Beg Me: A Dark High School Bully Romance Page 5

  “So,” I say, sending a gust of smoke toward her. “You never answered my question.”

  “What question?” she asks, her voice gentle and curious.

  “Do you smoke?”

  She laughs. “I tried to, but I never got into the habit.”

  “Did you want to rebel against mommy and daddy?” I tease, taking another puff.

  Her face turns bright pink. I’ve struck a chord, just as I intended. “You don’t know anything about my life,” She replies, her perfectly tweezed eyebrows dipping into a deep frown.

  God, she looks so cute like that. I wonder if she makes that face when she’s about to cum. I’d love to find out.

  “You need to chill,” I say, holding out the half-smoked joint. “Here.”

  She eyes the joint suspiciously, like it might bite her if she touches it. I don’t actually expect her to take it, but after a second, she reaches out and snatches it from my hand, dropping a bit of ash onto my sleeping bag. She seems like the type of person to jump off a bridge just because someone told her that she wasn’t allowed to.

  I admire that. It reminds me of myself.

  Amber takes a light drag on the joint, turning the translucent white paper a dark brown as it burns down. She holds the smoke in her mouth, then breathes it in, blowing out a thin stream of it toward my face. With a crinkle of her nose and a smirk, she passes the joint back to me.

  I lean forward again, taking it from her hand, brushing lightly against her skin. Why the hell are her hands so soft? How is that even possible? Amber isn’t the goodie-two-shoes that I thought she was, but she’s also nothing like the rachet women I’ve had to deal with all my life.

  I hold the joint to my lips, tasting the sweetness of her mouth on the paper as I follow up on her drag with a bigger one. My lips part in an “O” shape, and I use my tongue and throat to let out a ring of smoke. It drifts toward Amber, floating around her face like she’s stepping into a noose, and then it disappears.

  I can tell that Amber is trying to look smug, but she likes it. She’s into bad boys. I can see that in how big her pupils are and how her arms are starting to relax away from her chest, revealing more and more of her bright pink bra underneath. I wonder if she’s sticky wet between her thighs, unable to help herself as she goes through the night with a guy she barely knows.

  I’m getting hard just thinking about it. She’s lucky I’m such a gentleman, otherwise I would’ve already lurched across the backseat and shoved my cock in that pretty pink mouth, drowning out the sound of her angelic voice. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have morals, but I have a few, especially when it comes to women. My mother taught me better than to be an ass.

  Still, looking at Amber’s face arouses a beast within me, and if I can’t have her now, I plan to have her later. There are plenty more chances to draw her into my trap before the end of the year. Summer may be close to us, but this weekend there’s a party, and I’m going to make sure she’s there.

  “Why don’t you tell me about who broke my car,” Amber says, reclining against the door and making herself comfortable.

  “I could,” I reply. “Or I could go to sleep.”

  “It’s a bit early for that, don’t you think?” she asks.

  I shrug. “Early to bed, early to rise.”

  “Makes a man, healthy, wealthy, and wise,” she says, finishing the quote. “Benjamin Franklin, I know.”

  “I’m pretty sure that was around long before him,” I note.

  “Maybe so, but he brought it into popularity,” she replies.

  I raise an eyebrow. “I knew you were a prissy private school girl.”

  “I’m not,” she replies. “Tell me who broke my car.”

  That again.

  She’s very adamant about knowing, but I can’t say I blame her. This is a nice car, and I would kill someone if I was the one who owned it. Thankfully, I’m not, so I’m in no hurry to give her information without getting something in return for it.

  I yawn, ashing my joint on the floor and flicking the rest of it out of the broken window. The rain immediately douses it, slamming the burnt weed against the cold, wet asphalt. “Let’s make a deal,” I say.

  “I’m not giving you money,” she blurts.

  “I won’t ask you for it. I just want you to come with me to Blake’s house party this weekend,” I explain.

  Amber stiffens up. “Your friend Blake is a creep.”

