Let Me: New Adult Dark Romance (Vengeful Book 1) Page 9

  She obeys me.

  I fucking love when she obeys me.

  I slip my fingers beneath the lace of her panties, imagine what she thought when she put them on. Would she have gone home with that guy I saw her grinding against at the club?

  Without bothering to warn her, to prepare her, my fingers find the slickness of her wet, bare pussy, and I trail down past her swollen clit, down until I push one finger inside of her, and feel her clench around me.

  “You were ready for me, weren’t you?” I ask her, slipping my finger lazily in and out. She’s so goddamn wet. For me. She whimpers again, and I relax my hold on her throat because I want to hear her.

  I take my finger from her and spin her around, so she’s facing me, her eyes bright even in the dark.

  “Once upon a time, Riley, I thought you were too good for this.” I put my arms around her, pinning her own to her sides. I can feel her breathe beneath me. I can feel her fear. Her desire. “Once upon a time, I thought you deserved the world.” My lips graze her temple and she trembles in my arms.

  “You’re scared of me?”

  She shakes her head. “Let me go, Caden.”

  I only grip her tighter. Those words hurt. I want her to know what that pain feels like. I want her to know what it felt like waiting all those months for her, knowing my brother still enjoyed her. The taste of her lips. The touch of her skin. Then watching the moment I could have her shatter with that one phone call.

  “I’ve realized something over the past three years, baby girl.”

  She tries to move her arms, tries to push against me. Her eyes gleam in the darkness of the forest.

  “I’ve realized that you don’t deserve much of anything. That taking you up against this tree might even be too good for you.”

  I know her knees are trembling, because I have to squeeze her even tighter to hold her up. I wish she’d fight back harder.

  I skim my teeth along her jaw. “Isn’t that right?”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” she says angrily. There it is. Her entire body is tense in my arms. “You don’t fucking—”

  I cover her mouth with my hand. “You say such terrible things, Riley. That mouth is too pretty for those words.”

  Then both of us hear footsteps.

  I know she does because she stops resisting, going still in my arms instead.

  “Quiet, baby girl.” I drag my hand over her mouth and down her throat. “There are worse monsters than me in this forest.”

  I feel her swallow as she tries to twist her head around beneath my hand. As if she’ll see anything in the darkness.

  The steps grow louder. Closer. She breathes harder beneath me, and her eyes find mine. I smile coldly at her.

  I like this fear in her face. I like that she’s terrified. Trembling. Vulnerable. Maybe she’ll feel a fraction of what my brother felt in his last moments. Maybe she’ll understand why I can’t stand the sight of her anymore.

  Why I’m about to do what comes next.

  I release her, back away.

  The steps slow. Stop.

  It seems to take her a second to realize I’m not holding her anymore.

  “Caden—”

  I see her chest rise and fall, and she tries to back further into the tree, her bare heels scrambling against the base of it. Her shoes are gone. I hope my dad didn’t pay a fortune for them.

  Who the fuck am I kidding.

  I hope he did.

  “Caden.” This time when she says it, she’s glaring at me. “Is this some sort of sick joke?”

  I see him. But I don’t meet his gaze. I don’t give her any indication he’s there, behind her.

  “A joke?” I echo. “No, baby girl. This is definitely not a joke.”

  And then he grabs her, his hand over her mouth, her body flush against him. Rage sweeps over me at that, but I push it down. He has one arm around her waist, and she kicks and flails, struggling in his grasp.

  She should’ve let me teach her how to fight. Should have let me, because I wanted her to be able to protect herself at her mom’s. I wanted her to be strong. I offered. She always chose Jack, though.

  She never got the chance to learn. That’s her loss now.

  Her eyes are wide as she stares at me, trying to speak, her words muffled and incoherent beneath his hand.

  She’s wondering why I did this.

  She’s probably thinking, How could you? Why would you do this to me? Is this fucking Benji? But maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s someone worse. Is there anyone worse than Benji?

  I can see it all in her head.

  “You like strange men, don’t you Riley? Do you want him,” I glance behind her, “to take you?”

