8. Reagan

Chapter 8

Reagan

I ’m fucking tired, and it’s been two days since Ghostface fucking tried to suck my pussy through my lips and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. It’s been distracting me in class, and today was my long day.

The moment I open the door to my apartment, I find my father standing there with a fake smile plastered on his face. The whole vibe he brings with him feels heavy and suffocating, and I’m not excited about anything that I know I’m going to have to deal with right now.

“Reagan,” he greets me, as if it’s a pleasant surprise to see me in my own apartment. “I’ve arranged a dinner for us tonight. I need you to get ready.”

For a fight? Because I’m always ready for one of those.

“Oh, I thought maybe you dropped by to choke me out again. Sorry, I have plans,” I retort, attempting to maintain my composure. But I can already feel my heart pounding in my chest as I look into his cold, dead eyes. I know from experience that arguing with him is futile, but something inside me resists being forced into an uncomfortable situation .

“Put this on,” he hands me a dress that looks like it came straight out of Ashley’s closet. “I need you to come to a business dinner with me.”

“I’m not going,” I say firmly, planting my feet on the ground. He grabs my arm, and his grip tightens on my bicep, his face contorting with anger.

“Come out to the car, Reagan,” he commands, his voice devoid of any warmth. “You can wear what you have on. I don’t have time to deal with you right now.”

Shocker.

“You can seriously fuck all the way off and take that dress with you.” I try to yank my arm free, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he grips tighter and pulls me out into the hallway and toward the entrance of my building. My door is unlocked, but who the fuck cares at this point?

Without a word, my father forcefully shoves me into the car, his actions speaking volumes about our relationship. I can’t help but think how nice it would be to return the gesture and push him off a cliff.

As he starts the engine and pulls away from the curb, my thoughts race with possible escape plans. I hate feeling helpless, especially around him.

As we pull into the parking lot of a fancy restaurant, I know that tonight is going to be a long and grueling ordeal. But if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s making my father regret ever trying to control me.

The glamorous chandeliers hanging from the vaulted ceilings and the soft, ambient music do nothing to ease the tension simmering inside me as I step inside the restaurant. In fact, this place only serves to amplify my discomfort.

My father leads the way, his grip firm on my arm as he steers me toward a secluded corner table. There, an older man with graying hair, a turkey neck and an expensive suit awaits. There’s a predatory gleam in his eyes as he looks me up and down as if sizing up a piece of meat, and my skin crawls with revulsion.

“Reagan, meet Mr. Harrington,” my father says, his voice dripping with forced politeness. “Mr. Harrington, this is my daughter, Reagan.”

“Nice to meet you, Reagan,” he says, his eyes never leaving my body. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

“Have you now?” I retort, unable to contain my disgust. Turning to my father with a sarcastic smile, I suggest, “Why don’t you offer him Ashley instead? I’m sure she’d be more than willing. She needs a new designer bag to swing around campus while she chews her gum too loud.” My words echo through the posh atmosphere, thick with disdain. “It’s a super cute aesthetic she has, don’t you think?” I set my tone a few octaves higher, mimicking Ashley’s voice.

“Reagan!” my father hisses, clearly taken aback by my audacity.

“Sorry, Dad,” I say, not feeling sorry at all. “Just trying to liven things up. You know how these dinners can drag on. Isn’t that why you brought me? For the entertainment?”

Mr. Harrington chuckles, though his eyes remain cold. “Your daughter has quite the spirit, Mr. St. Pierre. I can see why you’re so proud of her.”

“Indeed,” my father replies tersely, his jaw clenched.

As we sit down, I can’t help but wonder what kind of twisted arrangement my father has made on my behalf this time. But one thing’s for sure, I won’t be the one to bend to his will. Not this time, and not ever again.

This place feels suffocating, like a vise grip tightening around my chest. I can’t take another moment of this charade— not with that lecherous old man ogling me and my father pretending everything is perfectly fine. My patience has reached its breaking point, and I need to make my escape before they get me alone somewhere.

“It’s been a fun time, but I’ll see myself out now,” I announce, pushing back from the table with as much force as possible. The sound of the chair scraping against the polished floor echoes through the hushed dining room.