  “So am I, but you seem awfully comfortable around me,” I reply.

  “I’m not.”

  “I doubt that very much,” I say, shaking my head. “Is it a deal or not? The people who fucked your car up will be at the party too, by the way. I can even point them out to you.”

  She squints her sparkling blue eyes at me. I can see that she’s already high by the redness in what used to be the whites of her eyes, but she’s trying to play it off like she isn’t. She leans forward. “Deal.”

  “Alright,” I say. “But you have to come, or I’ll make your life a whole lot worse than it already is.”

  “My life isn’t bad,” she replies.

  I laugh, finding her statement funnier than it actually is. This weed is getting to me too.

  I take a deep breath, unable to stop myself from smiling. “You know who broke your car? It was the cheer squad. They’re a bunch of cheap skanks. Edyth is the head of the team, so she would be your main target for retaliation.”

  “I’m going to report them to the police,” Amber declares, her face dead serious.

  I laugh again, even harder than the first time.

  “What’s so funny?” she asks defensively.

  “The police here are more concerned with old Greg in the woods cooking up meth than they are with petty vandalism,” I explain.

  “But they’re supposed to help me,” she says, her voice absolutely pitiful. Amber has a lot to learn about the real world. Where has she been all her life?

  “Amber, I don’t know where you came from, or why you’re here, but you need to get your head out of your ass. You need to fight back.”

  “That’s what Nurse Latisha said too,” she replies softly.

  I don’t even know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything at all. I slump down into my sleeping bag and lay my arms behind my head again. It’s a tight fit in the back with two people, but I should be able to sleep just fine. I’ve slept in worse places, and at least I’m relatively dry.

  “You’re going to sleep?” she asks, tugging at the end of my sleeping bag.

  “Jesus, Amber. Will you chill the fuck out?” I ask, jolting upright again.

  “Can I at least have a blanket,” she says. “I’m cold.”

  “I don’t have a blanket,” I reply. “You’re probably cold because you’re wearing all that soggy clothing. You should take it off.”

  “No way,” she replies.

  “Then I guess you’re going to freeze and die overnight. Have fun.”

  Chapter Nine

  Amber

  Is Flint joking, telling me I’ll die if I don’t take my clothes off? I mean, he has a point. I’m going to be chilled to the bone if I don’t get dry. He gets to sleep in his nice warm sleeping bag, while I’m stuck in the corner, cramped up in soggy clothes.

  Time seems like a figment of my imagination because of that weed I smoked, and I feel too tired to argue with Flint for much longer. Maybe I should do what he says, so that I can make it through the night.

  “Do you have a spare shirt of something?” I ask.

  Flint smirks. “Take this one,” he replies, pulling his shirt over his head to reveal a muscular chest. He tosses it to me, and I catch it in my hands. It’s wet, but not as wet as mine is.

  “This isn’t dry,” I inform him.

  “Tough luck,” he replies.

  I groan. “Come on, you must have something I can wear.” I look down at the shirt in my hands. It’s white, just like mine is. He’d be able to see through it just the same, and I don’t especially
want him to have a view of my body.

  “You’re so needy,” Flint says, yanking his bookbag from the leg-space of the car onto his lap. He rummages through it, pushing aside crinkling plastic bags and an array of schoolbooks. Finally, he pulls out a fuzzy red and black checkered button-down shirt and tosses it to me.

  The fabric is warm and soft in my hands, a far cry from the t-shirt he tried to give me. I drop the wet shirt to the floor and immediately pull off my own shirt, eager to get into its replacement. My bra is soggy as well, but I don’t remove it until I have Flint’s shirt on. After that, I drop my skirt and unhook my bra, keeping just my panties on.

  I look up at Flint once I’m changed. His eyes are pink, and laser-focused on my bottom half. The shirt is long, but the buttons end too soon at the bottom, causing the fabric to part ways and reveal my panties. No matter how I tug it, my panties are on clear display to Flint, and because they’re wet, they display a lot more of my pussy than I care to show to anyone.

