9. Willow
9
WILLOW
G uess which one of these is worse: Sacrificing four months of my life to three attractive guys in the hopes of saving my family? Not ideal. But signing away my body to these boys who tease me for hours and then tell me not to touch myself? One hundred and ten percent worse.
To add insult to injury, one of them insisted on picking me up for school today, but I refused to wear the yellow, backless sundress with the chunky brown heels that are basically the best thing in my closet now.
Instead, I chose to wear my signature denim flared jeans, tight crop top with My Chemical Romance logo, and new platform black Converse shoes as one big ass fuck you. Or as a please fuck me, either works.
“Vincent will be pissed carina.” Cast chuckles, but I fold my arms across my chest, cross my legs and stare out of the window.
“Vincent can go fuck himself.” I murmur.
Cast looks at me with a glittering look in his eye, that almost fooled me into thinking that he’s teasing me. “Vincent has been fucking himself to you since freshman year.”
“Excuse me?” I cough, because there is no fucking way that Vincent has had a crush on me, or lust for me since freshman year. Cast is lying, but a better question is why would he lie?
“You heard me.” He rolls his eyes, and with one hand on the steering wheel, he allows his hand to squeeze my thigh. My swollen clit pulses, and I have to bite my lip painfully to stop the moan from leaving my lips.
“Why do we have to keep telling you to stop biting your lip, carina?” Cast clicks his tongue, his hand grazes my inner thigh and I suck in a breath through my nose at the sensation.
“It’s a nervous tick,” I whisper, my voice barely audible as I slide my bottom lip free from my teeth. My legs shift instinctively, pulling closer together in search of a reprieve, but his hand tightens on my thigh with bruising strength. His fingers dig between my legs, and the pressure sends a jolt through me. My heart thunders in my chest, so loud I’m sure he can hear it—feel it.
“I make you nervous,” he says, his lips curling into a slow, deliberate smirk. His tongue drags over his bottom lip like a predator savoring the sight of its most tantalizing prey.
I stay silent, frozen under his gaze, hoping that if I don’t move, don’t breathe, I won’t have to answer such an exposing question.
“Answer me, pawn,” he growls, his voice rasping with a dangerous edge. When I shift to cross my legs, his grip tightens, holding them open with commanding ease. The low snarl that rumbles from his chest sends a bolt of electricity down my spine, zapping my pulsing core.
“Yes,” I finally whisper, my voice trembling as I take a shaky breath. “You all do.”
His eyes narrow, dark and unreadable, but there’s no mistaking the possessiveness in them. “I didn’t ask about the others.” His voice drops lower, curling around me like smoke as his fingers trace the inseam of my jeans, the touch maddeningly slow and deliberate. “I asked about me. Do I make you nervous?”
The pounding of my heart drowns out everything else, the heat of his presence overwhelming. My teeth ache with the urge to bite my lip again, but I force myself to meet his gaze. Cast’s smirk deepens as his fingers halt their maddening path, resting inches from my pussy. His green eyes burn with a mix of mischief and something darker—something I don’t dare name, because I don’t know what it might mean if I’m right.
“You’re scared of me,” he says, his tone amused yet razor-sharp. He leans in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “But I can see it, Willow. The way your pulse races. The way you can’t decide if you want to run or stay.” His voice dips lower, soft and teasing. “You like it, don’t you? That feeling.”
My lips part, but no sound comes out at first. I’m not sure how to answer—how to navigate the chaotic storm he’s pulling me into. “I... I don’t know,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
He chuckles darkly, his hand sliding higher, his thumb brushing against the curve of my pussy. “Oh, I think you do. You liked it yesterday too, didn’t you? Being on your knees. The way it felt, the way I made you feel.”
I swallow a whimper, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing.
“Say it,” he whispers, his tone soft yet unyielding, the kind of command that pulls at something deep inside me. “Tell me the truth, Willow. Did you like being on your knees yesterday?”