“Reagan!” my father hisses, his face turning an ugly shade of red. But I don’t care. I’m done being pushed around and paraded about like some kind of trophy.

I glare at my father and say, “You’ve got me all the way fucked up if you think I’m going to fuck this old fool because you owe him money.”

Shock and horror would be the only way to describe the old woman’s expression at the table closest to us.

Ignoring Dad’s protests, I storm out of the restaurant and into the parking lot. Determined to put as much distance as possible between myself and that awful dinner, I pull out my phone and open the rideshare app. As I enter my destination and confirm the ride, I can’t help but feel a sense of pride that I didn’t back down this time. My hands are shaking, and I hate that shit. I’m going to pay for this.

“Get your ass back in this restaurant, you little bitch.” My father’s voice cuts through the quiet of the parking lot, but I refuse to let him get under my skin. He may have controlled my life up until this point, but I can’t give him an inch of control any longer.

“To be sold off like a piece of property?” I snap back, my words laced with venom. “You really are a piece of work, you know that?”

The icy grip on my arm stops me in my tracks, and I’m suddenly face to face with my father’s rage-filled eyes. “You think you can just embarrass me like this?” he seethes, his breath hot and angry against my skin.

“Let go of me,” I growl, trying to wrench my arm free from his grasp. But he holds on tighter, his nails digging into my flesh. The pain only fuels my defiance, and I stare him down, refusing to back off.

“Reagan, you will get inside, and you will be good fucking company,” he hisses through gritted teeth. His voice is low and dangerous, but I’ve heard it all before. I’m fucking myself and Reese, but I need a plan and fast because I can’t do this anymore. I won’t.

“News flash, Dad. You don’t control me anymore,” I spit out, my words dripping with acid as I finally rip my arm out of his grasp.

“I will ruin your fucking life, little girl, and your fucking sister’s as well.” He’s practically snarling now, and I can’t help but wonder how we ever ended up like this.

I scoff, my heart racing with anger and adrenaline. “You mean by parading me around like some sort of trophy for your disgusting friends? No thanks.” I wrench my arm free, finally breaking his hold on me. “I said it before, and I’ll say it again. Fuck off and leave us alone.”

I’m about to say fuck the slow ass rideshare when I spot him. My drive-by fucking kisser, sitting on his bike, idling at the edge of the parking lot. A mischievous smile tugs at the corners of my lips as an idea begins to form in my mind.

“Hey, killer!” I call out, sauntering toward him and away from fucking John St. Pierre with unwavering confidence. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but he doesn’t move, no doubt wondering what the hell I’m playing at. When I’m within earshot, I raise an eyebrow and say with a playful glint in my eyes, “If you’re going to stalk me, you might as well be useful.”

“Is that so?” he smirks, clearly amused by my audacity.

“Yep,” I say, reaching for the helmet he has resting in front of him. “Now give me a ride, and let’s get out of here before my father decides to murder me in public.”

I snatch the helmet from his hand, my fingers brushing against his warm skin. He cocks his head to the side, a single dark eyebrow raised as he appraises me with those penetrating hazel eyes. A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face stretching across his five o’clock shadow.

Behind me, dear old dad is losing his shit. “Reagan! Get the fuck away from that psycho ass Blackwood!” he bellows, his voice booming across the parking lot.

I freeze, the helmet nearly slipping from my grasp. Blackwood? As in THE Blackwoods? Well, fuck me sideways.

He throws his head back and laughs, the sound rich and darkly amused. “Well, well. Looks like Daddy doxxed me.” He leans forward on the bike, pinning me with a smoldering stare. “But it’s true. Penn fucking Blackwood, in the goddamn flesh.”

I swallow hard, my heart pounding against my ribcage.

“You still want that ride, hellfire?” he asks, his voice a low, seductive purr. “Or are you going to run back to daddy like a good little girl?”

“Let’s go,” I command, swinging my leg over the back of the bike. My body presses against his, and I can’t help but notice the warmth radiating from him. It’s almost intoxicating. It’s sad. He’s a certifiable homicidal maniac who clearly has a fixation on me and I feel safer with him than my own father.

