6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

I have to hand it to Garrett. The gym might actually be the best part of campus, given how good the coffee is. My vantage point from the second floor cafe is ideal for a spot of people watching over the parking lot, hidden behind the sheen of glass. The warm mug in my hands covers my smile at the view. Garrett blindly feels out the car's door handle. Axel has taken the driver's seat, putting the SUV into a crawl. I can imagine the grinding of alloys on tarmac as the car appears to limp down the driveway. Idiots.

No doubt Wyatt zoomed off in search of me, as if I'd be waiting somewhere obvious like a sitting duck. Instead, I'm two pain au chocolats deep and had a lovely afternoon admiring my handiwork. Bidding Ross, the barista, goodbye, I shoulder my backpack. The rest of the cafes' visitors have opted to sit on the far side, watching out over an outside arena. I spot a vibrant red-head gliding around the track, gracefully jumping over the hurdles.

"Kay," I smile. Making my way through the gym, inhaling the chlorine from the swimming pool, I make my way outside. It's turned out to be a glorious day, my mood lifting with the bright sun and clear skies overhead. Kay is in her element, her eyes squarely focused on her horizon. I sit in the bleachers, watching her outrun and then overlap all others. Slowing at a gentle jog, the spell is broken and she spots me.

"Look who's found herself in my neck of the woods," Kay pulls out her Airpods. "You seem much happier than last night, and this morning," she grins. I almost blush, reminded of how I complained at the early wake up as if it were her fault and not an active decision I made for myself.

"I'm caffeinated," I answer. Kay makes an ‘ahh' sound in understanding. Dropping down beside me, I offer her my water and she happily accepts.

"So, what's brought you here?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I chuckle. Kay gives a ‘try me' look so I relay the past few hours, not sparing any details. Not about Garrett's dick being thrust into my face, my stubborn-off with Dax or the excess of cocks I scratched into the side and back of the SUV.

"Holy shit!" Kay doubles with laughter, unable to catch her breath. "Where the hell did you learn to escape from a car like that?!" I smirk along with her, keeping the answer locked within.

There are certain scenarios I experienced as a child which haunted me night after night. So when I was assigned a self-defense trainer, I had very specific requests. The hope was, if I felt well-equipped enough, I could chase away the nightmares. Today was an added bonus I couldn't have set up better myself.

"I was wondering if you had dinner plans," I change the subject once Kay has settled, looking out over the track.

"My, my. Are you asking me out on a date, Avery?" she holds a hand to her chest. I roll my eyes.

"You wish," I snort. Something about Kay's demeanor, the light-hearted edge to her tone, is easy to vibe with. It's like a whole different person when she's not engrossed in her phone and ignoring the rest of the world. "There's so much I still need to be caught up on. I was hoping the offer of good food and wine might encourage you to indulge me."

"Okay well first off, people our age don't talk like bored, middle-aged wives. If you want to get me drunk and spill the hot gossip, all you had to do was say so. I've got some pink gin beneath my bed, you hardly taste the alcohol until you can't see straight," Kay begins to stand. I jump up to stop her.

"Um, I would probably avoid going back to the dorm for a little while. Is there anywhere else we can go?" Kay looks over my blouse and denim skirt, then her own polo shirt and leggings.

"Yeah, I know somewhere. I hope you're prepared for this crash course on how things run around here. It's a lot to take in." Leading me through an archway to exit the arena, Kay's lingering smirk doesn't rattle me as I'm sure is intended. It's day two at Waversea and I've had a morning break-in, been kidnapped twice, and lied to multiple times by faces I don't know whether to lick or punch. A crash course is exactly what I need.

Kay climbs the steps, guiding me into a quiet whitewash house on a relatively quiet street. Not what I expected on the rich side of campus, from the frat and sorority houses lined in two neat rows. I suppose it is only Tuesday; the parties will be reserved for weekends.

Stepping into a circular entrance lobby, the low hum of chatter soon becomes apparent. Women cross the landing atop wide stairs, most smiling down sweetly. Either side of me, two matching living areas suggest this building was originally two houses, the central wall knocked through to make one, giant home. The decor is classic, cream with ascents of soft, pebble gray. Huge sofas face flat screen TV's mounted up high, twin fireplaces are set in stone feature walls. Feminine touches arise in pastel pink pillows, fluffy blankets, scented candles, and bouquets on low coffee tables.

Kay leads me into a dining room, the hint of a kitchen through wide archways beyond. None of the girls studying at the long table flinch or perk up at the sound of my name, as Kay makes introductions. Finally , I smile to myself. A hint of normality .

