We are taking book requests on our companion website. You can request books here. Make sure, you are following the rules.

If You Dare: Chapter 14



In my Advanced Fiction Writing class, Professor Tate returns our graded writing assignments. A short story that focuses on the setting, adding specific details to make the characters’ surroundings come to life. I’m not surprised by the seventy circled in red at the top of the page. Setting has never been my strong suit, but everything I’ve tried to write lately has been a painful extraction. Like yanking out my fingernails and scratching out the words in my own blood.

When she dismisses us, Professor Tate calls out, “Violet? Hang back for a second?” She perches on her desk and waits for my classmates to file out of the room, wearing a rare frown.

My stomach twists. I’m sure this is about the most recent assignment. “Setting isn’t my strong suit,” I blurt.

She holds up a hand. “This isn’t about your story. At least, not only that one. All of your work so far this semester has been a far cry from the writing you turned in last year.”

Words shouldn’t be enough to physically make my chest ache, but they do. Writing has always been the only thing I’ve ever been good at. Now I don’t even have that anymore.

“You’re a strong writer, Violet. Stronger than the work you’ve been turning in lately. Where’s the heart? Your soul is missing from the page.”

Of course it is. My soul is cold and darkened, if it’s even there anymore at all.

Professor Tate hops down from her desk and drops into her seat, shuffling through folders. “You need to bare your soul for your work to have any meaning. Keep that in mind for your next assignment.”

I swallow down the lump in my throat. “I will.” A promise I know I won’t be able to keep.

Before she can say another word, I scurry out of the classroom and head back to my dorm.

I swear my hair still smells like punch, despite spending an hour in the shower after the party last night scrubbing every inch of my body clean. Trying to wash away the feeling of their eyes on me.

But there’s one pair of eyes I can never seem to shake off.

His little trip with the punch bowl last night was no accident. A small humiliation that Wes could shrug off as unintentional, but everyone knows the truth.

I still can’t believe he licked my neck clean. Made me strip off my panties and leave them behind, and then made me wear his clothes as a reminder of what he did to me with every step. His sweats and jersey are buried at the bottom of my dirty laundry.

I reach for the student ID in my bag just as my eyes land on the door to my dorm.

I stop dead in my tracks.

Words in black and blue are painted on the door. He chose those colors purposely—he’s going to paint me black and blue next.

The variations in handwriting tell me he must’ve had his teammates help him with this prank. Murderer. Killer. Psycho. Crazy. Bitch. Slut. Cunt. Little cum slut. Loves taking it in the ass. Get your dick sucked here.

I’m frozen until my eyes land on a string of numbers. Bile turns in my stomach. They wrote my phone number.

I rush into my dorm and soak a paper towel, propping the door open while I scrub. A couple walks by and laughs. No matter how hard I scrub, none of the paint comes off. I scrub harder and harder until my fingers and nails ache, but it’s useless.

I need to get these words off the door before Aneesa gets back or she’ll flip out. I call maintenance, even though that’s the last thing I want to do. I don’t want anyone else’s eyes on these disgusting words written about me.

First the party. Now this. Wes is doing everything he can to humiliate me at every turn.

I blink back the tears. I don’t deserve to cry because I’ve earned this. The insults, the torment, the assaults. I’ve earned each and every one.

“Get your dick sucked here, huh?” A sickening male voice calls out. My spine goes ramrod straight. “Don’t mind if I do.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, praying I’m imagining this before reluctantly turning to find whoever is approaching.

Four hulking men saunter toward me, solid white masks concealing their faces.

The Devils.

Their faces are almost entirely hidden behind the masks, but I’m familiar enough with their eyes, statures, and smirks to know exactly which Devils they are.

Trey, Brody, Luke, and Wes.

They stop mere feet from me, Trey making a big show about punching my number into his phone even though I know he already has it saved. I’m sure I can expect a barrage of dick pics at two in the morning.

“Maintenance is on their way,” I mumble, like that’s any sort of threat to them. They got what they wanted—public humiliation.

