Текст книги "Relinquish"
Автор книги: M. N. Forgy
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 17 страниц)
Walking out, it’s hot and muggy, even when the sun has gone down. The street is deserted and the café up the street just turned its lights off, making the area pitch-black. The eerie darkness conceals the alleys and sidewalk, a sense of unease rushing in my veins. I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. A bunch of deep laughter echoes down the way, causing me to look toward the street heading toward the college.
“Fancy!” Chasen hollers. Hearing his voice, I relax a little, knowing he’s there. As he gets closer, I notice a couple of buff guys walking beside him. I look at the bunch in confusion. I thought Chasen would be alone. Heading toward them, I hear music blaring from the college dorms, Eminem and Sia’s, “Beautiful Disaster”.
“This her?” a guy with a low buzz-cut and what looks like a college football jersey that matches Chasen’s asks. His eyes rake over my frame unforgivingly, and he licks his bottom lip. I curl my own in reaction.
“Damn, man,” another guy with dark, short-spiked hair remarks. My spine stiffens and my body chills. I’m not sure why I react with such high-alert, but my instincts are telling me I should run. Growing up in such a hostile environment, my gut has never been wrong. But Chasen is with them. He won’t let anything happen to me.
“Yep, best head I’ve had, I’m telling you,” Chasen adds, looking up at the sky like my mouth is God’s gift to Earth. A menacing smile stretches across his face. Did he always smile like that? Am I just now noticing it? Shame fills the pit of my stomach.
My eyes widen and my mouth parts to allow my harsh breathing to escape. My brows furrow in confusion as to why he would say such a personal thing to his friends. Trusting my gut, I turn on my heel, ready to run back to my apartment, but a rock-hard hand grasps my upper arm and stops me, pulling me back with force. Looking over my shoulder, I see a smiling buzz-cut glowering at me. I tear my arm from his hold, tripping over my high heels, and glare at him.
“So, Chasen said he can’t get you to go all the way with him. How much more do we gotta pay to get between those legs?” Buzz-cut asks, reaching out and sliding his hand up my dress uninvited.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” I raise my fist back in a threatening manner, ready to fight my way through three men if I have to. But if they look closely, they could see my fist shake with fear. I can’t help the wave of vulnerability and hurt coursing through me. I’m confused. Why would Chasen tell his friends that, and why do his friends think I would sleep with them?
“Fuck, she ain’t wearing any panties,” Buzz-cut laughs, looking back at Chasen and the other guys, his eyes hard with determination. My cheeks flush with humiliation as I look at Chasen with rage. Why in the fuck isn’t he coming to my defense? He should punch his friend for touching me. SOMETHING. But Chasen just nods, his eyes looking at me with an animalistic flare. He’s clearly not the guy I thought he was. He isn’t going to protect me at all. In fact, he’s throwing me to his frat buddies like I’m fresh meat.
“Is this what you were talking about when you said you had something for me, Chasen?” I scowl and point at his two dipshit friends. “’Cause if it was, all three of you can fuck off!” My voice echoes down the street.
“Come on, baby,” Spiked hair coos, strutting forward and slapping my ass, hard. My backside burns from the unsought connection, the sting racing up my spine.
“Stop it!” I scream, jerking away from him. My voice echoes up the street, but nobody is around to hear my cries. My hands shake with anger, and my eyes well with unshed tears. My hands fist by my sides in fury. I want to deck every one of their asses. But looking at them, I’m starting to second-guess my impulse to take them on. They’re all built, probably working the weight room daily for football. My fight here is pointless. I’m fucked.
“Chasen, brother, get your whore in check,” Buzz scolds, pointing at me.
“I’m not a whore!” I seethe, tears spilling down my cheeks.
They all laugh, making me vibrate with rage and choke with emotion.
“I’m not,” I mutter angrily.
The feelings I had for Chasen were nothing but clueless emotions. Trying to live a teenage dream of love and lust. I thought Chasen was giving me money because he cared, but no.
