I resist for a beat, but his strength has nothing on my fast crumbling restraint.
Dragging my eyelids open, I gasp when I find his face incredibly close to mine with his dark eyes boring down into mine.
“Ashton, what are you…” He makes the most of my parted lips and places his blunt between them.
Anger explodes in my belly. Red hot fury racing through my veins. I shouldn’t be fazed by this asshole, but he’s getting under my skin faster than I know what to do with.
Spitting it from my lips, I watch as it hits his shoulder before falling to the ground.
His hold on my hair tightens as his other now free hand wraps around my exposed throat. He doesn’t squeeze, but it doesn’t stop my pulse thundering against his hold.
“You need to stay out of my way,” he warns, his nose almost brushing mine, his breath racing over my face.
“Or what?” I sass, not willing to give up my fight against this asshole.
“Or… I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” My voice is all breathy and I hate it.
His hand releases my hair, but with his other still wrapped around my throat, I can’t move. I do however let out a little shriek when he cups me between the legs.
“It means, little one, that I’ll take whatever I like, when I like, and give zero fucks about the consequences.”
“Y-y-you can’t. You wouldn’t.” My head spins with both his warning and his touch. His words should be a reality check, they should put me off, but with his hand on me, all I can think about is him giving me more.
It’s wrong. So fucking wrong.
He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.
“You want more, don’t you? Maybe I was wrong about you being a goody-two-shoes cheerleader, and the truth is that you’re just a cheer slut.”
“No,” I cry, bucking against his hold. Only it doesn’t shake him off, it only makes his fingers press into me harder.
Heat floods me as my temperature soars.
He glares down at me, his dark eyes full of hate and disgust. I’ve never felt so small and vulnerable in my life, and I fucking hate it.
He could do whatever he wants in this situation, and he knows it. It’s why he’s enjoying this power trip so much.
Unable to physically do anything about it, I use my words instead in the hope it’ll get me kicked out of his room and away from his epic headfuck.
“Why do you want to touch me anyway? You hate me, remember?”
His teeth grind and his shoulders tense.
“And why is that exactly? Because I’ve been living here with daddy while you’ve been forgotten in Seattle?” It’s a shot in the dark but one I’m confident in. But as his lips press into a thin line, I know that I hit the nail on the head.
His fingers clench slightly around my neck, but the warning isn’t enough to make me stop.
“He treats me like his own daughter, you know. Gives me everything I could possibly want. Buys me whatever I want. He—”
“Enough,” he roars, getting right in my face. His breaths are ragged, his eyes blown with anger. “Stop talking, little girl, before you say something you’ll regret.”
Before I get the chance to talk, his lips slam down on mine. Shock renders me motionless as his kiss bruises and his hold on me gets tighter.
“Ashton, no,” I cry against him after a few brain-frazzled moments. My hands slap against his chest as I try to push him away. But it seems he has other ideas because before I even realize I’ve moved, I’m out of his room and tripping over my own feet.
I hold my breath as I wait for my body to collide with something, and only moments later my shoulder hits the wall in the hallway, and I slide down until I’m on my ass.
He stands above me. Anger and contempt vibrating from every inch of him.
“You’re nothing, little girl. The only reason he puts up with you is because of your whore of a mother.”
“No,” I cry. “She’s not.”
“Pfft.” He waves me off before lowering down on his haunches. “It seems that there’s a lot you don’t know, little one. You should know something, though.” He looks over me as I clutch on to my smarting shoulder. “I’m going to fucking ruin you and leave them both with the broken pieces I leave behind. You know, just a little thank you for having me gift.”
My head spins as his words register. Did he really just say those things to me, or is it the effects of the second-hand weed messing with my brain?
When I look up, I find that I’m alone in the hallway and that the pain in my shoulder is very real.
Fucking asshole.
5
Ruby
Ashton’s music continues all freaking night.
Mom and Stephen came home sometime after midnight, although I didn’t hear them arrive thanks to the booming bass on the other side of the wall. It wasn’t until the loud shouts rang out as Stephen tried to get his son to be respectful and turn it down that I discovered they’d returned.
As I lay there staring at my ceiling, desperate to go to sleep in the hope it would help me to forget everything that had happened since I came home from school this afternoon, I can’t help wondering why Stephen is bothering. It seems like a waste of energy to try to tell Ashton to do anything that might be considered thoughtful to others. I might have only spent a very limited time with him this evening, but I really doubt he’s going to turn around and agree to do anything he’s told, especially if that request comes from the mouth of his father.
There’s some serious bad blood between the two
