Page 104 of Unorthodox
“Are you shy?” he taunts me. “Did you never go to any of your father’s parties?”
I flex my fingers against my dress, clench my jaw. One of my father’s parties is where I was burned. Another is where he hit me so hard, my neck cracked as my head spun around. In front of people. An entire room full of monsters and their whores.
“Yes,” I finally answer Max through clenched teeth. “I went to them.”
He glances over at me, but I keep my eyes on the winding road. “Do you like parties?”
I turn to stare at him. “How can you talk about this?” I ask him, the box bursting again. “How can you talk about things like fuckingpartiesafter you…” My chest heaves and I close my eyes. I see it all again: Ben’s head. Max’s shoe as he made me lick it clean. The whip marks on the woman’s breasts. Max holding a gun to his head. The floor beneath my hands as he fucked me.
Dante.
“After I what, love?” he asks, his voice deceptively sweet. I remember his threat, about what would happen if I mentioned his dead guard again.
He wants me to say it. He wants me to say it so he can hurt me. So he can drown out his own pain with mine.
“How could you do that, Max?” I ask him anyway, because he’s driving, his hands preoccupied, his gun on his hip. He could shoot me, I suppose, but I’m not sure I’d really care at this point. “How could youkill him?”My voice breaks on the last two words and I have to fight to hold back the tears stinging behind my eyes.
It was my fault.
I remember him crying in Max’s arms. I remember how Max had crossed his own arms, bowed his head as he stood behind his guard.
I remember Dante’s last words.“Tell him it gets better.”
I haven’t asked. I don’t know if I want to know.
But I do know that Max didn’t want to do it.
I know he didn’t, but…he did.
And it was my fucking fault.
“I think I told you not to—”
The illusion of safety in the car makes me braver, and I cut him off. “I don’t fuckingcare what you said!”The words leave my mouth in a scream as I turn to face him, slamming my hands down against the center console, the seatbelt digging into my chest. “I don’t care what you said, and I don’t care what you do to me anymore, Max!” My pulse is pounding, heat coursing through my body. “You’re sick.” I lower my voice, my fingers digging into the leather console as I stare at his side profile, his jaw clenched. “You’re sick, and if you would do that tohim,when he didnothingto you—”
He jerks the car over to the side of the road, slamming on the brakes so hard the seatbelt locks up against me and my hands shoot out instinctively to the dash, steadying me.
He throws the car in park, unbuckles his own seatbelt and turns to glare at me.
My mouth goes dry, heart slamming against my ribcage, my limbs frozen, hands still on the dash.
“Scared, yet?” he asks me softly, his eyes gleaming from the light on the console, night having fallen around us. I vaguely register the headlights behind us, the SUV pulled over to the curb of the rural road, too. “Are you done running your fucking mouth?” Even in the low light, I can see the dark circles beneath his eyes, contrasted against his pale skin.
I don’t speak, clenching my thighs together to keep myself from shaking against his seat.
“Oh, don’t stop now.” He leans toward me, reaching a hand out and brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. His touch causes goosebumps to break out along my arm, and I realize both of my hands are trembling against the dashboard.
I drop them quickly, leaning back as I fist them in my lap and try to get away from his touch.
But he shifts his hand, tangles his fingers in my hair and jerks me toward him as his other hand comes to my bare thigh.
“Keep going, brave girl. What do you really think about me? Get it all out, love.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My thighs tremble beneath his fingers, and my chin is quivering. I grit my teeth, holding my breath, trying to stop my body from betraying me.
His hand trails further up my thigh and I try to squirm away, but his grip in my hair tightens.
“I think I told you not to talk about Dante again,” he reminds me coldly, pressing his brow to mine as his fingers reach the apex of my thighs, his thumb brushing against my panties.