  Her eyes narrow on me and she stops moving.

  Benji is staring at her like he wants to devour her, and I wonder if this was a horrible idea. But he makes no move to do anything more. He’s just holding her.

  “Do you want me to film it?” I pull my cell phone out of my back pocket, hold it up so she can see it. And then I see something like fear flicker on her face.

  But of course. She’s already destroyed someone’s life with one of these little videos. She wouldn’t want another. Even still, I don’t like how her face pales at the sight of my phone. I put it back in my pocket, and she seems to calm down, a little. The crease between her brows is gone. She’s still breathing hard under Benji’s grip, but she’s calmer now that the threat of the phone is gone.

  Benji moves his hand from her mouth, trails it down to her collarbone.

  Now I’m tense.

  “Caden,” she whispers, pleading with me with her eyes, “what are you doing?”

  I take a step closer to them, carefully avoiding Benji’s gaze. I’m not sure I want to see what he’s looking at. Slowly, I grip her bare thigh, and watch as her mouth parts open, eyes wide.

  I trail my hand up, go back inside her, this time with two fingers. I scissor them apart and watch as she trembles in Benji’s arms.

  “Caden,” she says, her eyes half-glazed with pleasure. “Benji…”

  She knows. But Benji says nothing.

  “Don’t you dare say another man’s name when I’m inside of you,” I snap, finger-fucking her harder. She spreads her legs of her own accord and I smirk. “Such a good girl,” I murmur, and she arches into me, her eyes fluttering closed.

  “Say it.” I slip out of her, circle her clit with my thumb. “Say you don’t want this, Riley. Say it, and I’ll stop.” I move my other hand up to the top of her breasts, tug her dress down with it. I circle her hard, little nipple with my finger. She isn’t wearing a bra.

  Of course she isn’t.

  “I-I don’t—” she whispers, eyes closed.

  “Look at me.” Her eyes snap open, and I run my whole hand down her wet pussy, spreading her lips apart. “Look at me when you say it.”

  I hear Benji breathing.

  I finally look at him.

  His eyes are dark. He wants this, too.

  “I-I can’t,” she breathes out, her beautiful, bright eyes locked on mine. I can see her face redden, even in the darkness. My cock is straining against my pants and I want to take her here. Right here, in these woods, right in front of Benji.

  If my dad gets to have her now, why can’t I? What does it matter, one more Virani cock to add to her visit here? She was fine fucking whoever was in that video, lay there and let it happen, then sent it to my goddamn brother.

  Clearly, she likes being used.

  I run my hand up her body, away from her pussy and she whimpers at that, but I bring my fingers up to her mouth, over Benji’s arm, and slip them past her teeth. Instantly, her tongue twirls around them, tasting herself.

  “How’s that taste, Riley?” I murmur against her ear.

  She sucks my fingers harder, and I imagine her mouth around my cock. We never got that far.

  I dip my head down, take her nipple in my mouth and bite it. She groans and I bite harder until it turns into a whim
per. Until I taste blood. I hope my dad sees that shit.

  Benji’s arm around her waist shifts a little lower, and my eyes snap to his, warning him. He smirks at me.

  I drag my hands possessively down her body, over Benji’s arm.

  My God, I’ve missed this.

  I’ve missed tasting her.

  But…

  I stop.

  Pull back.

  My eyes lock on hers, then I look once again to Benji. He’s going to expect his after this. He’s going to expect it, if I get it, and I don’t know if he’ll stop.

  I can’t do this.

  Her eyes look sleepy, like she wants more. Like she wants both of us, even though she doesn’t know for sure who is behind her.

  No. I can’t do this.

  “Let’s go,” I say, the words harsher than I mean them to be. “Benji, let her go.”

  He hesitates, eyeing her. He doesn’t want to let go.

  This motherfucker.

  “Benji,” I snap at him.

  He looks at me with hard anger. I don’t give a damn. I just want him to let her go.

  In my head, I count to three. If he hasn’t let her go by then I will break his fucking neck.

