Be here tonight. Seven p.m. Don’t be late.
She might become a coward again, erase that text, pretend she didn’t admit to her tendencies out loud, and kill the animal inside her.
But something tells me she’s been approaching the boiling point for a while now and she might have reached it last night.
I sensed the trapped emotions inside her and saw the way her eyes shone with dark lust when I was using her mouth.
Cecily might be finally ready to act on her fantasy.
And when she does, I’ll show her who the actual monster is in this equation.
13
CECILY
What the hell have I done?
I’ve been asking myself that question ever since I woke up this morning with an epic headache, an ache between my legs, and a huge bite mark on my neck.
No kidding. It’s so big and angry red that no amount of makeup could erase it, so I had to wear a scarf to hide it.
During class, I’ve been on autopilot, zoned out, unable to concentrate for more than ten minutes.
My head swims and I give up on one of my favorite lectures, human behavior, halfway through. The professor’s words rise and fall in intonation, but none of them get past my ears.
Slumping in my seat, I pull out my phone and stare at the text sitting at the top.
My index finger rubs the side of my nose once, twice, and then I push up my black-framed glasses as I read and reread the text.
Be here tonight. Seven p.m. Don’t be late.
It’s Jeremy. I don’t have to guess since it has his name. I didn’t have his number, but apparently, it was saved on my phone last night.
I was drunk, but that doesn’t mean I don’t remember. The moment I woke up, memories flashed in my consciousness and bombarded every principle I thought I had.
Such as not getting involved with someone like Jeremy.
Sexually or not.
But last night, I was totally out of it—I refuse to believe sober me would’ve enjoyed being eaten out and having his thing in my mouth.
Sober me would’ve fought…right?
Sober me would’ve never sent that text that served as his invitation. Not that he needed one—if he wanted to jump through my window, he could and would do it.
He’s a force of nature.
An impossible dilemma.
And he took from me more than I was willing to give. Unapologetically. Without waiting to see if I agreed to it.
Because that’s what Jeremy Volkov does. He’s a man with no boundaries, ethics, or limits. And if last night is any indication, then I’ve only witnessed the tip of his intensity.
I have no doubt that if I let my guard down, he’ll drag me into his dark cave and swallow me whole.
But is that so wrong?
A tiny, crazy, stupid voice chants in the back of my head, mulling over and entertaining an option I shouldn’t be considering.
Besides the self-loathing, there’s been this primal yearning for the feelings I experienced when he straddled my face and used me.
I can’t stop thinking about the raw look in his eyes, the way he desired me so much that he behaved like an animal.
After studying either side of me, making sure the other students are focused on the professor or sleeping, I lower my phone to my lap and type a reply.
Cecily: Why? What will happen there at seven?
A strange sensation flows through me when he reads the text almost immediately. My leg bounces as I wait for the dots to appear. The movements are so jerky that the guy sitting close to me gives me a fleeting glance and I force myself to calm down.
Blimey.
Why am I so affected by this?
By him?
Because you know he’s probably the only one who’ll incinerate the limits you’re so scared to cross.
My screen lights up with a text, and I stop breathing for a second.
Jeremy: How’s the hangover?
My fingers tremble. Why is he asking that? It can’t be because he’s worried about me like the way Ava left me some pharmaceutical remedies and painkillers on the side table. Those definitely helped.
Cecily: My head hurts a little, but I’m fine.
Jeremy: I suppose you’re a lightweight, Lisichka?
Cecily: What does that mean? Lisichka?
Jeremy: Little fox. You looked like one that day at the initiation. You still feel like one with all the cunning.
Cecily: I’m not that cunning.
Really. I’m not. I’m just good at the invisibility game. Sometimes, I’m not sure if helping Lan out that one time was worth it since it presented me with this nightmare.
Jeremy: I suggest you don’t drink again.
Cecily: Why not?
Jeremy: Do as you’re told.
Cecily: I thought it was only a suggestion.
Jeremy: My suggestions are your orders.
Cecily: Yes, sir. Not.
Jeremy: The fucking attitude.
My spine tingles as if I can hear the gruff timbre of his voice and see the displeasure in his ash eyes.
Focus.
Cecily: You didn’t answer my question. What will happen at seven at the location you sent?
Jeremy: What do you think will happen?
Cecily: Would you stop answering with questions?
Jeremy: Would you stop being so standoffish?
He did it again. He’s such a wanker, I swear.
Cecily: I’m not standoffish.
Jeremy: You’re always walking with your nose in the air or in a book, as if the world doesn’t deserve your time or energy. You also have this habit of pulling away from crowds and spending as much time indoors as possible. Standoffish is me putting it nicely. To be more accurate, you’re an asocial snob with trust issues.
My leg bounces again, and this time, I don’t care about my classmates’ stares as I glare at the phone.
This bastard is able to rile me up with a few words, and I’m not even the type who’s easily provoked. I’m the most levelheaded of my friends. Hell, I’m the one they come to, to end fights, but right now?
I’m seething. Volcano-like steam explodes from my pores and it takes everything in me not to curse.
Cecily: And you’re an arrogant, monstrous, absolutely appalling existence with antisocial tendencies. Oh, and a stalker. But you don’t see me talking about that :) I sent the last smiley face for extra effect.
Jeremy: By all means. If psychoanalyzing and slapping labels on me gives you peace of mind, do it all you like.
Cecily: You’re a break-and-entry criminal. Also, a creep who goes into places he wasn’t invited to.
Jeremy: No breaking was involved. And am I really considered a creep if your cunt drenched my face while you were coming apart on my mouth? I can still taste you on my tongue. Ten-star meal. Would try again.
I’m surprised no one besides me sees the fire consuming me from the inside out. My face is so heated that I grab my bottle of water with an unsteady hand and nearly finish it in one go.
But that does nothing to quench the thirst.
When the hell did it become so hot in here?
Jeremy: You still there? Get it together and breathe. Don’t vomit just because I was reminiscing about your sweet taste or else it’ll be embarrassing in class. We really need to work on your prude tendencies.