My heart pounds so loudly I can barely think. The memory rushes back, vivid and inescapable: the way the room seemed to shrink, how his presence consumed every inch of it, the look in Damien’s eyes, Vincent’s cock down my throat, the way my body reacted before my mind could catch up. A part of me hated it—hated him—but the other part...
“Yes,” I whisper, the word slipping out like a confession. My cheeks burn, but I can’t bring myself to look away from him. “I liked it.”
Cast’s grin stretches wider, a predator’s grin. His knuckle presses on my clit, sending a pulse of heat through me. “Good girl,” he says, his voice rich with satisfaction. “Because you didn’t lie, I will let you cum.”
A sharp breath escapes my lips just as Cast pulls smoothly into the school parking lot, the engine’s low growl a perfect echo of his own voice. The world outside feels too close—students milling about, laughter and chatter ringing through the air—but the heat radiating off him makes everything else blur. Despite the crowd, despite the risk, a reckless part of me—stupid, insatiable—doesn’t care who’s watching because another minute this riled up and I might scream.
“Right here?” I pant.
“Right now,” he replies, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “Or you’ll have to wait.”
“I thought you had a problem with anyone getting to see me,” I murmur, almost as if daring him.
His hand snaps up, pinching my chin and turning my face to his, an intoxicating flicker of amusement in his moss-green eyes. “No one gets to see you without my permission,” he growls, his tone dark and possessive. “Understand?”
Heat floods under my skin, pooling low in my stomach, and my breath catches. The intensity in his gaze makes me feel both trapped and exhilarated. My body reacts before my mind can process the weight of his words, and I nod.
“Yes, sir,” I whisper, the words slipping out like they belong to him.
His eyes glint, that familiar, dangerous green darkening as a smirk curls his lips. The look makes my stomach twist. I fight the ridiculous urge to kick my feet like a giddy schoolgirl.
Cast turns my head forward and my gaze lands on Vincent, leaning lazily against his car as he chats with some random baseball player. The snug fit of his black t-shirt pulling across his chest and showing off the lean muscles beneath. Faded jeans hang low on his hips, that makes me lick my lips at how he tasted last night: like a salted chocolate chip cookie.
“Look at him,” Cast whispers, his voice low and firm, like velvet wrapped around steel. “Now you're going to give him a little show since you, naughty girl, didn't wear your dress today.”
I nod weakly, my eyes locked on Vincent through the window as my hands unbutton my jeans and Cast helps me shimmy the fabric down and expose my bare pussy.
“I see you listen to some rules,” he purrs, his free hand trailing down my side, fingers skimming over the curve of my hip. “Now, be a good girl and cum all over my seat.”
His words send a jolt through me, equal parts terror and exhilaration. My pulse quickens, pounding in my ears as his hand slips lower. I bite my lip to stifle a whimper, but it escapes anyway, soft and needy. Cast chuckles darkly, his breath hot against my neck.
“You’re already so wet for us,” he murmurs, his fingers teasing my arousal dripping down my thighs. “ Because you want to be good for us, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I breathe, the word barely audible over the rush of blood in my ears. My hands grip the edge of the car seat, knuckles white as I struggle to stay still. Cast’s fingers slide through the slick heat waiting for him. A gasp escapes me, sharp and involuntary, and I see Vincent glance toward the car, his brow furrowing slightly.
Oh God. He’s looking this way.
Cast’s laugh is a low rumble in my ear, vibrating through my body like a live wire. “He sees you,” he says, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “But he doesn’t know what we’re doing. Not yet.”
His fingers press harder, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes my legs tremble. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the way his touch sets me on fire, but it’s impossible. Every stroke of his fingers sends sparks shooting through me, and I can feel myself getting closer to the edge with every second.
“Open your eyes,” Cast commands, his voice sharper now. “Watch him while you cum for me.”
I force my eyes open, locking onto Vincent again. He’s still talking to the baseball player, but his gaze keeps flicking toward the car, a faint frown tugging at his lips. The sight of him—so close, yet so oblivious—makes my stomach twist with embarrassment and shame. I am being finger fucked in public, anyone can see me. Other students, Vincent, or a fucking professor. “Cast, what if-”
“Shh, pawn, we’re getting to the good part.”