“I’m pretty sure when someone pays you after they blow their load, that makes you a dirty whore,” Chasen chuckles, the sound vindictive. My body chills and my heart snaps in two. He was paying me for my sordid behavior. I close my eyes, my mind telling me I knew exactly why he was giving me the money. Oh, my God, I have been a whore. And the worst part? I enjoyed it. The dirty journeys behind tractors and in alleyways, and I got paid every time. And I liked it all. Being in control and having the comfort from a man was a high I enjoyed.
I’m. A. Whore.
I shake my head, not believing such a notion.
“No, I am Chasen’s girlfriend,” I defend, tears rolling over my lips. Just saying the word ‘girlfriend’ comes out feeling wrong.
“Chasen has a girlfriend.” Buzz-cut laughs, making my head snap in Chasen’s direction.
“What?” I whisper in disbelief.
“True.” Chasen shrugs. “What – you thought I would be with the likes of you?” He chuckles, staring at me with a raised brow. I look down at myself, my second-hand dress and stolen shoes making me feel like trash.
“Your dad would kill you.” Spiked hair bellows with laughter, catching my attention. I shake my head again, not wanting to believe what I’m hearing. My chest feels shallow from the self-respect being ripped out of my chest.
“I came to you because my girlfriend won’t put out. She’s saving herself for marriage, and girls around here like to blab,” Chasen remarks, tucking a bit of hair behind my ear. I shove him in the chest, completely and utterly pissed-off.
“Fuck you! Don’t touch me!” I shriek. How could I make myself believe this was anything more than being used by Chasen? I’m so stupid.
“You used me,” I seethe, my jaw clenched with anger. Chasen gives a weak attempt at a laugh and cups the back of my head harshly, pulling me forward. He rests his forehead against mine, looking me right in the eye. I try to resist his hold, but he clenches his hand in my hair, making me wince.
“Like you didn’t use me? You took that money without any problem,” he whispers, his breath feathering my face. “Just like a greedy little whore.” He grins wildly. My eyes widen, realization setting in. I am a gluttonous whore. There’s no denying it. The idea of having food and rent was more important than my morals, the high of doing something risqué shadowing over any thought of honor.
Living in care, we didn’t get the love kids grow up with. We didn’t get cuddles on Christmas morning, or kisses on boo-boos when we fell. So to say I’m desperate for that connection is obviously an understatement.
“Come on, baby. Give it up, you fucking tease,” Spiked hair grunts, grabbing my wrists and yanking me from Chasen’s hold. I twist and pull, trying to get away, but it does no good. He turns us and shoves me against a rusty fence placed between two apartment buildings.
“No! Please, stop!” I scream, trying to pull away, but he’s too strong. My attempt of trying to free myself is pointless. My heart drives against my chest in fear, and tears fill my eyes to the point I can barely see. A vision of a woman who looks like me flashes behind my eyes, my mother. Her telling me to hide and not to scream echoes in my head. I close my eyes and shake my head to clear the noise. But my body responds in a way that has me clamping my mouth shut and obeying.
I feel a hand slide through my legs, causing me to clench them together tightly.
“That won’t help you,” a voice whispers into my ear, making the hair on my neck stand up.
Fingers touch the bare skin of my butt cheeks, making me jump and whimper with desperation.
“Shhh,” Chasen soothes, brushing my hair from my face.
Fingertips edge closer to my most intimate spot, causing me to buck and attempt to pull away from the intrusion. I look up and down the street, not finding anybody. I’m alone and about to be gang-raped. I close my eyes, spilling tears of shame. I hold my thighs tighter, feeling hands try to tear them apart, bruising the skin painfully.
“You’ve already whored yourself out, so why fight who you are?” The words begin to swirl and echo in my head as I clench my eyes shut and cry harder. Hands pull at my dress, lifting it upward, and greedy palms grasp at my chest uninvited. My breathing becomes so harsh my head starts to spin. Just as I’m about to give in, knowing I can’t fight all three of them, hands which were once intruding are suddenly ripped from my body. Voices which were taunting me turn to ones of painful grunts. I throw my eyes open, curious where Chasen and his friends went, and turn my head. I find a shadowed figure holding Chasen and Buzz-cut by the throat against a brick wall, his foot holding Spiked hair on the ground and pushing his head into the concrete. Chasen and Buzz-cut are both bleeding from the face profusely, and the guy on the ground looks to have his nose completely broken.
