Wild Thing (Naughty Things 3)

Because Dickerson is a dick. And he’s got a small one too. He pulled it out on me once in summer camp and… Oh, God, I want to vomit just thinking about his shriveled-up little pecker.

I pound on the window again. “Please!” I beg. “You don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“Shut up,” he growls. “Or I’ll spank that ass of yours again.”

Oh. That’s why it stings. I remember now. He slapped me and I was so stunned I just kinda looked at him with my mouth open.

But I wasn’t stunned that it hurt. Though it did. He smacked me hard.

I was stunned because it kinda got me hot for a second. I don’t know why I like the thought of shit like that. The spanking, I mean. I just do. Especially when it’s all real… and angry… and sexy.

You’re so stupid, Lyssa. Certifiably sick.

“You don’t understand,” I say again. But it’s a weak, small mumble and I don’t even think he hears me.

I slump back down onto the mattress and cover back up, my eyelids too heavy to cooperate with my big plans of talking my way out of this little kidnap adventure. I fall asleep to the rocking motion of the van. Aware that my life is over. My freedom is being taken away. And in two weeks I will have to marry Dickerson. I will have to let him kiss me, and dance with me, all in front of people.

And I’ll have to smile through the whole miserable experience.

Then the real humiliation starts. Because I will be locked in a bedroom with him and forced to consummate the vows.

So. Gross.

No, this can’t be happening. I won’t do it.

I say that over, and over, and over again in my head. As if summoning courage and determination is enough to put a stop sign out in front of my billionaire stepfather’s best-laid plans and turn this shit show around.

But it’s not enough. It’s never been enough. He has done worse than this to me, but I’ve been free. For two whole years, I’ve managed to slip away. I had the apartment and… the money. Though I knew what that money was.

His bribe.

I didn’t spend it, of course. Not on me. But he doesn’t know that and now he’s coming to collect what he paid for.

I foolishly thought this freedom would last forever. I let down my guard and allowed myself to believe my life was my own and now…

But… I won’t do it. I won’t. I will find a way out of this arrangement he’s made for me if it’s the last thing I do. I will not marry that pervert. I will not give him my body. They’ll have to hold me down and tie me to the bed before I submit to that.

When I wake up I realize it’s because the van has stopped.

I have a raging headache and my eyes feel like someone rubbed sandpaper over them while I slept. And my body aches. My arms are stiff, my back has a kink in it, and I’m cold.

The driver’s door opens, then slams shut. Shoes crunch on a gravel driveway and my worst fear comes true.

I know where we’re at.

The mansion my stepfather bought me when I turned eighteen. The very mansion where the wedding will be held in two weeks. I should’ve known this. I should’ve seen this coming. I knew my stepfather was dead serious about forcing this marriage. He told me. Yelled it at me the last time I found him waiting in the lobby of my building. He dragged me into the elevator and yelled, so loud and angry, the veins were sticking out of his neck. I stood and let him. Just let him berate me, all the while wishing he’d have a stroke.

Which is horrible, but he’s horrible. No decent stepfather would make their only daughter marry a man like Dickerson. He’s… they’re both… awful, awful people.

And he threatened me that day. Threatened to ‘beat the brat right out of me,’ as he put it. Complained about how I used him for money, and all I cared about was clubbing, and drinking, and friends. He’s never had a single nice thing to say to me. Ever. Not since my mother married him when I was six.

Not even the day she died. He told me I looked like a drugged-up slut at the funeral.

I didn’t used to care that he hated me. Why should I? I was the light of my mother’s life and she let me know that every moment I was home from boarding school. And yes, I did get everything I wanted, but I was not a bad girl. I didn’t hurt people. Not with words, not with actions, not with violence. I got straight A’s, I excelled in all the school clubs, I even ran charity events with my mother every summer when I was home.