Chapter 11

Eleven

MARISSA

Fortunately, I don’t have class today with Mr. Hall. Instead, I spend the late morning in the art studio finishing my painting. Colors gleam off the canvas as I study the final product in the early afternoon light. For the first time in a long time, I’m actually proud of my work, so much so, tears form in my eyes.

When I woke up this morning, I’d already decided that my semester project will be titled Choices, a study of people on the precipice of determining a path. I took my first photo in the heat of the rising sun. It was a self-portrait. I stood on an empty road that split in two directions: one leading to the university buildings straight ahead, and the other to the woods, with a twisting lane that went around the bend of a big oak tree on my right. Lights sparkled on the asphalt with the dew of the morning. As I flip through the shots, I know it will be some of my best work.

After that, I amble toward the university police station, prepared to file my report. Oddly, I feel calm and confident about it. Approaching the building, my steps are halted as Sharice sprints over to me from across the busy sidewalk. A crowd of students flow out of the art and music building, their murmurs sounding like a beehive of activity near the front door.

“Oh my god, did you hear?” Mouth wide, she sounds breathless, like she just ran a marathon. Her dark skin gleams with a sheen of sweat.

“Hear what?” Peeking over her tall shoulder, I can’t see anything between all the bodies.

“They’re arresting Mr. Hall. Apparently, he raped a few students. They caught him on camera.” The mob parts like wheat in a stiff breeze. Uniformed officers escort Mr. Hall across the center of campus, his arms held behind his back. He tries to dip his head and hang his hair into his face as he marches toward the other side of the walk.

My stomach knots at the sight of him. “They—caught him on camera?” What if I’m on there?

“Yeah, one of the teaching assistants heard all the gossip.” Her eyes follow mine as Mr. Hall enters the campus station. “Said someone had been secretly recording him in his studio last year and released the video to the police.” Whipping her head to me, her long, black twists flair out in waves. “Oh my god. He invited you to his studio. Did he ever…”

If the videos are from his studio, I should be safe. Swallowing, I search my brain for a reply. “Yesterday, he got handsy and tried something, but I got away. I was just on my way to… No, I never was in his studio.”

Stepping closer to me, she reaches out her hand to rub my arm gently, her caramel-colored eyes holding something like concern. “Marissa. I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I was going to today. I needed to process things.” Pausing, I consider what I should do from here. “I guess I’ll wait and see if the others need my statement or not.”

Tossing her arm around my shoulders, she pulls me in for a side hug. The gesture feels comforting and safe. “Well, I’m down if you need someone to go with you. Anytime, really. You look like you need something warm and caffeinated. Let’s go.”

With each step toward the campus coffee shop, my mind races with possibilities of who leaked the camera footage. I’m also worried about who my next advisor will be. Will they be demanding and impossible to please? Pulling out my phone, I check my email as we enter the busy café. One message sits unread from an assistant at the college of arts. He announces that Mr. Hall’s class is canceled, but his replacement will be there on Friday. There’s a blurb that if anyone has information to share about Mr. Hall to call the number listed at the bottom. It doesn’t mention his arrest or any accusations.

Feeling eyes on me, I glance up from my phone. Xavier leans on a brick wall across the courtyard from the art building as if he’s watching an outdoor play. His eyes lock on mine, and a slow, broad grin develops over his lips. Unable to help myself, I smile back, that tingly feeling erupting all over my skin. With a slight nod goodbye, he turns toward the business building. And watching him leave, I miss him.

Sharice puckers her lips when I spin back to the line we’re standing in to place our orders. “How’s that going?”

Shrugging, I attempt to avoid any questions about my confusing relationship, or rather, non-relationship with Xavier Cardell. “How’s what going?”

A chuckle erupts from her belly. “Come on, girl.” Bopping her shoulder to mine, she points to move up in the queue. “I have to live vicariously. That man is smokin’ hot.”

I really don’t want another conversation like the one with Kinsley last night. “I thought you and Ty were… What’s happening with Ty?” Expertly steering the topic off of me, she picks up on it.

“I don’t know. Men are stupid. He’s all over me, texting me, calling me, then not. Anyway…”

We end up talking about her love life and music projects for our impromptu coffee date, which is a welcome reprieve from my own worries. I force the conversation off myself and, most assuredly, from ever broaching the topic of Xavier. It’s refreshing to catch up with my friend without feeling the heavy weight of a breakup and having to figure out whatever is happening with the president of Theta.