"Mind if we join you for dinner tonight?" Kay rubs small circles over a brunette's shoulders. They share a secretive look. "My new roomie here has some questions she needs answers to. "

"More the merrier," the brunette directs my way. Mandy, I believe her name is. Kay strokes Mandy's hair and announces she's going for a shower. Before exiting the room, she pulls out a chair and pats the back, indicating I sit down. I do just that, tucking my backpack beneath my legs and cross my fingers. Everyone seems so intent on their work, I don't want to disturb them. Pulling out my phone, I shoot a quick message to Nixon to let him know I'm doing well and settling in nicely. All lies, but I don't want him to worry. The three dots of his reply appear and then quickly vanish. He must be busy at work.

"How are you finding Waversea?" A voice floats to me from a beautiful young woman with incredible blue hair. The light shade matches her eyes, her full red lips turned into a kind smile.

"Oh, it's been interesting," I huff beneath my breath, tucking my phone away. Her expression is strangely understanding. "Sorry, it'll take me a while to remember everyone's names."

"Sophia," she reaches across another girl with long braids to shake my hand. "Yeah, it's quite the adjustment." When Braids gives up trying to finish writing her sentence, she drops her pen and turns to face me.

"Lizzy," she nods as a way of greeting. "Obviously you're on much more of a backfoot than us. An announcement went out on the student forum that another Hughes would be starting here. It doesn't take a genius to spot you, all wide-eyed and innocent." My eyes do indeed widen, a blush coating my cheeks. Mandy leans on her hand.

"I'm sure we're not the only ones who have been curious about you. Have you met them yet?"

"I presume you mean Wyatt's thugs. And yeah, I've had the unfortunate pleasure." A series of laughs sound around the table, from those participating in the conversation and not.

"They're not thugs," Lizzy twists further and knocks my knees. "They call themselves the Shadowed Souls." I snort but she gives me a somber look. "It's from their childhood days. Five young boys who had their individual struggles but found a family in each other." I wrinkle my nose but dare not say anything further. A contemplative silence has fallen over the room, so I shift my questions elsewhere.

"So how do I get them to leave me alone?" The small laughter is back, pens scratching on paper. Lizzy hums to herself, double underlining key words in her notes.

"As long as you avoid Garrett's attention, you'll be fine." Her eyes glance my way when I remain quiet, a slow blush on my cheeks. "Oh no, what did you do?"

"I mean…well, technically he started it. But I suppose I…"

"She pepper sprayed him and kneed him in the balls," Kay strides back into the room, freshly showered. Her red hair is dripping on a pair of flannel pajamas. She must crash here often. The general consensus around the table is utter shock before the hysterics kick in. Kay had a similar reaction in the arena. Hounding laughter echoes around the room, more than a few mutters about me having a death wish filtering around. I swallow hard, trying to calm my erratic heart.

Thankfully, as more girls enter, the task of dinner shifts the attention. Many hands work in unison, practiced roles becoming apparent. Those who aren't cooking either wash up as they go or clear the table, setting places. It's more sophisticated than the pizza boxes I was expecting. Wine glasses are placed by Lizzy, Chloe flittering just behind to fill them.

"What's the special occasion?" someone I haven't met before asks. She's on cutlery duty. Mandy snickers from across the island.

"It's Avery's funeral. Take a good look guys. She might not be around tomorrow." Meanwhile, I sit there like a melon, not wanting to get in the way. A round of chimes and vibrations go off in unison, apparently on everyone's phone except mine. It goes ignored as bowls of spaghetti bolognese are dished out, the space filled with idle talk. I half listen into two conversations, eating and sipping the wine. I need a refill before I've finished my bowl, battling with my own nerves to relax. This is fine. More than fine; it's pleasant. The first glimpse of hope I've had since arriving at Waversea .

"I'm dreading Harcombe's assignment being set on Friday," Kay is groaning. "He purposely handpicks what you're worst at and spends the rest of the semester watching you squirm. It's borderline sadistic." Mandy pouts in sympathy, reaching up to brush sauce from the corner of Kay's mouth. The flirtatious looks between them seem private so I twist and enter into Lizzy's lengthy rant on gender equalities between the tutors. Spoiler alert, there's five more men than women apparently.

I hug my glass, happy to be forgotten. Invisible in plain sight. The more they talk, the more I drink. The more I drink, the more I relax. This is fine. Eventually, my bowl is swept away and replaced with a small plate hosting a slice of lemon cheesecake.

"It's vegan," says the blonde who puts it down. "Just in case you were wondering." I inhale the intense lemon scent wafting my way.