Cast’s fingers move faster, curling inside me just enough to make my back arch off the seat. I bite down on my lip to keep from crying out, but a soft moan slips past anyway, muffled by the sound of our breathing filling the car. His other hand slides up my thigh, pushing my jeans down lower until the cool air brushes against my overheated skin.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the sensitive spot behind my ear. “I want to hear you scream.”
Vincent's gaze is fixed on me, a knowing expression spreading across his face. He smirks, and holy hell, he knows.
“Look at that carina . He knows what you're doing.” Cast taunts his thumb moving faster in small circles right on my clit, while two of his fingers plunge in and out of me.
I don’t move my eyes away from him, instead grinding against Cast’s hand as I look at Vincent Beaumont, one of the most stunning men I've ever laid eyes on. The fact that he knows I am fantasizing about him right now only adds to the intense desire building inside me, coiling tighter and tighter until it becomes unbearable.
“Oh God.” I moan out.
“I prefer Cast, but if you want me to be your God I can.” Cast’s hot breath runs down my spine, and I push out a breath as if it is a burden to breathe right now. I clench around Cast's fingers, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I ride out the intense release, trembling uncontrollably.
When I finally come back to myself, Cast is watching me with a satisfied smirk, his fingers still pressed inside me. My cheeks burn as I realize how exposed I must look, out of breath and sprawled across the passenger seat with my jeans around my knees.
Before I can protest, his fingers slide out of me, leaving me empty and aching. He lifts them to his lips, sucking the taste of me off his skin with a wicked grin. My stomach flips at the sight, and before I beg him to take my virginity right now, I try to sit up, but his hand presses against my stomach, holding me in place as he looks down at his passenger seat.
“Did you squirt, pawn?” He muses.
“Oh fuck,” I panic, looking at the large wet spot on the passenger seat of Cast’s car. “I am so sorry. During study hall I can go to the market and get some-”
“Woah, carina. Don’t you ever apologize for your pleasure.”
“But I-”
“No,” he says, his voice soft but insistent.
A knock startles me, and I look up to see Vincent staring at me with wild eyes. Cast rolls down the window, a smug look on his face as he speaks. “May I help you?”
“I know I did not just see you make our girl cum in the middle of the school parking lot.” Vincent snarls, yet his voice drips with want and desire.
“Cum, no. Squirt, abso-fucking-lutely.”
“Is that right, Princess?” Vincent smirks, leaning in closer to me. “Did you just squirt looking at me?”
I don’t dare look at hm, because knowing Vincent, he has a million dollar smile on his face and I can’t take the fact that I squirted and that smug look in both Cast and Vincent’s eyes. Too many things have happened this morning.
“I-I have to get to class.” I whisper, leaning down to pull up my jeans, but this time Cast doesn’t stop me.
“Aww, look at our girl.” Cast mocks, sliding a strand of my hair behind my ear. “A dirty slut, and a good little student.”
“I don’t know which one turns me on more.” Vincent agrees, adjusting himself.
I tug my jeans into place, trying to ignore the warmth rushing to my cheeks as I fasten the button. My fingers tremble slightly, but I force myself to act composed despite the two sets of eyes locked on me.
“You’re adorable when you’re flustered,” Cast teases.
I grab my bag, my heart thundering in my chest as I avoid their gazes. “I really have to get to class,” I say, more to myself than to them, my voice barely above a whisper.
Cast leans in just enough to make my skin prickle with awareness. “ I’ll see you later, pawn.”
I glance back at him briefly, catching the mischievous glint in his eyes before he leans back, casually adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves.
“I’ll see you in gym, Princess,” Vincent says, his tone softer than Cast but no less pointed.
I manage a small nod before stepping out of the car, the cool air hitting my flushed skin like a splash of water. I don’t look back as I cross the parking lot, though I can feel their eyes on me, their presence lingering even as I disappear into the crowd of students.