Mainly, I don’t want to figure out what’s going on inside of me. Why I’m okay with an overly possessive and aggressive man using my body. Or why my core gets hot every time he mentions getting me pregnant. Certainly not why I allow him inside me when he seems to have stalked me by reading my diaries and meeting with my mother.

Maybe I just like to live on the edge of fear. But I think I’m enjoying his attention more than I should.

As soon as my afternoon classes end, and I make my way home, I call the number listed at the end of the email I received. A woman answers who says she’s with the city prosecutor’s office. After taking down my information, she tells me one of the lawyers will be in touch. She gives me a website for an anti-sexual violence advocacy group, which I take down to visit later.

In the midst of studying for Art History, Kinsley pounds on my door, practically yelling, “Let’s go, loser.”

With a snort, rolling my eyes at how loud she always is, I open it for her. “Where are we going?”

“We’re heading out to Manny’s. Taco Tuesday. Get ready.” She snaps her fingers, and I peek around her. Sharice and Elle are gathering their stuff in the living room, already dressed to go out. I quickly change into a corduroy mini skirt and top it with an oversized cropped white sweater and faux suede ankle booties. Digging through a pile of dirty clothes, I find a crossbody purse and switch out my necessary items from my backpack. Before leaving the room, I glance at my nightstand, open the drawer, and take a birth control pill. I never miss and may as well be early today rather than late. Xavier’s talk about kittens and babies is messing with my mind.

We hike the mile and a half from campus to the town’s center, where Manny’s sits on Main Street alongside some cute, restored shops. It’s a popular spot with the college kids on Tuesdays due to their half-price margaritas. Though we really don’t have much in town to look forward to. It’s early enough that it isn’t extremely crowded yet, so we snag our favorite booth in the corner.

By the time we start our second round of drinks, the restaurant is busy, the bar area filled with people ordering alcohol and appetizers. The front door swings open, and I take a sharp inhale. Jackson Riley’s tall frame steps in and trailing behind him is James.

Elle sits beside me and places her hand on my thigh to grab my attention back to the table. “You okay?” she asks so only I can hear.

My dark chocolate hair falls forward across my face as I nod, but I toss my head back along with a swig of my mango margarita. James spies me across the room and gives me a shy smile. He murmurs something in Jackson’s ear, who frowns at me, but quickly looks away. Jackson strolls toward the bar, and James shuffles through the other students over to us.

Standing at the edge of our table, he glances at each one of my friends and says, “Hey.” His gaze lands on me as his neck muscles condense in a swallow.

Everyone mumbles basic greetings at him, but then he turns to me and asks, “You want to go upstairs with me for a moment? I’m itching to play darts.” Tossing a look at each of my friends, I slide out of the booth. Sharice takes a pointed drink of her margarita while keeping her eyes on me, and Kinsley looks like she’s ready to fight. James leads the way up the stairs to the loft filled with two dart boards and a pool table. Glass doors lead out onto a rooftop patio area, which is usually the best place to sit, but is full tonight.

James finds some darts and hands me three. “Um…I know I walked in with him, but we aren’t together. I want you to know that. Nothing has happened since that night, Marissa, I swear.” His head drops for a moment, then he inhales deeply before lining up his throw. He misses badly. “Fuck.”

I laugh at his terrible aim, some of the tension easing. “We’re broken up, James. I appreciate the courtesy, though. I do.” I take my shot and at least hit the board. “How have you been? I mean, it’s only been three days, but I’m used to talking to you every day, you know?”

James’s entire body relaxes. “Yes! I know, right? It’s been tough not talking to you, just about stupid stuff. I miss that.” Tossing another, he hits a single ring. “I know you said you needed to wait for us to hang out as friends, but I do miss you. And I’m not meaning like—” His blue eyes scan the crowd and find Jackson downstairs, who is chatting with some football players at a high top. Jackson catches his stare, and his face beams up at James.

I can see it. Their chemistry. Letting a fresh breath of air cleanse my lungs, I assess my heart. It doesn’t hurt as badly as I thought it would. “No, no, I understand what you mean.” I line up with the board. “You like him.” With a flick of my wrist, I hit the outer bullseye.

