Page 15

15

Calista

H is eyes darken, and I know I’ve fucked up.

Why did I do that? I know better. Damn it, Calista.

My heart leaps into my throat, and it feels impossible to dislodge it. Every part of me trembles as his gaze slowly shifts to my hand, which is literally cupping his chest. The nipple piercing presses against my palm, and I swallow roughly.

Some delusional part of me thinks my touch will be different. That whatever ailment he has doesn’t apply to me. Maybe, instead of following through on his threat, he’ll grab the back of my head and smash his lips into mine.

But that would mean giving me something beautiful, something perfect—something I want, just for once. A fantasy that will only live in my head.

He moves so fast that I don’t even have a second to grab the towel before it’s thrown to the ground. The motion pulls me closer to him, and when my bare chest crashes into his, I gasp. His skin is so hot, and he feels so right, and all I want is to have every ridge of his perfect body rubbing against mine.

But I don’t get a single moment to savor the closeness before his hand is at the back of my neck, making me hiss through my teeth. He pulls me back, and suddenly I’m in the position he promised. My breasts press against the cold marble countertop, goosebumps instantly spreading across my body.

The way he handles me is far from gentle. He drags me further up, my thighs hitting the edge of the counter.

“Ronan! Stop!”

He grabs my wet hair after releasing my neck and pulls my head back. The burn in my scalp has me panting, and no matter how I push up on the hard surface below me, I don’t go anywhere. He has his elbow of the hand holding my hair pressed into the middle of my back, pinning me.

When my eyes spring open, I look through the mirror at him. He’s staring down at my ass, and as he wets his bottom lip, my thighs quiver. I attempt to squeeze my legs together, but not because I don’t want him to see. I need to feel anything between them. This is so fucked up, but I would be a lying bitch if I said my clit didn’t want as much attention as his eyes are giving me.

“Such a fine ass you have, baby girl.” He peers through the mirror, right into my eyes. “Too bad it’s going to have welts from your disobedience.”

“Stop! Don’t!”

He narrows his eyes at me, and as he pulls my head back further, he leans over me. I can feel his cock against my hip, and a moan slips involuntarily. His opposite hand that isn’t keeping my head up, rests right at the curve of my rear.

“You deserve to be punished, Cal,” he whispers into my ear. His chin, rough with a five o’clock shadow, grazing against my shoulder as he pauses for a moment. “Say the word ‘no’… and I’ll stop. This is your out, and I’ll let you run your naked ass to your room.”

When he shifts his head beside mine and locks eyes with me through the mirror, my lips part, releasing a soft whimper. His grip on my hair remains firm, and I know I should say ‘no’. The word should escape me, I should stop this…

“What you did last night was reckless.” He turns his head to face me, his forehead pressing against my temple. “Then, right now, you touched me when I told you not to. Say no, so I can give you the courtesy you didn’t give me.”

“Let me go! No, no! Mom! Mom! Help!”

Tears spring to my eyes and I suck in a shaky breath before closing my mouth and deciding to stay silent.

“You know you deserve it.” He leans away from me just as I nod.

I do…

“Say you deserve to be punished.”

“I-I deserve it.” The urge to shut my eyes is so overwhelming that I almost can’t keep them open as the first hit comes. The slap lands with a sharp, pointed crack that cuts through the air. The sound doesn’t echo, but my scream does.

Another slap follows, and I clench my teeth so tightly that my jaw aches almost immediately. Then another, each one landing on the exact same spot. The burn beneath his palm is sharp, and though I know it’s impossible, I swear I’m bleeding.

He swaps cheeks, and smacks it so hard my back bows, my mouth falling open as I try to wiggle free. When he lifts his hand, I try to move, shift, run away, anything. But he holds me in place and smacks even harder, right in the same spot.

A moan falls from my throat, and I suck back my saliva.

