Page 101 of The Boy I Loved
Returning my focus back on Stacy, I allowed my teeth to nip the top of her ear, erupting a shudder from her body. “They think you’re innocent and precious. I wonder what they’d think of you when they realize how much of a whore their only daughter really is.”
Stacy’s chest heaved with a mixture of rage and sorrow, but still, she didn’t utter a word. That was fine though. I still had something up my sleeve if she refused to react to mere words alone.
“What if they were sent an anonymous letter, detailing how you’d left the comfort of your own home to get dicked down by not one, buttwoboys? What would they think of you then?”
“My parents love me,” she murmured, her voice cracking.
My lips curled at the corners, satisfaction filling my chest. “They do? They love you so much that they’re gone all of the time.” I scoffed. “They can’t stand you, can they?”
I was playing off of her own insecurities. They were things that had been so obvious if you paid close enough attention. She was an open book if you knew how to read in between the lines.
Glancing over at the guys, they were all staring with similar expressions of confusion. It gave me a sick thrill, knowing that even they couldn’t anticipate my next move. My voice was low enough that they couldn’t make out what was being said, just that I’d found a target.
“Azrael,” I began, keeping my voice calm. The man in question straightened his shoulders, his wide eyes flicking between me and the three girls. “I think Stacy wants to see her parents.” I gave him a pointed look. If he didn’t catch on to what I was referring to, he was completely hopeless. We’d just been discussing it at breakfast this morning.
“Oh … Uh … Okay,” he stammered, scrambling to his feet. He whipped his phone from the pocket of his jeans and hurried across the room to where the flat screen was mounted.
While he worked on setting that up, I turned back to Stacy. I plucked a strand of dark hair that had fallen around her bare shoulders, pinching it between my fingers. She remained still as a statue, having been here long enough by now to figure out how we operated. You didn’t speak unless spoken to and you never questioned our authority.
“Do you want to see what your family said about you?” I asked, not giving a shit either way.
Stacy’s calm composure was slipping by the second, her eyes misting over with unshed tears. At last, she gave a subtle shake of her head.
Before I could taunt her further, the speakers roared to life. A reporter took the stand, discussing the disappearances of Stacy and Lauren. This had been before Hazel’s disappearance. To my knowledge, her parents hadn’t come out publicly yet. The reporter talkednonchalantly about the two missing girls, going on and on about how much it upset the community.
Spoiler alert: Nobody gave a shit.
Stacy and Lauren were bullies. They had superficial friendships and even more pathetic relationships. The only people whomightmiss them would be their families, and even that was a stretch.
The screen flashed to Stacy’s mom and dad standing side by side, the wind blowing around them, causing Patricia’s long black hair, similar to her daughter’s, to blow around her.
The woman on the screen was crying, tears skating down her pale cheeks. “We just want our baby back.” She clutched her husband’s hand tightly, sucking the support from his stiff posture. He didn’t show as much emotion as his wife, but I could tell from the sadness in his brown eyes that he was just as remorseful.
Stacy’s breathing had increased, her knuckles turning white as they curled in her lap. Her entire body was trembling now.
So close.
I leaned in again, allowing my breath to blow a few strands of her hair against the side of her neck. “Your mother has a nice set of tits,” I said. It wasn’t a lie, but I could tell they were fake. “Maybe we should bring her here, too. I’d pay good money to watch you fuck your own mom. Hell, Tristan loves his cougars.”
Stacy whirled around instantly, a lone tear slipping down her cheek. Her eyes flared with something vicious. “Leave her the fuck alone,” she snarled.
I bit back the satisfied smirk that threatened to slip. “Or what?”
Her lips drew into a tight line, and for a moment, I feared that she’d retreated back into herself. It didn’t matter if she had. I didn’t ask her a direct question. Therefore, she’d spoken out of turn already.
“Or I’ll cut off your pathetic prick and make you choke on it,” she hissed.
Hook, line, sinker.
She realized immediately what she’d done. Her brown eyes widened, fear taking the place of the initial rage exuding from her moments before. She cupped a hand to her mouth, shaking her head profusely, but it was too late.
“Let me demonstrate how this prick works and then you can determine whether it’spatheticor not.”
I straightened my spine, standing at my full height. Fisting a hand through her dark hair, I wrenched her out of the chair, sending the seat tumbling to the floor with a clatter. Her hands flew to my wrist, trying desperately to tug my grip from her long strands, but it was a moot point.
Her father’s voice echoed in the background, making what I had planned that much more diabolical.
A wicked grin tugged at my lips and I tugged her toward the couch where the guys watched on with rapt fascination.