"And homemade?" I hazard a guess. She makes a cute gesture, somewhere between a nod and a scrunch of her nose before moving on. Over dessert, a few questions come my way. I manage to dodge them all with simple answers. Yes, it was lovely growing up with the Hughes'. No, I didn't get a horse for every birthday. I murmur a thank you when condolences are offered, just glad there were no questions regarding Wyatt's showering habits. A few rise, taking the crockery into the kitchen. I'd love to see the chore chart, I muse to myself as I quickly follow .

"Here, let me," I move towards the stacks of bowls and plates mounting up. A girl with heavy bangs bats me away.

"It's okay, we've got it. But you can recycle the wine bottles if you like? There's a green trash can out back." She juts her chin towards the side door as her hands are submerged in soapy water. I smile, gathering the empty bottles into a large cardboard box. Yes, that I can do. The door is opened for me and I make an attempt at some sort of curtesy as I pass. It's getting dark out, the last glows of a golden sunset disappearing over Waversea's campus.

I leave the porch in search for the trash cans, spotting them in a corner where the garage and fence meet. The fences on either side are tall, giving the illusion of privacy. Dropping the box on the ground, I open the can lid just as a hand clamps over my mouth.

"There you are," a deep voice mutters into my ear, dragging me back into the shadows. I scream into the large palm, struggling to no avail. A hard body pins me in place, a rumbling chuckle reverberating through my back. Twisting my head to the side, the hand shifts to cup my jaw. I squint at the six foot silhouette, a shiver running through me. Just as I'm wondering if Wyatt has actually found me, a tongue is drawn along my cheek, lingering at the corner of my mouth. "Mmmm. You taste like lemon. And here I thought you were all peaches. "

Garrett . I should have known. I exhale, my posture no longer as rigid.

"Oh, it's just you." I don't know if Garrett sees my eye roll, but his chuckle suggests he does. The hand on my jaw lowers, wrapping around my throat.

"I wouldn't relax. You really don't know me yet." I'm spun again, and pushed through a side door. The garage is colder than the main house, flecks of streetlamps slipping through the roller door on the other side of the space. I glimpse shelving units, a covered car, glints of clutter before I'm shoved horizontal across a table. The wood is uneven and smells like some kind of paint or varnish. Garrett's hands are too large, too quick for my current state, locking my wrists behind my back with something akin to a cable tie. The chill on my thighs is an abrupt reminder that I'm still only wearing a denim mini skirt.

"A punishment is owed, Peach. Since you seem to like my balls so much, I'll put them in your court. What would you rather be subjected to - Wyatt's hazing or my idea of dirty discipline?" His weight settles over my ass, the rounded point of his elbow leaning in the center of my back. I'm gasping, struggling to breathe as my mind spins. Usually, any situation that puts me at a disadvantage has panic clawing its way up my throat. So why not now? Because I've had mostly a bottle of wine to myself and I think Garrett is all talk, that's why .

I don't give him any type of reaction, especially not the one he's hoping for. I won't scream, I refuse to beg. Pushing off me, his hips keep me pinned in place. Fingers touch my thighs, feather light and tracing patterns.

"Tell me you want my punishment." His own voice is thick. I clench my teeth together, remaining stubborn to a fault. Those fingers round my muscles and squeeze, digging in firmly. "Say this is what you want," he grinds against me. I feel a quiver low in my belly, the haze taking over.

"I'm drunk," I murmur, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip when he rolls his groin against me again. The hands holding me in place roam further up to the edge of my panties.

"Tell me which you choose." It's a plea hidden inside a threat. I shudder properly this time, subconsciously wanting to shift his fingers to dip inside the fabric separating us.

"I…I've been drinking," I whimper in a small voice. Garrett growls, suddenly shifting to grab my hair and wrench my head back.

"You're barely tipsy. It's your last chance before I decide for you." From this position, my back is bowed, my ass pushing against him harder. Garrett, the man I assaulted merely hours ago. He wants retribution, but he wants me just as much. In this scenario, he can have both and I'm seconds from giving it to him. The taunting, the teasing were as good as foreplay. "Your silence is damning," Garrett answers for the both of us.

Tearing my panties down to my knees, the cold air is a shock against my wetness. The wine in my system helps to quash any shyness, my cheek pressed against the wood to ground me. For the longest moment, Garrett doesn't touch me. I'm aching for his devilish nature to take charge, to make me forget who I am and why I'm here for a short while. Then all at once, a tongue runs up the center of me. I grind my hips into the table, my mouth open on a silent groan. It comes again, long, lazy licks from clit to ass. I tilt up to anticipate him, widening my stance.