“Apologize now!” The shadowed figure roars, making me jump. My fingers clench the rusty fence like a lifeline.
“Sorry,” pant Chasen and his buddy simultaneously. I nod and turn the other way. My emotions so up and down I’m not sure what to feel or think at the bloody sight.
“I will fucking bury you if you ever look at her again. If you so much as walk up this street again, I will murder you in your sleep. Do you understand?” the shadowed man seethes, his words holding venom as he threatens. That voice. It sounds familiar.
“You got it, man,” one of the guys cries.
I watch Chasen and his buddies start limping away back toward the college. Chasen stops, turns around and grabs his crotch, blood spilling from his nose and lip.
“You were a lousy whore anyway!” he sneers, turning to run. I wince from his harsh words.
“Are you okay?”
I blink tears away, my fingers still hooked into the fence. The smell of spice and manliness caressing my senses makes me wake from my state of terror.
“I was just trying to survive. I didn’t know I was becoming a whore,” I whisper gravely. Even if I didn’t have sex with him, I still did things that were immoral in exchange for money. I close my eyes, wetness clinging to my lashes. Jayden and I needed the money, though. We needed food. We needed to pay our rent.
“What?” the voice asks.
I open my eyes, and it’s Landon from the café, looking at me with concern. His brows are raised, mouth parted, as he lowers my dress over my backside gently.
“Charlie, are you okay?” he questions again, lifting my chin with his thick finger. He looks me over as if he’s searching for injury. The fact he even cares is overwhelming.
“You,” I whisper, my body instantly flooding with a sense of comfort.
He chuckles. “You can call me Landon, remember?”
“L—” I choke on my words. “Landon, you saved me,” I mutter, pulling myself from the fence. My knees wobble from the adrenaline rush spiking my bloodstream, and I grab the fence again to steady myself.
“I was in the neighborhood.” He shrugs and straightens his tie. “Come on, you look like you could use a drink,” he invites, his voice smooth yet rough at the same time. He holds his hand out, waiting for me to take it. I bite my lip, unsure, and look back up at Landon. His face is sincere as he waits.
Even after everything that just happened, my body responds to him in a way that doesn’t make sense. I should be running to the cops, or at least be crying it out with Jayden in our apartment, drowning my sorrows in a tub of ice cream. Instead, I hold my hand out and take Landon’s.
I take a step toward him and my knees give out. Landon quickly grabs ahold of my waist and picks me up, holding me like a princess. My eyes connect with his, and my chest aches with desire. The cold that was once there blossoms with a caring warmth.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, his voice low and sexy.
I shake my head and furrow my brows. “Um, yeah. I’m fine. Put me down,” I instruct, wiggling from his strong grasp. The smell of spice and freshness is clouding my train of thought.
He sighs and slowly lowers me.
“I can walk by myself,” I state, slowly standing on my own two feet.
He places his hand along the small of my back, his large frame cordial next to mine. “That might be, but I’m still helping you to my car whether you like it or not,” he demands. His alpha ego takes my breath away, and I don’t argue. I can’t, actually. The idea that someone cares about my safety has me speechless. I’m consumed in the strong vortex that is Landon.
“O-okay,” I mumble.
SIX
CHARLIE
Landon walks us to a fancy black car and opens the side door for me to get in. I slip into the luxury leather seat and notice the vehicle is loaded with dials and buttons. A small screen sets in the dash. This car puts Chasen’s truck to shame.
“Wow,” I whisper.
Landon climbs into his seat, the smell of sweat and cologne filling the space as he starts it. He’s wearing a gray dress shirt and black slacks—sexy and sophisticated, as usual. Tove Lo’s “Talking Bodies” starts blasting through the speakers. The lyrics of the song have me biting my lip and looking at Landon from the corner of my eye.