“Cry for me.” He shoves me further onto the counter, my cheek pressing hard against the mirror as he spanks me again. This time, it isn’t in the direction that hurts, but an upward motion that makes my ass bounce. “Go ahead, I want to see how beautiful you are when you do.”

I have no words—my body craves more, and so does my mind. I’m so messed up. Maybe they’re right; maybe I really do need help.

He hits me once more for the purpose of pain, and my eyes go wide as the burn tears right through my spine. I’m trembling, my legs numb from being pressed so hard against the counter that breathing has become difficult. Nothing is physically constricting my chest, yet I’m struggling to pull in air.

Tearing me back, he wraps his hand around my throat, not applying pleasure, but squeezing enough to keep my head straight. I watch him stare at the side of my face, the one not stricken with tears.

“Don’t touch me without my permission, Cal, do you understand me?”

My chest heaves as I nod. “Y-Yes.”

He leans in, his tongue tracing along my jawline and sliding up to the corner of my lips, quite literally licking the drool from my face. That’s when I feel something firm pressing against my skin. I’ve seen him talk countless times… Does he have a tongue piercing?

“I’d have loved to taste your tears, baby girl, but I guess your drool will have to do.”

He leans away from me and steps back, finally releasing me. My legs tremble as I scoot from the counter and turn to face him. I move my hands up to cover myself, and he tuts. “Why hide?”

Shame… though not for what he did, but for enjoying it.

I box myself in, pulling my arms around me and dropping my head.

It’s impossible not to see how hard he is, his pants are thin enough I basically can see the lining of the head of his cock. He enjoyed hurting me, and any sane person would be scared.

Not me, because why would I be considered sensible at this point.

“Go, Calista.” His words are as sharp as his hits were, and I instinctively flinch. “I won’t say it again.”

That is a promise, and with it, I run out of the bathroom. When I cross the hall into my bedroom, I feel free. Even if I am in a smaller room. I slam the door behind me and immediately drag my fingers along my stomach, straight between my thighs.

I barely need to apply any pressure to push between my soaked slit, and the moment I touch my clit, I slide down and fall onto my sensitive ass. It shoots me with such a horrid pain that when I roll my two fingers against my throbbing bud, I’m immediately at the precipice of my climax.

My toes curl as I hike my knees up, my head hitting the door behind me. With the pain and pleasure searing through my body, I bite my lip to muffle the moan as I come so hard my own touch begins to sting nearly instantly.

I tear my shaking fingers away from my pussy, but keep my legs spread. My breathing is erratic, my skin on fire and flushed. Everything around me spins, and I’ve never felt so completely out of control—yet so alive—as I do right now.

My cum drips down my ass and to the floor as I sit here, trying to get myself together. Shutting my eyes, I release a shaky breath. He might be the death of me, but I’d embrace the grave willingly if it means feeling like this until my heart finally stops.

Two weeks have passed, and he hasn’t said a single word to me. No “good morning”, no “hello”—absolutely nothing. I don’t even know why he’s ignoring me in the first place. And as for me? I can’t bring myself to say anything because I’m so mortified that if he brushed me off, I might just throw up from the embarrassment.

I’m a strong, independent woman. I make good money and know how to take care of myself. But ever since Ronan walked into my life, I’ve found myself wanting to let my guard down. I want to be cared for, fought for, and to feel all those warm, fuzzy things Gene always talks about.

I’ve never really had that, not even with past boyfriends. Sure, they could wine and dine me, but they never fought for me. If a guy hit on me, I was the one snapping back and telling them to fuck off. They also never knew what I needed, and most of the time my hard days came with them questioning when my period was going to start.

Suppose I’m basically saying I need a man , not a boy.

I want to stop fighting my own battles with the demons of my past. And deep down, I know that if I trusted Ronan, he’d take on that fight for me, just like he did at the bar. Maybe he’d do it more to indulge in his own thirst for violence than for my sake, but I wouldn’t care—as long as I could finally be free from the weight of my pain.