“Where to?” Penn asks, his voice low and husky .

“Anywhere but here,” I reply, wrapping my arms around his waist. The engine roars to life beneath us, and we speed off into the night, leaving my father and his twisted world behind.

“Yea, I can do that,” he smirks, revving the engine beneath us. As we speed off into the night, I can’t help but revel in this newfound sense of freedom. For once, I’m in control of my own destiny, and it feels incredible.

“Thank you,” I whisper into Penn’s ear, knowing he probably can’t hear me over the roar of the engine. But it doesn’t matter. For now, all that matters is I’m getting the fuck away from this restaurant and the creepy old men in it.

The wind whips around us, blurring the city lights into streaks of vibrant color as Penn fucking Blackwood barrels through the streets. He jerks the handlebars suddenly, forcing our bodies to collide for a split second.

“Easy there, killer,” I shout over the roar, my voice dripping with sarcasm. My heart races in my chest as I wrap my arms tighter around Penn’s waist, gripping him with all the strength my body can muster. The thrill of taking risks has always been intoxicating to me, and it makes sense that he lives that way also.

As we weave through traffic, the adrenaline surging through my veins reminds me of an ignited fuse.

“Left up here! Oh wait, you already know where I live,” I tease him, my breath hot on his neck. Penn’s shoulders bounce, indicating that he thinks I’m at least a little bit funny. I feel manic with no plan to slow down for the night. Being dragged into the restaurant and offered to that man has me in a very dark place that I don’t know how I’ll crawl out of. Penn could kill me, and I guess I’m willing to take that chance right now because it’s better than my other options. Penn follows my instruction without hesitation, and the cool night air brushes against my skin as we pull up outside my building. The adrenaline from the argument with my dad still courses through my veins, making me feel alive in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. Penn’s bike comes to a stop, and I take a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever comes next.

“Here we are,” I say, swiftly removing my arms from around Penn and dismounting from the bike. I pull the helmet off and feel my hair sticking up all over the place. I reach out to hand him back the helmet. “Thanks for the ride, killer.”

As I turn toward the entrance of the building, I can feel Penn’s eyes on me, his gaze lingering, caressing me as if he’s touching me from over there. I start to walk away, my steps confident and sure, displaying my independence and self-assuredness.

“Hey hellfire,” Penn calls after me. “You know I could easily have killed you, right?”

His words hang in the air, and I pause, considering his question for a brief moment before turning back to face him.

I spin around to face Penn, my lips curving into a defiant smirk. “Is that so?” I challenge, cocking my head to the side. I add with a smirk, “if you were going to kill me, you would have already done it, don’t you think?”

For a moment, Penn seems shocked, but the way his eyes tighten tells me I stepped into it. Then, a slow smile spreads across his face, and I can see the glint of admiration for me that hangs between us.

“Maybe you’re right,” he concedes, his voice low and seductive. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Warning duly noted,” I retort with a playful grin. “I figured you probably have at least a few more unsanctioned visits to my room before you gut me like a fish, huh?”

He stares back at me. “Maybe I just like playing with my prey,” he counters.

“Or maybe,” I retort, stepping closer to him, “you’re not as dangerous as you think you are.” I’m pushing him in a way I know I shouldn’t, because I know exactly how dangerous his family can be. His father rubs elbows with mine like all rich old fucks do. I don’t know why I’m trying to antagonize him. I should let him leave and go up to my place and shove my desk in front of the door and actually get a good night’s sleep.

I slowly start walking backward away from him and toward my apartment building when he swings his leg over and gets off his bike, grabbing his key and pocketing it.

I don’t even know what to call it because it’s not a walk. Swagger maybe, but the way he’s coming at me is full of confidence but with a liquid ease to them. No tension lines his frame and I envy that. What must it be like to not have any stress in your body?

“Nice try,” Penn smirks, leaning in close enough for me to feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek. “You underestimate how scared you should be of me.”

“Who said anything about being scared?” I shoot back, refusing to let him have the upper hand. “You’re the one following me into my apartment like a lost puppy.”

