The Ritual: A Dark College Romance

IT’S A BEAUTIFUL fall day here in Texas. “Bad Intentions” by Niykee Heaton is blasting in my ears while I run the old trail behind my parents’ house. I’ve grown up here. Lived in the same house all my life. My father’s office is in downtown Dallas, but we live quite a ways from there on twenty acres. He commutes, but for the most part, he’s not even in the state. He has to travel a lot for work.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand, and I come to a stop. Breathing heavily, I yank the earbuds from my ears. “Hello?” I ask, looking around. To my left is a small pond. Other than that, it’s just trees back here. “You’re being paranoid, Blakely.” Matt gets on me all the time for running this trail. He says it’s unsafe.

I put the earbuds back in and start jogging again. I’ve been at it for almost thirty minutes. I’m almost to my turning around point. The song changes to “Mirrors” by Natalia Kills as the trail turns to the right, and I see something out of the corner of my eye. “What the …?” I stop and rip the earbuds out, turning around to go back. “Hello?” I shout this time. “Anyone there?” There are bobcat sightings around here, so maybe it’s an animal of some sort.

When I’m again convinced I’m losing it because there’s nothing here, I put my earbuds back in and turn back to continue. I jump when I see someone standing in front of me in the middle of the trail. My heart hammers in my chest. It’s a man dressed in black jeans and a black short-sleeved T-shirt, stance wide and arms down by his side. He’s got to be over six feet, and he’s wearing combat boots.

My thighs tighten, wondering how long he’s been following me. My earbuds are still blaring in my ears, and I reach up to take them out in case he’s talking to me. He’s wearing a mask—a white one—so I’m unable to see his face, but something about him seems familiar.

He takes a step toward me, and I take one back. He stops, and I swallow the knot that forms in my throat while my nipples harden.

No. No. No.

Not again.

I can feel his eyes on my legs. I decided to run in shorts this morning. My pulse is racing, and my breathing picks up, making my tits bounce in my sports bra.

“I’ve been watching you.” My pussy throbs at his confession, and tears sting my eyes. Even his voice sounds familiar. Where have I heard it before? “You run here every day.” He tilts his masked head to the side.

“Please …” I whimper, placing my hands up at him. “I just want to finish my run,” I say, slowly taking a step back as my body heat rises at the thought of us being out here all alone.

“Well”—he chuckles behind his mask—“I don’t know if you’ll finish, but I will.” The man charges for me.

I spin around to run, but he barrels into my back, knocking me to the ground. I try fighting him, but he’s on my back. He grabs my hands and wraps something rough around my wrists, securing them behind me, and I feel wetness pool between my legs.

God, no.

He grabs my hair and yanks me to my feet, pulling me off the trail. Then he’s shoving me deeper into the woods. I trip and fall down onto the ground. Twigs and branches dig into my bare legs. I go to get up, but his fist hits my back, knocking me down again. “Stay down, bitch!” he orders, pushing my face to the rough ground.

Tears run down my face as he rips my shorts down my legs along with my underwear. Then he’s shoving my legs apart. I cry out when his hand touches my pussy.

“Ahh, you’re wet,” he says in surprise.

I sob, my body shaking.

“You like being taken, don’t you, you little slut.” He grips my hair and leans down. “Don’t worry, looks like you’ll get to finish after all.”

I sit straight up, gasping for air in the darkness. Reaching over, I knock a few things to the floor to find a light. When I press a button, the room lights up, and I see I’m at home in my apartment, naked in my bed. Alone.

“Not again.” I breathe. Leaning forward, I drop my face in my hands and try to calm my breathing. I look at my cell, and it says it’s a little after three in the morning. How did I get home? The club … drinking with Sarah … Ryat. He showed up. Must have brought me home and dropped me off.

Lying down on my back, I stare up at the ceiling. My mouth is dry and tastes like lingering alcohol. Throwing off my covers, I get out of bed on shaky legs and open my bedroom door. Stepping out, I come to a stop when I see Ryat sitting on my couch, his cell in his hands and staring straight at me.

