Dirty English (English #1) - Ilsa Madden-Mills Page 0,1

at the edge of the bed to stare down at me with ice-blue eyes. A flash of annoyance crossed his face as his gaze skated across my body. “You made a mess.”

Being from the trailer park, I’d had more than my share of scuffles with boys who wanted my attention and girls who wanted to boss me around, so I knew how to kick ass. Right then every nerve ending in my body wanted to jump up and claw his heart out piece by piece with my nails. He’d done this to me.

Rage burned inside, but I couldn’t move.

My voice came out thin. Reedy. “You hurt me.”

I struggled to sit up but collapsed backward.

He watched me dispassionately as I flailed around on the bed, letting the moments tick by, escalating my fear.

My tongue dipped out to lick dry lips.

He scooped up his white dress shirt from the floor, careful and steady hands buttoning it up, and that gesture, it said everything. He pulled on his pants and checked his sandy hair in the mirror. He wasn’t drunk at all.

“What did you give me?” I pushed out. “Why?”

“Don’t play games, sweetheart, you begged for it. This was consensual.” He twirled his fingers around the bed, a look of derision on his face. “Whatever I gave you, you took it without asking.”

“No, that’s not true.” Had I?

“Oh yeah, and you were the best lay I’ve had in months. Well worth the time I spent on you.” He bent down until his eyes were level with mine. “Don’t be telling lies about what happened here. No one would believe you anyway as drunk as you were. Still are. I’m sure there’re photos and videos from the prom to prove it.” He laughed as if hit by a sudden memory. “Damn girl, you were crazy in the gym, dancing on the tables and yelling at people. Chaperones tossed us out, babe. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a bad influence on me.” He cocked his head. “That’s what I’ll tell everyone at least.” He brushed at some lint on his trousers.

I shook my head. No. I was the good girl who’d scored the highest in her class on the SAT. I was the girl who volunteered at the local animal shelter—and not just for service hours. I didn’t get thrown out of parties. I barely got invited to them.

He pushed hair out of my face, his fingers trailing down my cheek.

I flinched and jerked away as far as I could. “Don’t touch me.”

“Ah, and here I was hoping you’d be ready for another round.” He chuckled, his hands fiddling with the ring I’d made for him a few weeks ago, a sterling silver band with our initials etched on the inside with a heart between them. I’d spent hours on it, engraving the letters and then fashioning the metal until it was perfect. I’d even used some of my college savings to buy the butane torch and tools necessary to make it good enough for him.

“You said you loved me.” I hated the weakness in my voice.

His lips quirked up. “I tell all the girls I love them, Elizabeth. You just took a little longer to give me what I wanted.”

A strangled noise came out of my mouth.

He sighed and zipped his pants. “Don’t be upset. We both wanted this.”

No, no, no.

He twisted his ring off and twirled it between his fingers. “I guess you’ll be wanting this back now.” He tossed it on the nightstand and it made a tinkling sound as it hit the wood, spun off, and fell onto the floor.

He checked his appearance in the mirror one last time to straighten his jacket. “Well, I have to go, but I’ll see you at graduation in a few days. Later, babe.”

And then he walked out the door, shutting it softly behind him.

Thank God.

I sucked in a shuddering breath, my lungs grasping for more air.

To make sense of what had happened.

An hour went by. Another one.

Memories flashed like a horror movie you didn’t want to watch but couldn’t stop. Colby carrying me in the hotel and placing me on the bed. Ripping my dress. Groping at my legs. Hitting. Shoving. Pain.

I’d tried to say no, but the words hadn’t come.

I’d tried to move, but I couldn’t.

My body had been a frozen statue, and he’d moved me where he wanted. Twisted me. Ruined me.

I held myself together and watched the minutes tick by on the digital clock as my alcohol-soaked