Facing The Enemy Page 5

  “W...what…what?” I sputtered. I even shook my head, because I had to have heard him wrong.

  I had to have.

  His deep chocolate eyes bore into mine. “You heard me, Emerson.”

  “No,” I replied. “Clearly, I didn’t, Ramsey. Because it sounded like you were offering to support me financially.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m offering,” he retorted.

  Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I didn’t know Ramsey Reed all that well. But his bipolar mood swings were giving me whiplash. How could this psycho talk to me so horribly one minute, but then want to help me out the next?

  “Are you high?” I blurted out. I mean, I was genuinely curious. “Do you take pills? Is that why you act like a goddamn lunatic?” I expected him to laugh, growl or cuss me out, but he did none of those things.

  Instead, Ramsey stepped up closer until his body was flushed with mine. I stopped breathing and thought I was going to expire from a Grade A heart attack when one arm came down and he planted his hand on my hip; the other hand wrapping around the back of my neck.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered, because his expression looked like he was seconds away from kissing me.

  “What I’ve been wanting to do since you walked into that party Friday night,” he answered as his head descended and his lips landed on mine.

  Right or wrong, good or bad…I didn’t care. Ramsey Reed’s lips were the best thing to ever touch my body and he fueled me like no one ever had.

  My hands slithered up his chest until they wrapped around his neck and I kissed him back with all the hate I felt for him. I just couldn’t help myself. Actually, that’s not true. I could help myself, I just didn’t want to.

  He groaned, and his hands tightened on my body and I knew that Ramsey Reed was just the boy to help get me out of my head. He could help me forget the shitstorm that was my life right now, even though he was a part of it.

  A big part.

  But I didn’t care. I wanted his fire. I wanted his hate. As long as this attraction between us was forged in hate and bad choices, then there’d be no problem when we walked away from each other after graduation.

  Or sooner.

  His hands left my neck and hip and they started roaming like he was discovering the female form for the first time. But the way he was touching me made it clear that he knew the female form very well.

  We were both wearing jeans and simple cotton t-shirts, the only difference was the apron I was still wearing. It felt like a barrier and protection all at the same time. But it didn’t stop Ramsey from running his hand over my chest to cup my right breast as his lips started making their way down my neck.

  It felt like every bad decision I’ve ever made.

  He felt like the worst choice I could ever make.

  But I didn’t tell him to stop and I didn’t push him away. “Ramsey…”

  “Fuck yeah,” he hissed out. “Say my name like that again, baby.”

  I did.

  Eagerly.

  I felt him trying to gather as much of my breast as he could in his hand. “I can’t wait to taste your tits, Emerson,” he growled. “And, fuck, if I can’t wait to taste your pussy.”

  My knees buckled, and I tightened my hold around his neck to keep myself upright.

  Hell, yeah!

  I started returning the favor and running my hands up and over his broad shoulders, relishing in how big and strong he felt. I bet Ramsey Reed was the epitome of the perfect Greek God.

  I was ready to let him do whatever he wanted when I suddenly felt his teeth break the delicate skin on my neck.

  The motherfucker was actually biting me.

  Ramsey started sucking my skin through his lips and teeth and that’s when I realized he was giving me a hickey. And not just your random got-carried-away variety. Ramsey was marking me in a way that wouldn’t heal for weeks.

  This crazy, psychotic sonofabitch was drinking my goddamn blood.

  I started to push at his shoulders and chest, but he wouldn’t budge. “Ramsey!”

  He held on tighter at my cry and sucked harder and it hurt.

  It. Fucking. Hurt.

  I started punching and kicking at him when he released my skin and bit down onto a new spot to repeat his madness. “Ramsey! Get off me!” I pushed and pushed. “Get the fuck off me!”

  He finally relented and stepped away from me, but not before he completed his second marking. He dropped his hands from my body, but his chest was heaving as he stared down at me.

