My eyes fly open as I yelp, clenching my muscles against the attack.
“Stop,” I whimper as he smacks me again. I rise to the tips of my toes as my back arches to avoid the unexpected punishment. Arousal explodes in my belly. The swollen lips of my pussy rub against the fabric of my skirt as I force myself to the wall.
Oh God…this shouldn’t be a turn-on.
“Tell me who you belong to.”
He’s fucking crazy!
When I remain silent, the heat of his palm falls on me.
And then again.
“You!” I yell, breathless with the pleasure building inside me. “I belong to you!”
“That’s right.” His palms soothe the tender flesh as tears of resentment burn the back of my eyes.
“I hate you,” I whisper, heart pumping furiously with a heady concoction of excitement and anger.
He continues to massage my aching flesh before his fingers dip between my lower lips, thrusting deep inside my heat.
“Is that why your pussy is practically dripping?” he asks as his body hovers over mine, his thick erection jutting against my ass cheeks. I inhale a shaky breath as he flexes his hips. Images of how he took me last night roll unwantedly through my head, stoking unwanted desire to life.
His fingers slip from me, sliding around my body until they can settle on my clit. He rubs circles, keeping up the firm pressure until my hips are jerking against his hand.
“As much as you want to hate me, you don’t,” he whispers in my ear before the delicious pressure and the heat of his body disappears.
My teeth sink into my lower lip to stifle the sharp sense of loss that surges through me. It’s on the tip of my tongue to beg as my senses riot beneath the surface.
“From now on, when I tell you to do something, you damn well do it.”
Fuck off!
Even though I don’t give voice to the response, he cracks one cheek and then the other as if he hears it loud and clear. The stinging slap feels somehow sharper on my tender flesh.
“Fine!” I hiss between clenched teeth.
When he disappears, I wilt against the wall, dropping the skirt into place as the door to the bathroom slams shut.
It’s only when he’s gone that I realize the bastard has my panties.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Somehow, I manage to make it through the rest of the afternoon without further incident. Every time I pass Kingsley in the hallway, he smirks, gaze lingering on my skirt as if he has X-ray vision. It only makes me more self-conscious of my pantiless state. In each class, I remind myself to sit with my knees pressed firmly together.
By the time the bell rings at half-past two, I’m more than ready to get the hell out of here. As I open my locker to gather up my books, I find my underwear dangling from the silver hook inside. With a quick glance around, I stuff it in my pocket before disappearing into the bathroom.
When I return, Everly is waiting at my locker. I grab my bag and we leave the building together. She chatters about a couple of boys that have snagged her attention on the ride home. Twenty minutes later, she’s pulling into my drive and dropping me off.
For a moment, I stare at the arched windows and stone facade of the sprawling mansion. How ironic is it that this is the only place where I can breathe?
With a shake of my head, I slip through the front door and drop my backpack in the entryway. As I do, an avalanche of emotion crashes over me. Dad’s loss is more pronounced here. I can’t imagine the pain of his death ever diminishing. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut in an effort to find my bearings. Once under control, I force myself to the staircase to check on mom. As I reach for the banister, a noise from the kitchen draws my attention and has me swinging around.
What the hell was that?
My heart thumps a painful rhythm as I peek down the hallway toward the back of the house. Other than Mom, no one else should be here. Austin is at football practice. And if he wasn’t, I would have seen the G-wagon parked in the drive.
When there’s another noise, I realize it wasn’t my imagination at all. Someone is definitely in the kitchen. I search the surrounding vicinity for a weapon. The only viable option is a vase filled with colorful blooms that was delivered late last week. I suppose if it becomes necessary, I can always hurtle the crystal container before making a mad dash for the door. I tiptoe to the grand piano and pick up the heavy vase before creeping down the hallway.
As I reach the arched doorway to the kitchen, the refrigerator slams shut.
A hungry thief?
Well, they picked the wrong house. There’s not much in the way of food here. With both hands, I hoist the vase over my head, ready to inflict serious damage.