It’s so selfish of me, for more reasons than one. I really should stop hoping for anything more than being his roommate. We’ve been in that cabin for nearly a month and a half, and not once have we reached that heated point, that moment when we both finally stop resisting whatever this is between us.

Even if he would just let me touch him, I think I could die a happy woman.

I’m not entirely sure what it is about a guy that doesn’t want to be touched that makes me want to touch him more.

I’m so fucking delusional to want someone like him and think that he’d even consider somebody like me. I’m literally his step-niece. I really need to get over this, focus on the renovations, get my insurance money, disappear before my past comes knocking, and completely forget about hot-as-fuck Ronan.

Ugh.

I lean forward and bang my head against the steering wheel. Once, twice, three times, before I slump against it, letting out a long, frustrated groan.

Thunder cracks, and I jump. Summertime storms here are brutal, and I can’t stand them. Right now, I wish I were home, wrapped in the quiet comfort of Ronan’s presence. He wouldn’t even need to touch me. Just knowing he’s there, sitting in the garage, would make me feel safe—as if no storm, no past, nothing could reach me.

A prickling sensation rises around my cheeks, a pressure building behind my eyes, but there’s no release. It’s like I’m sinking deeper and deeper, with the weight of everything pressing down on me. I want so badly to cry. I’ve talked to my therapist about it, but she says I’m subconsciously holding myself back. It isn’t true. I know something is wrong with me—mentally and physically—and I’m tired of people implying it’s somehow my fault.

Another thunderclap slams across the sky and I jerk back, letting out a scream that echoes through the small car. I punch the horn, holding it down as the blaring sound fills the office parking lot.

Breathing slowly, I force air into my lungs, then let it out, releasing the last of the scream. The people leaving their workplaces stare at me, and I almost flip them off out of pure rage. Fuck them. I’m sure they scream out in frustration too, but they’re choosing to do it behind closed doors, in the comfort of their own solitude. Not me. I’m doing it out here, exposed to the world.

I pop the car into drive and head out of the city. My mother asked me to stop by the next time I’m in town, but I can’t. I don’t have the mental capacity to face her right now. Part of me wants to spill everything and the urge is so close to the surface, I feel like I might just let it slip.

I hit the highway when I hear something strange under my car—a rattling sound. But I don’t slow down. I glance behind me. There are several cars trailing me, and when I look ahead, a dozen or so more scattered along the road. I intentionally left later to avoid traffic while also hoping to avoid the thunderstorm that’s clearly overhead.

I change lanes, moving into the furthest right, and slow down. Something black in my rearview mirror catches my attention. A sedan is right behind me, too close for comfort.

My heart starts to race. The rattling under the car gets louder, sharper, almost as if it’s matching the pounding in my chest.

I test the waters, swerving back into the second lane from the right. To my utter fucking dismay, the sedan follows me.

No…

My bottom lip trembles as I look at the screen on my dash. I tap it a few times, pulling up the phone app and pressing ‘R’. Ronan’s name lights up in front of me, the only contact I want to call right now.

My hand shakes as I press his name and hear the phone ring.

Why would he answer your fucking call, Cal?

It rings once, then his voice cuts through the silence. “What’s wrong?” His tone is laced with worry, and I can't fathom why. Maybe it's because I've never called him before, or maybe it’s something else entirely. Whatever the reason, the butterflies in my stomach fight for dominance, adding to the nausea already swirling inside me.

“Cal?”

“R-Ronan. Where are you?” My eyes flick behind me, the car still tailing me.

“The cabin, you?” I can hear him grab a set of keys. “It sounds like you’re driving. What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I hear this weird rattling under my car,” I start, shifting back into the slow lane as I pass an exit. I’m not sure what to do. If I pull over on the side of the road and that car is really who I think it is, I may never get back into my car. But if I take an exit, I could get into a more public area, maybe even somewhere safer.