James darts his eyes from Jackson to mine. “What? No, no.”

“James, if we’re going to try the friend thing, let’s be friends. I think I can try—little bits. And friends talk about boys. You like Jackson. He’s obviously into you.”

Throwing his dart, he hits a triple ring, then rakes his bottom lip under his teeth. Kicking a shoe on the ground, he says, “I’ve never been… It’s very new. I don’t want to use or hurt anyone.” He points his gaze at me, heaviness in his expression. “Not anymore. I need to figure out what I want, and he knows that.”

“But…” I urge him on.

“But he’s willing to wait. And yeah, I think I like him.” He shrugs.

Nodding, I put on a small smile. “Well, I hope he knows how to waltz at snooty Christmas parties.”

James snickers, releasing a breath. “Yeah, that’s going to be a fun one this year. Can you imagine my mother?”

Both of us chuckle and reminisce about our worst holiday parties at his house with his parents. Laughing with my friend lessens the burden I’ve been carrying. The more we talk, the more comfortable I become. Relief saturates my mind now that I don’t have a future trying to please the stuffy Stevensons. All those insecurities about being with James as his girlfriend? Those are all gone now. That will be someone else’s problem.

Tattooed arms thread around my waist and jerk me back into a hard chest, sending my stomach swooping. “What’s going on here?”

Xavier. His sudden appearance makes my heart race, and I fear his reaction to catching me with James, knowing it could get ugly. Some sick part of me feels proud that he’s showing up and holding me like this in front of my ex, who’s here with his new guy. Showing off that someone wants me.

James snaps his head and glares over my head. When I try to twist away, the death grip around me locks tighter.

“Um, what are you doing here?” I ask, trying to turn to look at Xavier.

With a growl, Xavier spits out, “You flirting with my girl, James? Your boyfriend is right here. Damn, it’s true what they say, ‘Once a cheater, always a cheater.’”

James launches himself at Xavier, who slides me to his side protectively. James’s gesture stuns me. Does he actually care, or is he just mad that it’s Xavier who’s trying to claim me? Jackson sprints up the stairs and snags James around the chest, holding him back. Yelling into the crowded restaurant, James points a finger at Xavier. “Who you talking about cheating, motherfucker? Fuck you, Xavier, for fucking my girl.”

James scrambles to get in Xavier’s face while Xavier shoves my jolted body behind his, holding his large arms out as if he’s an impenetrable barrier. This is a reminder of why I ran with Xavier after the Mr. Hall incident. I know he wouldn’t let someone hurt me. Jackson wrestles James toward the stairs, while trying to calm him with words I can’t make out.

Xavier releases a fake laugh at James’s outrage, but his eyes dart back and forth like they are organizing a massacre. As Jackson shoves James farther away, James peeks at me, his expression filled with pain. “Marissa, are you with him? Are you?”

I open my mouth, but Xavier is the one who speaks. “Marissa’s with me. She’s mine. Stay the fuck away from her. She doesn’t need you using her anymore.” Then, he seizes me into a tight embrace and kisses me. Well, it’s more like he claims my body in front of James. He may as well have dropped trou and peed on me.

How dare he make statements like that when we haven’t even really discussed it? Embarrassment floods me that I could be so into him acting like a caveman, and reality sets in. Xavier’s deranged.

Struggling with all my might, I jostle him and get a little space between us. With my hand flying high behind me, I let it rip and slap him across the face, leaving a reddened handprint. “What the fuck, Xavier? Who do you think you are?”

Xavier’s eyes fill with fury, his wrath like a dragon aiming his blazing breath toward me. “Who the fuck am I?! Who am I? I’m your owner. You’re mine. When are you going to understand that? I told you to break things off with him, Marissa.”

With my chin jutting out, I raise my hand to hit him again, but he grips my arm while still holding my gaze. “Maybe I need to fuck you in front of everyone here so you get the picture.” A gasp leaves my throat as he tugs me into him and walks us to the half wall of the upstairs overlooking the dining area.

I stall us by digging in the heels of my boots, shaking my head vigorously. But they slip on the concrete floor. “What? Xavier, anyone can see us. Please.” Placing his large hand on the top of my head, he shoves me down.

“On your knees.” As he pushes harder, I slide down the wall, the huge bulge in his pants greeting my face.

