Beautiful Delusions: A Why Choose Academy Romance by Maddison Cole

Author:Maddison Cole [Cole, Maddison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dirty Talk Publishing Ltd
Published: 2024-01-16T00:00:00+00:00

The line for the restrooms is so long, some have decided to use the hallway as an extended dancefloor. I rest against the wall, trying to settle my mind. Where my thoughts usually tumble on a never-ending loop, the alcohol only intensifies them. The ground beneath my feet doesn’t feel solid, the wall shifting as I struggle to find a comfortable spot against it. A whimper escapes my lips, and I briefly wonder if I’m going to be sick.

Should have stayed home and taken a Klonopin, Jazzie reminds me. I couldn’t agree more. As the minutes tick by and the line barely inches forward, the pressure in my bladder becomes too much to ignore.

"Damn it," I mutter under my breath. Drunk and impatient, I make a rash decision. Stumbling out of the hallway, I dodge a series of couples tucked beneath the overhang of the balcony, making out and moaning. I’m fully convinced some are having full-on sex, the musty smell of sweat stronger here than anywhere else. Between them, a slither of cool air draws me towards a side door, which promptly deposits me into an alley. I look around, my eyesight not quite quick enough to follow the spinning of my head. The alleyway is damp and stinks of stale beer, but I’m alone. Thank fuck.

Squatting behind one of the many dumpsters, I relieve myself with my head in my hands. If this isn't the initiation to becoming a fully-fledged uni student, I don't know what is. Feeling completely mortified, I shake like I have a tail and pull up my panties. Stepping out from behind the dumpster, I half-stagger towards the metal door when a group of masked men appear seemingly out of nowhere, crowding me against the cold brick wall. Ski masks cover their faces, their bodies hidden in a sea of black clothing which bleeds in our surroundings. My breath catches.

“I-I don't have anything–" I stammer, catching myself. Three figures stand stoically, cocking their heads at me with keen intensity. Motherfuckers. They move as one, grabbing my arms and pinning me against the wall. The cold seeps through the thin dress at my back, causing me to gasp. The drunken buzz makes me more responsive, the images of what they’re capable of flashing before my eyes. This is perfect. Let them hunt me down, punish me in all the ways they’ve been promising.

A hand closes around my throat, tight enough to just about hurt. I don’t resist. Dark chuckles sound from my captors, their breath clouding in front of them. The one in the center, which I decide has the same body type as Kyan, runs a finger suggestively down my chest towards my skirt. Fingers tease the hem of the fabric when a sense of resolve bursts through me.

“Wait,” my brows crease. They don’t stop, their grip on my wrists ironclad. Boots nudge my legs widen as a calloused hand touches my thigh. How did they even find me? Are they tracking my phone, keeping tabs? This is my night to feel free.

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