Lords of Pain (Dark College Bully Romance): Royals of Forsyth University by Angel Lawson & Samantha Rue

Author:Angel Lawson & Samantha Rue [Lawson, Angel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-02-11T16:00:00+00:00

16

Story

I don’t want to wake up.

My phone alarm blares at me, but I ignore it for as long as I can. I know the second I move a muscle, I’m going to find out just how badly I ache. It’s probably a full three minutes into the alarm before I give in, wincing when I reach for the phone.

If I ever wanted to know what it felt like to get rammed by a two-hundred and twenty pound college football player, then my curiosity is now satisfied. My body throbs, from my arms all the way down to my shins. It’s not just the bruises my stepbrother inflicted on me, but my muscles are also sore from tensing up during the attack.

And Tristian might mince words, but that’s exactly what it was.

An attack.

When I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror, it looks even worse. Mottled, purple marks litter my arms and torso. I’ve always been quick to bruise. When we were closer, when I was young, my mom used to call me her little flower petal. She’d say that I needed to be treated with care, or I’d wilt away. I used to think it was sweet at the time, like an endearment. But now, looking back, I can clearly hear the disappointment it was tinged with. Maybe, somehow, she knew she’d be releasing something so fragile into a harsh world filled with cruel men. Maybe she was hoping I’d be stronger.

Despite how badly I look, a small, sickened part of me has to give Killian credit. All of my exposed parts—my neck, face, and hands—are perfectly undamaged.

It doesn’t really flood back until I’m in the shower, standing mechanically below the hot spray. I press my fingertips into a deep blue patch of skin below my hip and remember the sound of his breath—quick and eager. I squeeze my eyes shut against the memory, but it’s no use. The sight of his cock pushing between my breasts. The way his hands looked, squeezing them, thumbs flicking over my nipples in hard, aggressive sweeps. The sight of his knuckles flexing, the letters on his fingers stark against my flesh, ‘KILL’. The way he watched, eyes just as rapt as they were angry. The way he tasted, salty and hot and slick.

Most vividly, I remember never being so turned on in my life.

Shamefully, I find myself rearranging it all. Removing the hatred. The aggression. The anger. The hurt. I imagine what it might have been like, without all the badness making it seem so tainted. Would I have liked it more? Would I have gone down willingly, taken him into my mouth and moaned around his hard shaft? Would I have asked him—like I asked Tristian—to touch me back, to make me feel good?

I know the answer.

I’m not sure I like it.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. Like I’d said to him; it could never be anything else. Hurting is what Killian does, and he did it with zero remorse. He blamed me

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