“I’ll-I’ll suck you in the bathroom, please, Xavier. Not right here.” I glance around frantically. Anyone can walk in from the patio or come up the stairs. The restrooms are on this level that anyone can visit and catch us in the act.

Grabbing the back of my neck, he forces me to look up at him. Those crystal blue eyes narrow like entrancing laser beams. “No, you’ll do it here so they can see you worshiping my cock. On. Your. Knees. I won’t say it again.”

As he commands me roughly, I soak my thong, and my pussy pulses with the resonations of his voice. Despite the utter terror of being seen, I have some inane need to do what he says, make him feel good.

Maybe if I’m quick enough, I can get him to nut, neatly swallow, and not have anyone notice. It could be our naughty little secret. Plus, if someone sees me, I can always tell them he forced me. That I don’t want it. Because I don’t. I’d be crazy if I did. Right?

When he bends over me, it probably looks from downstairs as if he’s just leaning against a wall—a king observing his subjects below.

Working my fingers quickly, I unzip his black jeans and fish out his bulky, semi-hard cock. It’s the first time I’m getting a closeup look at his girth, and I’m not sure how I can fit him in my mouth. Relaxing my throat, I use the tip of my tongue to lick him, then wet his shaft. A choked moan escapes him as he stares down at me. Using my hand to feed myself, I take him deeper, slowly stroking with one hand. Breathing through my nose helps me avoid all the margaritas from coming back up.

I apply more sucking pressure once I find a good rhythm, and reach into his jeans to massage his balls. As I inhale him, my own arousal drenches my thighs, and I discreetly dig a finger down under my skirt to rub my clit. All the times we’ve been together, Xavier has been in charge, but now I have control over his pleasure. It’s all sitting in my hands and mouth. I just need him to bust quickly so I can get out of here before anyone sees.

The patio doors open, and a crowd shuffles inside. My heart stops for a moment as I freeze with Xavier’s cock deep down my throat. Removing his hand from my head, he leans on his elbows over the half wall. The group’s rowdy voices loudly drown out the rest of the restaurant noises as they pass us, but no one seems to notice what’s happening. Pausing for only a moment, my pulse returns to a normal speed, and I get back to work.

Xavier pumps his hips into my face, pinning my head back. Though his grunts of pleasure are louder now, most of the sounds are hard to hear over the music through the tinny speakers. Returning his fingers to my hair, he clutches a handful and fucks my face with ferocity. My arms drop to his thighs and push back so I can get some space, but he shoves his thick cock all the way down my throat, cutting off my air supply. I shift up on my knees, panicking, trying to get some oxygen by pulling away.

“Shh, shh. Don’t be scared, little kitty. I’ll control your breathing for you.” Xavier strokes a finger across my cheek, then tugs back slightly so I can take tiny inhales through my nose for a moment before he plunges back in.

Hot tears trickle from the corners of my eyes as saliva strings out of my mouth. I’m sure I look like a mess, but Xavier stares at me with what looks like an intense reverence. I must be sick because the fierceness he regards me with makes me feel wanted. With one deep thrust, he pinches my nose and holds his cock as deep as it’ll go down my throat. Squirming, my voice tries to break out of my chest, and I think for a moment I’ll die this way. As my vision blurs, he yanks himself free until I gulp air through the sides of my mouth around his thickness.

More students stroll in from the patio with their slurred words and yells wafting in, along with the shuffling of heavy footfalls. Xavier curves his body around me, his lightweight black jacket falling forward to cover my face. One of the guys, clearly intoxicated, shouts, “Yo! Cardell! Who you got under there? Can I get in line?”

The footsteps near us, and I try to take a deep breath, scared of what the man may see. Xavier growls over his shoulder, “Fuck off. Don’t even look at her.”

“All right, all right, man… Have fun.”

When the crowd approaches the stairs, he announces to the group that Xavier is “face fucking some chick.”

Another man snickers. “Fuck yeah, Cardell! Make sure she swallows.” A cacophony of howls resounds from the group as they descend.

My cheeks flush with embarrassment, but Xavier remains fully embedded in my mouth until they walk away. When they leave, he backs up, and my jaw aches as he removes himself. His eyes scan over my frame as I fall on all fours, choking for air.

