Not A Peep: A Forbidden, Bully, Dark College Romance, page 13
I don’t know why he would trust me not to do that, especially knowing that if I was feeling vindictive, I could tell Trip to cause a rift between the two, but I nod just the same.
“Trip’s dad has pancreatic cancer and needs treatment. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have health insurance and paying for the doctor’s appointments and chemo is super expensive. Trip’s been trying to take on more projects to make ends meet and so Carlos will just relax, but his dad insists that he needs to keep working. They’re butting heads like crazy and it’s taking a toll on the both of them. It’s crazy because it’s not like we—” Jason pauses before shaking his head, clearly thinking better about something. “Anyway, money and health, that’s Carlos’ problem.”
Strangely enough, this is something I’m vaguely informed about. I slow to a halt and look up at Jason.
“I’m sure he’s looked into this already, but has he contacted Delmora’s Angels?”
Jason’s brows furrow. “Who?”
“Delmora’s Angels, they serve the Midwest area and are pretty great.”
“Like I said, they don’t really talk about these things, but I doubt it. Trip and Carlos don’t have a lot of downtime. Tell me about it.”
“They’re a nonprofit that helps people who don’t have health insurance get the care they need, especially in regard to cancer treatment. The organization will either help with some of the payments for medical costs, or, depending on the case, they completely take it on so families can focus on getting better and not going into financial debt.” I push my cart over to another table to pick up a pile of books resting there. Jason takes a few and helps me organize them on my cart. “They’re who helped my foster father when he got sick. Not only did they pay for half of all the treatments, but when he got really sick, a truck would come out and give us a few frozen family-sized meals.”
There’s a short pause as Jason digests this information. As I continue through the rows of bookshelves, he slows to a halt and pulls out his phone and types away. Leaving him to do his own research, I continue on my way. I’m not alone for long.
“I’ll look into that for them, thanks.” He quickens his stride so that he comes to walk beside me. “And I’m sorry to hear about your foster dad. Is he ok now?”
“He didn’t make it.”
“Oh, shit.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see him reach for me. I stiffen hoping that he won’t touch me. How do I explain that to a coworker who just happens to look over at the wrong time? Thankfully, Jason seems to rethink the gesture because his hand drops before it gets to me. “I’m really sorry for your loss.”
“Don’t be, I’m not. He was an asshole.”
Patrick Hollies and his wife, Martha Hollies, can rot in hell for all I care. He’d died a few months after I aged out of the foster care system, and I hadn’t even bothered to call Martha to see how she was doing. That’s what they get for neglecting the child they were supposed to be taking care of. Thank god for Mrs. Gonzalez. She took me under her wing when my foster parents were too drunk to function, which was a lot of the time.
“Anyway, that nonprofit is great. As for your parents, it sounds like, until they feel comfortable stepping back from working so hard, they’re going to keep trucking at it. I think the best thing to do is make sure they know you love them, and that you’re there to support them in whatever decision they make whether that’s to work or retire.” I pause before adding, “Whatever decisions they made to get to where they are have been made, so there is no point harping on them. All you can do is help them when you can and be a shoulder they can lean on when they’re emotionally spent. By constantly reminding them of what they already know, you’re making them feel worse than they already do. So just be there and quietly support them until they decide to do something different.”
Jason opens his mouth to say more but a student approaches. To my relief, rather than stay and potentially get me into trouble, he says,
“I’ll see you around.”
With that, he turns and leaves, giving me space and the ability to relax. Once I’m done with the student, I head to the break room where the books will be organized and then reshelved later. When I get there, I finally cave and grab the small box Jason left behind. I open it up cautiously, expecting something awful.
Instead, I find six chocolate-covered strawberries. White chocolate is drizzled on top, and there are some pink sprinkles in the mix. I stare in wonder at the treat in front of me. I’m both flattered and suspicious, leaning heavily toward the latter. Why would he give me these? And why come to talk to me? This seems… odd. Like a setup of some sort.
