One Moment More by S. J. Evans (best e reader for android TXT) 📕

   "Let go of me!" I tried to buck my wrists out of his grip but it was no use: he had the strength of ten men compared to me. "Please, Mark, I just want to go inside," I sobbed, as he ran his hand up under my dress, his touch leaving shards of ice along the tender skin of my thighs, and tried to inflict some sort of discomfort on him with my feet, kicking at him.

    Unfortunately he had me wrestled against the ground before I could manage anything. 

   "You really are beautiful," he said, pushing a tendril of hair out of my face with the hand that wasn't holding my wrists above my head. "I've wanted you since the day I first laid eyes on you." His frozen fingers brushed against my skin, which then caused my entire body to shiver, shuddering under his body. He straddled my hips, the heaviness of his body crushing me. 

   To say I was terrified and uncomfortable would have been an understatement.

  "Mark," I choked out, swallowing around the lump of fear in my throat, "don't do this. Please don't do this." His eyes were filled with lust and desire, dark and haunting. I tried to ignore the way he let his fingers trace over the skin of my face, my neck, tried to ignore the way he was somehow turned on by all of this. My voice was filled with desperation as I straggled out, feeling his hand flush against my chest, "I-I'll tell everyone." 

   I squeezed my eyes shut as an unwelcome pang of pain blossomed underneath his hand. "You won't," he hissed, grabbing my face in his hand and glaring at me. "You won't tell anyone about this if you know what's best for you." He let go of my face, bending down to press his lips against my neck instead. A straggled scream launched out of my throat, the sound echoing across the dark night sky, as he bit the tender skin. "Besides." His breath was hot and heavy as he whisper-added into my ear, "No one would believe you anyways."   

   Thinking it was my the only chance at escape left, I bucked against him with every last remaining ounce of strength I had left and cried, "HELP! Somebody help me! Please!" 

  Mark, seemingly having had enough of my objections, slapped me hard across the cheek, cupped his hand over my mouth, and managed to flip me onto my stomach, covering my body with his own. His knees dug into my sides, while his fingers fumbled with the zipper of my dress. I whimpered, now defenseless against him, and about to face something I was not at all ready for. I tried to cry for help again, but it was only muffled under his hand, as dirt seeped into my pores and tiny pebbles dug into my cheek. My body ached from the pressure of his body weighing down on mine, my heart pounded against my chest, the pulse throbbing at my sure to be bruised wrists, and I could hardly breathe, trapped against the ground with very limited air. When he finally removed his hand from my mouth, I gasped for air, coughing and gagging as dust swept into my throat, choking me. 

  I couldn't tell you why, but as his greedy, filthy hands ran up and down my body, violating me, all I could think about was Gavin. When I closed my eyes, trying to vanish myself from the moment at hand, he was all I saw, all I knew. I didn't hear the sound of my dress tearing as Mark's impatience grew, didn't feel his lips hungrily pressing down on the exposed skin of my back, didn't even hear my own sobs trembling from my lips as he broke me, all over again. 

   If only I hadn't let my fear of second chances bring me out here in the first place, I thought, clawing my hands against the ground in a desperate, last ditch effort to get away, even though I knew it was impossible with Mark's weight on me. "Stop," I muttered, breathless, tears staining my cheeks. "Gavin, please." Help me.

  I hadn't a clue what triggered me to say Gavin's name—whether it was the fact that I couldn't get him out of my head or if it was just because I was in a state of panic and he was the only thing I wanted—but, nevertheless, it seemed to stop Mark in his tracks. Frozen, hands gripping the material of my dress, he asked, in a dark voice, "What did you just say?" 

  I couldn't tell whether he was angry or not, but, deciding it was better not to give him a reason to be more upset than he already was at me, I mumbled, "Stop. I said stop." 

  "No." He pulled on my hair, my chin scraping against the ground as he did so, and I let out a small, high pitched yelp. "After that." 

  With tears rolling down my cheeks, I bit my lip and tried to ignore the pain that pierced my skull as he tugged harder on my hair. "Gavin," I choked out, fumbling to get his hand out of my hair. "I said Gavin." 

  "He's back?" Releasing my hair (which in turn caused me to knock my chin on the pavement, a small crack! sound echoing in my ears), he brushed his hand down my arm, flipped me back onto my back. His eyes were as black as the midnight sky above us as his gaze burned into mine, his breath coming out in short, heavy pants, and I could hear the disgust in his voice. He and Gavin might have played on the same team a year ago, but they had never been bros. Not once. "Did you see him?" 