“Fine.” He steps back, giving me space to open the building door. “But don’t cry later because your mouth wrote checks your ass can’t cash.”

As I step into the dimly lit hallway of my apartment building, I can feel his presence like a physical weight, pressing against my back, making the hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end.

What the fuck am I doing? I’m inviting danger into my life, walking side by side with a man who I know is capable of unspeakable violence. I saw it with my own eyes, the way he and his brothers killed that man in cold blood. And yet, here I am, leading him straight to my door like a lamb to the slaughter.

I’m a fucking hypocrite. I was just bitching to myself about needing to stay as far away from this man as possible.

I manage to unlock the door and push it open, stepping inside. Penn follows close behind, his presence filling the small space of my apartment. The air feels thick and heavy.

I turn to face him, my back pressed against the closed door. He’s so close, his body just inches from mine. I can see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes, the faint scar above his left eyebrow.

I reach out, my fingers grazing the rough denim of his jeans. There’s something hard and unyielding in his pocket, and curiosity gets the better of me. I slip my hand inside, my fingertips brushing against cold, smooth metal.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” I muse, pulling out a sleek switchblade. The weight of it feels heavy in my palm, the polished handle gleaming under the dim light of my apartment.

Penn’s lips curve into a smirk. “That’s Naomi. She’s been with me through thick and thin.”

I can’t help but let out a snort of laughter. “Seriously? You named your knife? What, is she your girlfriend or something?”

He leans in closer, his breath hot against my ear. “Jealous, hellfire? Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite plaything.”

“Were you going to use this on me? Or did I interrupt one of your little late night murder meetings?”

Penn shifts, pushing his hips into mine. “You know, Reagan,” he drawls. “Most people would be a little more concerned about what I plan on doing with that. ”

“Concerned?” I scoff, twirling the knife between my fingers with practiced ease. “Please. I’m two seconds away from ending up on a yacht in Dubai because of my dad. Death would be welcomed over that.” My words hang heavily in the air as I effectively kill the mood.

Penn’s hand comes up to grip my chin, his fingers rough against my skin. “You have no idea what gets me going,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. “But keep pushing me, and you might just find out.”

I suck in a sharp breath, my body responding to his touch despite my better judgment. “Is that a threat or a promise?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Luckily for you, your dead body would bring me nothing but a headache,” Penn replies, his lips hovering just a hair’s breadth from mine.

With the knife still in hand, I press it against his chest, just enough for him to feel the cold steel through his t-shirt. I watch as his eyes flicker with arousal, and I can’t help but smirk at the power this simple object holds over him.

“Tell me, you pretty psycho,” I whisper seductively, letting the tip of the blade trace a slow path down his chest. “Do you enjoy playing with fire?”

“Fire is kind of my specialty, but I rarely get burned anymore,” he responds, his voice barely above a whisper. The raw desire in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine.

I back away from Penn, my heart pounding in my chest as I kick off my boots by the door. The weight of his gaze on me is heavy, but I refuse to let him see how much he affects me.

“Are you coming or what?” I call over my shoulder, wiggling my fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion. I might as well get an orgasm out of this man before I buckle down and figure out an exit plan from all of this.

I can hear Penn’s footsteps behind me, the sound of his boots against the hardwood floor. It sends a thrill through me, knowing he’s following me, that he wants me just as much as I want him.

Pulling back the sheet I have on a clothesline to pardon off my bedroom , I do a tah-dah Vanna White arm motion.

“Welcome to my humble abode. I’d say make yourself at home, but I think you’ve already done that. Did you go through my underwear drawer or just desecrate my sketchbook?”

“Both,” he remarks, knowing it’ll irritate me. I need to stop showing everything on my damn face. “So, what now?”

“Good question,” I muse, biting my lip as I consider our options. “We could play Monopoly.”

“I’d wipe you clean,” he retorts, grinning mischievously. “But if you’re offering...”

“Bold words for someone who is clearly stalling,” I taunt, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow in challenge. “But if that’s how you want to play it... fine.”

