stomach and being around all these drunk idiots is making me even more nauseous. Ryan is in his element, playing king of everyone , though.
I should just leave.
Then what?
A shudder quakes through me. I don’t want to think about what he’d do if I just left. Sometimes I wish I could leave permanently.
My stomach roils violently. I should have eaten something before coming. Maybe I could sneak away, grab something to eat, and come back before he even notices. We took my car.
Since he’s ignoring me, choosing to bask in the attention of his loyal followers, I decide to slip away. I push through the crowd and out into the warm May evening undetected. I’ve barely made it down the steps when pain bursts at the base of my skull.
“Ahh!” I cry out.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Ryan demands. “Are you trying to embarrass me?”
“W-What? No! I’m hungry. I need food. I’ll be back in a few.”
He releases me, shoving me slightly. “You think I’m going to let my girlfriend go and pay for her own food? I’m not some monster, Charlotte.”
Liar.
You’re the biggest monster I know.
“You’re going to come with me?”
He smirks. “Nah, you can just stay here with me where you belong. Here. Eat this.” His grin is wolfish as he holds out a pill.
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“Since fucking when?” He storms up to me, his face twisting cruelly.
“We need to talk,” I squeak out.
Time pauses. Seconds linger in the air between us, quivering, begging to move forward. When he strikes, time speeds up again. His grip on my wrist is strong as he drags me to my car. I stumble over my own feet trying to keep up.
“You’re hurting me,” I murmur, tears flooding my eyes.
“I tried to give you something for the pain,” he snarls. “But you’re too fucking good for that now. Does this mean you’re too good for me too?”
“Ryan, stop,” I plead.
He doesn’t stop. Just drags me along, growing more and more furious. He flings open the door, shoving me into the seat. Then he rounds the vehicle, dropping into the driver’s seat. He buckles in and peels out. I’ve barely got my belt buckled when he turns a corner sharply.
“Slow down,” I hiss. “If my car gets stuck in a ditch, Dad will kill me.”
“Fuck your dad.”
“Ryan, please…”
“What the fuck is your deal, Char? Why are you acting this way?”
My hands shake as I fret over what I need to tell him. A baby. We’re going to have a baby. I can’t help but feel hopeful and happy. Like maybe a baby will make him cut out all the drugs and treat me better. It has to. This baby is something we can love together.
He speeds along down the road, knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel. “Fucking answer me!” He turns his head, glowering at me. “Are you breaking up with me? You can’t do that. I won’t allow it.”
“Calm down,” I whimper. “Slow down. I’m not breaking up with you.” I chew on my bottom lip as a tear streaks down my cheek. “I’m…Ryan, I’m pregnant.”
He tenses.
Calm before the storm.
And then he detonates.
“WHO’S THE FUCKING FATHER?!”
I recoil at his screamed words. “W-What? You!”
He strikes a hand toward me, grabbing a handful of my hair. I shriek when he pulls me toward him, his eyes glowing with rage and his breath smelling of liquor. His mouth opens to speak but then we slam hard into something.
Black.
Black.
Black.
Everything hurts.
Pain.
Oh my God.
So much pain.
“Char, babe,” Ryan grunts out. “I got you.”
I’m being dragged away from my car, the heels of my bare feet scraping across the asphalt. Oh my God. My car. It’s mangled beyond recognition. Everything hurts and my mind is foggy.
“Oww,” I whine. “It hurts.”
“You’re fine,” he croons. “You’re fine. We’re fine. My dad will be here soon. Everything’s going to be all right.”
I start to cry.
Why is he being so nice now?
He’s a cruel, mean bastard.
The last thing I remember is him screaming at me, my hair tangled in his fist. Now he’s stroking my hair and promising me the world.
“Owww.” Tears roll out when another flash of pain slices across my midsection. “It hurts.”
“Ssh,” he says, his teeth chattering. “I have something to help.” His shaking hand appears in front of my face. “Take this.”
I turn my head. “I can’t. It won’t be good for the b—owww!”
The acrid taste of the pill makes me gag. He pushes it back and pinches my nose, forcing me to swallow it. As soon as it’s down, I start to cry harder. He strokes my hair, trying to calm me.
“W-What did we hit?” I ask, shuddering. “Did we hurt someone?”
“That car,” he says, pointing. “You weren’t looking at the road and hit it head-on.”
Bile rises up my esophagus. “I did that?”
I scream.
Over and over again.
My throat hurts from screaming so much.
Someone is shaking me, trying to wake me.
It’s not a nightmare.
It’s a memory.
The man’s voice should scare me, but it doesn’t. It finds me in the darkness. Comforts me. Begs me to tell him what’s wrong. I cling to him, sobbing.
