Noah’s body tenses, coiling in on itself like a snake eating its own tail. A strangled cry escapes his lips.
I am Mackenzie Malloy, and I can make even my enemies hard for me.
I rub his cock through his pants, and he squirms in this delicious way.
“Fuck you, Mackenzie,” Noah rasps. He doesn’t move, even as his cock jerks in my hand. “Stay away from me, or you’ll wish you’d never been born.”
And something about pressing my body against him, feeling every plane and curve of his muscled frame while I’m dripping wet in a ruined costume, breaks me. I know he’s seen behind my mask, into the bruises that stain my soul. And I want to bruise him, too.
My fist grips his cock, holding him against me. I lift my knee and drive it hard into his balls.
24
Noah
Fuck.
Fuck.
25
Mackenzie
Iwalk home, shivering, in bare feet.
Noah bellows a string of curses that follow me all the way to Malloy Manor. I revel in the feel of his body crumpling against me as he doubled over. The sight of his beautiful eyes bugged out and his face twisted in pain will comfort me on dark nights.
I spend the rest of the weekend playing with Queen Boudica in the ballroom of my blood-stained house. Gabriel calls me twice, but I don’t answer. I can’t face him. I put on my favorite Octavia’s Ruin album and blast it at top volume. I listen to him sing the stars and the rain, and I let a single tear fall into Queen Boudica’s fur.
I think about Noah, and about his cock grinding against me even as he spat words of hatred in my ear. And I think that even if there was a sliver of a chance we might burn up in each other’s hatred, it’s gone now.
The dread of school on Monday sits heavy on my skin. I consider staying home, but I know I can’t avoid them forever, and I can’t risk truancy officers coming here to look for me.
My phone pings. Even though I don’t have social media, I have alerts set up on my name. Hundreds of photographs of my wet, bedraggled ass flood my feed, making it outside of the Stonehurst circle to celebrity gossip sites. The comments scroll past.Bitch. Skank. She looks like trailer trash. Did you see her with Noah? She threw herself at him even though he hates her. How desperate can you get?
I hate them.
They’re right.
I hate myself.
I press my palms into my eyes. Why did I ever think this plan would work? I should have known I couldn’t fit into their world anymore. I’m too messed up. Too broken.
* * *
The alarmon my phone rings on Monday morning. Queen Boudica stretches out her paw, touching my cheek. “Mew?” She begs me to stay in bed, to keep her warm with my body. It’s the only thing I can do right.
“I’m sorry, girl.” A single tear rolls down my cheek – the third tear I’ve shed in as many weeks. It’s disgusting. I give in to this one indulgence and allow it to fall, splashing against my chest and rolling off the end of my nipple. I wipe my eyes before the next tear can fall, pressing my fists into my sockets, pushing the pain back inside, where it belongs.
I lower my hands. My gaze catches my reflection in the mirror over my dressing table. Mackenzie Malloy stares back at me, her jaw set with determination. Haughty defiance burns in her eyes.
Bring it on, bitches.
My mask in place, my armor protecting me, I climb out of bed and prepare to face Stonehurst Prep.
* * *
School is justas horrible as I expect it to be.