  I was taken aback by the force of his will. His bottom lip was decorated in streaks of my blood and he looked like he wanted to kill me. Ramsey looked out of control and in control all at the same time. He looked so fucking magnificent.

  He looked like a goddamn psychopath.

  My neck started throbbing and the pain snapped me out of my trance. “What the fuck, Ramsey?” I reached up and winced as my fingers brushed across his bite marks. It felt as if I had been mauled by a rabid dog.

  He cocked his head to get a look at his handy work, and then the motherfucker smirked. “What?”

  I could feel my eyes widen. I slapped both my palms against his chest and pushed. “You fucking bit me!”

  He scowled down at me. “Yeah, I did,” he snapped out. “And you better get used to it because you’re going to have those marks all over your fucking body by the time I’m done with you.” And then his tongue snaked out to lick his lower lip, cleaning it of the remaining blood.

  I felt like I was in a fucking zombie apocalypse movie where the undead were going around just feasting on body parts of the living. Who in their right mind bites another human being and gets a stiff dick from the taste of their blood??

  “How in the hell am I supposed to go back in there with this shit on my neck?!” Jesus. I was losing my mind. I can’t believe I let him do this to me. I can’t believe I want him to fucking do it again!

  Ramsey didn’t answer me. Instead, he grabbed my hand and started dragging me back into the café. He was taking me back into the café even knowing that I looked like I had just been attacked and he didn’t care. Granted, I was probably going to be fired for leaving my tables without telling anyone, but it was still going to be embarrassing going back in there.

  He opened the door and hauled me through the café behind him. I, immediately, saw my shift manager standing next to the table where Ramsey had been sitting. Theirs was the only occupied table left in the café and I knew I was screwed. All my other tables must have left because I walked out on them.

  “Emerson…” my shift manager started.

  Ramsey stood in front of Jarod and, being a couple of inches taller, stared down at him. “She was with me,” he said with no apology whatsoever. “You got a problem with that Richards?”

  “N…no, Ramsey,” Jarod stuttered. He glanced around Ramsey to address me and his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates when they landed on my bloody neck. “It’s…it’s almost closing, Emerson. You can go ahead and clock out,” he breathed.

  Fucking coward.

  I took mercy on him though, because I knew he was just another pawn on the chess board. “Thank you, Jarod.” He just nodded and practically ran out of the dining area.

  Before I could say anything more, Liam’s voice boomed throughout the café, “Holy shit, Ramsey. What the fuck did you do to her?”

  “Jesus Christ,” uttered the fourth boy.

  “Dude. Ram,” Deke whispered.

  Ramsey turned around and yanked on my hand until my body was, once again, flushed up against his. He was looking into my eyes when he answered Liam. “Nothing close to what I plan on doing to her.”

  Chapter 9

  Ramsey

  It had been the week from Hell.

  One week. School has only been in session for one goddamn week and it was feeling like an eternity.

  I wasn’t a complete imbecile, though. I knew I had to pay attention to my curriculum, and actually learn a
thing or two, but my mind was consumed with nothing except Emerson.

  After I had drug her back into the café Monday evening, she had clocked out and cashed in her tips and walked out without another word as she left me still sitting at the table with Deke, Liam and Grant. I had made sure to stay behind and speak with Jarod about her working there. Once I made myself clear…well, Emerson can now do basically whatever she wanted at the café without fear of being fired. I still didn’t like the idea of her working, though.

  When she had shown up to school Tuesday morning with a dark blue scarf around her neck, I had pushed her up against the lockers and almost choked her with it. We had battled it out until I realized that girl would let me strangle her first before she gave in to me. I had let go of the grip I had on her scarf, but I had whipped it off of her, and made her walk around school with those awful marks on her neck for everyone to see.

  I spent all day Tuesday hard as fuck.

  And Wednesday.

  And Thursday.

  And today was looking like shit too.