Shame at how I must look invades me, that he’ll leave me here like this, but before I can get lost in it, he says, “Mmm, look at you. So proud to be sucking your master in front of everyone. What a good girl for taking such a big cock down her throat. Showing off what a good slut you are for me.”

Something about his words makes me satisfied that I please him, diminishing my indignity. And causing that ache between my legs to rage for fulfillment. I need therapy.

Snatching me up by my shoulders, he sweeps my legs under a forearm. Carrying me bridal style, he marches a few feet to the nearest restroom and sets me down on the tiled floor before locking the door.

Swiping the back of my hand over my mouth, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. Dark brown hair knotted in tangles, black mascara running down my olive-skinned face, and inflamed cheeks heavily smeared with chagrin. I look like a tragedy.

As I approach the sink, Xavier stops me by snagging my waist. Ramming me into a stall, he bends me over the toilet, then lifts my skirt, and slides my panties to the side. As I squirm, his fingers snatch my hip bone for resistance. When he forces his cock inside me, a gasp of air leaves my lungs as I grip the sides of the lid. With his other hand, he holds my head down into the bowl. Pressing back, I resist as much as I can, so I don’t end up in the water.

“I have to come inside your pussy. I can’t stop. I’m obsessed with coming inside you. Help me, Marissa.” The whimpering desperation of his voice makes him sound every bit like the obsessive stalker he is, causing some level of panic to claim my body once again. It’s different from the controlled behavior he had in the restaurant. He’s absolutely feral.

The pain of having his cock forcefully shoved down my throat, the fear of not being able to breathe unless he willed it, the humiliation of having those men watching me sucking his cock…it almost makes me come. What is wrong with me? My belly tightens in anticipation of release, and all it takes is Xavier grinding his fully engulfed dick up and down inside and reaching around to stroke my clit. Then, he spanks my ass hard several times, saying, “Such a fucking nasty girl for sucking cock in front of everyone.” Spank.

“Dirty girls like you deserve to be fucked into the toilet.” Spank.

“Ugh… My filthy whore.” He spanks me again, and my pussy convulses around him so tightly I’m not sure I’ll ever relax again.

My screams of ecstasy deafen me as they echo off the porcelain walls. Like dough, my knees melt as he shoves my head closer to the toilet water and uses my hole. Our skin slaps together, the smacks so loud they can probably be heard downstairs. “Whose pussy is this?!” With each thrust, he smacks my ass hard, my skin burning with pain. It’s lessened as I’m still reeling from my orgasm.

“Your—yours, master.” Each strike takes away my breath. I don’t want him to rage again, so I tell him, “I’m yours, Xavier.”

As if that’s what he needs, he unloads inside me with a loud groan. His hips jut into me, squeezing everything he has inside while I struggle against the seat so I don’t land in the water.

Staring into the clear surface of the dirty bowl, I can see my image. A disgusting creature that allowed herself to be used. Guilt overtakes me that I enjoyed myself. But mainly, I’m repulsed by the man hovering behind me, whose face still holds some ire and rage. The post-orgasm logic rolls in, along with a sense of fury at Xavier’s attempts to rule over me. When he’s inside, it’s all I want, to be used as an object of his pleasure. But after…I’m left with outrage.

Extracting himself slowly, he backs up a step as I smooth down my skirt, flip around, and slap him in the face. I try to do it again, but he catches my palm with one of his large ones. Staring into each other’s glowering eyes, we hold at a standstill. Finally, he snarls at me. “You won’t see James again.”

As he zips up his jeans, I elbow him in the ribs until he loses balance, then shove past him. Rushing from the stall, I grip the door, but struggle with the lock for a moment. Once I bust out of the room, I hear him saying something like “stop,” but I don’t.

My legs fly down the stairs, where my friends have been joined by a group of boys, clearly a few margaritas in. Stealthily, I snag my purse from the bench, but Sharice notices me and says, “Hey, girl! You been getting some, looks like.”

All of my friends look up to inspect me and start laughing.

“Fuck, he must be amazing… Look at her face,” Elle blurts out.

A few of the guys standing nearby chuckle, and I wonder if they were in the group that saw us upstairs.

Faking a laugh, I try to make an excuse to get out as quickly as possible. “Ha. I’m going to head home now. Got to finish that Art History paper.” To avoid the awkward insistences from my friends trying to keep me there, I hustle home before Xavier can find me.