Twelve of Roses: A Dark Standalone Read online

  The severity and realization hit me like a brick. There was only one person who would do this to me.

  Constantine.

  He was close.

  He had been in my fucking house. He wasn’t dead. That was enough to send me into a cardiac arrest. He’d killed that girl because of me, and if I knew anything for certain it was that he was just getting started.

  The phone fell from my hand and hit the dull wood floor with a resounding echo. Sheriff Reynolds’ concerned voice continuing to blast through the speaker. A second later, a loud beep signaled someone calling on the other line from an unknown number.

  Chapter Eleven

  Past

  The man I fell asleep with was not the monster I woke up to.

  He was already inside me when I opened my eyes, thrusting as if he intended to make me bleed.

  “Con,” I whimpered, my body jerking from his harsh motions.

  “I’m almost done, Rosie,” he grunted, burying himself to the hilt and pulling out to do it all over again.

  I grimaced in discomfort as he brushed against my cervix.

  “You were so wet for me when I woke up. Your cunt was begging for my cock, babygirl,” he groaned, grabbing a fistful of my hair at the root.

  “Stop.” I pushed against him, turning my head to try and ease the burn on my scalp. I wasn’t accustomed to this; I was still trying to wake all the way up, and my body was sore from his endless sessions the night before.

  He dropped his mouth to my neck and began swirling his tongue in a circular motion before biting down hard enough to break the skin. I screamed, shoving him as hard I could, feeling tears spill from my eyes.

  “Fuck, yes. Scream for me, Rosie,” he begged excitedly, grabbing my wrists so roughly it felt like the bones would crumble.

  Why was no one coming to help me?

  He kept pumping into me, ignoring my demands for him to stop. His body finally tensed with his orgasm, and I felt his cum spill inside me. When he rested his sweaty forehead against mine, his lips tried to connect with my own.

  I turned away, sickened by everything he’d just done.

  “No,” he growled.

  He pulled out of me and grabbed hold of my jaw, squeezing until it popped.

  “Get off me,” I garbled, weakly fighting against him again.

  “You don’t deny me—ever. Do you understand?” His blue eyes darkened to a degree I would never think possible if I weren’t seeing it with my own two eyes.

  The Constantine I was familiar with was gone. In his place was a stranger who was mortally terrifying. I struggled to nod, rushing to appease him so he’d let me go.

  “It’s okay; don’t feel too bad. I know you’re new at this. You’ll get better.” His grip turned light and he placed a quick peck on my cheek before traipsing across the room.

  I’ll get better? I need to get the fuck out of here!

  He pulled open a drawer and took out some clothes, tossing a large shirt in my direction and a pair of boxers. My stomach dipped as I watched him remove a gun and tuck it in the waistband of his jeans.

  Get out, get out, get out! My brain chanted.

  “Constantine, I need to go home.” I spoke softly, like I was attempting to appease a predator.

  “Hurry up and shower. It’s almost noon, and we need to hit the road soon.” He acted like I hadn’t even spoken.

  I made two fists, trying to gain control of my shaking hands.

  “I don’t like repeating myself, Rosie. I’m trying to go easy on you right now. Get the fuck up and go get in the shower.” He turned around and glared at me.

  I flinched at his tone of voice, hating myself for showing that I was afraid.

  Who the hell was this guy? Had I misjudged him so severely all this time?

  His patience was like a burning fuse on display. I could see it growing shorter and shorter, with the explosive impact being directed fully at me.

  Scrambling from the bed as fast as I could on shaky legs, I darted towards the bathroom. Before I could reach it, he caught me around the middle.

  “Don’t be scared; I promise I’m going to keep you.” He kissed my temple and swatted my naked ass lightly, urging me in the direction of the attached bath.

  I could have fallen to my knees and begged him to let me go, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that. Pride was such a reckless, stupid thing. I went through the motions of turning the shower on and waiting for the water to warm. My reflection caught my eye and had me blinking away fresh tears.