“Ryat?” I squeal, taking a step back. “You, uh… what are you doing here?” I stumble over my words, still trying to catch my breath.

His eyes drop to my hard nipples, and I cross my arms over my chest. They lower to my legs, and I cross them as well, leaning up against the doorframe to my bedroom for support. “What were you doing?” he counters, arching a brow.

“Nothing.” I shrug carelessly, but his eyes run up and over my body, and I can tell by the look in them, he knows I’m full of shit. I bite my lip to keep from whimpering. Not again. This can’t be happening again.

“You were doing something.” He stands, pocketing his phone, and walks over to me.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Sleeping.” Not a total lie. I literally just woke up like this.

Coming to a stop in front of me, he orders, “Open my legs.”

If I know anything about Ryat, it’s that he’ll get what he wants. No matter what. I push off the wall and uncross my shaking legs for him as humiliation washes over me.

RYAT

SHE PRACTICALLY RAN out of her room, breathing heavily, nipples hard, legs shaking. She looked like she just got herself off. And she was surprised to see I was still here. She knows she’s not allowed to do that.

Dropping her head, she closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. She looks almost ashamed. I place my hand on the inside of her thigh. She flinches but doesn’t pull away. I run my hand up between her legs and cup her pussy, sliding my middle finger between her lips. She’s fucking soaked. “Did you touch yourself?” I ask. I’d actually love to watch her get herself off.

She shakes her head, eyes still on the floor.

“You’re awfully wet for someone who was just sleeping.”

She remains silent.

“Tell me,” I say, spreading her pussy wide and pushing a finger into her, seeing just how turned on she is.

“I had a dream,” she whispers.

“And?”

“And nothing. It was just a dream,” she answers vaguely.

“It was something.” I slide a second finger into her, and she whimpers. “Tell me about it.”

I gently play with her clit, just trying to relax her. The woman is already worked up. No foreplay is needed at this point. “I was running through the woods.” She swallows. “Well, jogging on a trail. And someone was following me.”

“Yeah?” I remove my fingers and slide my hand up over my stomach and chest, smearing herself on her skin. I undo her arms crossed over her chest and start playing with her nipple.

“He …” Moaning, she stops herself.

“What about him?” I ask, telling myself not to get jealous. It was just a dream. “What did he do?”

She’s silent for a long second before whispering, “He knocked me down, tied my hands behind my back, and dragged me off the trail.” Pausing again, she takes in a shaky breath. “And …”

“And what?” I lean in and kiss her neck, tasting the salt from her sweat. Pulling back, I lick my lips for another taste.

“And he fucks me,” she whispers.

“You mean he rapes you,” I correct her.

She whimpers and places her hands over her face.

“Hey.” I grab her arms and pull her hands away. Shaking her head, she drops her face to stare at the floor. I grip her chin and force her to look at me. “Don’t be ashamed, Blake.” I’ve never been one to kink shame. We all like something different. It takes some of us a little more to get off. Some of us have better imaginations than others when it comes to fantasies.

She sniffs. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had the dream.”

“When was the last time you had it?”

“Over the summer. Matt and I were back home, and he was staying over.” She swallows. “I woke up wet and horny. I woke him up to tell him about it. I wanted to mess around. He left and didn’t talk to me for two weeks.” The first tear runs down her face. “He said that there was something wrong with me. That I was fucked up.” She covers her face with her hands and starts to cry.

There is nothing wrong with a girl who has forced-sex fantasies. Matt is just a punk-ass bitch. The more I see how he was and is with her, I think he was training her. I thought he had true feelings for her, but I think there were other reasons as to why he was with her. And I’m going to find out what they are.

I pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her. “Good girl.” I praise her for telling me, and her body shakes against mine. Bending down, I put my arm behind her legs and pick her up, carrying her back to her room. That text I was in the middle of can wait.