Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
“We don’t speak freak,” Callahan tells me.
His friends snicker.
“The uncomplicated version…I want things in my mouth.”
That quiets them. They look from me to one another, sizing up their friends’ curiosity. I’m a weirdo they’ve never encountered before. I’m allowing them access to the bizarre, and I’m hoping maybe that’s a little more enticing than the beautiful girl passed out behind them.
“So before you put your cock in it, why don’t you try something else?” I say. “You can test me. I won’t bite. I promise. I get off on this.” I open my mouth as wide as I can, convincing myself this isn’t exposing the vulnerable parts of me.
I just need time.
“Dude.” The preppy one slides a look at Callahan. “She really is a slut.”
“We’ll see just how much you get off on this.” Callahan steps forward and grips the side of my cheek again. His eyes lance me in warning before he slips his thumb between my lips. I can’t avoid the salty taste of his skin. “Close your lips.”
My heart beats heavily as I comply, my eyes pinned to his friends, making sure their attention remains on me. One of them nears just to start slowly untying my braids.
“Suck it like you would my dick,” Callahan prods.
My pulse pounds. I lose track of the other two guys as they slip behind me. I try to look over my shoulder.
Callahan’s grip tightens, not allowing me to turn my neck. “I said, suck.”
From behind, fingers tug at the hem of my cargo pants. They’re playing with me like I’m a toy that I dangled in front of their faces.
My plan.
It’s working…a little too well.
My stomach lurches. Nausea spools through me as I begin to suck Callahan’s thumb. He grins wickedly. “Aw, she’s enjoying this.”
More snickering.
I can’t…I can’t do it. Some darker part of me snaps inside.
My teeth clamp down on his thumb hard enough that the metallic taste of blood pools in my mouth. “Fuck!” He growls, pushing me hard into his friend. Hands catch me around the waist. I’m not done. I whirl my head back, hawk up a loogie, and spit at Callahan’s face.
Wet, bloody saliva splatters against his cheek.
He growls, “You fucking—”
I shriek—a demonic, unhinged shriek—hoping they’ll be so freaked out they’ll jolt backward. Instead, Callahan tries to muffle my shrill sound with his meaty hand. Like he promised, he brings me down to the sand. I scratch him with my black-chipped and bitten nails, trying to rip out of his hold, but he’s clamped too firmly.
“What did I tell you was going to happen?” he growls in the pit of my ear. Fingers fumble to try to unbutton my cargo pants as I thrash against them. Knees pin my thighs to the ground. Sand gets everywhere. Under my nails. In my eyes. I taste the coarse grit in my mouth and crunch it between my teeth.
I try to kick out when I hear Jake bark, “Get the fuck off her!! What the fuck?!” Now they jump back as though they’ve been electrocuted.
I claw away, then pick myself up, adrenaline coursing through me, making my pulse race at a speed I can’t control. Jake is screaming at them behind me, and their hands are raised in defense like they’re little innocent schoolboys.
They make excuses.
They try to laugh it off like it was no big deal. That I asked for it. That I like it rough.
Jake is the second-most-powerful person on this property, and they know it. I don’t wait around to see them shuffle away with hung heads and bruised egos.
I only care about Phoebe, and I sprint back to her, tripping in the sand, digging into it to stand back up, and when I collapse next to her on the lounge chair and see she’s safe, I dry-heave.
What nearly happened slams so violently into me. I choke for breath.
“Hailey.” Jake crouches in front of me, his hands so gentle on my cheeks. “Hailey.” His eyes dip to my stomach. “Are you okay?”
I nod and blink through a glassy film. “Phoebe.” I rotate my head to her, and he follows and bends over her unconscious frame. Two fingers to her neck, he checks her pulse. He listens to her breath, then comes back to me. “She was drugged?”
I nod rapidly. Snot is dripping out of my nose, and without thought, Jake uses the bottom of his shirt to wipe it, then he cradles my face again with an avalanche of compassion compressing on me.
It has a way of breaking me open. “Th-th-this is what they do, you know?” My splintered voice hurts my throat. I’m crying, and I can’t retract the waterworks as they cascade in heavy, anguished waves. “This is what happens to them over and over and over. This.”
Jake searches my eyes for clearer answers he can’t see. “Who…? What?”