But they don’t care. They’ll do whatever they want, even if the police were watching.

“What’s it sound like?”

“Metal hitting the ground.” The sound of his motorcycle revs, and I whisper a ‘ thank fuck’ .

He groans. “Okay, and—”

“Ronan…” I cut him off. “I think someone’s following me.” When he doesn’t respond, panic surges through me and I rush to explain. “I’m sorry—” My hands start to shake, and I backtrack. “I-I think so, they’ve been changing lanes with me. I-I could be overthinking it…”

“One moment.” He goes silent again and I hear a click, then tires pulling up dirt. “You there?”

“Yes.”

“First, tell me where you are. Are you going southbound on the highway?”

“Yes, I just passed Delmar,” I respond quickly. “I’m not losing speed, nothing has happened to the car.”

“Look at your gas.”

When I do, my blood runs cold. My knuckles go stark white from how tightly I’m gripping the wheel. I’m down to a quarter tank, and I just filled up this morning.

“Baby girl, breathe. How much gas do you have?”

My stomach churns as I struggle to pull in a breath. “A quarter,” I manage to whisper, the words barely escaping.

“Fuck!” he screams, and the intensity in his tone doesn’t help my frantic heart. “Listen to me, why would someone be following you?”

“I don’t know.”

Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar.

“Calista, now isn’t the time to keep anything from me. Your safety—”

“Ronan, I don’t know!” My voice elevates, and I shake harder than I already was. I hate lying, but I can’t tell him. Just like I couldn’t tell him about that night.

“Okay, okay…” He sighs, and I’m now just realizing that his voice seems like it’s slightly echoed. I must be in his helmet, but I don’t hear any outside noises. “Listen to me. I need you to breathe. I cannot have you having a panic attack on the highway. Let me hear you breathe.”

I struggle at first, but after his gentle “shh” I manage to steady myself. I breathe in and out, finding a rhythm.

“There you go,” he encourages. “That’s it. I’ve got you. Now, keep breathing and give me a moment.” I don’t think I’ve ever felt safer in my life, and he isn’t even physically here. My heart swells and aches with how he treats me, even though I don’t deserve it.

After a moment, the phone begins to ring, and I suck in a sharp breath.

“No longer ghosting me, Ro?” I recognize the voice that comes through the line. “I’m still mad at you. Ditching me for pussy that night, I swore we were closer than that.”

For… pussy…?

I shouldn’t feel anything other than fear, but my stomach tightens. A pang of jealousy rushes through me, and I’m not sure if the numbness has always been there, or if it’s this moment that makes me feel it now.

“Ken, Calista is on the line. Shut the fuck up and listen.”

“Oops, my bad.” He sounds sheepish.

I swear my ears are bleeding with how hot they are.

Ronan groans. “Someone is following her. She’s going to come to you. You’re closer than I am.”

He hums. “You got it.”

“Have Amy outside waiting for her.”

Pussy… Amy?

“I’ll have the boys ready, too.”

My bottom lip trembles. I don’t want to go anywhere but straight to Ronan. Nowhere is safe… but he is. I crave his violence—against me, against them, against the world for what it’s done to me.

“Baby girl, listen to me, I’m going to hang up the phone—”

“No!” I scream, my voice cracking as I take in a shaky breath. “Don’t leave, just stay until… until I get there, please.”

“I cannot focus on driving at top speeds while worrying what is happening on your end. I have to focus or I’ll crash.” I drop one hand into my lap, drawing it across my work pants to get rid of the sweat that has piled in my palm. My eyes flick to my rearview, the black sedan still right on my tail. “I’ll be right there, I…”

Every fiber of my being shuts down at his pause.

“I’ll come for you, don’t worry. Ken, give her directions and keep her fucking safe when she gets there. I’ll be there in twenty.”

Then I hear the line click, and his friend's voice comes through loud and clear.

“Alright, doll face, where ya at?”