“What do you say, Novak?” Brody asks, stepping closer. His brown eyes flat, almost bored even as he looms over me with predatory intent. “You take her mouth first?”

My pulse picks up speed. They can’t do anything to me here—we’re in a hallway. Sure, we’re on the fifth floor in the middle of the day and most students are on campus, but they can’t seriously think they can force me to blow them right here, out in the open.

Wes doesn’t say a word. His ice-blue eyes are murderous through the holes in his mask.

Of course, if the cameras catch them forcing me to suck them off, the only footage the university will have is of four unidentified masked men.

My gaze darts to Luke, but even his normally kind, friendly eyes are hard. I took Chloe away from him. The girl of his dreams. He resents me too.

Trey approaches, forcing me back against the door. They tower over me, blocking me from view from anyone who might exit the elevator behind them. Blocking me from signaling to anyone who may be able to help. I’m cornered.


“I say we fill all of the little cum slut’s holes,” Trey purrs, hot breath curling around my neck through the cluster of small holes in his mask.

I flinch away, but Brody smacks a hand on the other side of my head, blocking me in.

No, no, no. The panic mounts. Trey’s hand slowly slips from my cheek to my collarbone. Then down to my breast, where he cups me in his huge palm and squeezes.

I hiss through my teeth, flattening against the door, but it does nothing to help me escape his touch.

Brody grabs my other breast, squeezing and shoving my flesh up before twisting my nipple.

“Stop!” I try to push them away, but they’re immovable concrete barriers in front of me.

Over their shoulders, Wes glares. But he doesn’t move. Only watches.

After that first time he kissed me, he told me I was his. More warning than promise.

Now he’s letting his teammates touch me. Grope me.

His way of confirming I’m not his anymore.

He doesn’t care who touches me or where. He doesn’t care what they force me to do. Right in front of him.

I don’t matter any more to him than a nameless puck bunny now.

“Shh,” Trey whispers in my ear. “Or we’ll make it worse.”

My eyes sting when Trey’s heavy hand on my shoulder shoves me down until I land so hard on my knees, my teeth clack together.

“Let go of me,” I beg.

Brody claps a revolting hand over my mouth. “Novak, shove your cock down her throat and shut her up.”

Wes steps between them. He’s finally going to stop this. Even he has to realize this is crossing a line.

Until I spot the long, solid bulge in his pants. He’s rock-hard at the sight of me on my knees before him, Trey’s hand still on my shoulder holding me down and Brody’s on my mouth keeping me quiet.

To my horror, Wes pushes my hair over my shoulders before his hand drifts to his belt.

Behind us, the elevator dings. “Maintenance!” a voice calls out.

My heart is in my throat, and Wes yanks me to my feet, nearly popping my arms out of my sockets before the four of them retreat, leaving me alone in the hallway with the maintenance worker as they escape down the stairwell.

I clap a hand over my mouth and run for the girls’ restroom, stomach churning.

The next time they trap me, I might not escape.


She’s got her hood pulled over her head again today. She’s stupid if she thinks that’s a disguise. Today, she’s ditched the sweatpants for shorts, though, and I allow myself one sweep down her legs before I pull over.

Violet jumps away from my car when the tire hits the curb. Her eyes widen when she spots me and she braces to make a run for it. But my window’s already down and I shout my command, “Get in!”

When she hesitates, my hands twist around the steering wheel. Someday she’ll learn to fucking listen to me. “Get the fuck in this car.”

“I-I need to get to class,” she stutters.

“Get. In.”

Finally, she does as she’s told. She clasps her hands in her lap to stop them from shaking and drops her hood, the shitty disguise useless now.

“You know no matter what you wear, I can spot you from a mile away.”

She wrings her hands together. Her legs are smooth and pale. She doesn’t stay outside long enough to get any sun. Too afraid of how being outside around other people might end for her. My hand aches to reach out and grip her thigh. Feel how soft she is. Then I’d grab her ponytail, yank it, and push that pretty face down into my lap.

