Page 18

18

I ’m burning up from the inside. It’s like lava is flowing through my veins, and every stitch of clothing is too hot. Too much. Just the press of the fabric between my legs is making it unbearable to resist touching myself, yet the humiliation of knowing Ringo knew what I was doing earlier stays my hand.

What the hell is wrong with me?

It has to be this feeling of being free that has my body reacting this way. Knowing my parents can’t get to me. Knowing Daniel can’t put his slimy hands on me, is a huge relief.

But what? As soon as I’m free, I turn into a horndog?

I consider calling Lexi. Maybe she can help me figure out why I’m so desperate to fill the emptiness between my legs.

Never in the early days with Daniel did I feel like this.

Sure, he made me feel good a time or two, but this… I think there’s something seriously wrong with me.

The music is loud outside, so too is the laughter and the moans that occasionally break past the barrier of the closed door.

I stare at the window, desperate to turn the light off and move to it to watch what’s happening beyond, yet the fact Ringo knows I do that, and knows what I did earlier is making it hard for me to move.

“I’m pretty sure you were checking out my dick earlier.”

Dammit. His words keep replaying in my head. I’d hoped he didn’t notice what I was doing when he woke up, but he obviously did.

How mortifying.

He must think I’m some sort of perverted creep.

Ugh. Maybe I am, because all I want to do is go to that damn window and watch the porn scene unfold.

The moment I hear cheers, I’m moving, shutting off the lights and easing the curtains open to see out into the courtyard. It’s dark now, but the lights around the building’s edge and the two large spotlights shining into the centre of the yard illuminate the crowd.

I can see one of the men that was with Ringo when they took me. JD. I’m pretty sure he was the one that broke into my room. It was hard to tell who was who with the black balaclavas they wore.

JD is completely naked, and heat pools between my legs as his peni—cock, standing tall, comes into view. My breathing quickens as I watch his fingers press between the girl’s legs. She’s on top of a table, completely naked, and there’s a man standing near her head, pressing his tip against her lips.

Memories come rushing in, and nausea rolls my stomach, a cry lurching from my lips as I force myself to keep watching.

No. Stop. I tell myself . I’m not there. This isn’t that.

I’m trembling, sweat running down my back as I fight off the vile images I fear I’ll never be able to forget.

“This isn’t that,” I whisper to nobody, taking a step closer to the window to force myself to watch. “This isn’t that,” I say louder.

I drag my gaze from the man at her head feeding his dick into her mouth, back to JD who is… oh… his fingers are inside her, and she’s thrusting up to meet his touch.

A gasp lodges in my throat as my eyes find their way past JD and the girl, to see Ringo, his gaze trained on the window as if he can see me.

Can he see me?

I don’t know if he can, and I don’t know if I care because… Oh… My… In his hand is his dick. No, not a dick. Absolutely nothing less than a cock.

More heat pools between my legs as I nearly press myself to the glass, desperate to get a closer look.

He should be watching the pornographic scene before him, yet his eyes are cast my way as his hand slowly moves up and down his shaft.

Oh wow. It’s so big .

I lick my lips, almost drooling from the sight before me, and I find I’m desperate to go outside, like Ringo suggested.

Should I?

No. That would be wrong… wouldn’t it ?

You’re an adult Abbey. You can make your own decisions.

Shit. Can I though?

I’ve never been able to before, so just the thought of having this option makes me want to do it.

In fact, doing anything my parents would oppose makes me want to rebel.

My feet are moving before I can second guess myself, and I open the door, determined to just do something, anything that is a decision I’ve come to on my own.

The music is so much louder out here, and the men and women are either moaning, laughing, or talking amongst themselves as I slowly approach.

Reaching the back of the pack, I casually walk around the group to stand in the gap I could see through from the window, and the moment I do, Ringo’s eyes are on me.

My breath quickens as I take in his subtle smirk, almost like he knew I wouldn’t be able to resist, and when his eyes drop from my face to his lap, mine follow.

Squeezing my thighs tight, the ache gets almost unbearable as I watch, easily able to see his large hand, fingers curled around his length, squeezing as he slowly pumps his length.

My lips part and I release a breath, my feet shuffling as need shoots to the apex between my thighs. I lick my lips, then bite down as I watch, but then a naked female arse moves in front of Ringo, blocking my view.

Um… excuse me.

I want to say the words out loud, but keep them in, momentarily disappointed as I watch Wendy touching herself, trying to gain his attention.

The moment Ringo’s large hands grip either side of her hips, I stiffen.

A feeling, much like dread, settles in my gut at the sight, and heat pricks the back of my eyes.

Wait. What is wrong with me?

What is this feeling?

Jealousy.

Do I want to be the one he’s touching?

That’s wrong, right? Because I’m only eighteen and he’s in his thirties.

It probably is wrong, but I can’t deny that what I’m feeling is jealousy.

A second later, Wendy stumbles to the side and I pick up Ringo’s growl as he shoves her away.

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you, no? Now get the fuck outta my way so my girl can watch me.”

Holy cow.

My girl.

Ugh… stop being so na?ve, Abbey. He’s playing his part. You’re not really his girl.

When his dark gaze locks back on mine, I feel the threat of tears fall away, replaced by searing heat.

I have no idea what JD and the other man are doing to the Doxy girl on the table, because I can’t take my eyes off Ringo, my hands coming to the tops of my thighs as he settles back in his chair and starts pumping his hard length once more.

Again, I watch in fascination at how tightly his fingers grip, and wonder if that might hurt. Surely it mustn’t if he’s still doing it .

When his other hand moves into my line of sight and two fingers lift up in a gesture, my gaze finds his as he stares at me.

“Come here,” he mouths, and oh hell, I have to force myself not to move as I subtly shake my head.