Without another word, I march up to him, my gaze locked on his as I back him up against the wall. His breath catches in his throat, but he doesn’t look away. It’s the most delicious fucking sound, and there’s a fire in his eyes that matches mine, as if daring me to take things further.

“Fuck, Rae Rae,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “What are you?—”

“Shh,” I silence him, pressing a finger to his lips. “You started this, remember?”

I grab Penn by the front of his shirt and yank him toward me. His body comes willingly and with it all his weight because what business do I have trying to manhandle a goddamn football player? Our bodies collide as I fall back onto the bed, pulling him down on top of me.

“Someone’s eager,” he chuckles, his weight pressing me into the mattress. I can feel every hard line of his body against mine, and it sends a rush of heat straight to my core.

“Shut up and kiss me, you fucking psycho,” I demand, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

Penn obliges, crashing his lips against mine in a bruising kiss. The taste of him is intoxicating, and I find myself craving more with every passing second. It’s all teeth and tongue, a battle for dominance that leaves us both breathless. His hands roam over my body, slipping under the hem of my shirt to caress the bare skin of my waist.

“You don’t want this,” Penn whispers against my lips, his hands gripping my waist as if to steady himself. “You’re just pissed off at your daddy.”

“Never been more certain about anything in my life,” I breathe, unwavering in my resolve. And as I press myself against him, feeling the heat of his body through our clothes, I know that whatever comes next will be nothing short of explosive. His cock is rock hard and every bit as big as his huge ass ego would indicate.

When I pull away from the kiss, I can feel Penn’s eyes on me, his gaze searing and unrelenting, as if he’s trying to peel away the layers that guard my soul.

“Like what you see?” I taunt, a playful smirk tugging at my lips as I begin to undress.

By the time I’m laying before him in nothing but my bra and panties, I can barely stand the slow pace he’s moving at tonight. I want to be fucked within an inch of my life. I want to forget the way that old man eyed me up and down, and I want to forget that I’ll have to deal with my father tomorrow. Without hesitation, I slip off my panties and toss them at Penn and I barely register the way his hand darts out and snatched them out of midair. Okay, Mr. Good with my hands.

“Your move.” I challenge him because he’s the type of guy that can’t back down.

Penn wastes no time in closing the distance between us, his hands gripping my hips hard enough that I feel each digit as it sinks into the soft skin there. He’s going to leave a mark and God, I can’t fucking wait for that.

My hands roam over his toned body, exploring every inch of his skin that I can get my hands on with a hunger that cannot be satiated. But despite the all-consuming desire coursing through my veins, I can’t help but feel a flicker of doubt creep in. He’s holding back.

“Either fuck me, killer, or stop wasting my time,” I challenge him, my voice laced with frustration and determination. My words hang heavily in the air, leaving Penn flabbergasted, and for the first time in his life, genuinely surprised. I don’t believe for a second that this man doesn’t have people throwing themselves at him day and night, so I don’t know why he’s so shocked that I want him to be my distraction tonight.

Penn’s eyes narrow, glinting with a dangerous intensity as he leans down, his lips hovering just above mine. “You can’t handle what I want to do to you,”

His hand slides down my belly and his fingers find my wet pussy, not pausing before he shoves two fingers deep inside me. He pumps his fingers roughly, curling them to hit the perfect spot while pressing his thumb against my clit. I nearly scream at the sensation, my inner walls clenching around him.

“Fuck, Penn,” I pant, my nails digging into his broad shoulders. The pleasure is almost too much to bear. I can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in my belly with each thrust of his fingers.

Penn grips my hair in his free hand and continues to roughly finger my tight cunt, his fingers bend and flexing expertly inside me and pressing all the right buttons to have me coming apart, soaking his fingers. Seemingly coming to a decision, he smirks, pulling his fingers out of me and standing up. I think he’s going to take his clothes off and join me, but instead he licks his fingers, savoring the taste of me on each digit. “Sleep tight, hellfire. And thanks for the panties. I’ll make sure and use them later.” He holds up my panties and tucks them in his pocket before he walks out with a bounce in his step reminiscent of a fucking skip to my Lou cadence.