The Rebel of Raleigh High (Raleigh Rebels #1)(72)

“If you’re waiting for me to show gratitude,” I spit, choking on the word, “then you’re gonna be waiting a hell of a long time, Jacob Weaving. I am not nothing. I have a voice, and I will use it. I do not give you permission to touch me. Let…me…go.”

Jake’s had my arms pinned by my sides all this time. He snatches hold of my wrists and pulls them roughly up high over my head, a dangerous, malicious, crazy light in his eyes. “Hmm, that’s it, is it? Pretty Princess Silver. Too good for all of us. Too fucking special. Don’t bite. Don’t kick. Don’t scream. Spread your legs and keep your mouth shut, bitch, and we’ll see if we can make this quick.”

Setting my jaw, even though it hurts, and my teeth feel like they’re shattered, I look him dead in the eye. The drugs are still there, churning around my system, making it difficult to focus, but in this moment everything becomes crystal fucking clear. He wants more than my body from me. More than my pain. He wants my fear. He, alone, is so much stronger than me, but with Sam and Cillian thrown into the mix, I don't have a hope in hell's chance of fighting them off. They're going to do what they set out to do. I've pissed Jake off, so he is going to make this hurt. But there’s one thing I can do, one thing I can keep from him, and that’s my fear. I won’t fucking give that to him.

Jake’s sickening smirk deepens as he leers, eyes roving down to pause on my chest. “Sam, what the fuck are you doing, dude. Get over here. Take her hands. Hold her tight. Wait. Are they scissors over there?”

“A razor blade,” Sam says, holding up a blade that’s identical to the one Kacey used downstairs to cut her drugs. “You want it?”

“Yeah. That’ll do nicely.” He takes the blade from Sam in exchange for my wrists. If anything, Sam’s grip is even harsher, grinding the bones of my wrists down into the floor. It hurts. It feels fucking terrible to be so vulnerable, at their mercy, but I draw in a breath, holding it in my lungs. Then I force my face to go absolutely blank. It would take more control that I possess right now to stop pulling and straining, trying to get free, but my face I can control.

I barely even blink as Jake makes a show of holding the blade the material of the dress I borrowed from Kacey, slicing easily through the fabric. He tears and rips at it, pulling away handfuls of black, his eyes glinting with frenzied expectation. “What you staring at, Parisi? You like this after all?” he growls. In no time at all, the dress is gone. I don’t even flinch as he greedily saws through the pretty red bow between the cups of my bra. My breasts spring free, and frightening tension begins to mount in the room.

“Shit, Silver. You’ve been holding out on us,” Cillian says thickly. “Who knew you were hiding those bad boys underneath your clothes all this time. Fuck, look at her nipples. They’re so fucking pink.”

Sam uses a knee to pin my hands, reaching for me, cupping me in his hands, his fingers pinching painfully at my nipples, rolling them as he grins down at me. “God damn. And here I was, thinking this’d be a waste of time. If I put my dick in your mouth, Parisi, are you gonna suck it for me?”

Jake punches him hard in the shoulder. “Wait your fucking turn, asshole. I brought her to the table. I get to fuck her first.”

“All right, man. All right! No need to get shitty.” Sam leans back, his weight on my wrists, and the pain is excruciating. I breathe in deep through my nose, trying to compartmentalize it, distance myself from it, but it’s just too much. Jake’s gaze crawls over my skin, feasting on me. He sits back on his heels, looking at me, and I’m dreading what will come next, but I don’t look away. I meet his gaze, burning my hatred into him.

“You’re blocking the view, man,” Cillian complains.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jake snaps. “We’ve got all night, haven’t we?”

Cillian mumbles something inaudible and unhappy in return, but Jake ignores him. Getting to his feet, he shrugs out of his letterman jacket, removing the button down shirt I admired downstairs, slowly unfastening his belt, and then his jeans. It’s probably not the smartest move on my part—definitely not the smartest move on my part—but I let out of a bark of laughter when I realize that he’s planning on leaving his MVP medal on.

Jake falters, glaring down at me. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he hisses. “Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation?”

“Don’t you have any pride?” I fire back. “Is this the only way you can get a girl to fuck you, Jake? Do you have to force yourself on women ’cause none of them will voluntarily climb into bed with you?”

“You would have happily climbed into my bed an hour ago, you pathetic piece of trash. You would have parted your legs for me just like that.” He snaps his fingers. “You don’t understand. We’re given everything we want. The world bows down and lays itself at our feet. It’s boring being given so much, Silver. Sometimes, to know the depths of your own true power, you’ve got to take…” He unzips his fly, pushing his boxers and his pants down in one go, and then he stands there, as if he’s expecting me to swoon at the glory of his body.

I’ve seen a penis before. He’s acting like he’s unveiling the eighth wonder of the world, though. I look down at him, terrified to the marrow of my bones, my panic an insidious thing, working its way into each and every cell of my body…but, somehow, I find the courage to laugh again. At him. At the hard, straining appendage hanging there between his legs, looking like some comical design flaw. “God, Jake. Now I get it. If that’s what you’re working with, then it makes sense that you’d need two guys to pin a girl down.”