20. Ava
CHAPTER 20
AVA
After writing not just one, but two papers for English Lit– because apparently completing his own coursework is beneath my stepbrother– my brain is exhausted, eyes burning from staring at my laptop screen for so long. Considering Raf couldn’t be bothered to write his own paper, I doubt he’ll even read it before submitting it. Hopefully he won’t, because I might’ve taken out some of my anger on him through the assignment. Just because I can’t physically fight back against the Kings doesn’t mean I’m completely powerless.
I’m all too eager to fall into bed and curl up beneath the blankets, but I feel like I’ve just drifted off to sleep when the sound of someone bursting into my dorm room makes me jolt upright with a start. Clutching the covers tightly to my chest, my eyes struggle to adjust to the low light streaming in from the hall, my brain scrambling to process what the hell is happening.
Am I being kidnapped again?!
Within seconds, Ford is at my bedside, leaning over and peering down at me through the darkness. His lips curl back from his teeth in a menacing grin, and I can smell the whiskey on his breath before he even speaks.
“Ava baby, come with me,” he drawls, reaching out and curling his tattooed fingers around my bicep. He yanks me out of bed, the warm cocoon of sheets and blankets falling away as I’m tugged up to stand.
The hardwood floors are cold beneath my bare feet, goosebumps immediately pebbling up on my skin from the abrupt exposure to the chilly air. Ford stumbles back a step, and from the sluggish quality of his movements, it’s evident that he’s three sheets to the wind.
“Where are we going?” I squeak, rubbing at my arms for warmth as fear takes hold.
I’ve cooperated with the Kings all week– I even stayed up late tonight to write Raf’s stupid paper for English Lit. I haven’t done anything to warrant another midnight kidnapping, but clearly, these guys don’t need a legitimate reason to torture me.
“Upstairs,” Ford replies simply, lifting his chin.
Shit . If he’s taking me to their apartment, this can’t be good. I mean, hauling me to the lake was worse, but at least we were out in the open. I have no idea what kind of horrors await me on the fifth floor of this building. From what I hear, the Kings never allow anyone up there in their space. Knowing them, it’s probably just a massive torture chamber.
“I’ve gotta get dressed,” I mumble, glancing toward my closet. At this point, I’m searching for any excuse to prolong the inevitable, as if something or someone will put a stop to this if I’m able to buy myself some time. It definitely won’t be my chicken shit roommate. She’s laying on her side in the bed across from mine with her back to us, acting as if she’s still asleep.
Ford retreats a step to give me a slow, predatory once-over, licking his lips as he takes in the little cotton sleep shorts and loose-fitting cami I’m wearing. “Nah, you look perfect .”
There’s something frightening about the way he emphasizes his last word that has my heart beating a riot in my chest, my fight or flight instincts kicking in. I dart my head to the left, then the right, searching for any means of escape– but Ford closes in again with an impatient grunt, grabbing ahold of my arm and dragging me out of my dorm room.
I uselessly try to fight him at first, wrenching my arm back to pry it from his grasp. His grip is like a damn vise, though, and I realize pretty quickly that my efforts are pointless. Even if I get away, he’s still got that video. As long as he can ruin my future with the click of a button, I have no choice but to comply with his every demand.
Ford keeps a hold on my arm all the way up the stairs, the cold stone biting into my bare feet and his fingertips digging bruises into my bicep. It isn’t until we’re through the door of his apartment that he finally lets me go, shoving me forward and sending me stumbling into the large open concept living space.
Not a torture chamber. Just a large, lavish apartment.
Wes is seated on a sleek black leather couch in front of the big flatscreen TV, and he cranes his neck to look back at me as I scramble to catch my balance from the force of Ford’s shove.
“Really?” he groans, his disapproving glare darting past me to his friend.
“What?” Ford asks innocently. He steps up beside me, slinging an arm over my shoulders and steering me into the living room. “Ava wanted to hang out.”
I open my mouth to object, but then Raf walks by. I suck in a gasp at the sight of his bruised and bloodied face, eyes popping wide.
“Oh my god, what happened?!”
He only scowls at me in response, walking past the rest of us without a word and continuing on down the hall. He disappears into the room at the end, slamming the door behind him loudly.
“He never talks after a fight,” Wes supplies, raising a beer bottle to his lips and taking a swig.
