17. Harper
Chapter 17
Harper
My pussy stings from the slap Jude planted on me, and now all I can smell is my own arousal. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be scared, or angry, or turned on. Jude’s fierce eyes aren’t helping, nor is his dark smirk.
I try to struggle out of his grip again but when he squeezes my throat, I freeze up like a deer in the headlights. I can’t help it—I’ve heard too many rumors this week to pretend that he can’t hurt me if he wants to. I know Jude isn’t the perfect son he makes himself out to be. When I met Talia earlier today, she told me how wary the football team is of Jude, which she doesn’t understand because Jude’s never been in a fight in school.
Although Cinderhart High has a zero-tolerance policy for violence, I’ve heard that some kids—those with influential parents—can get away with anything.
Which makes me wonder if Jude is one of them. I don’t know how much power Mr. Dearth has in Cinderhart, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he was one of those parents that could make things disappear.
Jude hikes up my skirt, baring my drenched underwear, and gives me another slap. This one stings even more, and the feeling lingers as a hot ache seeps into my core.
“Okay, okay!” I push against his chest. “No more lies. That bottle was the last of it, okay? And...and I won’t drink at school anymore. I promise.”
That’s what he wants, right? He wants to make sure I don’t get him in trouble with his dad. I can do that. Fuck, I’d do anything to get this monster off me.
But Jude’s not buying it. That, or he simply doesn’t want to hear reason. Because it doesn’t matter how much I simper, how much I whine, he grabs my panties and wrenches them down my legs so hard they leave behind fabric burns.
“Jude!” I ball up my hand and punch his chest, but he just snarls at me.
His third slap stings like fire. My entire body goes rigid, my thighs tightening against his legs as I try to close them.
“Fuck!” I punch him again. “You fucking fuck !”
He steps back in a rush, and I stagger as I hit the ground, my legs not expecting to have to support my weight again so soon. That’s when I realize his chest is rising and falling faster than normal, that the sullen anger in his eyes has changed into something carnal.
Jude holds out a hand and snaps his fingers. “Give,” he says, and then points at the panties bunched by my knees.
“Wh-what?”
Frustration bunches his already hard jaw. He surges forward, pins me against the wall with a hand between my breasts, and rips my underwear down my calves. My eyes squeeze shut when he taps my ankles—first the one, then the other—so I’ll lift my feet for him.
And just when I think it’s over, that this entire humiliating incident is finally done, he shoves my wadded-up panties between my legs and swipes them over my pussy.
He taps the side of my face with his hand so I’ll open my eyes.
“That’s my girl,” he says, words dripping sarcasm. “Now clean yourself up and get your ass in my truck.”
I fall to my knees, not just so I can start putting my stuff back into my bag, but because my legs honestly can’t support me a moment longer. It’s there, on my knees, that Jude wraps my ponytail around his fist and forces me to look up at him.
“And Harper...if anyone finds out about this, I’ll be doing more than just slapping your cunt.”
He walks away wearing a smirk, my panties still bundled in his fist like a fucking trophy. I watch with furious tears brimming in my eyes before I blink them away, not letting a single one fall.
“Sick fuck,” I mumble at his retreating back. I glance at the shards of broken glass glistening on the grass, and my shoulders slump in defeat.
Guess I’m going to bed early tonight. Just me and a bottle of wine…maybe two.