“Please,” he mouths, and ohhhh myyyy goooood. I really want to go to him.

My gaze darts around the yard. Some men are watching the two guys and woman in the centre, and most of the women are in some sort of compromising position with the male onlookers. As drawn to Ringo as I am, I can’t go to him like this, with people everywhere. With people that can see. People who might want to join in.

My eyes find his again, and I gently shake my head, emotions stronger than the arousal that gave me the courage to come out here, and I find myself stepping back.

I can’t do this.

One foot after the other, I put distance between us, and then I turn and run back to the room. The moment I close the door, I press my back against it, my chest heaving as the burn of tears threaten again.

What is wrong with me? Why can’t I just let go?

I hurry away from the door, using the light shining through from outside to guide me when the door quickly opens, and I spin, gasping.

Even though I can’t see his face, the broad silhouette can only be that of Ringo, and a whimper escapes me as he steps inside and closes the door behind him, and the lock clicking into place is louder than it probably should be.

He’s locking me in.

This is it .

This is when he takes what he wants.

I shake my head as he steps forward, his gruff voice quiet.

“Don’t run from me.”

I shake my head again. “No.”

“What do you think is happening here?” he asks, and I frown as my heels hit the wall that runs along my side of the bed. He still continues forward.

“I can’t. Please don’t make me.”

I hate the fear in my voice.

I hate how weak it makes me sound.

I hate the reason why I’m like this.

I hate it all.

“Angel, I would never make you do anything you didn’t want to do.”

He steps up before me, and I press myself back into the wall, trying to see his face, but all there is, is a dark shadow.

Shaking my head again, I squeeze my lids tight, repeating over and over, no, no, no.

Light filling the room catches my attention, and I pry my lids open to see Ringo moving back towards me from the bedside table where he just turned on the lamp.

The concern etched over his features stuns me. I wasn’t expecting that. I was expecting anger. Frustration. Even hate. But not concern.

“I want to help you, but I don’t know how,” he admits as he drops his arse to the end of the bed, defeat dragging his shoulders down.

I’m still pressed against the wall like he’s about to attack at any moment, and the humiliation of it all is just too much. Hot tears burst from my eyes and I slide to the floor, bringing my knees to my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper through my tears, and a moment later, Ringo is there on the floor with me, shaking his head.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that out there. Fuck,” he rakes his hand through his dark waves, “I shouldn’t have brought you to a place fuelled by sex when clearly it’s been used against you.”

A sob leaps from my throat, and I hide my face behind my hands. “Will I ever be normal again? Will I always see those monsters?”

“Those?” Ringo asks, and a moment later, his hands come to mine, gently peeling them from my face. “Angel, you said those.”

Even though my tears still fall, I remain as still as I can, unsure of what to do.

Do I tell him the truth? If I do, will he still look at me the way he did outside?

“Angel, please talk to me. If not me, talk to Jols or Lexi. Don’t carry this on your own.”

I shake my head, because I just don’t know what to do. It’s been so long since I could trust anyone.

“I’ll go and get Jols,” he says with an edge of disappointment in his tone.

Would he rather I tell him and not her?

When he goes to stand, I reach out quickly, latching onto his hand, desperate for him not to leave.

“I’m scared,” I admit, and slowly, he lowers back down, moving closer again, not letting go of my hand.

I stare at his huge hand engulfing mine. His skin is so much darker than my paleness, his fingers older, showing signs of wear and tear, and even as strong and masculine as they are, their hold is gentle and warm, and I find myself scared he’ll let go.

“You’re scared of me?” he asks, and I shake my head, but then I shrug, my actions making no sense.

“I’m scared of what you will think when you find out.”

“Find out what, Angel?”

“What they did,” I whisper, tears blurring my vision as I stare at our joined hands.

“Hey,” he rasps, hooking his fingers under my chin to lift my head and gaze to his. “Look at me.”

I do.

“Do you think I will think less of you?”

I nod, “amongst other things.”

His lips thin. “I can assure you, there’s nothing you can say that would make me want to turn my back on you. Nothing would stop me from wanting to protect you.”

My lower lip trembles as I work up the courage to ask something I’m not sure is even there, yet I’m so drawn to this man, I just have to know.

“But it might make you stop looking at me like you did outside.”

A deep growl rumbles in his chest, and before I know what’s happening, Ringo’s big hands are cupping my face, his forehead pressed to mine, bringing us so incredibly close.

“Nothing will make me stop wanting you, Angel. Not even the fact I probably shouldn’t, given everything you’ve been through.”

With a shaky hand, I reach up and press it to his chest, right over his strong pec. He hisses in a breath, his hand coming to rest over mine as he speaks. “You’re trembling so much. You don’t have to touch me, Angel.”

“I-I want to. I just.” I shake my head, which breaks the intimacy of his forehead pressing to mine, and I want to slap myself because I really loved having him that close, feeling the heat of his breath over my lips.

“You just what?” he asks, and my eyes drop to his chest as shame laces my words.

“I can’t get the images out of my head. The memories. Every time I feel… something, it’s like a swarm of bees honing in on me to attack. They just come at me from out of nowhere.”

Ringo’s breathing deepens, even as he urges my head back up so I have no choice but to look at him.

“I’m no counsellor or psychologist, but I hear talking can help. I promise nothing you say will change the way I feel about you.”

I stare into his stormy eyes for a long beat, wanting to open up to him, but still scared that when I do, it will change everything.

“Will you do something for me first? Before I tell you?” I ask, and he nods quickly.

“Of course. Anything.”

Can I really do it? Ask him for what I really want? What I really need right now?

It takes me a moment to work up the courage, and even though I want to squeeze my eyes shut so I can’t see his reaction, I force myself to witness it all.

“Will you kiss me?”