By the time I reach the doors, my face is still warm, but there’s a faint, involuntary smile tugging at my lips.
______________
“I don’t know what Josh doesn’t get by me saying that I am gay.” Jasmine huffs, as we keep a light jog during gym and chat as we do every Wednesday during gym.
“Does he think he can fuck the gay out?”
“Like almost every guy does.” Jasmine barks, “It’s fucking annoying. I don’t like dick.”
“Say it louder! I don’t think they heard you in Dubai.” I huff, rolling my eyes.
“So your mouth is bad with everyone, huh?” Vincent’s smooth baritone cuts into our conversation as he jogs up next to me. “And here I thought that I was special.”
“You are especially a special kind of pain in my ass.” I smile lips tight.
He presses into my side, his growing erection clear and prominent in his jeans. “If that was an invitation to fuck your tight little ass, then the answer is yes.”
My cheeks beat a bright red and I look over at Jasmine who definitely heard what Vincent said because she is staring at me with wide eyes and a smile that could blind me if it wasn't for it being directed at the idea of Vincent and I dating.
“Huh?” Jasmine says aloud, looking over at one of her fuck buddies with blue highlights and piercings everywhere, even her clit from what Jasmine says that piercing is everything.“Coming Kelly!” She nods, running off into the girl’s direction who welcomes my player of a bestie with glittering eyes and open arms.
“Cookie, you scared off my bestie.” I pout.
“Cookie?” Vincent snorts.
“Yup, it’s your new nickname.” I nod, speeding up my jog a bit.
“And where did the cookie nickname come from?”
My neck feels like it’s on fire, and I’m certain my face is as red as a stop sign when Vincent’s eyes light up with unrestrained glee. His jaw drops, his boyish grin spreading so wide it’s almost contagious.
“No fucking way,” he exclaims, like I’ve just given him the greatest news of his life.
“What?” I ask, already regretting every decision that led me to this moment.
“I taste like cookies!” His voice carries across the gym, and I bury my face in my hands.
“Vincent!” I whine, hoping the ground will swallow me whole.
“No, it’s cookie now,” he declares, puffing out his chest like he’s earned a title of nobility. He winks, and I turn my head away, feeling the heat crawl all the way to the tips of my ears.
“So, what type of cookie?” he presses, leaning in with the kind of excitement that’s impossible to ignore.
“I’m not telling you,” I mutter, trying to avoid eye contact.
“What?! Why not?” he pouts, his lips forming a perfect frown that would be endearing if I weren’t so mortified.
“Because I regret calling you cookie,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Well, I know for a fact you taste sweet like strawberries,” he fires back with a smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief. “And then tangy, like a Granny Smith apple.”
“Oh my God,” I groan, covering my face again.
“What?” He feigns innocence, though the grin tugging at his lips gives him away.
“Please stop.”
“Just tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“How I taste.”
I exhale sharply, knowing he won’t let this go. “If I tell you, will you jog away?”
“Yes,” he says with a solemn nod that almost makes me laugh.
I take a deep breath, my voice barely above a whisper. “Like a chocolate chip cookie with flaky salt on top.”
Vincent lets out a triumphant whoop, pumping his fist in the air. “Hell yes! I knew it!”
Before I can respond, he takes off at a jog, cheering loudly and completely unbothered by the stares of our classmates. “She said I taste like a fancy cookie! ”
I can’t help it—my lips twitch into a smile as I watch him go. Rolling my eyes, I mutter under my breath, “Unbelievable.”
The rest of gym class flies by. Volleyball teams are quickly assembled, and of course, Vincent ends up on my team. He spends most of the game showing off—diving for balls unnecessarily and giving me over-the-top cheers every time I serve.
By the time the final whistle blows, my cheeks are aching from smiling too much, and I head to the showers feeling more lighthearted than I have in days.
Jasmine jogs up to me as we walk to the locker room. “Yes, or no to Kelly?”
“Dating or fucking?” I counter.
Jasmine huffs, looking down at Kelly’s number scribbled out on her hand. “Hmm, let me take a shower and I’ll think about it.”
