I’ve always been pretty adventurous when it comes to sex, and there’s really not much I won’t try. The biggest obstacle in my experimentation has been the pool of partners available to me and having to walk a fine line between indulging in fantasies and staying proper enough that no one talks about what I do in bed.
Like Mia and Kaylee, most of the girls here have two settings when I’m around. When we’re going about our lives and there aren’t substances or parties involved, they do everything they can to avoid me and spend their time gossiping about me and my origin story, as I like to call it. Then there’s the mode I saw tonight where these same girls will literally throw themselves at me when they want to slum it, for lack of a better term.
I might be part of their world now, but I wasn’t always, and in their eyes, that makes me less than them, no matter who my father is or how powerful our family is. I’m a safe “bad boy” for them to mess around with before they go back to looking for their Mr. Rights.
Truthfully, that shit never bothered me, and it still doesn’t. I don’t care if they think I’m less than them or if they only want to get with me because of what I represent. I don’t give a shit about them, so why would I care that they don’t give a shit about me?
One and done has always been my thing, and the only reason I’m hung up on Xave is because of the circumstances of how we hooked up and what happened to us after. I just need to getover it and go back to my regularly scheduled programming of random hookups with willing women and forget all about Xave and what happened in the smash room.
I could always hook up with another guy to try and replace my fragmented memories with real ones, but I don’t want to risk my secret getting out before I’m ready for people to know, so another student isn’t an option. I could wait until I’m off campus again, but leaving school for the sole purpose of finding a random guy to hook up with is about as appealing as telling my father I like dick.
Blowing out a breath, I shove those thoughts out of my head and focus on where I am as I finally clear the field and cut across one of the many access roads that can be found throughout campus.
Instead of sticking to the road and the lighted path that will take me to the edge of Keeper territory, I veer off it and head into the woods. I can cut almost a mile off my walk by taking this shortcut. I just have to be careful to stay out of sight since it takes me right through Rebel territory and behind their main house.
One thing the Rebels are known for on campus is their incredibly tight security and their harsh ways of dealing with those they feel are any sort of threat to them. All the frats have security and are careful about keeping their members and secrets safe, but the Rebels take it to the next level.
Getting caught sneaking around behind their main house, even if I’m just taking a shortcut, would be considered a major threat and security breach, and it’s a surefire way to end up on their shit list. And the last thing I want to deal with is having a rival frat make it their mission to destroy my life because I dared to cross them.
Being careful not to make too much noise, I slow down and keep close to the edge of the woods. This way I can stay out of sight of their cameras and not have to worry about going toodeep into the trees and risk getting lost or turned around in the thick brush.
I’m not the most outdoorsy person, but I’ve always enjoyed being outside at night, and I can’t deny that I get a little thrill every time I break the rules or skirt the line of what’s acceptable. It’s one of the few ways I can indulge my rebellious side at a school that treats privacy like a privilege and keeps us under constant surveillance.
Keeping the edge of the woods in sight, I quickly make my way through the trees until the impressive silhouette of the Rebel main house looms in front of me. The massive peaks and towers look formidable in the dark night, and I move a little deeper into the trees to make sure I stay out of sight while being extra careful not to make any noise.
I need to get to a path behind the small guest house that’s behind the main building, and I’m hyperaware of everything around me as I carefully make my way over the uneven forest floor until I see it.
The path is just a narrow strip that’s been etched into the ground after years of people taking the same route. As far as I know, it’s not on any maps, and it doesn’t have any markers on it. I have no clue how often it’s used, but that only makes me even more cautious as I carefully follow it around the back of the guest house and along to the edge of Rebel territory until it forks in two directions. One way would take me deeper into the woods, and the other leads back to campus. I keep to the right, being careful to stay on the path as it winds and twists, bringing me away from the edge of the trees so all I can see or hear is the eerie silence of the woods around me.
After about ten minutes of walking, I see a break in the trees that opens up to a small grassy patch of land behind one of the academic buildings in Keeper territory, less than a quarter mile from my dorm.
There are no lights back here, and I hurry across the grass. It’s nearly as dark as it was when I was in the woods as some clouds move in front of the moon and cut off the little ambient light there is. I’m almost at the back of the building when I hear a loud rustling behind me, like footsteps.
Instinctively, I glance over my shoulder, and a dark figure seems to melt out of the shadows as it barrels toward me. It takes a second to process that I’m not alone, and those precious seconds are enough for the figure to catch up to me as I make a desperate attempt to dart away from it.
A strangled cry falls from my lips as the figure grabs me around the waist in a sort of bear hug hold and swings me around.
I stumble at the change in momentum, and my feet drag over the grass as he shoves me against the back of the building hard enough to force the breath out of my lungs in a quickwhoosh. I have enough sense to protect my head so it doesn’t bounce off the wall, but the rest of me feels every inch of the rough bricks behind me as my attacker crushes me against them.
A weird sound, sort of like a grunt mixed with a gasping cry, falls from my lips as he shifts so he’s not holding me around the waist anymore and instead presses his forearm against my throat as he uses his body to pin me to the building.
My chest tightens as he applies enough pressure that I can’t pull in a full breath, and I sort of gasp and gape as I try to make sense of what the fuck is happening.
Desperately, I grab at his arm and try to pull it away from my throat, but my hands slip over the material of his jacket and the soft leather gloves he’s wearing. The fact that he’s wearing gloves when it’s not that cold out sets off alarm bells in my head, but I’m too focused on how he just leans more heavily against me, his bigger body crushing me against the bricks as he completelycuts off my air, to fully understand what those gloves could mean.
Static explodes in my vision as I frantically yank and scratch at his arm, and panic fills my senses as I try and fail to get him off me enough that I can pull in a breath.
I’m not a fighter, and I’ve gotten my ass absolutely handed to me the few times I’ve had to defend myself. It didn’t help that I always found myself facing off against more than one guy, but even if this asshole is alone, I’m still at a huge disadvantage. I won’t be able to fight my way out of this, especially if I end up passing out from lack of oxygen.
The world around me goes a little hazy around the edges, and I’m a second away from full-on flailing when my attacker pulls the arm he has pressed against my chest away. He’s still crushing my throat, but the move also causes him to shift back a bit, and the pressure of his body against mine lessens.
My instincts take over at that little bit of freedom, and I bring my leg up as hard as I can at the same time I slip my fingers under the sleeve of his jacket. My knee makes contact with his thigh, dangerously close to his groin, and I dig my nails into the skin of his inner wrist and grind them into the sensitive flesh.
He lets out a startled yelp and jumps back, tearing his wrist from my grip. I draw in a huge, sucking breath as air fills my lungs, but my hesitation costs me, and he grabs me by the shoulders and throws me to the ground while I’m still struggling to breathe.
I land on the cool grass in a heap, still gasping pathetically, and immediately try to scramble onto my hands and knees in an attempt to get back on my feet. But I’m once again at a disadvantage, and a swift kick sends me rolling onto my back as pain explodes in my side from the impact.
I lay there for a few seconds, too stunned to move, but snap out of it when my attacker rears his leg back like he’s getting ready to kick me again.