  “Stop looking at me,” I scold, waving a hand at Flint.

  He blinks, finally breaking his gaze at my body. “Sorry,” he mutters, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He’s probably high as a kite by now, and I feel a little unearthly myself. I should probably sleep now, but I know my mom is going to freak the fuck out when she discoveres I never came home.

  “Do you have a phone I can use?” I ask Flint.

  He doesn’t reply. It looks like he’s already asleep.

  “Hey, excuse me,” I ask, leaning forward. “Excuse me.”

  Still no response. This guy is either out cold or he’s purposely ignoring me. I lean in further, placing my hand on his bare shoulder. His skin is hot to the touch, like a metal slide on the playground in the summer sun. I enjoy his warmth, taking it in for a moment before giving him a gentle shake.

  Flint’s eyes fly open and his hand moves so fast that it’s just a blur to my tired eyes. He grabs my arm from his shoulder, causing me to collapse forward onto his body. I fall heavily onto his sleeping bag, his muscular body softening my landing.

  “I knew you wanted me,” he growls, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing me into his body through the slippery nylon fabric of the sleeping bag.

  “What are you doing?” I gasp, pulling my head up and flinging my hair back.

  “I should ask you the same thing, but I think I already know,” he says, a wicked grin on his face. His eyes are lit up like the fourth of July, and his breath is loud and heavy.

  “I want to call home,” I say, reaching around my back and pulling his hand off my waist. “Do you have a phone?”

  Flint rolls his eyes. “Please. Don’t act like you weren’t crawling over me so that you could sneak into my sleeping bag.”

  “I wasn’t,” I reply, pulling back and crossing my arms. “Do you have a phone?”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t give it to you,” he says.

  “But do you?” I ask, standing my ground.

  “Maybe.”

  “Hand it over,” I say, holding my hand out and curling my fingers.

  “You don’t want to sleep with me tonight?” he asks.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Just give me the damn phone,” I say, completely fed up with his bullshit. He’s really getting on my nerves now. Does he even know how to be a decent human being?

  Flint rubs his chin. “Let’s make a deal.”

  I feel my stomach sinking. Not another deal.

  I can’t handle more of his games. I just want to get home and curl up in bed and forget that I even exist. Today has been one horrible thing after another, and it continues to move in a bad direction. I ball my fist, ready to throw a punch at him again. Why not, after all? He’s already told me everything I need to know about who attacked me and my car. I have nothing more to gain by being nice to him.

  Flint sees my fist, but he doesn’t try to stop me. Instead, he smiles. “Here’s my deal. You can use my phone, but you also have to buy booze for the party tomorrow night.”

  “I’m not twenty-one yet,” I reply.

  “Pay some homeless guy to do it then,” he says. “I don’t see the problem.”

  “That’s wrong, and I don’t have the money for it even if I wanted to,” I announce.

  Flint sighs heavily, licking his dry lips and closing his eyes. “Then steal it.”

  “Do you want me to go to jail?” I ask in disbelief.

  “I don’t give a single fuck about what happens to stupid rich girls like you, to be quite honest,” he snarls. “If you want to use my phone, you have to pay the price.”

  Now, I have a choice. I can either spend the rest of the night in a broken down car in the school parking lot with someone who may or may not attack me in my sleep, freaking out my mom and causing a world of trouble for me when I come home, or I can call my mom to come pick me up, and she’ll know that I was smoking weed and bitch at me anyway. Plus, I’d have to steal alcohol from the store, which I don’t imagine is going to be easy.

  Flint slides his phone out of his pocket from underneath the blue nylon fabric of the sleeping back, bringing it out in the open and dangling it in the air between two fingers. “Do you want it or not?”

  I snatch it from his hands. “I’ll get your stupid booze,” I grumble.

  Flint chuckles and leans back, closing his eyes again.

  I dial home, but I have to redial several times because my vision is unstable and blurry. Once I finally have the right number, I press the call button, praying my mother comes to save me. The phone rings once, twice, and then it goes dead. I pull it away from my ear, and I’m met with a black screen.

