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I have to resist her. This is her power, her way to control. I place my hands around her hips and lift her up, grabbing her braid, pulling her head down to my cock.

“You’re not fucking done,” I tell her.

Her eyes flicker and her lips twitch with amusement. She thinks this is fun, so I’ll show her fun. I run my hand along her face. “Open up, sweetheart.”

She opens her lips and takes me back into her mouth. This time she’s sitting and I’m the one kneeling over top of her.

I fucking unleash on her.

I face fuck her so hard her eyes water. Then I close my eyes and get lost in it. Every suck, bite, grind. It feels so good, I could almost imagine making her mine for good.

She resists, and every time she tries to pull away, I grab her harder, forcing her mouth on me. Eventually, I explode in her mouth, and it’s her whimper that brings me from the black void I’m in.

Fuck.

Opening my eyes, I realize my hands are wrapped around her neck.

I was choking her.

When I let go, she coughs and slaps my dick away. “Fuck you,” she breathes, “why did you do that?”

I guess I found her breaking point.

In one fluid motion, I pick her up and spin her around so she’s pinned beneath me, and she wiggles beneath my iron grip. “Let go of me, Micah. You’re hurting me.”

I relent just a little, enough to give her space. I jerk my head to the door. “Get the fuck out and go back to your boyfriend, Olivia. Slide those pretty lips around his dick instead of mine.”

She refuses to move, and I find it hard to believe she still wants me after what I just did. “You don’t mean that,” she says.

“Yes, I fucking do. Don’t come back in here again or I will tell everyone what we’re doing and what a slut you are. My mom won’t be super impressed with you then now, will she?”

The hurt in her eyes kills me, and the bruises I just gave her terrify me.

What I’m capable of when I’m angry.

This isn’t all her fault. She might have initiated it to begin with, but I played along, and I kept it going. I wanted it as bad as she did.

She wiggles away, and she saunters to the door.

“You better hurry,” I tell her. “Before everyone wakes up and sees you without your panties on.” This is the only way I can think of to stop this girl. A girl like Olivia needs a hard stop, and I have to scare her enough, so she never comes back.

She turns to face me and narrows her eyes. She looks fearless now, as she snaps her head at me. “You are going to fucking regret that, Micah.”

“What … hurting you?” Because I already fucking do regret that. In fact, I kind of hate myself right now.

“Breaking up with me,” she says, and she slams the door behind her.

Chapter Six

I caved and went to the charity gala. I knew if I didn’t my mom wouldn’t let me hear the end of it. So, I took Naomi, which accomplishes three things: making my mother happy, getting revenge on Ezra for stealing my goal at hockey, and pissing the mother-loving Christ out of Olivia, which hopefully solidifies the point she needs to leave me the fuck alone. I’m not sure how Olivia hid the bruises I left her a couple nights ago, but she’s been suspiciously absent from the house. She is wearing a dress that covers her chest, so I suspect she is doing everything she can to hide them. She wears a shimmery, blue cocktail dress—an expensive one I suspect Maison bought for her.

She’s been glaring at me throughout dinner, and it’s hard to believe no one else has noticed. I do my best to ignore her, both out of guilt and because she looks so fucking incredible. Her dress hugs every curve. Two people are giving me looks as sharp as razor blades because Ezra ended up bringing Serena as a date, since Naomi broke up with him when I asked her to come with me, and he and his parents are of course sitting at our table.

“Come on, Micah. Let’s dance,” Naomi leans in and whispers in my ear after dinner ends. We have to endure all the long speeches from the charity CEO, donors, and all the other self-important people who use these events under the guise of charity to improve their public image.

I shrug and place my arm around her, resting my hand on the skin of her blue, backless dress. “Yeah, let’s go,” I tell her, relieved this dinner from hell is finally over. I rise, aware of all the looks we are getting and loop my arm with hers as only a gentleman should. It’s so fake it’s fucking ridiculous, but Naomi’s beaming.

“We’ll dance, too. Come on, baby,” Maison grabs Olivia and trails in behind us in the sea of people heading to the dance in their glittery dresses, and I try not to visibly tense.