Light.
I squint against the harsh, bright light, staring in confusion at Trey standing in the doorway, a baseball bat in his hands. He’s not bloody and dying. He’s alive. Oh my God.
“What the fuck?” Trey bellows.
“I don’t know, man,” Cal tells him. “I think she had a bad nightmare.”
I shake my head, tears slinging from my jaw. “N-No. I remember. Cal, I remember.”
“Remember what, Charlie girl?”
Trey approaches, sitting on the foot of the bed, a frown on his poor, broken face. I reach for his hand. He tentatively takes it, his eyes flashing to Cal’s in confusion.
“I wasn’t driving,” I whisper.
Silence.
I sit up on my knees, holding the blanket to my naked chest, so I can look Trey in the eyes. Cal’s hand strokes down my bare spine, comforting me.
“That night. The accident. Ryan was driving. He…” I choke on my words. “He pulled me out after the crash. Forced me to take a pill.” Tears flood down my cheeks. “It wasn’t me.”
Trey’s eyes widen and Cal stiffens beside me. It’s a shock to everyone, especially me, but I remember now.
“He hurt you,” I explain tearfully. “And he killed my baby.”
Trey flinches at my words.
“What baby?” Cal asks, his tone a violent calm.
I turn to him. “Mine.” My bottom lip wobbles. “I was so heartbroken.”
He runs his knuckle down my cheek and kisses my lips. “I’m so fucking sorry, Charlotte.”
Charlotte.
Not parasite or loser.
Not monster or bitch.
The anguish in his eyes makes my heart stutter in my chest. Guilt flickers hot like flames in his green eyes.
“He framed me,” I choke out. “Hurting me wasn’t enough. Killing my baby wasn’t enough. He had to frame the accident to look like I did it. Why?”
Cal swallows and cups my cheeks with his palms, swiping the tears away with his thumbs. “Because he’s a psychopath. We need to tell your dad. The authorities. Your attorney. You got your license revoked and have a misdemeanor on your record. It was all bullshit. That motherfucker…” He cracks his neck and pins me with a hard glare. “He won’t get away with this.”
I hope not.
I want Ryan Cunningham to pay for his sins.
One week later…
I head for Cal’s class early. It feels good to be in a cheerleading uniform again. Yellow and black. Horn River in white writing is emblazoned across the chest of the polyester uniform top. Our skirts are a little on the skimpy side, but we wear boycut shorts underneath so we don’t flash the world our lady bits. I’m equal parts nervous and excited for Cal to see me.
This week has been a whirlwind.
For one, Cal has been treating me like I’m a handful of glass that’s been shattered. Like if he holds me too tight, I might break even more. But I won’t. I’m stronger than I was last spring. I know part of it is guilt on his part, but I don’t like it. I prefer my mean boy with his cruel mouth and twisted proclivities.
I’m going to push him back to the dark side where we belong together.
I peek in the classroom, admiring my man as he stares at his laptop, scowling. When he’s in teacher mode, it turns me on. He’s not a bad Hornet. He’s a man. A grown-ass man with a grown-ass job. It makes me the delinquent here because I want to encourage him to do bad things.
As if I’m innocent, I prance into the classroom over to my desk without making eye contact with him. I set my bag down on the floor and then bend over to hunt for my phone. The creak of his chair sends a shiver down my spine. Snagging my phone, I stand up straight. Heat burns at my back.
The devil’s come to get you, little girl.
A smile tugs at my lips. “Good morning, Mr. Hutton.”
“Morning, cheerleader,” he growls, his hand gripping my hip. “How in the fuck is this outfit legal?”
I twist around to face him, giving him my fakest cheerleader smile. “It meets the athletic dress code. Ms. Frazier approved.”
He plucks my phone out of my hand and tosses it on my desk with a loud clatter. “You shouldn’t tease your teacher, English.”
I twist my hand around his tie, pulling him toward me. “You have twenty minutes before people will start arriving, sir. Are you going to give me detention for being a tease or are you going to fuck me like the naughty teacher we both know you are?”
“Your fucking mouth,” he rumbles. “If I had more time, I’d punish it.”
I do love to lick his piercings…
“Wipe that smirk off your face, dirty girl.” He nips at my nose. “Bend over my desk. Now. Flip that little skirt up over that sweet ass and show me what’s mine.”
Heat floods through me. This is us. Not the constant, gentle coddling. Him pushing me and testing me. The punishments. The rewards. I need both sides of Cal. The good and the bad. Pretty and ugly.
I pull away and make my way over to the desk. Peeking at him over my shoulder, I lift my skirt up, revealing my shorts.