   I planned on lying to him, covering the misstep as nothing but a misunderstanding, a word uttered in a time of weakness. Before I could say anything, though, a thump, thump, thump sound echoed along the walls of the alleyway, resembling that of footsteps approaching, and a voice, so tantalizingly familiar, punctured the balloon of fear I'd found myself in. Replacing it with a slim ribbon of hope, my nerves deflating just as easily as the balloon. "She sure did, you asshole." 

   Mark jumped at the sound of Gavin's voice, his glazed over eyes going wide, mouth dropping open as he turned to face the boy who was making his way over to us with haste, jaw set, eyes narrowed to slits. I took advantage of his stunned state, wiggling my way out from underneath him, considering the fact that—in his own surprise—he'd shot up enough so that my hips were no longer pinned beneath him. "Gavin!" I cried, my voice straggled as I stumbled to get back onto my feet, legs shaking from lack of usage and frayed nerves. "Gavin, thank goodness you're—"

  A scream ripped out of my throat as Mark's hand latched a hold of my ankle, pulling be back towards him in one swift motion. My hands clawed at the ground, trying in vain to pull myself back away from him.

   But that was when all hell broke loose. 

  Everything happened so quickly, filled with so much frustration and aggression, I couldn't even begin to wrap my mind around it all. One moment, Mark was above me again, grabbing at my dress and yelling at me to stay put; but in the next, he was gone, thrown against the wall by a very angry, very appalled looking Gavin, who was yelling things like "Don't you ever lay a hand on her again!" and "I swear on my great grandmother's grave I'll make your life a living hell!" in his face. Then there was a lot of wrestling, cursing, and fists flying as I scrambled back on my bum, hands searching feebly for the wall so that I could use it as support to get back onto my feet. My heart was racing from the new worry running through the back of my frazzled mind: that Gavin would get seriously injured. And that was the last thing I wanted to happen.

  Finally managing to get back onto my feet, I watched in horror and—if I was being completely honest—amazement as Gavin slammed his fist into Mark's face, which then landed him on the ground, holding his jaw and sputtering out a puddle of blood onto the pavement. A chill ran down my spine, seeing my assaulter broken and defeated in a heap on the cold, dirty ground. Still in a state of shock and horror, I stumbled over to Gavin, my hand cupped over my mouth, stomach churning from not only the scene before me and memories of the night but also the metallic stench of blood that wafted around the freezing air.

   Before I could stop him, Gavin slammed his foot into Mark's chest, toppling him over, his hands clenched into fists at his side. "Don't touch her," he bellowed, spitting on the boy cowering below him, "you hear? If I ever catch you even looking at her the wrong way, I swear to God I'll kill you, Mark. I swear." His voice caught on the last word, and he wiped his hand across his face, his chest rising and falling as if he had just run a marathon. Or—in this case—nearly beat the snot out of a football player who attacked me. "I mean, what the hell were you even thinking? I could send you to jail for what you just"—he swallowed hard, shaking his head—"tried to do, Mark. Don't think for a second I couldn't." 

   "Dude," Mark muttered, as more blood dribbled down his chin, "I'm sorry. I'll never make the same mistake again. I swear." He may have been glaring at Gavin, holding his stomach like he was about to hurl, but I could see the fear burning behind those dark eyes of his. He believed Gavin, without a doubt. And he knew not to cross anymore lines—especially not any that involved the Sheriff's son and his ex-girlfriend. 

  "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," Gavin said coldly, turning in my direction. He pointed a shaky (possibly injured) finger at me, gaze softening as he took in my appearance—which must have been bad, considering the fact that my dress was practically falling off of me, one side revealing the strapless black-lace bra Lila had pressured me into wearing ("Just in case you run into any hot guys and things get a little heated," she'd explained in a hushed voice as she handed me the lingerie while I sat on my bed, fresh out of the shower and wrapped in a fluffy white towel, and flashed me a coy wink), while the rest of my body was covered in dirt and grime, my makeup smeared all over my face—and added, in a softer voice than before, "She is."    

   Despite the circumstances, my heart missed a beat from the way he was looking at me, gaze filled with such protectiveness, such devotion, such love it was impossible to ignore. I froze in place, still trying to catch my breath, tucking a strand of tangled, dirty blonde hair behind my ear. Shivering from the intensity of both the boys' gazes and the chilly breeze that billowed down the dark alley, I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly very aware of what little attire I was actually wearing. "Gavin," I breathed, teeth-chattering, body trembling in the aftermath of it all, unsure of what else I should—or could—say. 

   Mark wobbled back onto his feet, this time moving towards the exit, as Gavin returned to watching him like a hawk, one hand clenched into a fist at his side again while he shoved the other into his pocket, only ready to strike if necessary. "Reina," Mark said, brows furrowing together as he grimaced in pain, "I'm really, really sorry. It'll never happen again. I swear."

   There was no way I could possibly forgive him just yet for what