Make You Beg
“It’s coming along.” He nods, and an awkward silence follows.
I have a feeling he’s not going to want us to move back there once it’s finished. If I had to guess, he’ll put it up for sale and move in here with her. Or she’ll put this house up for sale and move in with us. Either way, I’m stuck living with Law until we graduate high school. Then holidays and birthdays. It’s going to be an endless nightmare.
We say our goodbyes, and I make my way up to my room, ready for a bath and bed. The Westbrook Warriors have a home game tonight, and Lacey asked me if I wanted to go. I said no, not wanting to sit in the bleachers with all those kids I go to school with. I see them enough during the week, so why would I want to volunteer to be the talk of the town tonight?
Walking into my bathroom, I start to undress and look at myself in the mirror. I look better than I thought. My wrists actually healed pretty well, and the bruises on my neck weren’t as bad as I had originally thought. I don’t know if that’s a pro or a con. A pro would be my father seeing them and asking about them. A con would be Lisa seeing them and thinking I’m having wild, kinky sex and wanting to have the mother-daughter talk about how a man should treat a woman and all that shit. Personally, I don’t think every relationship is the same. I think some people can handle more than others. And that’s okay. You shouldn’t be shamed for that.
_______________
I’m sitting in the bathtub with my earbuds in, singing along to “Hatefuck” by Cruel Youth. I’ve had it on repeat because it reminds me of the Reapers. It’s my new anthem. It’s like the song was written for me. Pretty much tells me I’m dumb as fuck because I spread my legs for a sexy-as-fuck face and empty promises. Not really. It’s just a good song that reminds me I’m not the only girl who loses all rational thought when I think about getting the D.
When the song finishes, I open my eyes, letting out a scream. I jerk the earbuds from my ears. “What the fuck, Law?” He’s leaning against the doorway with his right ankle crossed over the left with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “How long have you been standing there?” Jesus, he pisses me off. He’ll go days giving me the cold shoulder and act like I don’t even exist, then he has moments when it’s like I’m the only person in the world he wants to torment.
“Since the chorus.” He smirks. “I liked it, by the way.”
“What do you want?” I roll my eyes, sinking deeper into my bathwater to cover my breasts. Even if he has seen them before.
His eyes scan over my bubble bath, and he pushes off the doorframe. “I’ll wait,” he states.
“What? Wait for what?” I call out, but he’s already left the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
I’ve been in here for a while, and the water has already started to turn cold, so I decide to get out. Pulling the drain, I stand and wrap the towel around me. Walking into my bedroom, I find him sitting on the white leather bench at the foot of my bed. “Why are you in my room?”
“Mom and Dad left for their weekend getaway.” He ignores my question.
“He is not your dad.” I roll my eyes. “Don’t call him that. It creeps me out.” God, how am I going to live the rest of my life knowing he’s “family”?
He just smiles.
I walk over to my long dresser and open the top drawer, pulling out my underwear.
“You won’t be needing those,” he states.
My breathing picks up, and I turn around to face him. He hasn’t touched me sexually since the night I begged him to fuck me when I crawled into bed with him after I saw someone outside my room in the middle of the storm. “And why is that?” I ask, arching a brow.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, his smile just grows, lighting up his eyes. My gaze snaps to the bedroom door as it opens. “Perfect timing,” Law sings.
I step back, my ass hitting my dresser when Scout enters. My eyes go from him to Law. “What are you guys doing?” My excitement and fear have my pulse racing, knowing that this could go one of two ways. Sex or torture—or both.
He walks over to me slow and casually with a smile on his face as though he’s been waiting all day to see me. He runs his thumb over my collarbone and up my neck, outlining the choker I still wear. “We’ve got you all to ourselves for the weekend, doll.” I swallow nervously. “You didn’t think we’d pass that up, did you?” His warm hands slide up my neck to the base of my hair. He tilts my head back slowly, and I close my eyes when his lips touch my neck. I moan, my hands curling around his wrists, prepared to shove him away if he tries anything. Scout is unpredictable, so you have to be ready for anything. “We came to play,” he whispers before his lips find mine. It’s different than usual—soft and slow, tender—and my entire body relaxes into him.