Page 83 of Broken by my Bully
Her soft hair.
Her even softer skin.
Sometimes I was so busy replaying those happier times that I’d briefly forget to hate her. I’d smile at the memories, shaking my head at how innocent we were.
Until the maple tree memory came to me, like it always did.
That was the last time I saw Haven before she abandoned me,leaving wreckage and ruin in her wake with the empathy of a fucking hurricane.
I rebuilt. I thought my foundations was stronger. But Hurricane Haven is rattling the shutters again.
It’s been days since I’ve seen her. Not a peek of her wavy brown hair or a glimpse of her confused, angry blue eyes. Even the memory of her trapped under the desk, her pink lips stretching over my cock, is fading.
Her absence lulls me into a false sense of security, my weekend passing in a blissful haze of drinking, video games, and partying. I even get some studying done.
I was too wasted to track down her father. I’d have to drive all the way to fucking Ashwood Crossing, for starters. And it would have taken most of the day just to find out where they live.
She must have leased a place in town while she’s in college. No way she’s driving an hour to get here, and then back, every day.
I should be happy for her finally getting out of the toxic environment she was living in. But fuck her.
My class timetable is lax. I could have added a bunch of electives, but I already have a job waiting for me after graduation, so what’s the point? My only goal in life was to get the hell out of Agony Hollow, and soon as I’m done with my degree, that shit’s becoming a reality.
Monday I spend the whole day recovering from the weekend, preparing myself in case Haven shows.
By the time Rooke’s next class rolls around, I’m a new man, ready for anything.
So it shouldn’t catch me off guard when Haven walks into class with a smile, Melissa at her side like they’re suddenly BFFs.
But it does, and I hate her for that.
Into the fire it goes.
That heat is physical, crawling up my neck, down to my cock. It flips a switch inside me, and suddenly I’m glowering at her as I think about all the ways I can make her whimper in pain.
But there’s a spark of admiration deep inside me, too. I’ve forgotten just how easily she dusts herself off.
We’re both resilient like that.
Maybe that’s why we were such good friends when we were kids.
We both knew exactly what we needed to do in order to survive…and we never hesitated.
I pull out my phone and scroll through the photos I’ve been taking of her.
Haven walking to her car.
Haven working at that shitty diner.
Haven reading in the campus gardens.
I’ve been keeping tabs on her ever since the library, and she has no fucking clue.
The power is intoxicating.
Especially watching her sleep in the backseat of her car at Lookout Point.
I took a photo of that too.