  Teeth marks, a bit of blood, and an ugly purple bruise were imprinted on my neck. My wrists had a matching set but nowhere near as bad.

  Looking away before I completely lost my mind, I stepped beneath the hot water and tried to calm down enough to think of a plan. I didn’t understand what was happening. His confession about watching me since I was fourteen resurfaced and chilled me to the bone. So many questions circled around my brain.

  Why would he do that, and why was he doing this? And how the hell was I going to get away from him?

  There was no way out. The second I stepped from the shower, slipped the oversized shirt over my head, and finished rolling the boxers at the top so they stayed up, Con reappeared like a phantom.

  “You’re so beautiful, Rosie,” he expressed from the bathroom doorway. “I got you something,” he intoned, pulling a black bouquet of roses from behind his back.

  I stared until his smile faltered from my resounding silence.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled, slowly inching forward to accept them.

  I desperately wanted to fall to the ground and curl up in the fetal position, but I wasn’t going to give him any reasons to hurt me.

  “We need to leave now,” he explained after handing me the roses.

  “Where are we going?” My voice was remarkably calm, considering I had a tornado of emotions warring inside me.

  “That’s a surprise.” He winked, taking hold of my elbow. He led me through his room and back out into the hall.

  The only sounds in the house were his heavy footsteps and the occasional drip of water from my hair hitting the floor. All the lights were off. Every door was open. Each room we passed was cleaned to perfection.

  Where was everyone?

  As we walked out the front door and towards his idling Hummer, an overpowering fear crippled me. If I got in his car, it was over.

  The sight of my grandfather’s Lincoln parked in the garage across the street heightened that one single emotion. My bare feet skidded across the stone driveway as I attempted to pull away.

  “Let me go—just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone,” I pleaded.

  “Don’t make this hard, Rosie,” Con warned.

  “You fucking psycho, let me go!” I screamed at him, swinging the bouquet like it was a bat.

  I never saw his hand coming. One second I was standing upright, and the next I was stumbling, tasting blood on my teeth.

  “Dammit, look what you made me do, Rose,” he snapped, grabbing me by the collar of his shirt, causing it to rip as he dragged me to the car. I tripped over my own two feet and fell, crying out as the skin tore from my kneecaps.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Con snarled, turning around and yanking me up by the throat.

  “Fuck you.” My response was based purely on instinct and the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I reached up and raked my nails down his face, digging in as hard as I could.

  He shoved me away from him with an angry curse, making me choke from the force of his palm hitting my windpipe. Saliva dribbled down my chin as I spun around and crawled into the street. The second I was on my feet, there was a distinguishable click from behind me.

  “Your grandpa’s sleeping right now. How easy would it be to put a bullet in your back and then pay him a visit?”

  Would he actually shoot me? I couldn’t risk it. If I were taken out, that was one thing, but my grandfather was precious to me—I would never put him in harm’s way. Hadn’t I cheate
d death enough, anyway?

  “Okay, I’m coming back,” I choked out on a mangled breath.

  Slowly turning around, I took careful, measured steps back to the man I didn’t recognize until I was right in front of him. I braced myself for his brutality as I looked him in the eyes.

  My heart skipped a beat when he approached and lifted a hand to my face. Instead of striking me again, he simply cupped my jaw.

  “I should fuck your sweet ass right here and give you a reason to scream. Think Grandpa Earl would like that?” he mocked with a smile full of devilry. I swallowed audibly and shook my head slightly.

  “Didn’t think so; get in the truck before someone sees us.”

  I did as I was told, climbing in and praying to God I’d find a way out of this. Con climbed in the driver’s seat and wordlessly backed out of the driveway.

  We rode away from my home, away from the only family I had left, straight towards a future as bleak and grim as my foolish heart.

  Chapter Twelve

  Past

  He drove for hours, making me climb into the backseat and lie down whenever he needed to get gas.