I could. I could drive us around as long as I want, make her suck me off and swallow it. She’d hate it, and I’d love every second, but I don’t want to enjoy a single moment with Violet Harris.

At least if I had made her suck me off in front of the guys, it would’ve been about more than the blowjob. Public humiliation, degradation, control. But enjoying her in private is too intimate to rationalize.

Besides, I know she’s fantasized about sucking my cock before. Maybe she still does. I refuse to act out her fantasies.

Only her nightmares.

“I know this doesn’t help.” Her voice is small, a shell of the girl she used to be. “But I swear it was an accident.”

I clench my jaw and pull back out onto the road. “You’re right. That doesn’t help.”

She grips the door handle when I pull off campus, but she doesn’t dare jump out. She knows she won’t get far. “Where are you taking us?”

“Wherever the fuck I feel like.”

Her panic escalates when I sail past the center of Diamond, nails digging into the upholstery. But she tries to keep her voice even. “Congrats on getting captain.”

I fucking hate that she knows that. Hate that she gets to know I made captain but my sister never will.

When I don’t say anything, she adds, “Chloe would be proud.”

My sister’s name from her mouth sends my fist flying into the dashboard. Violet flinches, scooting as far away from me as her seat will allow. “Don’t fucking talk to me about her. In fact, don’t let her name come out of your fucking mouth again.”

Silence falls over us. Violet remains statue-still for a few seconds, letting me calm down. But there’s no calming me down anymore. I’ve been pissed every day since my sister died, and my fury only grows with each day that passes without justice.

Violet slowly pulls out her phone as if I don’t notice every single move she makes.

“Put your fucking phone away.”

“I just need to text my boss—”

“You don’t need to text anybody. Nobody gives a shit about where you are or what happens to you. Now put the phone away before I rip it out of your hand.”

Violet slips her phone back in her pocket. She knows I’m right. No one gives a shit about her, not even her mom who made her come back to Diamond University knowing I’d be here. Knowing what I’d want to do to her if I saw her again.

Tears flood her eyes and my cock twitches in my jeans. I grab her hand and flatten it against my hard-on. “This is what your tears do to me.”

Her nose scrunches, disgusted, and she tries to pull away, but I don’t let her.

“Remove your hand and I’ll make you use your mouth instead.”

She freezes, suppressing her tears and not daring to move a muscle. The threat of what my cock could do to her jaw a constant reminder beneath her palm.

I stroke her hand up my shaft, biting down on my lip to suppress a groan. She doesn’t get to know the kind of effect she still has on me. The only bit of power she continues to wield.

The rest of the ride passes in silence. I take random turns and backroads so she can’t track our movements. I brush off her hand, the feel of her palm on my cock over my jeans too good for comfort.

When I finally pull over, I tell her, “Get your phone out.”

Wordlessly, she does as she’s told. Guess she still has some sense left in that head.

“Turn the passcode off.”

When she does, I hold out my hand. “Give it to me.”

She obeys, and I slide her phone in my pocket.

Her entire body’s shaking now. Nothing but empty fields around us. I could kill her out here. I could get away with it. Too bad I can’t stomach being anything like her.

“Get out.”

Her head whirls to me. “What?”

“Get. Out.”

“But . . . how will I get back to campus?”

I shrug. “Not my problem.”

Fuck. She needs to stop crying or I’m going to get too hard to resist her anymore.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispers.

“Why did you kill my sister?”

Violet drops her gaze to her lap. Her voice comes out barely audible. “I didn’t mean to.”

“That doesn’t matter. You fucking did it. And you got away with it. Until now, anyway. You deserve this, you know that?”

To my surprise, she nods.

“So get out of my fucking car, Violet.”

She listens this time. She’s barely shut the door behind her before I slam on the gas, leaving her in a cloud of dust.

If she survives, if she makes it back to campus, she better prepare for the Devils to rain hell down on her.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.


not work with dark mode