To Fight Back (gxg)

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Chapter 7

Authors Note: Sorry it took longer than usual to update guys, I was super busy. But I hope you like the next chapter! :)

I was sitting upright on the bench press seat, with a girl on my lap, kissing me hungrily. I tangled my hands into her loose blonde hair, meanwhile hers were sinking into the waistband of my leggings. I moaned, falling back onto the seat, pulling her with me.

When I did, I got the chance to look into her deep green eyes before she lowered her head to my stomach. Her tongue slid across the contours of my abs, flicking certain areas that earned anticipatory squirms from me.

She slipped her fingers into my pants, gently and painfully slowly pulling them down and off. Her nails trailed along the seams of my underwear, sending shivers up my body.

I closed my eyes and gasped as the last piece of clothing on me was taken off. The sudden coolness made me tremble, but it was more because of how much I wanted this than anything.

Above me, I heard the girl chuckle a bit. She was probably noticing the piercing right above my most private area. Just then, I felt a wet warmth on the metal stud. She played with it using her tongue, and it felt so damn good. I moaned, arching my back, begging her to do more.

It seems as though she felt the same way, because she moved down, and I swear when I felt her tongue slide its way inside me, I almost screamed. This feeling was pure ecstasy as she moved in me, hitting all the right places. She gently sucked and licked me until my body shook with pleasure.

As I was about to hit my climax, I breathed out her name. "Emory..."


Suddenly MGK was screaming in my ear. I groaned and rolled over in my bed to turn the alarm off on my phone. Wait, when the hell did I get home? Wasn't I just getting fucked by Emory in the gym? Ah shit, it was a dream.

Then I curse myself for being disappointed that it wasn't real. I have to remind myself for what's probably the millionth time that I have a girlfriend who I love very much, and I'm not supposed to have these kinds of thoughts about Emory. Not even just her, but anyone else.

It's weird, I've always been a player who didn't care about cheating, or breaking a girl's heart, but with Layla, it's different. She's different. I used to do that because I was so afraid of getting hurt, of catching serious feelings, and then getting crushed because of it. But with Layla, I know she loves me and she'd never wrong me in any way.

While I'm all caught up in my thoughts, a few minutes must have passed because my damn phone starts blaring again. I must've pressed snooze instead of off. I roll my eyes in annoyance, but force myself to get up and ready nevertheless. Two days in a row of going to school. I hate it, but it'll make people pay attention to me more so than usual since it's so odd, which is a plus.

So I got dressed in a pair of ripped jeans, burgundy tank top, and a black & white flannel tied around my waist.

I grabbed my phone, keys and wallet before making my way downstairs. I slowly walked past the door of the kitchen as to not make noise, but I got stopped by a voice right as I was about to leave. "Blake. Aren't you going to get breakfast?"

My heartbeat speeds up a few notches, and I take a deep breath, then turn back around and unsteadily stand in the doorway. My prick of a father and evil stepmother are sitting together at the kitchen island. Neither are paying attention to me at all, the latter on her phone, and the former sipping from a mug while looking down at a newspaper. "No." I answer firmly.

"And why is that?" My father asks, still not looking at me. You see, we have this game. Anytime he asks me why I'm not doing something, he expects me to answer...

"Because I'm not good enough for it." I honestly can't even count how many times I've said that exact phrase.

"Hmm, you know what else she isn't good enough for, dear," he asks his wife.

She rests her chin on her fist, and smiles lovingly at him. "What would that be?"

At that, he lifts his gaze over to me, his steel grey eyes burning into my soul. He grins darkly and my stomach plumets because I know what he's about to say. "To leave here with such beautiful, unmarked skin. Don't you think so, Blake?"

I sway on my unstable feet, and hold onto the doorframe in an effort to not pass out. "Yes..." I breathe out.

"Speak louder, faggot. Show some respect to your father." My step mother booms.

"Yes, sir." I say again, louder.

My father turns to his wife with a warm expression. "Aw dear, you're too sweet," he tells her before leaning over and kissing her. I look away as they suck face, forcing myself not to vomit. "You know what," I hear him say, "I'll let you take this one. Do as you please."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck. That bitch is ten times worse than my father could ever be. She smiles proudly, and gets up from her seat, walking over to me with a look full of hate and excitement. She grabs onto my hair at the back of my head, and holds it tightly. "It's about time. Your father goes too easy on you. Now I'm going to show you what you really deserve." She hisses in my ear.

And suddenly an empty mug is smashed against my head, glass shards cutting my skin. A knee is brought up to my stomach, sending a ripple of pain throughout my body. I would have doubled over if not for the hand still holding my hair in a death grip. A fist connects to the same spot the mug hit just seconds ago, and I feel more blood spew out from the wound. I'm punched several more times in various areas, but none compare to the sharp pain on the side of my head, right next to my eye.

Then I'm let go, and I fall to the floor. Blood pools in my mouth, spilling onto the floor as I rest on my knees. I watch as the thick, dark red liquid drips from my head in a fairly steady stream, mesmerized by it. I know this is not good and I need to stop the bleeding, but my brain won't tell my body to move.