He looks over, his face empathic.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
I inhale a deep breath, and smile softly. “Yeah, I’ll survive.” I’ve had to push pervy men off me before. I once woke up to an old guy standing over my bed, fondling himself. I kicked him in the nuts and ran to the phone to call my social worker. The guy’s name was Mr. Jenkens, and he was my foster parent at the time. He told everyone he must have been sleep-walking. That he ran out of his sleep aid and it made him do things in his sleep. Needless to say, nothing was done. I was moved to another home, but not before I was told I couldn’t seem to live anywhere without having a problem of some kind.
Life’s a bitch that keeps dishing out free life lessons. I clearly fail most of these lessons, but it doesn’t mean I give up. I push back and make my way through it, every time.
“Those boys won’t be coming near you again.”
I turn my head, shocked at the danger and promise laced in his voice. A primal need rushes through my bloodstream, a craving that has me holding my breath as I stare at Landon’s bright green eyes. My body sways toward him on its own accord, Chasen and his buddies’ acts of aggression soon forgotten. Landon smiles a boyish grin, little dimples popping up on each side of his mouth. I close my eyes and turn my head to stare out the window.
The pull I have toward Landon is strong. I feel like a precious metal, and he’s the strong element that draws me toward him, even when I know it’s wrong… like now.
Landon takes us to a very upscale bar which sits just beneath an elegant hotel. A man in a red vest opens my door, helping me out as soon as we arrive.
“She’s with me, Franco,” Landon informs the man standing outside the glass double doors to the bar. Franco is wearing a black tux, sunglasses on his face even though it’s nighttime. Once inside, the place isn’t what I expected for a bar. Small tables with red cloths draped over them are dotted around the room, little candles sitting in the center of each one. A man plays a piano at the front of the room, and a bar sits at the back with people wearing suits and cocktail dresses drinking along the counter. I’ve never been in a bar, but whenever I thought of one, I imagined grimy floors, the smell of booze and vomit, and music so loud you had to shout to one another.
“Sit,” Landon commands, pulling a chair out. I comply, taking a seat and crossing my legs.
“This is not what I expected for a bar.” I laugh nervously, looking the place over.
Landon raises an eyebrow, rolling the cuffs of his sleeves up to his elbows. The candlelight shines off his distinguished jawline, and I notice dark stubble growing along his face, his sharp cheekbones fierce as he looks at me with hard eyes. I stir in my seat; the way Landon looks at me could be compared to a caveman witnessing a female for the very first time.
An initial glance at Landon and your first thought would be he’s handsome and sophisticated, but really looking at him up close, you can see the small sliver of a scar slicing the cupid bow of his upper lip. It’s small, but there. Landon’s not as clean-cut as he wants the world to believe. He’s something darker.
“And what did you expect, exactly?” Landon grins deviously.
“I dunno.” I laugh. “People drunk, singing karaoke. Something dive-y.”
Landon chuckles, running his large hand over his cheeks.
“How old are you, Charlie?” Landon lowers his head, his green eyes pinning me in my seat. I shift my legs, an unbearable throb heightening in my core.
“Old enough,” I reply, lifting an eyebrow.
“Right,” Landon responds, not giving anything away with his tone or body language.
“What can I get you, sir?” a waiter questions, breaking Landon’s severe gaze toward me.
“I’d like a Manhattan, and a martini for the lady,” Landon orders. The waiter bows and walks away. Silence falls between us, the man playing the piano a filler for the awkwardness.
“I told you those boys were trouble,” Landon reminds me, sitting back in his seat.
I sigh and nod. I knew he was going to say that, eventually. “Yes, you did,” I clip, looking at the flame of the candle and desperately hoping he drops the subject.
“Some of Chasen’s buddies were on the news some time back for drugging a college girl. The news showed a group photo of the guys at the party where the event took place, and Chasen was named among them. They were cleared, but still, if Chasen is hanging around those kinds of guys, what does that say about him?”