  By the time he stopped, the sky had long ago turned black and I knew we were far beyond Ponty-Poole. I woke up from an involuntary catnap just as he turned down a private grassy road.

  As I readjusted in my seat, my bladder screamed, and my stomach roared. I peered out the window into the trees, seeing the faint distant glow of a fire. I glanced at the clock, counting how long it took him to make it down the road. Twelve minutes exactly.

  “Planning an escape already?” he asked with ill-timed humor in his tone.

  I didn’t bother giving him a response. Not even a minute later, he came to a stop in a small, circular clearing.

  Looking to my left, I saw a square cabin that was moderate in size; to my right, a bonfire was raging, and people were sat around it on tree-stump benches.

  “Where are we?” I asked daringly.

  “Home,” was his blunt, monotonous response.

  “Let’s go; they’ve been waiting for us.” He pushed his door open and got out, slamming it shut and walking away from me without a second glance.

  Did he think I wouldn’t run?

  No—he knew I wouldn’t. Not when his parting words were, they’ve been waiting for us. I had to know who he was referring to. Aside from that, the only things around me were eerie, naked trees. Running off into the wilderness without some idea of where I was would be incredibly stupid.

  Since he’d brought me here, there was a high possibility that he knew these woods well.

  Steeling myself for what I might witness, I got out of the truck and made my way in the direction Con had gone. Grass and leaves brushed against the bottom of my bare feet. The soft breeze was a stark reminder that the only thing covering my body was a simple, slightly torn T-shirt and his drawers.

  As I got closer, the shapes became clearer and I had to blink to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. Molly sat between Justin and Darren, her pale face splotchy, her overall look disheveled. Wes, Darcy’s ex, sat in front of Vicky, who had a small knife pressed to his throat.

  I picked my pace up, charging into the circle they all sat in.

  “What is this?” I looked directly at Con, who had managed to take a seat and crack open a beer in the time it took me to get out of his truck.

  “There’s my Rosie,” he announced proudly, smiling at me affectionately. The orange flames danced across his face and cast him as the devil. It was fitting for the role he was choosing to play.

  “Come here.” He patted his leg, indicating where he wanted me.

  I shot a quick look in Wes’ direction and silently made my way over to Con. None of the Burrows said a word, but their smug expressions spoke volumes. When I reached my destination, I sank down and sat on Con’s lap stiffly.

  “Isn’t she beautiful?” he asked no one in particular, running his nose up the side of my neck.

  “She looks better than the last one,” Justin agreed, bringing a beer bottle to his mouth.

  “The last one?” I asked.

  “Well, you’re not the first. As a matter of fact, you’re my last. Remember what I told you last night?” Con asked, placing a kiss on my shoulder.

  “I don’t understand. Why me?” I looked around, willing one of them to answer my question.

  “We’ll get to that a little later. First, we’re going to entertain our guest,” he whispered in my ear, gently nibbling on the lower lobe and reaching around me to slide his beer bottle between my legs.

  My breath hitched as he pressed the hard, glass rim against my pussy. Slick condensation rubbed off on my thighs.

  “Spread your legs, Rosie,” he murmured, loud enough for everyone to hear.

  “No, please don’t make me do this,” I whispered.

  “If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I’ll just bend your friend over and shove this bottle up his ass. Does that sound like a fair exchange?”

  “You move, and she’s going to slice you open,” Justin warned when Wes made a sound in his throat.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Is that yes, or a no?” he asked, ignoring me. Shutting my eyes, I stood up and pulled his boxers down. Con hummed his approval and began pulling the shirt up to expose everything.

  “Con, please,” I tried again as he pulled me back down on his lap, spreading my legs.

  “You know, when you beg, my dick gets hard. When you cry, I get a little harder. And when you scream, I almost forget myself and say fuck all logic.” He ended his rant on a hiss, pushing the rim of the bottle into me.