With a huff, I toss them in the trash can.
But, in case this was some sort of test or trick, I do want him to know that I opened his present. Pulling out my phone, I pull up Jason’s number and type out a quick text just to him:
Me: Thanks for the strawberries.
I don’t expect him to answer, so when my phone vibrates as I start to put it away, I start in surprise.
Jason: UR welcome.
Jason: You never did tell me what you were studying so hard on your phone.
I roll my eyes. What would it hurt if he knew what I was doing? How could he possibly use it against me?
Me: I was looking up how to get my real estate license.
Three little bubbles pop up as he writes his response.
Jason: You’d leave the library? You’d leave us?
Leave my job here at the Atwater Library? Absolutely not. Have a side hustle where I can make some extra cash doing something else I love? Sure. Rather than reply though, I shove my phone back into my pocket. Let him think I’m considering leaving. I move toward the door, ready to head back out to the general population when my phone vibrates again. Rolling my eyes, I pull it out.
Jason: Even if you leave Groveton, it won’t stop us from having you.
The ominous text causes my heart to race. I bite my bottom lip, not sure if I want to reply. In the end, I hastily shove the phone back into my pocket and leave the break room, hoping to put this whole conversation behind me.
Thirteen
Wednesday, I don’t see the guys. It’s a relief not to deal with their bullshit, though I know the reprieve from them can’t last long. They’re boys with a shiny new toy. Why would they ever stay away longer than they have to?
I’m proven right when, Thursday morning, just as the library gets its first wave of students, I feel an icy glare. I shiver even before I know who it belongs to. When I look up, I find Trip sauntering over to my desk. My stomach sinks to the deepest depths, even as I plaster on a fake smile as he stops in front of me.
“Hi, can I help you?” My customer service voice is on point right now. Later, I’ll pat myself on the back for managing to keep calm.
“Yeah, I’m looking for something.” Trip drawls, his gaze pinned to my face. I want to shrink back into my seat and disappear. Why is he even here?
I open my mouth to reply but before I can, Ms. Barbara appears by my side.
“Briella, Professor Boone is having difficulty understanding the new software update and IT isn’t able to get to her classroom right now. You did the presentation on it a few months ago so I offered to send you over there so she can get it to work for her students,” she says.
“Oh, I—” I glance at Trip, who’s watching the interaction carefully. My boss seems to notice him at the same time.
“Oh, I’m sorry young man. Let me help you.” She looks down at me. “I’ll take care of this, why don’t you head to her classroom?”
I leap to my feet, pleased to be getting out of this situation. “Of course.”
Not bothering to spare Trip another glance, I take my leave and escape whatever torment he has planned for me.
I don’t see Trip the rest of the day, and I relax. Whatever he wanted, it couldn’t have been good. Ms. Barbara had unknowingly saved the day. That night, I celebrate with a box of pizza and a few hours of house hunting on my phone before calling it a night.
Friday, I’m free of the guys all day. As the time draws closer to five o’clock, I feel nearly buoyant.
“Alright, I’m going to make sure the system is updated then head out. Do either of you need anything?” I ask as I slide from behind the desk and allow Dora to take my seat.
Both she and Megan, who is already seated, shake their heads.
“Have a good night!”
I wave and nearly skip to the back. Maybe tonight, instead of laying around at home, I’ll go out to a bar, dance, and mingle. I used to go out with Pianna a lot, but since moving here, my personal life has been lacking. While I’ve grown comfortable with the change, it’s nice to switch things up.
I’m nearly to the staff room when a soft whistle cuts through the relatively quiet library. My head turns to the left to look for the source of the noise. When I find it, my jubilance pops like a bubble. Leaning against the door to the stairwell with his arms crossed, is Grant. Despite the stone stinking down into my gut, I have to give it to him. Dressed for game day in his jersey and leggings he looks… Well, hot. I didn’t think uniforms did anything for me, but damn. For a moment I’m stupefied. And when he smiles at me, I almost forget why he’s here. He drops his arms and uses his finger to call me to come over. Looking over my shoulder, I make sure neither Megan nor Dora is watching, then check to see if any students are visible. It’s only when I’m positive that no one can see me that I walk over to Grant.