“Put the number in your phone first!” I call after her, just as a hand wraps around my waist and pulls me close. The smell of citrus, sweat and bergamot invade my senses and I immediately know it is Vincent holding me.
“Hey, meet me here in like 30?” He whispers, lips so close yet so far from mine.
I mindlessly nod, and Vincent smiles, kissing my forehead. “Good girl.”
Vincent jogs away, his laughter fading into the distance, leaving me standing in front of the girl’s locker room, my heart pounding like I’d just run a mile. I shake my head, a faint smile tugging at my lips despite myself, and into the locker room, determined to shake off the flush creeping up my neck.
The buzz of activity fills the space as the other girls gossip, but I barely register it. My thoughts are still tangled in Vincent’s smirk and the way his lips brushed my forehead so tenderly as if he was my boyfriend.
By the time I step into the showers, most of the girls are already wrapping up, towels slung over their shoulders as they head out. Jasmine had darted off with a sarcastic promise to think about texting Kelly, leaving me to my thoughts alone in the locker room.
I twist the water off and wrap myself in a towel, my damp curly hair clinging to my neck as I make my way toward the lockers. The room is silent now, save for the faint hum of the overhead lights. I’m halfway dressed when a shadow moves in my peripheral vision.
“Hey, Willow.”
I startle, turning to see Jasper leaning casually against the row of lockers, his usual easy grin replaced by something sharper.
“Jasper?” My voice wavers. “What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be in here.”
He steps closer, hands stuffed in his pockets, but his body language feels anything but casual. “Relax. I just wanted to talk.”
“I’m pretty sure this isn’t the place for that.” I grab my shirt and start to pull it on, but Jasper moves faster, his hand catching my wrist.
“Don’t rush off.” His tone is low, almost coaxing, but there’s an edge that sets my nerves on fire. “I’ve been trying to get you alone for a while now Willow, but one of the Chessmen seems to always be up your ass, and at first I thought they were harassing you.”
“They’re not harassing me.” My heart pounds as I tug my wrist, but he holds firm, stepping into my space.
“Oh I know,” he purrs. “I saw you this morning in the parking lot, you’re fucking them.”
I yank my wrist from his grasp, taking a step back as the color drains from my face. A surge of panic courses through me, my mind racing to find a way out.
“You’re mistaken, Jasper,” I manage to say, though my voice comes out weaker than I would have liked. “You shouldn’t make assumptions.”
His eyes narrow, the corners of his lips curling into a predatory grin. “Oh, I don’t think I am. You’ve been playing all innocent, but we both know that you’re just a fucking slut.”
“Excuse me,” I shoot back, trying to sound defiant despite the tremor in my voice.
“What I don’t get, is why them?” he murmurs, his hand brushing my damp hair from my shoulder. “I see the way you blush. You like me, but you give it up to them.”
“What I do with my body is none of your business.” I growl.
“You were supposed to be mine, Willow, but I can’t have a whore be the mother of my children.”
I glare at him, my lip curling in return. “You have no right to decide that, Jasper. We haven’t even exchanged numbers, how the hell would I be the mother of your children when you barely know me?”
His face twists into a sneer as he leans in closer, forcing me to be trapped against the lockers and him. “Don't be foolish, Willow. You know what’s between us, what we could have been if you weren’t giving it up for any and everyone.”
How fucking dare he! Fury surges through me, causing my blood to boil in my chest. I lash out and spit in his face, the liquid sizzling against his skin. He flinches away, using the back of his hand to wipe off the spittle from his cheek.
“You’re going to fucking regret that.”
Jasper’s hand curls in my hair, yanking me so painfully, that I tumble over.
“Jasper, stop!” My voice cracks, but he doesn’t let go, his grip tightening as he glares down at me with wild eyes. Panic wells up in my chest, my hands flying up to claw at his wrist, but it’s like clawing my way through a wall.
“You think you can humiliate me and prance your ass around like it’s nothing?” Jasper growls, his voice low and venomous.
