“It’s the option you chose. If you don’t want it any longer…” He leaves just enough of a gap to drive his point home. “See? We both know you’ll do whatever I ask.”
My stomach clenches at the certainty in his voice.
“The night of our senior dance seems good timing. What do you think?”
A week ago, I had my own plans for the senior dance. Spraying Chelsea when she arrived at the hired hall, ruining her final parade. My version even ended with the same conclusion.
But the pepper spray’s already been wasted on Damien.
Now he’s stealing my suicide too.
He hums under his breath and I shove him, a fruitless effort against the solidity of his chest.
“Don’t be like that. You fascinate me.” His voice calms into a silky whisper. “According to the posts you scroll through late at night, seems I fascinate you, too. This needn’t be a hardship.”
The implication makes me recoil. “You’re reading a lot into an accidental ‘like.’ Frame it however you want, we both know what this is, andhardshipis the least of it.”
Except I’m not sure he does know what this is. His blankness suggests his grasp of right and wrong is far worse than my first impression. And my first impression was him wrecking my glasses simply because he could.
My throat tightens another notch.
“You’re so pretty when you’re stomping around, all angry. Are your cheeks the only parts of you that get flushed?” His gaze slowly travels down my body.
I open my mouth to scream, but all that emerges is a pathetic whistle of air.
Damien studies my face, head tilting. “Ophelia… tell the truth now. Is this your first time?”
“No.” I shake my head. Not a virgin, but… “First time being blackmailed, y—”
His mouth closes over mine, swallowing my words. stealing the breath from my lungs until waves of dizziness sweep over me, and my knees buckle.
“Hm,” he murmurs, straightening while I tremble. He runs his tongue over his lips. “Sure tastes like chemistry to me.”
My fingers are icy cold, skin burning hot. “You’re a monster.”
“Yes, though it hasn’t bothered you much before.” His breath tickles the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “You were kissing me back.”
“No, I was—”
He grabs my arse, dragging me hard against him. The stiff jut of his erection nudges my upper hip, my hands reflexively landing on his firm chest. “Don’t lie, Ophelia. I know you want this as much as me. Just let yourself have it.”
His hand delves between us, metal clinking as he unbuckles his belt, my vision throbbing in and out in waves.
Worse, my body reacts, falling in line with his words while my mind screams in protest. When his knuckles brush against me, my core aches, wanting more.
“No.” I say it as much to myself as to him. “No, we can’t—”
“Of course we can. Just give in and embrace it.”
“The cameras—”
“Can’t see us in this corner.”
We stand in a momentary impasse, then he opens the rear door, pushes me flat on the back seat and immediately climbs on top. The weight of his muscle and bone presses into every soft part of me, trapping me against the seat.
The metallic rasp of his zipper sounds a moment before his hand slides up my thigh, kilt bunching along his wrist. Hisfingertips graze against my tender skin as he pushes between my legs, demanding access.
“Relax, Snowflake. With all this tension, you’ll wind up hurting yourself.”