“Good evening, dollface,” he greets with a nod.
“Why are you here?” I can’t stop the way my eyes drag down his body then back up. Heat flares to life in my cheeks when Grant smirks.
“Like what you see?”
“Eh, you’re not a quarterback but…” I let my sentence hang as I shrug.
He chuckles. “Maybe next year you can blackmail our QB into fucking you.”
Indignation causes me to sputter. Grant laughs before reaching out and grabbing my wrist. Before I can jerk it away, he pulls me closer to him. Indecently close.
“Grant…” I whisper anxiously, looking around to double check our surroundings.
“You’re fine, dollface. I’ve gone nearly a week without seeing you, and it’s very unsettling. You know you’re more than welcome to just show up at our apartment whenever you want to be played with.”
I bark out a single, “Ha.”
Grant doesn’t approve of my response, if I’m to go off the way his pupils narrow and nostrils flare. His grip tightens around my wrist as he turns and pushes open the stairwell door and drags me with him.
“Grant, what—” Before I can finish, he slams my back up against the wall just beside the door and under the massive spiral staircase and presses his body against mine. Anyone could come down the stairs or walk in to go up them and find us like this. This is bad, really bad. Grant doesn’t seem to care though. Leaning down, he growls into my ear,
“You can laugh all you want, but until your pussy stops dripping as it desperately aches for our dicks, don’t tell me you don’t enjoy our time together, dollface.”
My gasp is cut off as his lips slam against mine. His hands come up underneath my shirt to push up my bra and to paw at my breasts. I whimper as he pinches my nipples and rolls them between his fingers. He bites my bottom lip hard, causing me to cry out, before forcing his tongue into my mouth. Despite the pain, my body responds swiftly. A hard quiver of disgust and resentment is chased off as it’s followed by a tidal wave of desire.
Grant’s knee comes up between my legs and applies pressure to my clit. To my horror, I groan and roll my hips against it, searching for some friction. Grant’s fingers tease and twist my nipples until they’re hardened peaks. When he’s satisfied at how hard they get, he pulls away from my mouth, to lift up my shirt and snag my right nipple between his teeth. When he sucks hard, I cry out. The sound echoes in the stairwell. I swallow back another as his tongue caresses the nipple and his fingers tease the other. My hips continue to rock against his thigh.
“I hate you,” I groan as my pleasure builds.
At that, Grant pulls away from me. I should be relieved, but I’m not. My mouth opens to cry out, but Grant’s hands are suddenly back on me. They fall to my waist, turn me around, and he snarls.
“Hands on the wall.”
I do as I’m told immediately. Grant yanks down my pants and panties from my hips with ease. I gasp in surprise, but it’s cut off as one hand snakes around and goes back to fondling my breast while his other hand comes around and slides between my legs. Two fingers slide deep into my pussy with absolutely no resistance, and wet slopping sounds follow. My eyes roll up as I moan.
“Do you really hate me, dollface?” Grant asks as he pumps his fingers in and out of me.
I can’t stop the way my hips bend back and push into his pelvis.
“I don’t think you do. In fact, I think you love this. Being manhandled, being told what to do, it excites you,” he hisses before biting my neck hard. I bite back a cry of pain. At the same time, my pussy clenches tight around his fingers. He chuckles. “I came tonight to remind you who you belong to. It’s not just Jason, do you understand? You belong to the three of us. And if you’re thinking about leaving Groveton, just remember we’re quite capable of finding you wherever you go.”