  I had never jacked off so much in my life. I think I’ve jacked off more in the one week that I’ve known Emerson than I have my entire life.

  And the fantasy was always the same. My dick stood at full mast every time I remembered how it felt to have my hands on her body. Emerson was soft, smooth and feminine. I had meant what I told her. I couldn’t wait to suck on her big tits and lick that sweet pussy of hers.

  I wasn’t much of a foreplay kind of guy because I equated foreplay with affection and no girl has ever held my affections before. Any sucking, licking, biting or petting I’ve ever engaged in, I did it when I was younger because I had to learn somehow. But once I hit high school, it was all quick fucking for me, and even that came to a halt last year.

  I glanced over at Emerson wondering how far she was going to let me take this. We were in fifth period, and while she’s learned to ignore me for the most part, she didn’t fight me anymore on where we sat. I wanted to count that as a victory, but I knew better. Emerson was probably just playing into the ‘keep your friends close, but your enemies closer’ adage.

  She hadn’t once brought up what happened outside the café, and I didn’t like it. There was no way to deny what had happened between us. I mean, hell…just look at her fucking neck. But her trying to cover up her neck with that fucking scarf and treating me so casually wasn’t working for me.

  I leaned into her, completely ignoring the fact that I should be paying attention to whatever it was the teacher was saying. “How’s your neck?”

  Emerson turned to me and quirked a brow. “I have no clue what you mean.”

  And just like that, my dick turned to granite.

  My hand snaked out and grabbing her neck, I squeezed on the wounds. She winced but didn’t protest. I pulled her to me and replied, “Just wait until you’re covered in my marks, Emerson. You’re not going to even be able to do something as simple as dress yourself without feeling pain.”

  She narrowed her silver orbs at me. “And what about you, Ramsey?” she asked.

  “What about me?”

  “And what if it ends up me leaving my marks on you?” she whispered seductively.

  Fuck.

  She just didn’t know. What I wouldn’t give for her to leave me in battle scars. The thought of her digging her nails into my flesh or biting me until I bled made me wish I didn’t need her consent.

  I nipped her lower lip as I said, “Emerson, baby, you can do whatever you want to me. As long as we’re both naked and you’re coming on my cock, I’ll give you anything you want.”

  Her breath hitched, and I knew she was imagining the picture I painted. Her eyes flittered around the classroom and, by the hesitation in her eyes, I knew we had an audience.

  But I wondered what if we hadn’t. Would she let me finger fuck her right now if all heads were facing forward?

  Emerson looked back at me and said, “You know nothing about me, Ramsey. How can you promise that?” She smirked and asked, “What if I told you I like to be the man in the bedroom and strap-ons are my fetish?”

  Okay. I wanted this girl more than I wanted to take my next breath, but I drew the line at gender swapping.

  And at anything up my ass.

  And threesomes where she was concerned.

  And anything public where another man could actually see her naked body.

  I removed my hand from her neck and placed a soft kiss along the scabbed bruises. “I don’t know what you’re into, Emerson, but I know you’re not into that,” I said, as I peppered her neck in kisses.

  She sounded completely breathless when she asked, “How do you know that?”

  I pulled back and looked into her eyes as I answered, “Because I can smell how wet your pussy gets when I’m violent with you, Emerson.” Her eyes widened, and I could swear I saw shame swirling in their depths before she quickly masked her features. “You body heats up, your muscles tense and your pussy starts dripping any time I grab you, shake you, force you, bite you, yell at you or do my best to humiliate you.” Her eyes took on a glossy sheen, but I didn’t let up. “There’s nothing more you want than a hard, rough man in the bedroom with you.” I leaned into her ear and whispered, “I’d even bet that you would scream down the house in pure, fucking ecstasy if I held you down and made you take my cock up your ass, Emerson.”

  She jerked back from me and my heart skipped a beat when I saw the absolute mortification that covered the features of her stunning face.