I frown at the information, angry with myself for not digging deeper into Chasen’s explanation when I asked him about the tension between him and Landon. Seeing what Chasen and his friends were about to do to me, I’d say Chasen is just like them. They prey on young, clueless girls.
“Why were you with him?”
I look up, finding Landon staring at me intently. This man is so intense; it’s nerve-wracking. I shake my head and give a small laugh.
“I was his whore,” I respond matter-of-factly. Even if I wasn’t one hundred percent aware of my actions with Chasen, I enjoyed it to an extent.
Landon doesn’t even flinch at my words, just stares at me with those green eyes flecked with brown. I bite my lip, a little disappointed I didn’t shock him with my brashness.
Giving Landon a once-over—with his expensive-looking clothes, the way he talks with such grace, and the snazzy bars he goes to—it makes me wonder why in the hell he’d be around the area where I live.
“Why do you hang out at the café? Why would you hang out in a place full of college kids?” I question.
Landon smirks and looks toward the table. “Let’s just say, it’s nice to get away from where I live every now and then. People I know wouldn’t look in such an area for me,” he explains, his voice deep and rugged.
“You mean the ghetto. Your uptight, working colleagues wouldn’t find you in the shittiest place in Vegas,” I clarify, my tone coming off bitchy.
“I wouldn’t be so quick to judge, Charlie,” he responds sternly, and I tilt my head to the side and sigh.
“I’m just telling you what I see,” I mutter.
The waiter brings us our drinks, setting them down before us. I grab mine and take a big sip. My mouth is engulfed in the nasty liquid, and an expression of distaste crosses my face. I hover over the martini glass, contemplating spitting it back out. I look up, finding Landon chuckling at my reaction. I close my eyes tightly and swallow, not wanting to spit the drink all over myself and the table. The disgusting taste causes me to nearly gag.
“I take it you don’t approve?” Landon questions with a smirk.
“That was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever tasted,” I reply while choking, wiping at the liquid slopping down my chin.
Landon looks over my shoulder with a hard stare and in seconds, the waiter is running to our table.
“Yes, sir?”
“Get us a green apple martini,” Landon demands, his eyes never leaving mine. The intensity of his stare causes me to hold my breath. He’s obviously a man of power and wealth, but that’s not what strikes me. It’s the way he looks at me, how he looks, and the way he makes me feel, like a cross between a horny teenager and a crazed, smitten woman.
“So, where are you from, Charlie?” he asks, cupping his chin. I open my mouth to respond but stop short, remembering Jayden and I are on the run.
“Around,” I hesitate.
“Hmm,” Landon responds, squinting at me quizzically. The waiter places my drink down and bows before leaving once again. I grab it and take a light sip, not wanting another mouthful of nastiness. After finding the green apple taste appealing, I down it.
“Another, please,” I request.
Landon sips on his drink and nods at the waiter, who apparently is waiting for Landon to give him ‘the look’ from the back of the room.
“Another, please,” I repeat to the waiter when he rushes to our table. The man looks at Landon for permission, making me roll my eyes. Landon nods once again, and the waiter takes off.
“You should slow your pace,” Landon scolds, taking another sip of his drink.
“I’m a big girl. I can handle myself,” I sneer, crossing my arms.
“Clearly,” Landon responds dryly. Following my much-needed rescue from Chasen and his buddies even after he warned me, I’m sure I look pathetic.
He sits up, rubbing his jaw again. The sound of his whiskers against his palm causes my body to heighten from aggression to lust. I shift my legs, trying to stifle the wetness gathering between my thighs.
“I affect you,” Landon points out arrogantly. My body stiffens, eyes widening.
“Excuse me?” I mutter, my heart racing with adrenaline.
“Your legs are clenched, your breathing is escalated, and the way your eyes survey my body hungrily… you’re affected by me,” he rasps.
I close my mouth and swallow, my eyes never leaving his. He does affect me. I want to punch him in the mouth, yet also tear his clothes off and run my nails over his chest.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” I murmur weakly.