  At two, he releases her. I let out a shaky breath, uncurl my fingers. He turns without waiting for either of us to say anything to him. He heads off into the woods, alone.

  “Caden—”

  “Don’t.” I cut her off with a glare, and then I walk back to the path in the forest, hoping to God she’ll follow. Because I can’t do this with her anymore. But I can’t leave her here either.

  Sixteen

  June, 3 Years Ago

  I’m lying in bed, the pink blanket I’ve had since I was a toddler draped over my lower half, when I hear the footsteps. By now, I know my mom’s. I know her steps when she’s angry, when she’s desperate, when she’s crawling on her knees. I know what she sounds like when she’s sick, in the throes of withdrawals. I know when she’s excited, the excitement before the real high.

  I know all of her steps.

  But these steps don’t belong to her. And hers don’t echo after these on the cheap, linoleum flooring, so I know whoever this is, he’s alone.

  There’s a bathroom here, right beside my room, and I hold my breath, hoping that’s where he’s going. I didn’t see him tonight. He came over after I’d gone to my room, straight from school. Because this weekend was going to suck.

  This weekend, Tyler is babysitting his nephew. Jack is out of town on a university tour. And Caden...I don’t know where Caden is, but even if he was at the Virani’s, I’ve got no reason to see him. I don’t even know his number. Jack would lose his shit if we had ever exchanged them.

  But right now, I wouldn’t mind Jack losing his shit on whoever is walking down this hall. But we’ve already said goodbye for the night, and it’s just footsteps, right?

  I can’t call him over that. He already thinks I’m weak. I don’t want to prove him more right.

  I sit up in bed, lean against the thin wall at my back, pulling my knees to my chest. And the footsteps pass me by. I exhale, squeeze my eyes shut, and then reach for the pen by my nightstand, just in case. It’s the one I use to write in my black studded diary, a gift from Tyler. The diary is tucked away, hidden with secrets I’d never voice out loud. But I grab the pen anyway, just in case.

  And then I hear the toilet flush—either he or my mom have probably clogged the one in her room—and he comes out of the bathroom. And stops.

  I can hear my heart pounding in my chest. I strain my ears, trying to listen over my own fear. I’ve been leered at before by Mom’s men. Had my ass grabbed. Offered drinks. But no one has come by my room in the dead of night before. I glance at my phone screen, on my nightstand.

  It’s after midnight.

  I wait, praying to a god I don’t believe in that he keeps walking. But he doesn’t.

  And then, in the streetlight streaming in through my thin white curtains, I see the brass of my doorknob glint as it turns.

  My lock has never worked.

  I scramble against the wall, as far as I can get, gripping the pen in a shaking hand. The door creaks open and in that moment, more than in any others, I hate my mother.

  Whatever comes next, this is her fault.

  For a moment, the guy is just a shadowy figure beyond the doorway. And then he steps through, and I realize he’s laughing under his breath.

  I can’t speak. Even if I could, I wouldn’t know what to say.

  He steps closer, and I make out dirty jeans with holes in them, bare feet, long, scraggly hair that recedes high on his forehead. And a smile that stretches across his pockmarked face.

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  I get off the bed. I know it won’t help me, to sit here. I can barely think through the panic roaring in my head but I know that my room is no longer safe. My bedroom isn’t just mine anymore.

  He cocks his head, holds his hands up placatingly. “I’m not going to hurt you, kid,” he whispers. Even still, he takes another step closer.

  “Get out of here,” I manage to say, but my voice comes out low and shaky.

  He steps forward. “I said I’m not going to hurt you.” But he frowns and rubs a hand over his face. “Now, if you put up a fuss, well...that might change things.”

  Then he lunges for me.

  I crash into the wall at my back, head snapping against it as his hands go for my throat. But I dig the end of the ballpoint pen into his neck, as hard as I can. He yelps, surprised, and that surprise lets me twist free as his grip loosens on me. I run past him, dropping the pen as I do. I’m almost through the door when he grabs a fistful of my hair.

