His Girl

Chapter 3

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The next two periods went by quickly, both teachers assigning us independent work to complete before the end of class. I was able to keep my head down and my breathing under control as I wordlessly worked on my assignments. Just as I was finishing up my quick write for literature, the intercom sounded in the room.

"Mr. Samuel? Could you send Emerson Hayes to the front office to be signed out?"

I vaguely heard my teacher respond and the overhead speaker switched off. I felt eyes on me from every direction, my face flushing from the attention. Quickly, I shoved my notebook and pencil into my backpack. I slung the bag over my shoulder as I walked up to turn my paper in. After handing it to Mr. Samuel, I shuffled out of the classroom quickly, avoiding everyone's gaze.

My footsteps seemed to echo in the practically empty corridor as I trudged up to the front office. Only a few other students were milling around at the time, going to the restroom or doing something for a teacher. I tugged at the ends of my shirt sleeves, pulling them to cover my shaking hands. My twisted wrist burned from the movement, but I ignored the pain. 

I didn't understand why I was leaving. Deacon had never signed me out during school before, said it called too much attention to me. I knew something major had to have happened for him to pull me out of school. 

My brain immediately went to the worst-case scenarios, and my heart dropped, remembering Deacon's recent punishment. I slowed my pace, not in a hurry to find out my fate.

I was there all too soon. Looking through the glass windows that showed the school's receptionist, I felt the blood drain from my face as I paled. He stood inside, leaning up against the front desk. All I saw was the back his favorite black leather jacket and his obsidian colored hair, touseled from pulling his helmet off. Without even being able to hear his voice, I knew he was flirting with Ms. Moore, the receptionist. She sat behind her desk, blushing; she had her head rested on her hand, staring at Deacon like she was already in love with him. I grimaced and pushed my way into the office. 

I hear Deacon murmur something, and Ms. Moore giggled like a schoolgirl. I tried to make noise as I walked in so that they knew I was there. At my shoes scuffing on the floor, Deacon turned around. His grin widened, and I saw a wicked glint in my eye. 

"There's my girl!" Deacon started towards me, and I barely resisted the urge to turn around and run the other way. When he reached me, Deacon gave me a side hug, which just increased my level of uncomfortableness. "Ready for your appointment?" I frowned. Appointment? I opened my mouth to ask, but he shot me a warning glance. Gulping, I nodded silently, facing my eyes to the ground. 

He seemed to approve of my answer as he started shoving me towards the front entrance of the school. He thanked the school secretary, his voice dripping with fake nicety. I shoved my hands into the pocket of my faded jeans, hoping that when we got out of the front desk's sight, he wouldn't go for my wrist again. 

He mostly managed to keep his hands to himself on the way to his bike, only reaching over twice to grab my butt. And both times I managed to keep my composure. I did try to put some distance between us after each touch, though. 

Instead of his normal form of transportation, one of his men's black truck sat in the school parking lot. As soon as we got close enough, I threw the passenger door open before quickly sliding onto the leather seat. Something must have put him in a good mood though, as he didn't comment about my fast-paced actions; he simply closed my door before making his way over to the driver's side of the vehicle. Looking over, I saw there wasn't a center console, so there was nothing separating the two of us. My stomach twisted into knots as Deacon hopped in with a sly grin, starting the engine and peeling out of the lot. Before I could even buckle, Deacon reached over, putting his arm around my waist, and pulled me to sit in the center seat. His hand, thankfully, went back to the wheel while I buckled, not confident in Deacon's driving abilities. 

I chose to keep silent until he said something. If he was in a good mood, me opening my mouth would completely ruin it. 

Maybe something good happened. Maybe he feels bad for what he did and-

"How did my girl do at school today?" I hid my flinch at the use of his nickname for me.

I let out a barely audible, "Fine." I kept my hands in my lap, plastering my eyes to dirt on the floor mat.

Deacon barely waited for my answer before continuing. "We have a client," he said excitedly. "He requested to see you right away. And he paid a pretty penny to make sure he saw you as soon as possible." His last sentence was mumbled as if he didn't want me to hear that part.

So that's why he pulled me out of school. I was so foolish. He would never feel bad for anything.

You're so stupid. No wonder no one else wanted you. You're ugly, fat, and stupid. You-

Movement in the cab interrupted my memories. With his left hand, Deacon held the wheel; using his free hand, he reached over and squeezed my thigh. "My girl did something right for once." His hand slowly began to creep up my leg. I shifted so that I was a little further away, but this seemed to encourage him more as his hand continued its exploration, stopping only when it rested between my thighs. 

I was struggling to put air in my lungs as his fingers continued to brush against me, and my mind flashed back to the night before when I had wiped off blood in the exact spot. I felt my face pale, remembering how red the cloth had been after I finished cleaning my entire lower half.  He grunted, pushing my legs farther apart before moving his had up to unbutton my jeans. He slid his hand down in them, gaining better access without the thick layer of my pants. I stiffened as Deacon's fingers slipped further in my underwear, and my stomach churned at his advances.  

Trying to focus on anything but his touch and my memories from the night before, I let my gaze wander out the window. A green blur passed by as we drove the streets back to the house. My brain struggled to concentrate, moving back and forth between last night, the present, and what awaited me at the house. 

Was it one of the men from the day before? The one with all the tattoos? That Mr. Lee?  I shuddered. He seemed the most likely one since he was the only one who had told Deacon he was interested. And from what I saw of him, I knew he was not going to be gentle. 

My stomach was in knots as the house came into view, and I felt myself start to shake. Deacon growled at me to stop, but that only made it worse. I almost jumped out of my seat as his hand in my pants squeezed.

"Stop shaking," he ground out. "Or tonight will be a lot more fun than last night." His eyes held an evil glint as he said it. I bit my tongue to stop the shaking, believing his threat. " Deacon's fingers felt every inch of my lower half before pulling his hand out, buttoning my pants back up.  I tried not to cringe. 

He leaned over, rubbing his nose along the side of my neck. I tried to stay as still as possible, hoping it would be all over soon. I knew that even if someone came out of the house, they won't do anything to stop him. I was stuck.

I tried to find my voice, but it came out barely louder than a whisper as I stumbled through the words. "W-what a-about th-the cl-cl-client?"

"We'll go in a minute. My girl just needs to remember who she belongs to." I frowned, not understanding what he meant, before he bit down on the most sensitive part of my neck. Trying not to cry out in pain, I made a small noise in the back of my throat, but Deacon reached up with his hand to cover my mouth. My neck felt like it was on fire as he clenched his jaw. Letting go with his teeth, he began sucking at the same area. I knew it was going to leave a mark. 

As his grabby hands began to roam my body, I closed my eyes, hoping for the end. But knowing that even if it did come soon, the memories would stay with me.

And so would his mark.

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