“A fight?”
He narrows his eyes on me, tilting his head. “You don’t know your brother at all, do you?”
“ Step brother,” I correct.
Wes rolls his eyes, swallowing down another gulp of beer. “He’s good, you know,” he murmurs, staring blankly at the TV on the wall playing sports highlights. “Like, good enough to go pro. Not that he ever could, considering his position.”
I flinch at the sound of a heavy drum beat starting up, my back going ramrod straight as I whip my head back and forth in alarm.
“Another post-fight ritual,” Wes comments, tipping the neck of his beer bottle toward the hallway Raf just disappeared down before taking another swig from it.
“C’mon, Ava baby, let’s go hang out in my room,” Ford coaxes, his whiskey-tinged breath fanning my cheek as he hovers close. The weight of his arm slides from my shoulders, his hand dropping to grip tightly around my own as he abruptly turns toward the hall, tugging me to follow along with him.
My pulse picks up speed as Ford drags me down the hallway in the direction of the frantic drum beat. He stops off at the first open door, pulling me inside of what I gather to be his bedroom and closing it behind us.
I pause to take it all in, shrinking back against the wall beside the door as Ford steps over to his desk and starts emptying his pockets. The room itself isn’t dirty, per se, but it’s definitely untidy. There’s laundry strewn all over the floor, the bed is rumpled and unmade, and the entire wall behind it is covered with drawings scrawled on pieces of notebook paper, secured haphazardly with scotch tape.
Ford tosses a couple huge wads of cash onto the dresser like they’re nothing, and my eyes almost bug out of my head.
What the hell is he doing with that kind of money?
I’m so curious that I almost ask, but then Ford whips his shirt off over his head and I’m momentarily stunned by the sight of his bare chest.
He’s completely covered in ink. Every inch of exposed skin except for his face is adorned with exquisitely detailed tattoos, and while Ford’s body doesn’t have the same bulk as Wes’ or Raf’s, he’s still wrapped in lean muscle, his chest and arms sculpted and honed to perfection. The man’s like a walking work of art, and damnit I’ve been staring way too long .
The corner of Ford’s lips lift in a little smirk as he watches me watching him, his hands dropping to unfasten the button of his jeans. “Like what you see, babe?” he asks, shoving the black denim down his hips and kicking off the legs of his pants. His lower half is covered in tattoos as well, and for some reason I’m just standing here like a dumb mute, drinking in his appearance like I’ve been dying of thirst.
He's hauntingly beautiful, everything about him drawing me in.
Ford lifts his chin, gesturing to me. “C’mon, take those clothes off.”
“What?!” I blurt, his request finally shocking me back to reality. “No!”
He sighs, cocking his head. “C’mon, doll, don’t make me do it for you.”
I resist the urge to squirm beneath the intensity of his hazel-eyed stare, the unhinged look in his eyes making my heart pound even faster.
He takes a step in my direction, and I throw up a hand to signal him to stop. “Wait!”
Ford pauses, giving me a pointed look that tells me there’s no way I’m getting out of this.
“Let me see those tits, babe,” he drawls, wetting his lips with his tongue.
“Fine,” I grit out, pushing off from the wall. He’s already seen me splayed out on a pool table, so flashing him my boobs seems tame in comparison.
Ford grins to himself, stepping over to his bed and flopping down onto it. “Nice and slow,” he directs, folding his arms on the pillow behind his head as I reach down for the hem of my cami. “Give me a show.”
My cheeks burn as I advance a step closer, slowly lifting the fabric up to reveal a sliver of my belly.
Ford shifts his weight on the bed to get more comfortable, untucking one of his hands from behind his head to lewdly grip the growing bulge in the front of his boxers. “More.”
I shudder a breath, squeezing my eyes closed as I raise the hem of my shirt higher, until I feel the cool nip of air against my bare breasts. My nipples instantly harden, puckering into stiff points while I peel my cami off over my head and drop it to the floor.
“ Fuck .”
Opening my eyes at the sound of Ford’s guttural groan, I find him propped up on elbow, his half-lidded eyes glued to my bare chest.
“Damn, those are nice tits,” he murmurs in approval, flexing his grip on his boner.
