Page 26 of Stalk Me

Just the way I never wanted to be.

Poison Paradise

The effects of whatever my father gave me still linger in my system as I step off the boat back at Shark Bay. The world tilts and shifts like a carnival funhouse, everything too bright and too sharp. My skin feels like it belongs to someone else, stretched too tight over bones that ache with phantom touches. I can still taste the expensive whiskey they forced down my throat and still feel the ghost of hands on my body. This isn't the first time they've drugged me, and it won't be the last. That knowledge is almost as sickening as the aftereffects.

The school's uniform they made me change into before leaving chafes against the fresh bruises blooming beneath the fabric. Even the familiar weight of my designer bag feels wrong, like it belongs to a different girl—one who hasn't been broken and remade so many times she's lost count. The morning fog rolling in from the ocean matches the haze in my mind, thick enough to blur the edges of reality. I'm not sure which is worse right now—the reality I've returned to or the nightmare I left behind.

I stumble slightly on the dock, my usually perfect balance betraying me. A strong hand catches my elbow, steadying me. For a second, I think it's going to happen again—the reel and spin and crash of someone trying to conquer and control me.

"Whoa there." Max Brooks's familiar drawl cuts through the fog. His touch sends ice through my veins, but I force myself not to flinch away. "Rough night?"

I turn to face him, plastering on my best predatory smile. Max is exactly what I need right now—another distraction, another way to prove I'm still in control. He's one of Belle's closest friends, which makes him an even more tempting target. "You could say that."

His eyes rake over me, lingering on the places where my uniform clings too tight. There's something hungry in his gaze that matches the hollow feeling in my chest. "Want to make it rougher?"

The invitation in his voice should disgust me, especially after what happened at the party. But disgust requires feeling something, and right now, all I want is to feel nothing at all. I step closer, letting my hip brush against his. "What did you have in mind?"

Max grins, all white teeth and predatory intent. He's handsome in that generic way all rich boys seem to be—perfectly-styled hair, expensive watch glinting on his wrist, cologne that probably costs more than most people's rent. His hand slides down my arm, leaving goose bumps in its wake. "My roommate's in class all morning."

"Perfect." I let him lead me toward the dorms, ignoring the way my stomach churns with each step. The drugs are still working their way through my system, making everything feel distant and dreamlike. Maybe that's why I don't protest when he pulls me into an empty storage room instead of heading upstairs.

"Can't wait," he murmurs against my neck, pressing me against the wall. His hands are already working at the buttons of my uniform shirt, eager and demanding. I close my eyes, letting the familiar numbness wash over me. This is what I'm good at—using my body as a weapon, turning desire into power. It's easier than feeling, easier than remembering.

But when his lips crash against mine, all I can taste is expensive whiskey and regret. His touch feels wrong, too rough and too desperate. Images from the party flash through my mind—hands holding me down, voices murmuring approval, my father's cold smile as he handed me another pill. The room spins faster, reality bleeding at the edges. For a moment, I'm back there in that bedroom overlooking the lake, the men towering over me like predators about to tear apart their prey. I try to speak, to push Max away, but the words stick in my throat.

Max's mouth swallows any and all objections. Through the haze, all I can feel is his body pressing me up against the wall, the air getting sucked out of me as he touches me everywhere I wish he wouldn't. Desperate for something—anything—to make this all go away, I reach for the place I always return to: anger. I'm angry at my parents for turning me into this, at myself for being so foolish to believe I could ever escape, at everyone and everything for being such a fucked-up mess. My heart's long been bricked over, but the memories of everything they did… That's the most poisonous part. I allow myself to hold on to the memory and fester with it a little longer. The drugs coursing through my bloodstream dull the effect some, but it's still there.

"You're so beautiful." Max's voice is low and guttural, his breath heavy against my cheek. "Been wanting to do this since Nicolas, Dougie, and Ollie told me how good you made them feel."

Anger is the only emotion I want to feel right now, so I focus on it. Anger and pleasure.

I roughly grab Max's hair and pull his lips toward mine, meeting him halfway in a heated, biting kiss. Max shifts in reaction to my newfound aggression and thrusts his tongue farther into my mouth, eliciting a desperate moan that comes from some neglected part of me. It's as if something inside me snapped at his last comment, and with the floodgates opened, every past trauma I've suffered as I'm stuck here with him like this. Without warning, a dark and terrible urge rushes through me to be bad and fight back. To show all the ways the school and these privileged bastards have changed me.

My hands roam underneath his shirt, and I sink my nails into his back, raking them hard against his skin. He groans and breaks the kiss, his pupils dilating as he looks into my eyes. Something unhinged passes between us—a violence I've never seen in him before. Max slams his palm next to my head and leans his face dangerously close to mine.

I narrow my eyes at him defiantly and go in for another aggressive, biting kiss. His other hand comes up and he grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back slightly. He nips at my bottom lip and pulls the flesh with his teeth before letting go of it. Another wave of fury washes through me. An irritated, dangerous growl escapes my throat, and Max slams his mouth on mine again, muffling it.

"Mmm," he rumbles against my mouth, the sound reverberating against my chest.

His hands snake behind me to grab my ass, then he grinds his hardness against me. A primal lust creeps through me, battling with the need to fight back and the desire to be reckless. Even with the numbness caused by the pills, the feelings are strong and intense, almost overwhelming me. It feels dangerous, but dangerous is exactly what I'm aiming for right now.

Max unbuttons the rest of my shirt and pushes my white bra strap down my shoulder. He dips his head, his mouth covering a breast and sucking the tip. His tongue swirls around it, and I dig my fingers into his hair, clenching and unclenching, unsure if I want to pull him closer or push him away. I tilt my chin back and breathe heavily, caught between pleasure and the urge to ruin this for him.

My body betrays me once again when a quiet moan escapes me. Max looks up at me, and the intensity in his eyes makes me weak in the knees. Without breaking eye contact, he lowers himself slowly to the ground until his head's between my legs. I shiver, knowing what's about to happen, and yet wanting to test my limits and see how far I can push myself before the act is ruined.

Still looking up at me, his fingers grab the hem of my underwear, and he slowly starts to pull it down.

"Do it," I challenge him.

One corner of his mouth tips upward in a smirk, but he obliges and completes pulling them down my legs. He stays between my legs and brushes his fingertips lightly against the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. Another shudder ripples through me. I need this, crave this. The pleasure that comes only with being touched… and the pain when those same fingertips squeeze and caress, marking me with the bruises I'll be so carefully concealing in the morning.

He places a wet kiss on my pubic bone and moves his head back, then stands up. I glare at him, not understanding what's going on. To my surprise, he turns and lowers his pants and boxer briefs. I inhale sharply at the sight of his erection, longer and more aggressive looking than the others I've seen. Or at least the ones I remember.

Max places his palms on my thighs and shoves me hard against the wall, sliding his hands down to the bottom of my knees. In one swift motion, he hoists me up, and I wrap my legs around him. He reaches for my arms, forcing them up above my head, holding them in place with one hand. Instinctively, I know it's too late to walk away from this. My body won't let me, not with the ache growing deep within my core.

"Tell me you're ready," Max murmurs.

"I'm ready," I breathe.

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