"Feels good, doesn't it Peach?" Garrett breathes beside my face. I startle but he preempts me. Shoving my head back down against the table, his mischievous eyes consume mine as another lick consumes my pussy. The hot mouth closes around my clit, sucking sharply.

"Who is that?!" I cry out, a bolt of electricity pulling my limbs taut.

"Who do you want it to be?" Garrett retorts, his smile widening. A moan passes my lips, heat skating through my core. I buck now, finally listening to the small voice I'm sure is supposed to be my conscience. I should have taken Wyatt's hazing. At least then I'd have known exactly what I'm getting and from who. Unless….no, no way. "No need to say it out loud, Peach. Keep your fantasies locked inside where no one can find them."

I squeeze my eyes closed, unable to withhold my following whimper. A deep, unspoken fantasy presents itself, unraveling within my mind. The mouth on me knows exactly what I like, switching between sharp sucks and languid licks. My ass is spread, a mixture of cool air and heated breath skating over me. I don't know if I'm shivering or shuddering, until that devilish tongue pushes inside of me. I shift, tugging on the ties at my wrists. I need to move, but even if I were able, I don't know what I'd do. Push him away or pull him closer.

"I…please…" I hear myself saying without realizing the plea had left my mouth. Garrett cocks his head, shifting his hand so that he's gently stroking my hair.

"What do you need, Peach?"

"More," I arch my back when the tongue enters me again. He fucks me with it, lapping up any taste I permit him. Garrett chuckles, watching me with fascination.

"You heard her. More," he orders. Two fingers replace the tongue, slamming home in one, hard thrust. I jerk upright on a gasp, which Garrett uses to his advantage. His mouth closes over mine, his tongue skating over mine. I surrender to his kiss, a hot and bruising fight of our lips. Garrett swallows my cries when those fingers twist, withdraw and repeat. Every time, stars burst behind my closed eyes, my body too rigid. Something has to give, like a wave on the precipice of pulling me underwater. It needs to break. I need it to break.

Garrett throws my throat high, stealing kisses from my parted lips. His other hand works its way across my chest, into my blouse and pushes my bra aside. I can't deny how my nipple pebbles or how I lean into his palm. He chuckles darkly against my cheek, dragging kisses across my jaw.

"Not going to pepper spray me this time?" The smile against my ear is almost enough to snap me back to reality. Almost. This is Garrett's big idea - to have me not only willing but begging for his touch. I'm too far gone to be denied now.

The mouth closing around my clit once more works in time with taunting, twisting fingers. Garrett teases my nipple, pinching tighter. The noises leaving me aren't ones I've allowed before. Even with previous partners, I've been careful. No one gets to see me surrender. Using his grip on my throat, Garrett raises my head higher and gives himself full access. As soon as he draws me into his mouth, the wave within crests its peak.

Simultaneous pulls on my nipple and my clit, synchronized clenches of hands on my throat and inner thigh. I rock back, bearing down on the one providing my pleasure. He works me into a frenzy as I clench around him, screaming as much as Garrett's hold on my throat will permit. Those fingers pick up their pace, chasing my pleasure. Drawing it out for an eternity. I slump against the desk, panting, shaking. I can't draw a full breath, unable to form my next coherent thought.

"How was that a punishment?" I ask hoarsely. The ties at my wrist are cut free.

"You'll see," Garrett muses, lowering my arms gently. I figured he'd be out the door but he remains, massaging my shoulders out. Beneath his fingers, the true strength of an ache becomes apparent, the lack of blood flow starting to circulate back to my hands. His accomplice lifts my panties back up my legs, pulling my skirt down to cover my dignity. It's a little late for that. I could lash out, twist and demand to know who it is, but I don't. Whatever just happened, the strange role play situation I found myself in, I don't want to break the illusion. Deciding I'm ready, Garrett lifts me upright, straightens my blouse and places a tiny kiss on the end of my nose.

"Once I find something I like, I don't let go. Your orgasm effectively just signed your life away. I'll see you in the morning, Peach." He smacks my ass on the way out and for once, I don't retaliate. I'm too busy trying to keep myself steady against the table to move for now. My body is sated, yet hungry for more. Long, long after the garage side door has clicked shut, I exit into a silent street. My legs are wobbly as I half-sprint back to my dorm, rushing to check the window is firmly locked. Only then, in the solace of my own space, do I drop onto my bed and stare at the ceiling. What the fuck just happened?