An unexplained rush of heat courses through me at his reaction. I try to ignore it, covering my chest with my arms, but one cutting glare from Ford has me dropping them to my sides again, putting my body on display for him while his eyes feast over my skin.
Then he nods to my still-clothed bottom half. “All of it, Ava baby.”
My heart skips a beat. Knowing resistance is futile, I move to comply with his demand, shame coating my tongue as I growl expletives under my breath. Going somewhere else in my mind, I tug my shorts down my hips, letting them drop to the floor and pool at my ankles. Hooking my fingers into the waistband of my underwear, I start slowly dragging them down my hips.
“Wait,” Ford calls, and I freeze my movements, staring at him like a deer in the headlights. He swipes a hand over his chin, grinning like a devil. “Actually, leave the panties on.”
I pull my underwear back up with a sigh of relief and clasp my hands together in front of me, not really sure what to do with them. I don’t have to wonder for long, though, because Ford lifts his chin, beckoning me over.
“C’mere.”
Reluctantly, I put one foot in front of the other to comply, padding across the room over to his bed. As soon as I’m within reach, Ford grabs for me, yanking me down to join him on the tangle of black bedding. He manhandles me until I’m positioned on top of him, straddling his lap. A shiver tracks up my spine as his hands glide slowly up my sides, moving inward to cup my bare breasts.
“You’ve got some great fuckin’ tits, babe, has anyone ever told you that?” he murmurs, hands kneading and squeezing my supple flesh.
No. Nobody’s told me that before because nobody’s seen them, and the fact that this is the first time someone has is humiliating.
But there’s also something about it that’s thrilling– his praise, the hungry look in his eyes. He pinches my nipples between his fingers and a zing of sensation rushes straight to my core, my lips parting to draw a shallow gasp.
“Or am I the first one to play with these, hmm?” he asks, a lilt of amusement in his tone. “Just how much of a virgin are you, Ava?”
“That’s none of your business,” I grit out, batting his hands away angrily.
He laughs, punching his hips up to grind his hard-on into my panty-clad center. “Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that. I’m just trying to get to know you.”
I glare down at him, my posture rigid and my shoulders tense.
“Fine,” he sighs, snaking his hands up my belly and swirling his thumbs over my skin. “I’ll let you go first, then. Ask me anything, and I promise I’ll answer truthfully.”
Well, this is certainly a turn of events. I could ask him why they’re targeting me, what their endgame is, what I can possibly do to get off their radar… but instead, I’m so overwhelmed and flustered in the moment that I blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind.
“What’s with all the tattoos?”
His lips spread into a lazy grin as his hands cruise up higher, thumbing my nipples. “Well, that’s an easy one. I like art. Random shit pops into my head all the time, and I have to draw it to get it out.” His eyes flicker up to indicate the wall of sketches taped up above his bed. “But putting pen to paper is so temporary, isn’t it?”
Taking one of my nipples between his fingers, he twists until I hiss a breath in through my teeth, another jolt of pleasure going straight to my core.
“If I really like something, I don’t want to risk losing it,” he murmurs. “So, I got a tattoo gun, and the rest is history.”
“You do these yourself?” I ask, mouth gaping open in shock.
He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, nodding. “Most of them, yeah. At least on my arms and legs. I’m ambidextrous. Raf lets me practice on him, too.” His eyes drop to tour my body as he lowers his hands, splaying his palms out over my stomach. “I’d love to ink this skin…”
“No thanks,” I say quickly, batting his hands away again.
He frowns. “Why not? Got something against tattoos?”
The malice that sparks in his eyes has my fight or flight instincts kicking in again. I shake my head, immediately backpedaling. I don’t know much about Ford, but I do know that his moods can change on a dime. Paired with how wasted he clearly is, the last thing I want to do is provoke the beast.
“No, not at all,” I reply sweetly, forcing a smile to my lips. “I like tattoos on other people. I just prefer my own skin clean. At least until I find something that I want on it permanently.”
He seems to accept that answer, nodding shallowly as his hands slide back up to cup my breasts again. “Ugh, these tits ,” he groans, giving them a hard squeeze. “Lay down, I wanna fuck ‘em.”
“What?!” I blurt, flinching back in alarm.
“I wanna fuck your tits,” he deadpans.
“No!”
