Page 55 of Unorthodox
Still, my eyes narrow, and I make to get off of his lap.
But he’s faster. He grabs my throat, keeping me still as he slides his phone back into his pocket.
“Where are you going, love?” he asks me, squeezing me tighter.
I swallow, and I know he can feel it beneath his hand. I keep mine by my side, keep myself at his mercy.
But that won’t keep him here. And I know I shouldn’t want it. I know after he coerced me into this, I should be glad he’s leaving.
But I don’t want to be alone again.
It’s not the first time I threw myself at a devil, hoping he’d stick around in my hell. But it still hurts all the same, knowing he’s going to leave. It’s the same feeling I had when my father used me and hopped on a plane, flying to someone else. Someone he cared for more than me.
“To let you enjoy your whore,” I answer Max’s question, knowing that in this case,I’mthe whore. The box of all the things I don’t want to remember is threatening to burst open again, but I force it back into the darkness of my mind.
At least until Max is gone. Then I can break apart without a witness.
He smiles coldly at me, grabs my ass with his free hand. “Don’t be so judgmental, baby girl. You’re nothing better.” He pulls me close, by my throat, until his mouth is over mine. “And at least she gets used like a whore should.” He glances down between us, my underwear still shoved to the crease of my thigh. “You only get to hump my leg. Who’s the real whore, Addison?”
I stiffen in his lap, anger and regret boiling my blood. Self-loathing washes over me in an uncomfortable wave.What have I done?He manipulated me into this, and I did it to avoid punishment. Now, he’s throwing it back in my face.
“I hate you, Max.” How many times will I say those words, knowing they don’t affect him?
He smiles again, and I hate him all the more. “Good. That was practice for your future. Giving it up to someone that youhate.”
He slides his hand up to my chin, squeezes my face so hard my lips press together. “I’ll be thinking about you,” he tells me, running his thumb over my bottom lip as he grabs my ass. “When I’m coming inside of Evora’s mouth tonight, I’ll be thinking aboutyou,beautiful girl.”
My heart shatters with those words, my mind twisting inside out.
“Now get off of me and meet Dante in the hall. He’ll take you to a room that doesn’t smell like fuckingpine.”
When I walkout of her room, I pull the king of hearts from my pocket.
And rip it in half.
Dante is watching me as he stands guard outside of her door, and I vaguely remember he hasn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. Then again, neither have I.
I don’t bother heading to my bedroom where Evora is waiting.
I head to my office, past the entertainment room, the living room, the dining room. So many fucking rooms in this house and I’d be content if they all burned to ash, as long as I had the one fucking room to hide in.
When I get to the closed door, the king of hearts shredded into dozens of pieces in my hand, Mamie steps out from the shadows and I almost pull my gun on her, the jagged edges of the playing card fluttering to the floor as my hand goes to my hip.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask her, my voice low, my jaw aching from clenching my teeth so hard.
Mamie narrows her blue eyes, smooths her hand over the plain, black shift dress she always wears. I swear she has one hundred of them.
“Evora is in your room,” she says, as if she didn’t just call me while Addison was fucking my leg to tell me just that.
I flex my fingers, clench my hands into fists.
Her eyes travel down, to the pieces of the playing card I just destroyed.
She arches a dark brow, meeting my gaze again, not a trace of fear in her eyes.
Mamie was gangraped by American soldiers during her time as a hooker, over a period of forty-eight hours. She ended up in the hospital, praying for death, before she was patched up and put back on the streets. Where I found her.
She never told me that story.
