Wild War Page 7

  “Faster,” I pleaded against his lips. “Deeper. More.”

  He gave what I asked for, his pelvis rubbing against me in just the right way. Combined with the insanely erotic talk, I could feel an orgasm building, even without clitoral stimulation.

  He was aware of me, could feel me tensing around him. “Don’t come,” he said sharply, his rhythm unfaltering.

  I couldn’t stop it. Especially now that he’d uttered the command, I was definitely going to come.

  “Do not come, Jolie.”

  “I need to come,” I begged.

  “Don’t. Don’t do it. You should be as tortured as you made me that day with that hand job.”

  I couldn’t stop it. I was on the edge.

  “You should be as tortured as you made me every day that I spent in this house, thinking of you sleeping in a room down the hall. You should be as tortured as you made me every time I heard your shower go on, and I had to beat off in my hand while I pictured you naked under the water. Do you feel that tortured yet?”

  If he only knew.

  If he only knew how tortured I’d been then. How tortured I was now. How tortured I’d been all the years we’d spent apart, and I’d fantasized of only him.

  I couldn’t keep on being tortured. I wouldn’t last. I couldn’t…

  I burst suddenly, like a rainstorm on a summer’s day, heat and sensation flooding over me in a giant wave. My vision dissolved into several black spots. My limbs quivered, and pleasure invaded me as every nerve ending in my body pulsed like the heavy beat at a dance club.

  “Oh, you’re going to come all over my cock? You’re going to make a big mess all over it?” Cade pushed through my tightened opening, and I could tell from his ragged voice he wasn’t far from letting go himself. “Who said you could do that? Huh? Who said you could?” The last words came out gritted as his body tensed and sputtered before he collapsed on the bed.

  He recovered before I did. My breathing still uneven and my heart still racing, he pulled me to my side to face him and anchored an arm at my waist.

  Then he kissed me. Slow and deep and tender.

  When he pulled back, he brought his hand to my cheek. “I can give you money, Jolie. No matter how much you need. More than your father ever promised you. I won’t even miss it.”

  I’d hoped he would forget that exchange. I’d known he’d take it as a reason for why I’d come to him, and he wasn’t wrong.

  He just wasn’t exactly right, either.

  “It’s not about the money.” I brought my knuckles up to brush along the short hair along his jaw to let him know I appreciated the offer. “It’s about…” I trailed off, not sure how to explain without telling him all of it.

  Even then, I wasn’t sure he’d understand.

  Then again, maybe he was the only one who actually could.

  “It’s about everything he ever did to us,” I said, giving it my best shot. “To all of us. Every pain and ache he caused. Every happiness he denied. And then fuck him for taking this too.”

  I didn’t realize the tear that slipped until Cade was wiping it away with a gentle press of his lips. “We’re going to destroy him, Jolie. I promise. We’ll get him.”

  I believed him.

  I only worried who else would be destroyed along the way.

  Nine

  Cade

  Past

  * * *

  Amelia saw me as soon as I entered the library. “What happened?” she whisper-asked after throwing her arms around me in a blatant display of affection. “Did you get detention? Are you still going to be able to go on the New York City trip?”

  She knew I’d just come from Stark’s office—in trouble this time for walking on the lawn, which was dumb because everyone walked on the lawn without repercussions, not to mention that it was November, and we’d already had our first snowfall, and all the grass was dead.

  But I’d become a target for the headmaster. I wasn’t the only student he singled out, definitely wasn’t the only one who got sent to his office, but when I’d compared my punishments to other kids, there was definitely a discrepancy. Birch usually got sent to detention for his stunts. Troy would be assigned extra papers. Alice Erickson had been scolded for not wearing an appropriate uniform and sent to her room to change.

  No one I’d talked to had ever received physical discipline. No one else had been made to smoke entire packs of cigarettes or been struck with a yardstick along the back of their thighs or been locked in a cramped cupboard for several hours.

  Today, I’d been forced to drink three 24-ounce bottles of water over three hours without being allowed to go to the bathroom. He hadn’t stayed with me the whole time, thank God, but he’d strapped me to the chair so I couldn’t leave. I’d considered urinating all over myself just to piss him off, but experience had told me that would only end up making the situation worse for myself.

  I’d just gotten to the point where relieving myself was no longer a choice when he’d let me go.

  I wasn’t going to admit that to Amelia. It was too embarrassing. It made me feel weak. And what if she was like my mother and didn’t believe me?

  It was much easier to lie about my visits to his office.

  “Just a talking to,” I whispered after giving her a brief kiss. “You know how he is. He thinks he has to make examples of bad behavior or else no one will think he’s doing his job.”

  “You have such a good attitude.” She leaned in to kiss me again.

  “Amelia Lu,” Ms. Coates’ voice cut sharply across the quiet library. “Study hall means study, not make-out sessions with your boyfriend.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” she muttered with an eye roll as she disentangled herself from me. Louder she said, “Sorry, Ms. Coates.”

  “And where are you supposed to be, Mr. Warren?”

