Slut - Woodruff Jettie. Страница 36

I jumped up and scooted to the corner, terrified. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t have anywhere to go.”

“Where are you from? Wait, you know what? I don’t fucking care. Get out of here.”

“Why? I’m not hurting anything. Nobody even lives here.”

“You think you can just move into empty homes. Get up. Get the fuck out.”

I jumped up and gathered what few things I had. My folded clothes on a chair, a tattered notebook filled with my mother’s crazy poems, and my toothbrush. That’s all I had. All I’d come with.

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” I cried as my feet slid into my flip-flops, begging for him to let me stay. I took one step forward, but my feet didn’t move with me. I tripped, landing right in his arms. I knew at that moment, looking into his eyes, and feeling the way he held me that I would have done anything for him to want me. It was stupid, and probably had something to do with what had just happened to me. Maybe a daddy issue? I don’t know, but I wanted him to want me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty,” I lied. I was less than two months away from eighteen, but he didn’t have to know that.

The strong stench of beer hit my nose when I looked up to his dark eyes, seeing something else. A look I’d seen before. I knew that look. Paxton smiled and ran his hand down both my arms. I didn’t even flinch when his thumb brushed my left breast, but I was sure he could feel my heartbeat.

Paxton lifted my chin with one finger and made me hold his gaze. “How about I let you stay here for the weekend? I’ll help you out, and you help me. Sound like a plan? Hmm?”

“I don’t have anywhere to go after the weekend either.”

“Maybe we can work something out. Come on, let’s go up to my house.”

He didn’t really give me a choice. I mean, I guess I didn’t fight him, but it wasn’t like I had any other offers. I’d done it before. I could do it, it’s what girls did, what was expected of us, what men wanted.

Other than the waves lapping the sandy beach, our short walk was silent. I could hear music playing, but didn’t recognize the song. I didn’t really like country music. I liked the new pop, and classic rock. Jesus, I was about to pay Paxton for living in his house, and I was thinking about Avril Lavigne. I chastised myself for thinking about music when I looked up and saw him, my heart taking an instant dive to the bottom of my stomach.

“Look what I found. She wants to play.” Paxton announced to this guy, his hands moving up my shirt.

My breath caught when I realized what was about to happen, but I couldn’t help to notice the way his warm hands felt on my skin. Callused and rough, yet so tender. I didn’t push them away.

“What? Who is that?” The guy questioned with a confused expression, drink in hand, something dark with ice.

“Why don’t you tell my friend here what your name is,” Paxton coaxed from behind, hot words to the side of my neck. His lips felt amazing, and my body tried hard to react and fight it at the same time. I didn’t understand what was going on, but I was scared. I knew what was about to happen, but unlike the other times, I thought about doing a good job for him. That never happened before. I just wished the other guy wasn’t there. I was intimidated enough by one guy, never mind two. At least the other one seemed to be concerned about me. Maybe he’d leave. Maybe I could be good for him.

Paxton turned me to face him when I didn’t answer, lifting my chin again with one finger. “You need to answer me when I talk to you. Now tell my friend here what your name is.”

“Paxton, dude, what are you doing?”

“What? She’s a slut. It’s what she does. I fucked her two hours after I met her,” Paxton lied while he kept my chin pinched between two fingers and my eyes on his. “Tell him. Tell my friend here what your name is, and then tell him how you and I are trading favors.”

“I’m—I’m Gabby,” I meekly replied while looking toward Lane out of the corner of my eye, and right back to the floor.

Paxton laughed and unzipped his jeans. “Get on your knees, slut,” he whispered while his lips met mine. I did it because I didn’t know I had a choice. I did it because he told me to.

Lane protested a couple times, speaking about his wife he’d recently married, but in the end he was no different than Paxton. He did everything that Paxton did. He was the one to suggest the olive oil when Paxton couldn’t find anything else, and his spit wasn’t enough.

I was numb, I didn’t feel a thing, and honestly, it wasn’t that bad. I focused on the sounds of the ocean behind me while Paxton and his friend used me for their pleasure. The worse part about it was the time it seemed to take them both to be finished with me. The neighbor guy went first. I was on my back, outside on a table while he stood between my legs. He grunted first, jerking his hips inside of me, and then pulled out. The rest of his load sprayed my stomach while Paxton’s coated my face.

My eyes met Paxton’s while he hissed and shuddered above me, riding out the pleasurable waves. For a quick second, I thought I felt something, I thought he did. Like I was more than just a slut, but it was silly. I wasn’t. Not to him.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Paxton ordered above me, shaking one last drip to my nipple.

“She’s not going to tell anyone, is she?” Lane asked, suddenly worried about a wife he had forgotten that he had.

I gathered my clothes, and walked away, hearing Paxton talk like he’d just helped him change a tire, like I was nothing more than that.

“Nah, she knows better. I’m going to bed, man. I’ll catch you later.”

I stood, wanting away from Paxton, taking my stone with me. “Turn it off.”

“Gabriella.”

“So, it was always like this, Paxton? I was always nothing to you? Just a slut?”

“That was a long time ago. How was I supposed to know you were just ganged raped? I never knew that. You never told me that.”

“Why would I? You just did the same thing.”

“I never raped you. You could have said no.”

“Fuck you. Oh my, God. I fucked Lane in front of you. No, let me rephrase that. It didn’t sound like I had much fun. You watched while Lane fucked me. I never had a choice. Did I, Paxton?”

“You could have said no.”

“I don’t want you. I don’t want anything to do with you. I’m so fucking stupid. You’ve never loved me, have you, Paxton?”

Paxton stood and walked toward me, trying to smooth it all over with soft words and more lies. “Gabriella, I love you. I love you so much. Damn it. Why can’t you see that?”

“Maybe because I’m nothing more than a slut to you. How many of our other neighbors did you pimp me out to?”

“None. Stop, Gabriella. We have to talk about this, about all of it.”

I pulled away when he tried to pull me to him. “Don’t touch me. We have nothing to talk about. Don’t touch me, don’t talk to me, and don’t fucking tell me you love me,” I said while my voice elevated.

One last attempt to reel me in shattered in my ears as he quietly spoke. “Gabriella.”

My hands went to his chest and I shoved hard when he came toward me. The way he opened his hands for me to come to him was my undoing. Lucky for him, I was a lot slower. His hand caught my fist mid-air, but I jerked away. “Don’t fucking touch me. Don’t you ever fucking touch me again.” I have no idea where the confidence came from, anger I guess. I felt like one of those mothers’ who could lift a car off their child. It may have been a suicide attempt, but I didn’t care. I was pretty sure I could take him. I would have gone bat shit crazy on him had he not let me go. I know I would have. That’s how mad I was.