Landon smirks and leans over the table, his broad shoulders flexing beneath his dress shirt. “Your body stacks ammo against your words. It often knows of your surroundings before you ever will. Never underestimate it, Charlie.”
I nod. What else can I do? His words make sense, and the way my name leaves those lips puts me in a daze. I’d agree to anything he says.
The waiter places another martini in front me. I instantly grab it, breaking our eye contact, and down the contents, needing the distraction.
“Are you?” I question, nibbling my bottom lip nervously.
“Am I what?” he asks, running his hand over the back of his neck, making his shirt tighten against his chest.
“Are you affected by me?”
He smirks and takes a large sip of his drink, peering over the rim of the glass as he nearly drinks it all.
“You look very appealing in that black dress,” Landon flirts, his eyes squinted at the corners as a smirk crosses his smug face. He’s dodging my question.
I giggle, the effects of the martini beginning to take their toll on my body.
“It’s from the thrift store. Still think it’s appealing?” I laugh, pulling at the worn material of the dress. Landon chuckles and stares off, and I can’t help but smile myself. There is something about his laugh that’s contagious.
“I think you look ravishing nonetheless.”
My laughter falters, and I swallow hard. I can’t keep up with my body’s reaction to this man.
“So, why are you staying in such a bad area? Where is your family?” Landon prods, taking a sip of his drink.
“I don’t have any family,” I mumble, the overwhelming feeling of isolation creeping its way into my chest.
“Nobody? Not even an aunt?” He looks at me with pinched brows, like I’m forgetting some long-lost uncle and just not realizing it. But the truth is, there’s nobody.
“No, nobody. Not a cat, not a sister, nor a mother,” I grit, the situation starting to weigh heavy.
Landon sighs and sits back in his chair. “That has to be lonely.”
My eyes whip from the tablecloth to him. The word ‘lonely’ doesn’t even compare. It’s much more than the word ‘lonely’ can ever justify.
“It is,” I whisper and he tilts his head, looking at me with admiration.
“You’re a strong girl to be trying to live all on your own.” He gives a genuine smile which makes me warm to my toes. It’s not easy not having a mother to talk to at night, a father to speak reason into you before you do something stupid. Usually, when someone gives words of sympathy, it pisses me off. But when Landon looks at me with understanding, it feels genuine and comforting.
“Come, let’s go to my room,” Landon demands, standing from his chair.
“What?” I question frantically, my body heating suddenly.
“You’ve been drinking, and at the very least you’re tipsy. Come to my room, clean up and sleep it off,” he instructs, running his hand through his hair.
The tone of his voice tells me I have no say in this. My legs go weak with the simple action of him swiping his hand through his hair, but goddamn if he doesn’t look exotic when he ruffles it all out of place like that. I don’t know why I do it, not a clue why I don’t deny him, but I don’t.
“Okay,” I whisper, standing and accepting the offer to run off with a complete stranger.
Landon takes me to the back of the bar, punching the button on the elevator. I risk looking at him, finding him gazing at me from the corner of his eye. Tingles course through my body like a sea of ecstasy when our eyes catch. A twinge in my chest makes it difficult to breathe, causing me to draw in a slow breath. This man affects me on levels I can’t understand.
The elevator dings, catching our attention. Landon hits the highest floor number once we’re inside, and rests against the wall, still staring at me hungrily. The sexual tension is so thick I could cut it with a knife.
“So, why were you with that boy?” Landon asks, his tone serious as he emphasizes the word ‘boy’. I laugh, feeling giddy from the alcohol.
“I told you, ‘cause I was his whore.”
Landon sighs and looks at the elevator doors while I shrug and stare at the floor. Calling myself a whore doesn’t feel good, but there’s no justification for what I did with Chasen other than I fooled around with him and took money more than willingly to provide for myself. Like Chasen said, I had no problem taking the money afterwards. I was a greedy whore. I wince at the harsh thought.
“You’ve mentioned that,” Landon states calmly, his features calculated.