My heart pounds in my ears as the echo of his words drowns out the distant sound of running water. The door to the locker room slams open, and before I can fully process what’s happening, Jasper is ripped away from me.
Vincent moves with the force of a hurricane, his fist connecting with Jasper’s jaw with a sickening crack that echoes through the empty locker room. Jasper reels but barely has time to recover before Vincent slams him against the lockers, the metal groaning under the impact.
“You dare touch her?” Vincent growls, his voice low and guttural, like a beast unleashed. His hand clamps onto Jasper’s collar, yanking him forward only to drive him back into the unforgiving metal again. The sound of Jasper’s head hitting the locker makes my stomach churn, but Vincent doesn’t stop.
Jasper struggles, his fists flying wildly, but Vincent deflects them with terrifying precision. Vincent’s fist collides with Jasper’s face again, the impact sending blood splattering across the pale tiles. The sharp metallic scent fills the air, mingling with the distant hiss of the showers.
“Vincent, stop!” I scream, my voice raw with panic, but it’s like shouting into a storm. His fists fly in a relentless rhythm, each one landing with a sickening thud that shakes Jasper’s body.
Jasper swings desperately, managing to clip Vincent’s side, but it’s like striking a mountain. Vincent snarls, his teeth bared as he grabs Jasper by the hair and slams his head back against the locker.
“You fucking breathe near her again, and I’ll bury you,” Vincent hisses, his voice dripping with venom.
“Vincent!” I yell again, rushing forward. This time, I grab his arm, yanking with all my strength. “Stop it, please! You’re going to kill him!”
Vincent freezes mid-swing, his chest heaving as he slowly turns to look at me. His blue eyes are wild, molten fury simmering just beneath the surface. For a moment, I think he might ignore me, but then he releases Jasper’s bloodied shirt, letting him collapse to the floor in a groaning heap.
Before I can catch my breath, Vincent’s hand shoots out, gripping my neck. He doesn’t squeeze, but the possessive strength in his hold sends a shiver down my spine. He presses me against the lockers, his body crowding mine as his thumb brushes the rapid pulse at my throat.
“You’re ours, Willow,” he growls, his voice dark and dangerous, vibrating with raw intensity. “Say it.”
My heart races, my chest heaving as I meet his gaze. His eyes burn with something primal, something that leaves me trembling. “I... I’m yours,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the thunder of my pulse.
Vincent’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk, his thumb brushing against the edge of my jaw. “Good girl.”
Vincent releases me with a deliberate slowness, his fingers trailing from my neck like a whisper of possession, leaving a burning heat in their wake. My knees threaten to give out, but I manage to stay upright, clutching the cold metal of the lockers for support. My breath comes in shallow gasps, my pulse pounding in my ears as I watch him turn back to Jasper.
Without another word, Vincent grabs Jasper by the back of his bloodied shirt, dragging him across the slick tile floor like he’s nothing more than a discarded rag. Jasper groans in protest, his words slurred and weak, but Vincent doesn’t spare him a glance. His focus is unyielding, his movements cold and efficient as he hauls Jasper toward the exit.
I stand frozen, my chest tight with conflicting emotions. Fear twists in my gut, sharp and unrelenting, but there’s something else—something darker, hotter, that simmers beneath the surface and scares me even more. I’ve never seen Vincent like this, never seen him lose control, and the fact that I could bring this side out of him terrifies me.
He pauses at the door, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath. For a moment, I think he might look back at me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he yanks the door open, the metal creaking under his grip, and disappears into the hallway with Jasper in tow.
The locker room falls silent, save for the faint hum of the showers in the distance. My legs finally give out, and I slide to the floor, my back pressed against the cool metal lockers. My hands shake as I touch my neck, the phantom of Vincent’s grip lingering like a brand.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push down the rush of emotions swirling inside me—fear, confusion, and a maddening heat that I don’t know how to name. My breathing steadies, but my heart doesn’t.
What scares me most isn’t Vincent’s violence. It’s the way it made me feel: protected, loved, turned on and unbelievably alive.