"Priscilla, get her cleaned up and then send her out. No pain killers. Just stop the bleeding, and let her handle the rest after she leaves." Father says, and soon I feel arms around me, lifting me up, and guiding me to what I assume is the bathroom.

I'm sat on the toilet seat, and I feel a wet washcloth pressed against my face. The closer is gets to the wound, the more it stings. When I get enough balls to actually open my eyes, I see Priscilla, our head maid, kneeling in front of me, her gentle hands running the cloth on my skin to clean up the blood. When she seems satisfied with her job, she gets up and leaves without a word.

After a few minutes of sitting alone, I gather enough courage to look at myself in the mirror. I grimace when I see the damage. There's a nasty, jagged cut running from the corner of my eye, splitting into two lines, one going straight across to my ear, the other going down a little over an inch. The area all around it is bruising and beginning to swell a bit. The rest of my face is fine.

I lift up my bloodied shirt to see a nice big bruise under my ribs where I got kneed. There's also a mark on my shoulder, although I'm not exactly sure at what point that happened.

I sigh, then go back upstairs to get ready yet again. I take a quick shower to get the rest of the blood out of my hair and off my chest. I blow dry my hair using the cool air setting, and it feels oddly nice on my wound. I have to pick a different shirt since the other one is all stained with blood, and I end up choosing a peach crop top that shows off my bruise.

I'm not worried about anyone at school seeing me like this. Not only does this happen on a regular basis, so everyones pretty much used to it by now, but most people just assume I got into a fight or something, which I don't mind.

When I'm ready I run down the stairs, passed the now empty kitchen with blood all over the floor and wall, and out the door. I get in my Jeep and drive down to Dunkin Donuts. I get a large pumpkin spice latte and 2 cookie dough brownie donuts. I need to eat because I feel a little dizzy from the lack of blood in my system.

When I finally pull into the schools parking lot, second period is about halfway through. I walk through the empty halls, to my respective class. I open the door and immediately all eyes are on me, then they widen once they see the state I'm in. But a cold glare from me makes them avert their gazes. I stride to my seat, sitting down and doodling until the bell rings.

The next class I have with Layla and Alen. Since I get there a little early, I wait for them. Alen comes in first, rushing over when he notices me.

"Sweetie, what happened to you." He says, gently examining the cut with his fingers.

I go in straight defensive mode, swatting his hand away. "Nothing. I got into a fight. It's no big deal." I frown looking down at the floor. "And don't call me that," I add.

He glares at me, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Damn, Blake. That looks bad. Who the hell did that to you?"

"Doesnt matter, I said it's no big deal." I repeat. But then I realize he's just trying to be a good friend, and I may be acting a bit too hostile, so I force a small smile. "But hey, you should see the other guy," I joke.

He tries to stay mad, but he gives in, rolling his eyes and laughing. "Only you Blake, only you." Then he looks behind me, his face brightening with a smile.

I turn to see whats got him all smiley, and I see Layla and Darren heading over to us. Oh yeah, I forgot that Darren was in this class. Dark haired, blue eyed Darren walks right past me to sit beside Alen. He glances over with a highly disapproving look, raises an eyebrow at the cut on my head then snorts and looks away, chatting with Alen. I'm just waiting for the day that this bitch messes with Alen so I can beat the shit out of him. He needs a serious ego check. But I can't do shit about it now because he's dating one of my friends, so I just gotta deal with it.

Layla sits on my left side, so she doesn't notice the cut on the right side of my face at first. I lean in to kiss her hello, but she stops me with her hands against my chest and eyes wide with shock. Then her features soften and are replaced by pity. "Aww love..." She says, kissing my cheek.

"Don't look at me like that babe. It's nothing." I tell her sternly. Shes the only one who knows the real reason why I always come in looking like I just got out of a blender. And she definitely knows how much I hate that look of pity, people feeling bad for me. It makes my stomach churn just thinking about it.

"I know. I'm sorry baby. I love you," she gives me the kiss she interrupted earlier, sucking on my tongue piercing breifly like she knows I like. Mmm, fuck I love this girl. As my hands find their way to her thigh and waist, someone clears their throat loudly. I ignore it, hearing multiple snickers around me as I pull Layla onto my lap.

"Blake and Layla, would you please stop that in my classroom." The teacher scolds, annoyed. I smirk, turning to face her while keeping my hands on Layla's hips.

"What, are you jealous?" I snort in return. Then I turn back around and sensually lick Layla's neck, making her stifle a moan with a giggle.

"That's it, Mrs. Hornwood. You have detention."

I groan loudly, throwing my head back. "Ooh, someone's got her panties in a bunch. Guess we know who didn't get any this morning." I deapan. The class erupts into a chorus of laughter.

"Principal's office. Now." She yells. I sigh, rolling my eyes, but I set Layla down in her seat and giving her a quick kiss before waltzing off towards the door.

I stop for a moment, waving, "Bye love." I blow Layla a kiss which earns a blush from her, then I strut down the hall to the principal's office.
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