  Emerson jumped up, grabbed her books and her backpack, fled down the aisle steps and kept running until the classroom door slammed shut behind her.

  Mr. Grady looked up at me. “What’s going on with Miss Andrews, Mr. Reed?”

  “Nothing,” I answered, automatically. “She’s fine.” He knew better than to question my word, so he went back to teaching the class.

  I should have gone after her, but I needed time to process her reaction. I was spot on with my assumption that she enjoyed violence and I imagined the shame came from enjoying something that made her sick every time she saw her father mistreating her mother.

  I couldn’t imagine, but that must be hell on a person subconscious. I wouldn’t know though, because I embraced my demons. I knew I was screwed up and I knew all the whys, whens, wheres and hows of it all, but I made no effort to change or fix it because I was at peace with all of my broken pieces.

  My father was a ruthless businessman, with ties to the mob and my mother was a brainless socialite who ever embraced motherhood. She and my father, both, fucked around and used their money to wash away all the stains from their sins. I was fine with all the stains that were smattered on my soul. They didn’t bother me one bit.

  And today’s little revelation was the answer to why I was so drawn to Emerson.

  Darkness attracted darkness.

  It also answered my question of how far would Emerson let me take this game. I was pretty certain she’d let me take it to the finish line before she ever conceded defeat. While my parents might dance on the edges of the mob’s dance floor, Emerson came from a family where her father’s violence ultimately led to him murdering her mother. No wonder she wasn’t afraid of any of us or our status and money.

  She knew real world fear.

  She’s experienced real world violence.

  This is probably the part where I should leave her alone. Where my conscience would finally speak up and tell me that Emerson has been through enough. Where my brain would tell me that I had my pick of any female in town; I didn’t need this one.

  But my brain and what little conscience I had were no match for the voice of my soul, the heat in my veins and the pure feeling of euphoria at knowing that Emerson would welcome my demons.

  She’d embrace them, play with them, tempt them and challenge them.

  Emerson would give me the ultimate high. That girl would let me hurt her at the same time I made her cum on my cock. She’d let me leave her bruised, bl
oody and torn. But that wasn’t all of it.

  Oh, no.

  I had no doubt that she’d leave me in the same condition if we ever came together.

  And I wanted her violence as much as she craved mine.

  Chapter 10

  Emerson

  I hated to admit it, but I spent the rest of fifth period hiding in the girls’ restroom.

  I felt pretty safe because I knew I wouldn’t have to see Ramsey for the rest of the day. And I needed to feel safe from his scrutiny and observations.

  Ramsey saw into the deepest, darkest parts of my soul and it unnerved the fuck out of me. No one’s ever been able to do that before. Maybe my poker face wasn’t as solid as I thought, because Ramsey touched every nerve with each word that he had spoken to me. And I was really starting to wonder if I was in over my head with the guy.

  At a very young age, I learned how to put on a brave face. I learned to stick up for myself and to stare down bullies and thugs. I didn’t take crap from anyone and I held my emotions in check, lest I show any signs of weakness.

  And then in one fucking week, Ramsey Reed sees inside me and notices my darkest sicknesses.

  He was right about everything. I got turned on by his strong hand. I fantasized about how sinister he could be. I prayed it wasn’t all an act. I actually worried that he would turn out to be a pussy.

  When I had went home Monday night from the café and stared at my neck in the mirror, I was so turned on, it took everything I had not to hunt Ramsey down and demand he finish the job. The awful, awful marks on my neck had made me wet and uncomfortable. I had even purposely worn the scarf the next day hoping to piss him off enough that he’d put his hands on me again.

  And he did.

  God, he did.

  When he wrapped the scarf around my neck and pulled it tight, I almost climaxed. I felt the sensation building and building and when he finally let go of me and the feeling evaporated, I had felt so empty that it had dawned on me what had happened.

  Jesus Christ, I was so sick in the head.

  I mean, really, really sick.