Before I can tell him to go fuck himself, his thumb circles my clit. My orgasm comes on quickly, tearing through my body so hard that I’m convulsing into Grant’s chest. The sound of my groan hides behind my lips as I try to keep from making too much noise. When my orgasm finally subsides, Grant withdraws his hand and spins me back around. The hand that was on my breast moves to my hair where he grabs a handful of strands and uses them to force me to my knees.
“Grant!”
He stares down at me, his expression void of any emotion. Without breaking eye contact, he lifts up his other hand to show me my arousal coating his fingers. Humiliation wells up and brings tears with it.
“Does this look like hate?” he asks softly. “Because to me, it doesn’t. But maybe it tastes like it. Tell me, what does hate taste like?” He brings his fingers to my lips. “Open.”
My nose crinkles as I try to turn away. “No, that’s—”
He shoves his fingers into my mouth while I try to protest. He pushes all the way back, so much so that I gag and choke.
“Taste that, dollface? That’s the taste of a woman who is properly owned and used. Not a woman who hates her situation. Remember that the next time you want to spout nonsense.”
Grant withdraws his hand from my mouth and hair at the same time. I gasp and sputter for air. I fall to my hands as I try not to dry heave all over the tile floor.
“I’ll see you around.”
As I move to get to my feet, Grant opens the door and disappears. Quickly, I pull up my pants, fix my blouse, and take a second to make sure my breathing is back to normal before I follow. As I walk to the break room, the idea to go out to a bar vanishes. Forcing myself not to cry from both despair and fury, I finish up in the back quickly and head home to drink myself into oblivion.
Fourteen
On Saturday, I keep busy.
I dive into the world of real estate here in the Texas area. From classes to the different brokers in the area to the trends of the market, I study it all. By Saturday evening, I’m all studied up. I’m pretty sure I could take the state test now and pass with flying colors.
I tell myself that I’m simply keeping busy. If I do this, it wouldn’t be for a while. It takes money and time to start up and market yourself. Neither of which I have an abundance of at the moment. Maybe in a year or so, after saving up some PTO and some extra cash… At least it’s something to consider in case the guys decide to destroy my career at Groveton College.
That night, I force myself to leave the apartment. I know if I just sit there, I’ll start thinking about them and what they’re up to. They haven’t messaged me to come over, so that’s a good thing, right? I tell myself it is. Because the alternative is that they’re planning something heinous for me and the only reason they haven’t contacted me is because they’re in the planning stages. That thought is enough to scare me into being unavailable.
So I call Megan, who’s already out with some friends, and meet up with her.
“I’m so excited you came out with us!” she squeals, her arms coming around my shoulders.
“Same. Now, I need a drink.”
She gives me a sly look. “How about a few shots? We started two hours ago, and you need to catch up.”
I don’t even take the time to consider it. When three shots are handed to me, I take them in quick succession. Then we’re walking to the next place. Over the course of the night, we stop at five different bars and then end up at a small club. By the time we get to the club, I’ve lost count on how many shots and beers I’ve had.
“Damn, Bri. You go girl!” Megan cheers as I throw back another and proceeds to take her own shot. As she slams her small glass down onto the bar, she stumbles. With a laugh, I catch her and then drag her back out onto the dance floor.
By the end of the evening, I’ve totally forgotten why I’d been so determined to come out. I call that a successful night.
I’m a grown ass woman who knows how to handle her liquor. I should’ve known better than to go out and go so hard last night, especially when upset. But clearly, I wasn’t thinking straight. Now here I am, on a Sunday morning, with my head dangling into the toilet as I dry heave and curse the gods for ever creating liquor.
“Fuck, I’m pathetic,” I groan, reaching up and flushing the toilet for the hundredth time.
At least now that my stomach is utterly empty of its contents, I’m feeling a tiny bit better. Using the bathroom counter, I pull myself to my feet and brush my teeth. When I’m certain I’m not going to fall sideways, I move to the shower next. God, my hair is a total rat’s nest. It takes a while, but I finally manage to rinse out the hairspray and untangle the mats.