  In that moment, all I can think about is that I should have cut it. I should have cut it long before this. But we could never afford it.

  My neck snaps back as he pulls and he twists his hand, spinning me to face him, my hair still tangled in his grip.

  I can smell him. He smells like urine and beer and his breath is like rot this close to my face.

  “I said I wouldn’t hurt you, beauty. But you gotta stay still.” He reaches a hand out for my chest, but I knee him, hard, in the groin, and I think he’s going to let go.

  Instead, he hisses through his teeth and pulls my hair with both hands, dragging me toward the bed.

  I dig my heels in, but they slip along the threadbare carpet of my room, burning my feet.

  “Mom!” I cry out, and but he clamps a hand over my mouth. I try to bite him, but his hold is too tight.

  “She’s not going to hear me defile you, beauty, just like I did with her,” he sneers, hot breath against my ear. And as he goes to throw me on the bed, tears welling behind my eyes, I take my last shot. In that moment when he lets go, expecting me to hit the mattress, I twist away and barrel past him, flying past my bedroom door. I sprint down the hall, hearing his footsteps crashing after me, and his growl of rage.

  I don’t see Mom in the living room, and I know she must be passed out in her bedroom. But right now, she’s no use to me. I snatch open the door to the apartment, grabbing Mom’s worn sneakers as I do, and then I sprint down the stairs, headed toward the parking lot of the apartment.

  Thankfully, it’s warm outside, and my pajama shorts and shirt aren’t too out of place. That last thing I want is to get the police involved. I don’t want a foster home.

  The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t.

  I keep running, through the woods by the apartment, following the shortcut to the bus stop, even as I realize with a sinking feeling that I don’t have any money. Or a bus pass.

  It’s only when I reach the stop anyway, tearing out of the woods and shoving my shoes on, that I dare look back.

  He isn’t there.

  He isn’t coming.

  I got away.

  Seventeen

  Present

  I can still feel him. Still taste him. I can still hear him. His soft moan while he was fingering me, and
then that word, so cold: Don’t.

  And then he took me home, or rather, to his dad’s condo, and he didn’t pull away from the curb until I got up the stairs and into the building. I glanced at him, over my shoulder, and watched his car pull away. I don’t know what he was thinking. I don’t know why he went after me. I don’t know why he brought Benji. I don’t know any of that. I don’t know what the hell is going through his head, or why, or what I can do about it.

  I think he wanted to scare me. He has no idea that that, well, that was nothing.

  I go up to the condo I don’t pay for, the one I have no control over, the one I’m in the mercy of Rolland’s hands for. I change into a white t-shirt and slip off my shoes and crawl into bed. The white sheets seem too pristine for who I am and what I’ve done and yet somehow, I fall asleep even still. Because sleep is one of those basic needs of the human body. No matter how horrible we are, no matter what dirty deeds we hide in our skin, everyone has to sleep. And sometimes even monsters sleep like babies.

  I awaken to my phone buzzing beside my head. I wipe the sleep from my eyes and grab my phone, holding it over my face.

  And then, predictably, I drop it.

  Because of course I do.

  I cry out, eyes watering, but no one hears me, and it doesn’t change the fact I’ve got a fucking message from Rolland.

  Coming up in 10.

  Sent five minutes ago. I must have missed the first buzz. Which means I have less than five minutes to change and scrub any hint of Caden from my body. Impossible. It’s like he’s seeped into my pores. My skin. My blood.

  I fly out of bed, pull on a black t-shirt, ankle-length jeans, and brush my teeth. I pull my long hair in a ponytail, rub my cheeks, splash water on my face, and wait. I don’t want to see him. I’ve never wanted to see him. And since he’s coming here, just like that, without asking, I imagine he knows I broke up with Adam. Which makes me feel less than thrilled.

  That means there’s absolutely nothing and no one to protect me from his advances.

  Just like there wasn’t when I ran away from home, looking for shelter, and fell right into Rolland’s arms. My nails bite into my palms as I think of what he did, but then there’s a knock at the door and I take a deep breath, trying to relax.