  There was no wetness to greet it. The solid, thick rim forcibly stretched my hole. As he continued to ease the bottle in, my body tried to force the hard, foreign object out. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to get in the mindset of accepting what he was doing.

  My legs reflexively tried to close, making it hurt more. I sank my teeth down into my lower lip, splitting it open. A choked sob rattled in my chest.

  “If you don’t want anyone to get hurt, you’ll spread them open nice and wide, so everyone gets to see the show.”

  He braced his forearm across my chest to pin me in place and began sliding the bottle in and out of my pussy. The condensation on the glass did nothing to aid me. There was no flexibility or give in the glass. It was the layered rim that hurt the most, brushing against the dry walls of my pussy.

  When he began to move the bottle in a circular motion, a pained moan involuntarily slipped out. My dignity and pride ruptured into a million little pieces.

  “Leave her alone,” Molly sobbed, burying her face in her hands.

  “Don’t cry, Molly. Rosie likes being my whore,” Con soothed, pushing the beer bottle in so far I screamed and jerked off his lap. I landed face-first in the dirt, my vision obscured from tears. Con stood up and brought the bottle back to his mouth, downing the remaining beer with exaggerated gulps.

  I had never felt so low in my life. I wanted to crawl into the flames and die—I’d let them take me straight to hell if that’s what I deserved.

  “You still wanna hang out with my girl, Wes?” Con asked.

  The sound of his zipper going down had my mind going into a void, switching off to save me from whatever he planned to do next.

  “She’s just a friend, man. I didn’t even know she was with you. I swear. It’s not like that” Wes’ voice cracked.

  “Then why did you feel the need to further explain that you aren’t interested? Most people don’t do that with someone they’re just friends with, Wes,” Justin pointed out.

  “Good point,” Con agreed.

  “What do you want from me?” Wes begged.

  “I want you to sit there and watch as Rosie sucks my dick,” Con explained.

  “No,” I moaned from my position on the ground, repeatedly.

  “If you do this, I’ll let him go,” Con coaxed.

  “But you said—” Vicky began.

&nbs
p; “Shut up,” he snapped at her. “Rose?”

  He could be full of shit, but I had to at least try and free Wes. Molly too. A tiny flare of hope blossomed in my chest.

  Pushing myself off the ground, I scooted to where Con stood, gritting my teeth as I went. Everything hurt.

  Con brought my face level with the zipper of his jeans, and pain radiated from between my legs. I kneeled at his feet and peered up at him, knowing I was a filthy mess. That didn’t stop him from pulling his hard dick out and rubbing it across my lips. It took all the willpower I possessed to open my mouth and let him in.

  Molly’s sobs turned to low sniffles. Wes mumbled incoherently under his breath, and the Burrows made comments as they watched their brother fuck my face. The back of my throat became the target for his harsh thrusts.

  “Good girl, Rosie,” he praised, grabbing my hair. I gagged and swallowed repeatedly, fighting to breathe out of my mouth. Mucus and a steady stream of tears coated my face, obscuring my vision and obstructing my airway.

  I blocked out everything around me, desperate for his cum to coat my tongue and spill down into my stomach. Desperate to finish this.

  I reached between his legs and grabbed his balls, doing what I’d seen porn stars do in the videos. Apparently, this was some magic trigger.

  “Shit,” Con groaned, ramming his dick in and out with crazed, erratic movements. As soon as the salty, white semen was released, he was pulling out and coming on my face. Webs of white landed on my lips and mixed with tears. He pushed my head down and used strands of my hair to wipe my messy saliva off his now flaccid cock.

  I huddled on the ground, feeling all the eyes on me and refusing to make contact with a single pair.

  “You’re the best Rose yet,” Con murmured, tucking his dick away before striding towards Wes.

  “A deal’s a deal,” he announced loudly.

  I was still choking on cum and spit when he put the barrel of his gun to Wes’ forehead and pulled the trigger, blowing his brains across the forest floor.