  “Mr. Garner sent me for a reference book,” I lied. I was supposed to be in Physics with Ms. Ruiz, and I couldn’t imagine a scenario where she’d send me to the library for a book during class.

  “Better get to it then,” Ms. Coates said before turning her attention to another student who had a question about the internet restrictions.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” I promised Amelia, squeezing her ass quickly before letting her get back to her studying. She was a sweet girl—too sweet for me to be messing around with, probably, but she’d been the one to pursue me. When I’d told her I was only interested in a physical relationship, she’d shrugged her shoulders, got down on her knees, and sucked me off right then.

  Who was I to question her ability to stay casual?

  Okay, I knew there was potential to break her heart in the end; another Heather Price situation that would likely blow up in my face eventually. Her “he’s not my boyfriend” statement had been made for my benefit, because she certainly acted like she thought I was her boyfriend most of the time, which was exactly why I should have been running in the other direction.

  But doing the right thing with Amelia was hardly on my priority list. I didn’t have the bandwidth for such nobility. School was harder than I was used to. Living in the Stark household was practically like living in a prison, and with him constantly on my ass, sex had been a welcome stress reliever.

  After today, though, I needed more than an escape. I was worked up enough to seek an action plan. Since I had zero power in this situation, I needed an ally, and while I wasn’t ready to share the truth with Amelia—she wasn’t really in a position to help anyway—there was someone who I was pretty sure had some insight, and she had study hall right now too.

  I found Julianna in a quiet corner of the library, alone at a circular table with several schoolbooks spread out in front of her, the picture-perfect student.

  Except that instead of studying, she was wrapped up in a women’s magazine.

  It had to have been borrowed. Her father didn’t approve of any reading that wasn’t highbrow literature. She wasn’t allowed much television viewing either, and the guy wa
s so insane about her study habits that he sometimes bolted her in her room with a lock on the outside.

  Because Stark was so controlling of her free time—and to an extent, mine as well—I’d barely talked to her since the night she’d given me the cigarettes. Every now and then I’d find another pack left in my bag that I assumed was from her, but I suspected she passed them to me during school hours because we barely had access to each other at home.

  She was sneaky about it, though. Most of the time she’d kept a distance. More than once, I’d tried to engage with her in between classes, but even if there was no one else around, she always managed to dodge me or brush me off. It wasn’t even like all I wanted to talk about was her father and his abuse—though I definitely wanted to talk about that.

  But I also wanted to just...talk. It was weird to live so close to someone who was practically a stranger. To look at her across the dinner table, unable to ask about her day. To work on my homework at my desk and know she was down the hall, her head buried in the same textbook. To stare at the ceiling when I couldn’t fall asleep and wonder if she was awake as well.

  My curiosity about her felt dangerous, though. For reasons I couldn’t express, and so I hadn’t made as much effort as I might have. I could have ditched Physics and cornered her in the library before now. Instead of hanging out at the school, I could have walked home with her once or twice. The night of Stark’s November educator meeting, I could have tried to approach her instead of inviting Amelia over “to study,” turning my radio on full blast, and fucking her with my eyes closed while trying really hard to keep my mind from wandering.

  After this afternoon, I’d decided I needed to redefine dangerous.

  “We need to talk,” I said quietly, plopping in the chair next to her.

  She jumped, instinctively trying to hide her magazine. As soon as she realized it was me, she pulled it out again. “No, we don’t.”

  “We do.” I pushed the magazine down to see her face. “Stop trying to avoid this. You’re the one who warned me about needing to find a way to survive here.”

  “And it seems you did.” Her tone was strangely bitter.

  I followed her line of sight, my gaze landing on Amelia.

  “Yes. She helps,” I admitted. But that wasn’t the point of me bringing it up. “How did you know, though?”

  “Amelia has loose lips. She’s told everyone she’s with the new boy. Spoiler if you hadn’t figured that out yet.”

  I fought off the impulse to be irritated about news that Amelia was indeed claiming me as hers. “I meant…” I paused when the librarian walked by until she was out of earshot. “I meant, how did you know I needed a method to survive?”

  “I don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “You do, but you don’t want to say it.” I’d thought a lot about this over the last several weeks, especially today during those three hours strapped to Stark’s chair, and I was convinced of my theory. “You know what your father does to me. At first, I thought you knew because he must have been abusive to everyone. That he punished lots of kids like that. But he doesn’t, does he?”

  She avoided eye contact. “I guess it depends on your definition of abusive.”

  “Cut the bullshit, Julianna.”

  She looked at me then, her jaw tight, her mouth a firm line. “What exactly are you getting at? If you want me to talk straight, maybe you should lead by example.”

  I thought I’d been pretty forward already, but I zeroed in even more. “Your father doles out severe punishments in that office of his. To me. Did you know that, yes or no?”

  She let out a sigh before nodding.

  “He doesn’t severely punish other kids though, does he?”

  Her shoulders sank as she shook her head back and forth.

  It was a relief to be validated. Part of me had wondered if everyone was lying, all of us too scared to share our true stories.