“Not good enough, Charlie girl. I want to see that pretty ass. Maybe even give you a good little smack for being a smartass and denying me what I want to see.” His green eyes are liquid lust as he prowls my way.
I pull my shorts and panties down, letting them drop to my ankles. Pressing my palms to his desk, I bend over and push my ass out.
“Like this, Mr. Hutton?”
“Fuck,” he groans. “Just for that, I’m not closing the door. Maybe your little boyfriend, Wes, will see. The pervert needs the reminder of who you belong to.”
My blood heats at the prospect of him fucking me with the door open. “You could get fired.”
He laughs. My evil, villainous man laughs. “I’ll tell Karen to get fucked if she tries to fire me. I’m the best damn Pre-Calculus teacher she’s ever had. So what if I want to fuck my favorite student? You’re her niece. She’ll get over it.”
“You might get fired because I’m her niece,” I taunt.
He smacks my ass. “Stop mouthing me, loser.”
Why does he have to be so hot when he gets mean?
“Grown-ass man fucking his teenage student? Who’s the real loser here?”
When he smacks me this time, it burns. “Keep talking, English.” He pats my thigh. “Step out of those shorts and spread your legs. I want to see just how wet your disobedience makes you.”
I kick the offending clothing away and spread my legs apart. His large hand slides down my ass crack, bypassing my hole, and then dips into my pussy.
“Soaked. I fucking knew it.”
I groan as he strokes me, pressing against my G-spot. In a short time, he’s learned exactly how to play my body in ways that drive me deliciously insane. He brings me right to the brink of ecstasy before he removes his finger.
“Asshole,” I grumble.
Smack!
“Are you going to fuck me or just tease me until the whole class witnesses you defiling me?”
I love poking this bear.
“Hush, Charlie girl. I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to do all that fancy shit tonight at the game. Sorry about your career as a cheerleader. Your teacher’s big, pierced dick ruined you.”
He unfastens his pants and then the head of his cock slides against my slick opening. With no warning, he drives into me, stretching me to the max. I cry out, unable to hold in the sounds escaping me.
“Cal,” I moan. “Oh God.”
His hips thrust hard against me, hitting me so deep I think I’ll be bruised. “The devil’s taking you now, cheerleader. God’s on a smoke break.”
He reaches around my hip to pinch at my clit. I clench around him, shocked at the sudden pain mixed with pleasure. His fingers wrap around my ponytail and he pulls my head back, lifting me up to where my fingertips are barely holding on to the desk to steady me. He’s relentless as he fucks me. The ruthless pinching of my clit has me exploding with pleasure long before he does. A million stars glitter around me, dancing with the ragged sounds of pleasure rasping from me.
“As much as I’d love my cum to run down your thighs in class, I’m not sure I can handle it without sending those fuckers home so I can take you again. So be a good girl, cheerleader, and suck me off.”
He pulls out of me and then steps back. I shakily stand up. His expression is unreadable as he tracks me with his intense green eyes. I kneel on the floor, wincing at the soreness between my thighs, and grip his wet dick. With a smile, I admire his piercings that no other girl will ever see again. Playfully, I lick his crown, slightly turned on by the taste of myself on him. His dick is smeared with my arousal and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Keep staring at it and it’s going to get a complex,” he grumbles. “Put the big dick in your big mouth.”
I give him an exaggerated thumbs-up. Before he can get pissed, I slide my lips down along his length. My teeth clink against his piercings. Based on the guttural groan that rumbles from him, I’d say he likes that.
His hand grips onto my ponytail again as his hips start thrusting, urging me to take him deeper. Cal is a huge fan of blowjobs. Lucky for him, I love giving them to him. It’s empowering to see the hardass Hornet lose control.
A queen can rule her king from her knees.
This one certainly does.
“Fuck, Charlie girl, you’re gonna be the death of me.”
Salty cum bursts over my tongue, shooting toward the back of my throat. No warning. I love it. Hollowing my cheeks, I suck him like I need his release for nourishment. I swallow him down and then pop off his dick so I can flash him my signature cheerleader smile.
His gaze bores into me. I expect a smartass response or teasing. Instead, he caresses my cheek with surprising tenderness. “Get any more perfect and I’m going to have to work extra hard to ruin you.”
He steps away to stuff his wet dick back into his slacks. I stand up and shakily redress. His eyes remain fixed on my lips, so I lick them. He pounces, his hand around my throat in a possessive, gentle hold.
“Mine,” he growls before he kisses me like he wants my soul.
All-consuming. Ravenous. Desperate.
And he says I’m the parasite…
He can have my soul.
He can have my everything.