“Their bodies are to die for. I want to climb both of them like a spider monkey. Preferably naked.” She flashes me a cheeky grin, and heat crawls up my neck, onto my face, as I remember all the times we’ve indulged in group sex.
Both guys shirts are stretched tight across wide shoulders and glued to their toned backs and bulging biceps. She licks her lips, her eyes lowering. “And check out those fine asses.”
My eyes drift to said asses, and I’ve got to admit both guys have drool-worthy buns, leading to muscular thighs squeezed into dark jeans. “They’re football players,” I surmise, shaking her hands off my shoulders, and turning toward the crowd jumping around the dance floor. “Which means they’re off limits to me.”
I used to attend all Dad’s games when I was in high school, but I haven’t gone to a single one since I started college, and he hasn’t mentioned it. He doesn’t want me there because I’m too much of an embarrassment, and I don’t want to go because the last thing I need is to draw the attention of any jock.
Keeping my parents in the dark about my drug habit means I keep a low profile on campus. I don’t date, and I only have sex with guys within our circle. I haven’t even made any friends in classes, preferring to stick to myself. Scarlett is my sole friend, and I only know her through the drug scene. A lot of the girls in the circle are bitchy and unfriendly, but Scar and I clicked from the instant we met. Although our backgrounds growing up were vastly different, there are enough similarities to share a kindred spirit.
I love hanging out with her on weekends, and I sleep over at her place because her roomie goes home to see her boyfriend. My parents turn a blind eye because she lives in one of the dorms, and they think that means I’m sheltered, which is laughable.
One would think Mom, as college president, would be more clued in about the shit that goes on around campus, but I think she deliberately ignores it, because she doesn’t want to deal with it.
It’s bad enough dealing with her wayward drug-addicted daughter—her words, not mine—so, knowing the drug culture is alive and thriving onhercampus wouldn’t go down well at all.
“Well, that fucking sucks.” Scar pouts. “C’mon.” She drains her drink, tugging on my elbow. “Let’s dance.” I knock the rest of my vodka back and let her drag me into the center of the mayhem. A happy buzz descends as alcohol mixes with the blood in my veins, and I sway my hips to the rhythmic beats pumping out of speakers dotted around the room, closing my eyes and losing myself to the lure of the music.
“Those football players are watching us,” Scar murmurs, a few minutes later.
“They’ve probably recognized me,” I reply without opening my eyes. Although I don’t attend games, some of the football players know who I am.
Sucks to be me.
“Hey, sexy.” Meaty hands land on my hips, and I instantly jerk my eyes open at the sound ofhisvoice. He pushes my hair aside, running his tongue along the column of my neck, and I almost gag. “What a lovely surprise to see you here,” Weston says, and bile floods my mouth as I recall the forced blowjob in his SUV during the week.
“Get fucked, Wes.” Scar flips him the bird, as I shove him away, and I couldn’t love my pint-sized friend anymore. Even though I tower over Scar, she doesn’t let her five-foot-one-inch frame, or her petite figure, hold her back, and she’s as fierce as they come. “She’s not interested.”
Wes cocks his head to the side, smirking. “That’s not the impression she gave me last Wednesday.”
Scar frowns, glancing up at me. As far as my bestie is concerned, Weston is blackmailing me into dating him. She doesn’t know he’s forcing me into the role of sex slave, and I didn’t tell her what happened the other evening because I was too ashamed.
But Wes is insinuating it was something different, and I’m fucked if I’m hiding the truth from my friend anymore.
“Blackmailing me into blowing you is nothing to be proud of,” I hiss at him, and Scar’s claws emerge.
“Sexual assault is a crime. Something I’m sure you’re aware of as a pre-law student,” she snaps, glaring at him. “If you don’t drop this blackmail bullshit, we may have to resort to a little blackmail of our own.”
“Just try it, sweetheart.” He puts his face right into hers, and an ugly sneer washes over his features. “And see where that gets you. You’re Scarlett Morgan, right? A junkie whore from Bennettsville. I hear your uncle’s getting out of prison soon. Maybe I’ll pay him a visit.”
“You fucking bastard.” Scar’s trembling, and I clutch her hand for moral support.
“Leave my friend alone.” I jerk my chin up, piercing him with a warning look. “This is between you and me.” I ignore the rapid pounding of my heart. “What do you want?”
“Good girl, Emily. I’m glad you can be reasonable.” His patronizing tone grates on my nerves, and I grind my teeth hard. “You’re coming with me.” He grabs hold of my arm, cutting off my circulation.
“Don’t do it, Em.” Scar recovers her composure, pulling on my other arm, her eyes pleading with me.
“Hey, babe.” A strong, muscular arm wraps around my waist from the side, extracting me from Scar’s and Weston’s grasp.
“Who the fuck are you?” Wes demands, glaring at the newcomer. I haven’t risked glancing at him yet, curious to see how this plays out.
“I’m Adam. Emily’s date.”
I’ve no clue who this guy is or why he’s ridden to the rescue, but I’m not stupid enough to turn help away.
“Yeah?” Wes steps up to him. “Well, I’m one of her oldest friends, and we’ve got plans, so screw off.”
Tension radiates off Adam in waves as he places a gentle finger under my chin, forcing my gaze to his. I suck in a shocked gasp.