  I turn the phone to Flint. “Is this dead? Really?”

  Flint shrugs. “I guess so,” he replies with his eyes closed.

  “I’m not buying you booze then, asshole,” I say, tossing the phone back at him. It lands on his chest, and he opens his eyes.

  “You are, and you’re also coming to the party with me,” he replies firmly.

  “No,” I say, throwing up my hands. “You gave me a phone with, like, no battery and you expect me to hold up my end of the deal? I don’t think so.” My heart beats fast, pumping blood up to my cheeks. I’m furious that he would trick me like this, and even more angry that he thinks I’m just going to go along with him.

  “Listen,” he says. “I stopped Edyth and her gang from burning your car to the ground, which they were trying to do before I arrived. You can be on my side, or theirs. It’s your choice.”

  I take a deep breath, then I bring my knuckles up to my mouth and bite them hard. I want to bite him, maybe break his fingers with my teeth, but it would only dig me further into the grave I’m laying in. I’d rather have someone like Flint on my side than against me, but the cost is so damn high.

  “You need to help me,” I tell him. “You need to help me fight off the cheer squad.”

  “You need to buy me booze, come to the party, and I might help you deal with them,” he says.

  “You promise?” I ask.

  “I don’t make promises, sweetheart,” he says, flashing two rows of white teeth. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

  It seems I don’t have a choice whether to trust him or not. He has quickly gained control of me, having me move like a puppet to the jerk of his strings. He does it without seeming to try or to care. Is it deliberate and intentional, or is that just the effect he has on people? I may never know.

  My life has gone off the rails ever since my parents’ divorce. I never thought it could happen, but after tensions arose between them, they ramped up like a virus multiplying through the population. It was just small things at first, and next thing you know, my mother is filing a restraining order against him. She snatched me up, took me to the ghetto, and I’ve been here ever since.

  Life used to be crystal glasses and grand lawn parties with hundreds of guests in suits and dresses. Now, it’s red solo cups and trailer park parties that I appare
ntly have to rob a liquor store to supply the booze for. I never imagined I would be in this place, but here I am.

  My head is heavy, and my thoughts are fuzzy. Flint has tilted his head back and he’s already snoring, passed out to the sound of pouring rain. I have no hope of getting back home tonight because despite the time I’ve spent in the car with Flint, the rain hasn’t slowed one bit. It’s still just as vicious, hammering down on the metal roof with brutal perseverance and flooding the pale parking lot with at least a foot of murky water.

  My mother is going to kill me, but I’m out of options. I hang my legs diagonally off the edge of the seat, leaning back with Flint’s checkered shirt pulled tight around me, and I rest my head near the window. Little droplets of water bounce from the frame onto my face, but there’s nothing much I can do about it.

  With my legs completely exposed, and my panties completely visible, I nod off across from Flint, high and tired.

  Chapter Ten

  Flint

  I wake up at four in the morning, blinking my eyes and looking out of the window. The rain has stopped, and the sky is a staring to lighten. I don’t need to go anywhere before school starts, but I’m sure Amber intends to reattempt her walk back home.

  I look over to her as she lets out a loud snore. She might be an upper-class woman, but she sleeps like a cheap street hooker. Her legs are wide open, and I can’t help but stare at the perfection that rests between them. I’d give anything for a night deep inside her pussy. I wouldn’t be gentle either. I would show her how a real man fucks.

  I feel my cock growing stiff in my jeans. Morning wood is a very real thing, but I can’t blame it all on that. Amber’s thighs are like cream, and her panties are so thin that I can make the faint detail of what hides beneath them. I can only imagine how good it would feel just to touch her there. It would be like desecrating an angel.

  I unzip my sleeping bag, freeing myself from its tight constraints. I look down at my jeans. My dick bulges out like an apple in a sock, and there’s no way I can hide it. I need to do something about this before Amber wakes up.