I squirm to get away from him, but his big, tattooed hands clamp down around my hips, holding me in place. “Would you rather me fuck your mouth?” he asks, the low, predatory timbre of his voice setting my teeth on edge. “Your tight little pussy?” He tilts his head, deviant intent flashing in his hazel eyes. “How about your ass?”
I shake my head adamantly, pushing up on my knees as I grab onto his hands and try to peel them away from my hips.
“Tits it is, then,” Ford declares, and before I even know what’s happening, he’s lifted me off his lap and tossed me down onto the bed next to him, climbing on top of me and pinning me beneath his weight. He straddles my waist, cuffing my wrists with his hands on either side of my head and leaning down until his face is hovering just above mine.
“Try not to fight me on this,” he growls, the scent of whiskey on his breath so strong that I’m practically getting drunk on it. Pausing in consideration, the corner of his lips quirk in an amused smirk. “Or do , the fight kinda turns me on.”
A helpless whimper leaves my lips, tears springing to my eyes. One slips free, rolling down my temple, and Ford dips his head down, tongue darting out to lick it away. He’s grinning when he pulls back to look at me again, a maniacal glimmer in those stunning hazel eyes.
“You cry so pretty, Ava baby. Now, you gonna play nice or what?”
I nod in resignation, sinking my teeth into my lower lip to keep it from quivering as Ford relinquishes his grip and shuffles off me to remove his boxers. Then he crawls back on top, his huge dick bobbing mere inches from my face.
Oh my god.
It’s pierced .
I shouldn’t find the size of it shocking, now that I’ve had Wes’ dick shoved down my throat, but it still gives me pause. Ford’s isn’t quite as long, but it’s decidedly thicker, the barbell below the base of the head glinting as he wraps his fist around his girth and gives it a lazy stroke.
“You’d better close that mouth if you don’t want me to stick my cock in it.”
I hadn’t even realized I was gaping at the sight of him. I snap my mouth closed, eyes pinging back up to meet his own.
Why does some part of me want to taste that pierced cock?
I shove that depraved thought out of my head as quickly as it entered, ignoring the heartbeat pulsing steadily between my thighs.
Ford brings his hand up to his mouth, spitting in his palm and smearing it over his dick while keeping his eyes locked on mine the entire time. Then he shuffles forward, grabbing onto my breasts and squeezing them together, punching his hips forward to slide his shaft into the valley between.
“Fuck,” he groans, head dropping back as he starts thrusting.
I hope he doesn’t expect me to know what I’m doing here. I haven’t even had regular sex yet– something like this is way out of my wheelhouse.
Though the way he’s using my body makes me feel like nothing but a nameless, faceless doll, I can’t ignore the heat crawling up my neck or the dull throb pounding between my legs. I squeeze them together to alleviate the ache, my eyes pinging between Ford’s rapturous expression and the head of his dick popping out from between the tops of my boobs with every forward thrust.
His thumbs start moving back and forth over the hard buds of my nipples, tweaking and toying with them until I’m squirming, my breath coming out in short pants to match his own. My reaction doesn’t escape his notice, and Ford starts thrusting faster, a wolfish grin stretching his lips.
“You like that, Ava?” he taunts, pinching my left nipple so hard that I can’t hold back my squeal. “Bet you can’t wait for me to fuck that tight little virgin pussy someday, can you?”
Why does that suggestion make me even hotter?
He pinches my other nipple and I bite my lip to stifle a moan as he presses my boobs together tighter, increasing the friction on his dick sliding back and forth between them.
“Shit, I’m gonna come,” he chokes, his thrusts growing more frantic. “Stick out your tongue.”
I don’t even know why I do it.
Stupidity? Temporary insanity?
Whatever it is, I regret the action as soon as he punches his hips forward with a groan and hot ropes of cum spurt out from the tip of his dick, landing on my chest and chin and tongue.
“Fuck,” he pants, his body stilling as his cock twitches between my breasts. He finally releases them, reaching up to smear his cum into my skin, bringing more of it to my mouth and forcing his fingers past my lips. I choke on his digits as he shoves them inside, grinning cruelly above me.
The salty taste of him slides down my throat, and I’m not sure which is worse– the fact that I just let him use me like that, or the overwhelming heat pulsing in my core that says some twisted part of me might’ve enjoyed it.