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17
Carson
Carrigan Archibald is always walking away from me and I fucking hate it. I know she’s not who her sister wants her to be, but they could have a relationship if Priss just stopped being such a prickly bitch. Both of the girls are a product of their fucked up upbringing, but where Tally came out swinging, Carrigan seems to be crumbling.
Her parents have banned her from getting into the house. They know she hasn’t got any of her things and they’re deliberately stopping her from going home, it wouldn’t surprise me to find that her stuff was gone even if she could go back. They’re punishing her.
They’re supposed to be the adults, the care givers, but those people have never thought of their daughters as anything but a commodity to be used for whatever purpose suits them best.
If she was anyone else I’d feel bad for her, but I’m almost glad that Carrigan’s family has done this to her. Its forcing her to see who they really are. They’ve cut her off from everything familiar and tied to the messed-up existence she’s been living in since that godforsaken will came to life and destroyed them.
The need to comfort her, to take care of her is almost blinding, but then I remember who she is and what she’s done. No matter how I try, I can’t reconcile Carrigan with my Priss, because when I’m near her, I forget all her sins and all I see is the sweet broken girl who needs me.
Watching her in class, all I could think about was how she feels beneath me, the taste of her lips when I kissed her, the way she gave herself over to me in a way no one has ever done before. She’s perfect in all the very worst ways, because her perfection blinds me to who she really is.
Lifting my fist to knock at her hotel door again, it swings opens and a tired looking Priss appears in the gap. I don’t know why I’m here, but as much as I tried to fight it, I just couldn’t stay away. My eyes rake over the white cotton hotel robe and my dick twitches, because I know she’s naked beneath it, but I don’t think I’m here to fuck her.
Last night I kissed her. I shouldn’t have, but she just looked so fucking lost and so fucking sweet and I couldn’t resist. But now her mouth is all I can think about. I want her. My body craves her like I’ve never craved anything else before. Only I ache for more than just her body beneath mine, I want her too.
I don’t like her, but I want her.
Some weird, fucked up part of me wants to help her, to protect her, to take care of her and I swear I barely even recognize the feeling, because I’ve never known anyone, not even my family or Tally, that has made me feel this way.
It’s unhealthy as fuck. Last night after the stupid fucking charity event, I spent an hour googling all these messed up feelings I have. I’m either about to die from a brain tumor or I like her.
I like Carrigan Archibald.
No. I like Priss. I like the sweet, sad, lonely girl who gave me her body, gave me the right to touch her.
I have control issues. I like things a certain way. But those things are all about me. The guys know about my quirks, but I’ve never felt compelled to push my oddities onto them.
But I’m itching with the urge to take control of Priss and not just while I fuck her, not just while she’s offering her body to me, but I want to take control of her completely. I want to throw her over my shoulder and take her back to The Escape. I want to feed her, buy things for her, be hers.
Shit. I sound like a fucking weirdo even inside my own head. I should be running away from this girl but here I am at her door. Again.
Stepping past her I walk into her room without an invitation.
“Come on in,” she says sarcastically, but she doesn’t ask me to leave. I wouldn’t anyway, I couldn’t walk away if I tried.
Crossing to the closet I throw open the door. It’s empty except for the dress she wore to the party and the clothes we picked together. Pulling the draws open I find all but one empty, and except for a handful of underwear she literally has nothing.
“Why haven’t you been shopping?” I demand.
She shrugs and the robe falls open a little exposing her shoulder.
“I asked you a question,” I growl, unreasonably angry at her, at her parents, at myself for not considering that she hadn’t been home.
“I’ll get round to it,” she says, her tone becoming obstinate.
“Get dressed.”
“No,” she snaps, righting her robe and crossing her arms across her chest.
“Priss I’m not fucking around, get dressed,” I say, fighting back the need to yell at her to do as I say.
“No. I’m tired and I don’t want to go anywhere.”
“Look you can either get dressed and walk with me, or you can be a pain in the ass and I’ll carry you out of here in nothing but that robe. Right now I don’t give a fuck which option you pick, but either way you’re coming with me. You have one minute to make a decision.”