  But with validation came other emotions. Other questions. “Then how did you know? If he doesn’t do this all the time, how did you know he did it to me?”

  She shut her magazine, dropped it on the table, and stood up. Without a word, she headed down a row of biographies.

  Like hell she was walking away from me. I jumped up after her. “How did you know, Julianna?”

  She got to the middle of the row, then turned her head toward me and snapped. “How do you think I knew?”

  We were deep in the stacks here, and I realized she’d led me here, not to avoid the conversation, but to make sure we had more privacy while we had it. “I think you overheard me telling my mother that day,” I said, sure of it in hindsight.

  “And?”

  This was the part that I hated verifying, but it was the answer that made the most sense. “And because he does it to you.”

  “Ding, ding, ding, ding.” She crossed her arms over her chest, like she was trying to guard herself from me, or from saying too much, or because admitting the truth made her feel exposed, which I totally understood.

  What I didn’t understand was why the hell she ever got punished. “But you never get in trouble.”

  “And maybe that’s why he thinks his punishments work.”

  I had to think about that longer than I should have.

  I was such an idiot.

  Of course, that was why she was always so perfectly behaved. Because she knew the repercussions if she wasn’t. Just because I’d never seen her get in trouble didn’t mean she hadn’t in the past.

  “How long has he…?” I couldn’t finish the question. He was her actual father. She’d lived with him all her life.

  “It seems you’re figuring that answer out for yourself.”

  That was hard to get my head around. I’d been dealing with the abuse for a little more than a month and was already at the end of my rope. How had she managed to cope?

  Suddenly, I found her promiscuous behavior less curious.

  After a silent beat passed, she lowered her defenses. “He’s been better since you’ve been here. Sorry about that. I guess I should say thank you for giving him a distraction.”

  “You’re not welcome.”

  She let out a defeated breath of air and her shoulders crumpled, and I worried she might cry.

  “Don’t, don’t.” I put my hand on her arm to comfort her and felt an unexpected jolt to my pulse that made me drop my hand instantly. “It’s really not that bad.”

  “You don’t need to lie.”

  “Okay, it’s pretty shitty.”

  “I know.” She tried to laugh, and it turned into a groan. “I know!”

  She covered her face with her hands and shook her head, and for the first time since I’d arrived in Wallingford, I wasn’t thinking about myself first.

  And it wasn’t for me that I said what I said next. “We could tell someone.” I’d abandoned that idea after every attempt to talk to my mother had gone badly. With someone else to back me up, it was a different story. I was already trying to decide if it would be better to call the police or tell a teacher. “We could—”

  She cut me off with a definitive, “We can’t. We can’t tell anyone.”

  “Of course we can. We have to tell.”

  “No one will believe us.”

  “With both of us—”

  She interrupted that notion before I could finish forming it. “Did your mother believe you?”

  The mention of my mother stung. I swallowed hard before delivering the excuse I’d formed for her. “She doesn’t want to believe anything bad about her husband. She has a stake in the matter. It’s not about me.”

  Julianna’s expression softened. She started to reach a hand out to comfort me, but before she made contact, I casually stepped back and leaned a shoulder against the bookshelf, afraid that I’d feel that strange shock again if we touched.

  Afraid she’d open up something inside me that I very much wanted to remain closed.

  “This community doesn’t want to believe anything bad ab
out Langdon Stark,” she said, rubbing her fingers against the binding of a random book, as though that had always been what she’d intended to do.

  “Then we tell the police.”

  “It won’t make a difference.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “I can know that. I’m telling you, Cade, all it will do is make things worse.” Her subtext was clear—she was speaking from experience.

  There was a rustling, and I peeked between the books to see a student taking a novel off the shelf on the other side. After he’d moved on, I asked, “When?”

  She knew exactly what I was asking. “A while ago. I was thirteen.”

  I wanted to know all the details but was well aware of where we were, that we weren’t exactly alone, so I focused on what was important. “You’re older now. More reliable. Plus, with me—”

  “No. No way.” She turned and strode to the end of the row, and when she didn’t seem surprised that I’d followed, I suspected that once again she hadn’t been trying to run away from me.

  Even if it wasn’t about taking us farther from eavesdroppers, I understood. I felt that same restless burst of energy at times. That same need to run, even though there was nowhere to run to. No one to run to.

  “No,” she said again when she spun back to me. “I can’t. I can’t do that. Not again.”

  Imagining the worst, I tried to reassure her. “Whatever he did, I’m sure it was horrible. But if we get him arrested—”

  She cut me off again. “It’s not that easy, Cade. People don’t want to believe these things about a respected member of the community, and if he finds out we said anything—”

  She caught her voice rising and took a beat to calm herself before going on. “It wasn’t like you think. It wasn’t a big punishment for telling on him. He didn’t even guilt trip me, exactly. He...he told me he understood why I was confused. Because I was young and didn’t understand that love sometimes was uncomfortable, and that everything he ever did was out of making me a better person, and it was just as hard for him to know I was hurting as it was for him to do the things he had to do, and one day maybe I’d understand how much he truly loves me…”