Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
BETH
I ’ve been patient, more patient than Nigel deserves at this point. When I’m guilty of fucking up, I’ll gladly sit there and accept whatever punishment he wants to dull out. I'd sit by and wait for him to decide if he wants to move past it all.
This isn’t that kind of situation. This is quite literally the opposite of that. I’m not guilty, which means I’m being way nicer about this than I should be. He deserves my wrath. Why? For multiple reasons, some of which he probably has no idea I know about.
One, Nigel very publicly dismissed me as if to say he’s done with me and that I’ve served my purpose. I’m not just some random girl he invited to his bed at a party anymore. I was willing to be that the night we met, but he pursued this with me. He dragged me into his aura, and if he wants to spit me out now, he won’t get me back.
Not now.
Not ever.
“Come on, Beth. Just wait a bit longer,” Judy pleads as I grab the pair of pajamas I keep stashed in Nigel’s bedside table drawer for our occasional sleepovers. My mom thought I was spending the night with Judy those times, but I won’t need them here any longer.
“I’ve waited long enough.”
I told myself that I wouldn’t catch feelings for Nigel, but then I let my guard down, the barrier slowly thinning out and turning brittle with time, slowly conceding until it was like a bomb exploded against the walls protecting my heart. It’s only been a few hours since then, but it was enough for that event to feel like a kick in the teeth.
“I know you’re upset and have every right to be. Make him hurt, but don’t leave like this.”
I don’t respond to her pleas as I dash into his adjoined bathroom and grab my spare brush that I also left here.
Stupid girl. What the hell else did I expect from a guy like Nigel O’Reilly? When it comes to bad boys, only one thing happens to good girls like me. They get burned until there’s nothing left but a pile of ash and soot.
“They’re on their way back,” Judy adds, her hands clamped together as if praying to God not to let me run out of here like my ass is on fire.
I decided to give Nigel a chance, a real chance, and the bastard threw it in my face after only a few hours. Imagine what he could do with a couple of days or weeks. Hell, maybe even months.
“It’s too damn late, Judy. I’ve sat around for an hour, which is an hour longer than he deserves. If he ever speaks to me again, I’ll kick him in the balls.”
“Please—” she tries again when I exit the bedroom, but I don’t let her finish.
“Stop, okay? Did you think we would just be a happy foursome going on double dates and shit like that? If that’s why you became my friend, you wasted your damn time and should cut your losses now.”
I turn on my heels, even as Judy gawks at me like I slapped her, and rush down the stairs. I already feel bad about what I said, but this is something I do. When I’m upset, I lash out and have no real control over the shitty things I say.
I’ll apologize to her tomorrow. Right now, I have to go home and deal with the wrath of my mother, which will probably end with another bruise on my cheek. The last one has barely faded, and this one will be just as meaningless as the last. Not that abuse is ever acceptable. My mother will probably figure out that I’ve been fucking Nigel regularly and see it like I’ve mutilated my body for sport.
I charge out the front door just as Nigel’s signature blue pickup speeds down the street with Ronan’s brown sedan behind him.
I guess when Judy said they were on their way, she meant they were about to be here. Whatever . I don’t need his bullshit. I gave him a chance, and he fucked it up as soon as he could.
Holding my clothes under my arm, I force my legs to go as fast as they can without making it obvious that I’m running from him. At most, it's a power walk.
“Beth, wait!” Nigel calls to me as he slams on his brakes beside me, but I’m so beyond done with him.
I don't want to look at him, hear his voice, smell his scent. At this point, the thought of him touching me makes my skin quiver. One can't go back from that, can they?
Screw him for putting me through this. I'll probably think of something to take a jab back at him tomorrow, probably more vile than fucking his best friend.
I've already done that.
“Fuck you!” I sneer at him, but the asshole is persistent, if nothing else. He jumps out of his truck, not bothering to park it in the driveway, and dares to grab my arms and spin me to face him. His jaw barely relaxes so he can speak before I jam my knee into his crotch. He foresees the move and blocks the impact by clenching his thighs together, but from the agony on his face, the pain factor is still there. It's a win, nonetheless.
I pull my hand back and smack him across the face, a move he did not anticipate or maybe he was too focused on the pain in his leg to prepare himself.
Before I can turn and run, Nigel shoves his shoulder into my stomach and throws me over it. A shriek of fear of being dropped and shock falls from my lips as I cling to his back.
This is the second time tonight he has manhandled me like this.
“You fucking piece of shit! Put me down, or I’ll cut off your balls and staple them to your forehead while you sleep!” My throat protests from the volume I use, and the last word cracks against the tip of my vertebrae.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he growls before slapping my ass so hard I scream in pain. “The sooner you get that through your head, the better.”
“I will fucking end you!” I roar at his back with the fury of a thousand suns on a collision course and kick him in the stomach. “Someone call the cops!”
“Not happening, butterfly.” He carries me up the stairs, Oisin standing by and watching the display cautiously.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Oliver's voice roars as he walks out of the kitchen and my eyes find his.
"Someone get this fucker off of me!" I scream before punching him in the back as hard as I can, which does nothing to stop him. "We're done, Nigel. Completely fucking done. I'm through with your man-child bullshit! Let me go!" I demand, but he is unmoved as he approaches his room.
“Anyone so much as knocks on this door, no matter what you hear, you’re dead!” Nigel calls out as if his word is law.
My gaze finds Oliver's and I plead with him. I have no clue why it's him I look to, but what I see on his face freaks me the fuck out.
Worry.
It's in the eyes of the man who should feel nothing at all. If he's worried, that's not good.
Nigel slams the door shut and I try my best to remain calm as I say, “You’re the one who’s dead if you don’t put me down! I’m not a sack of potatoes.”
“Oh, you want down? Why didn’t you say so?” He throws me down on the bed as if I weigh nothing and I glare up at his infuriating face. He’s downright ugly with rage and it's directed solely at me.
I kick out my leg and almost connect with his stomach, but he grabs it. I try my best to escape his grasp, but it's useless. I learned weeks ago that my strength is no match for his.
“Let me go!” I roar at him with fury, and he just smirks.
“Not a chance.” Then, he flips me over. I’m disoriented for a moment. It happened so fast that I didn’t even realize he was pushing my arms toward his headboard until a metal click vibrated against my wrist. I tug, knowing exactly what he’s doing, but it's useless. He forces the other wrist to meet the restrained one and snaps the other handcuff around it.
I bellow a frustrated noise, and he pulls my head back by my hair.
“You’re not going anywhere until I say you can, and I haven’t properly punished you yet, baby.”
I swear, if I weren’t handcuffed to his bed, I would maul him like a bear. I absolutely hate this part of him, the way he thinks I belong to him. I don't belong to anyone but myself. I'm not his property. He can't treat me like this.
“I’m not your baby, and I didn’t do anything wrong. You’re the one who rejected whatever this is…publicly. That’s the most disrespectful thing you’ve ever done, and I’ll never forgive you for humiliating me like that.” I fight the tears wanting to fall down my face, but with all the fight in the world, I can’t deny the ache in my chest.
He hurt me and he’s not even acknowledging it.
“Anything else to say for yourself?”
I swear, the balls on this jerk…
“Yeah, you have a tiny dick.”
Maybe that was pushing it. His dick is the furthest thing from tiny, besides Oliver's dick. Nigel has nothing on that beast.
“And you’re a lousy lay.” Now, I feel better. We both know I’m lying, but that doesn’t stop the sliver of satisfaction I get from the catch in his breathing. Is he wondering if that’s true? If so, he deserves the stab at his massive ego.
“How about you stop lying? That’s how you got yourself in this position in the first place.”
“I didn’t lie about anything!”
Then, my jeans are harshly tugged down my waist as I fight it. The color drains from my face. Please, tell me he's not going to try to do what I think he is.
No, no, no. I don't fucking consent.
“Yes, you did.”
Then, with my jeans around my knees, Nigel rips off my panties, running his fingers up and down my slit.
“So wet already, and I haven’t even fucked you yet.”
“Not wet. Just your jizz,” I rasp, trying with everything in me to pull my hands out of the handcuffs even if I have to rip layers of skin and muscle. "Stop it! I don't want this or you."
“Oh, really? Well, let’s have a taste test,” he mutters, and I panic, but not until I look in the mirror behind the headboard and watch Nigel suck a mixture of his release and my arousal from earlier off his fingers while simultaneously pushing down his shorts to reveal his dick.
I scream for help, for someone to save me from what he has intended to do to me. I've told him to stop. I've told him I don't want to have sex with him.
I'm in the one place in this town where everyone should be safe and yet this is the location that was chosen for me to join the list of one-in-six women. I trusted Nigel and I shouldn't have.
* * *
I hug my chest, facing the door leading out of Nigel's room, silent tears falling down my face. He passed out no more than five minutes ago. He removed the cuffs, made me take a shower, probably to remove the evidence of what he did. A part of me is too scared to leave. What if I leave and he does that to me again as punishment for running away?
My bottom lip quivers and it becomes hard to breathe. This room feels like it's getting smaller and smaller.
It's been long enough. He should be in a deep enough sleep for me to move around, right?
I slowly move out of the bed, his shirt falling just above the bottom of my ass. Luckily I'm wearing underwear. He had enough of a mind to let me put those on before forcing me back into bed.
I chance a look at Nigel who is turned away from me, but his breathing is soft and he is unmoved. I stand up and walk to the door before slipping out of the room. My heart pounds as I dash down the stairs and straight out the back door. I stop running when I hit the edge of the decrepit porch and I hyperventilate as I try to calm myself.
I lean down and throw up everything I ate at Judy’s house as more tears fall.
It's not working. Nigel really did to me what I know he did.
He—he…he fucking ra?—
"What are you doing out here?"