Damaged, p.1
Damaged, page 1
Damaged
Dark Bully BWWM Romance
The Crispin & Amina Series
Book 2
Jamila Jasper
Edited by
Rosie M
www.jamilajasperromance.com
Copyright © 2023 by Jamila Jasper
ISBN: 9798856892955
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book was previously published as a Kindle Vella story and will now be updated completely and published as an eBook. The story line, characters and structure will be updated and edited for the eBook format.
Please read this warning before purchasing this book or going any further.
Created with Vellum
Content Notice
The content in this story may be disturbing to some readers. Sensitive readers beware, this is a dark BWWM bully romance novel with themes readers may find troubling and frank discussions about race that may disturb some readers.
Violence, strong language, potentially offensive content, sexual violence and death are all mentioned explicitly in this story.
This is a hot, slow-burn interracial romance story in an interconnected series.
Dive into my most popular serial, completely updated for readers who enjoy and prefer completed full-length novels.
Contents
Description
1. The Cottage
2. Rescue
3. Preparations For Halloween
4. A Very Spooky Halloween
5. The Floating Corpse
6. The Dead Student
7. Death Cake
8. The Heat
9. The Talking Bear
10. Murderous Slut
11. Icy Death
12. Messing With Crispin
13. Texas Sex-Ed
14. Trouble With Friends
15. Bible’s Secret
16. A Pickle Pic
17. Who Sent This
18. Brainwashing
19. He’s Back With Ella
20. Secret Hook Ups & Screw Ups
21. Dead Meat
22. Denting The Maserati
23. I Really Don’t Want To Keep You A Secret
24. He’ll Never Give Up
25. It’s A Bit Cheap
26. Double-Homicide
27. I Can’t Stop Myself
About Jamila Jasper
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Description
Crispin Barclay becomes more obsessed with Amina Hewett than before...
But with his obsession comes dark desires...
Desires that could scare the innocent dark-skinned girl away from him.
Amina, tempted to jump into the darkness, discovers another one of Crispin's twisted secrets.
This secret is too dark...
Too terrifying.
But Amina can't stay away from the boy who claims to love her.
Especially when he shows her with his tongue, his hands, and every inch of his body.
Bad boys can be addictive -- even killers. Even killers with secrets.
This is Book #2 of a 6 book series with a morally grey alpha hero, a black female lead and a lovable cast of characters. This series must be read together, in order. This is a spin-off series to The British Bully Series with Ben & Libby, another interracial bully romance set at Rapetti Academy.
1 The Cottage
I was so nervous that I could choke. My father had just kidnapped me in front of my friends, exercising his control over me and various whispered threats to convince me to return to his hotel with him. I couldn’t stop shaking the entire drive over.
He was drunk. He wanted to hurt me. I could tell what he had planned from the way his hands squeezed my legs. I’d tried to be as unappealing as possible. My legs were thin and bony. That clearly didn’t work. He kept looking over and smiling at me, but every time he smiled, I could just smell the liquor on his breath.
I froze completely. He held my hand and practically dragged me inside, holding me in a way that made it look like we were lovers. That made me sick to my stomach. Why the hell didn’t he bring my mom out here? I knew why, but I wanted to hope for some slim chance I could escape this without him hurting me again. If he made this a habit, I would have to run. Again.
He’d greeted the front desk at the hotel by name with a smile and introduced me as his daughter, even if his hand was hovering just over my ass. I couldn’t meet the eye of the guy at the front desk, I was so ashamed. Daddy kept his hand pressed to the small of my back as we traveled through the halls. We were about thirty minutes away from campus. He’d chosen somewhere far enough that I couldn’t run. Somewhere I would be completely vulnerable to him.
I could barely walk. I was so scared. My brain just... shut down. I wanted to force myself to be strong, but I didn’t know how I would react when he physically overpowered me. Your brain just shuts off in those situations, and I was already teetering near the edge of a complete meltdown. I thought I was through with this – done being this man’s victim.
We got to the room and he shut the door behind us and growled, “You don’t have to act so fucking scared of me.”
The switch in his mood was immediate and terrifying. He looked genuinely offended, as if he expected me to react in any other way. Now that we were alone, my panic switched on properly and I just wanted to fight him, even if he won. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t an easy target.
I turned on him with twice as much rage as he had. “Why did you come here? I told mom I didn’t want to see you. And I never want to see you again. Never. Take me back to campus RIGHT NOW!”
I took out my phone to call for help and he snatched it, flinging it across the room. I ran after it and he lunged to let me know he would stop me. I hung back.
“Daddy STOP!”
He paced back and forth, red-faced and menacing. He was huge too. Almost as tall as Crispin. If Crispin couldn’t contact me by phone, he would probably freak out. I didn’t know if he’d realize if I was in danger, or if he would just get pissed off, but Crispin would probably notice.
The man who adopted me towered over me, intimidating me on purpose. I’d always been so much smaller than him and he reveled in using his size to his advantage. I was so small, and he’d hurt me anyway. I had to tread carefully if I wanted to get out of this. He’d threatened my life once. My heart raced as I calculated the risk of lunging for the phone again. I might be able to kick him in the nuts.
Fuck. Don’t they always tell you not to go to a second location with the perpetrator?
Okay, but the rules are different when the perp was your dad. Right? Maybe I could reason with him. I searched around for a weapon. There weren’t any. Maybe I could weasel my way out of this another way. Kicking him in the balls would be a great start.
Daddy broke his silent pacing and took a swig from his flask. The flask was nearly empty. He’d been drunk before he’d come to the dorm. I was in bigger danger than I’d realized.
He snarled, “I’m stinking drunk, Amina. I don’t have time to argue. I had to see you. You’re angry with me. I get it. But you’re my goddamned daughter. I raised you. I changed your diapers. I bought your first tampons. You bet your ass you’re going to listen to me.”
I felt nauseous. My head was so light I barely felt like I could hold onto consciousness. I had to show him that wolverine aggression. Maybe I’d been too easy a target back then. Weak little Amina. I kicked now. And punched. And I’d been in and out of a few more scrapes.
“I don’t think you get it,” I snapped, “I hate you. Take me back to campus. Now. I didn’t sign out.”
“I’m not taking you back there. We’re a father and daughter. We can share a room for Christ’s sake.”
“Don’t you dare,” I snarled, “Don’t you dare get into that bullshit. I’m not sixteen anymore.”
“I noticed you lost weight,” he said, “lots of it. I guess that diet your mom got you on worked. I liked the curves better.”
I didn’t mean to throw up. But I couldn’t help myself. I could fight off Felix Stubbins. I could push Daniella’s buttons or stand up to August Barclay. But I couldn’t stand up to John Hewett. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to reconcile my father with the monster who stood before me. I bent over and after the vomit came the tears.
“Oh grow up,” he snarled, more annoyed than disgusted. “You knew what would happen when you got older. You were always... flirting with me.”
He didn’t even care that I was sick to my stomach. I was only here for his gratification. Once I’d purged what was on my stomach, I was just left with this cold, empty rage.
Rage surged through me and I couldn’t even control my response to him. I got up and shoved him with all my strength. Heat rushed past my ears. How dare he?
“I was a child! Now let me out of here or I will scream and I won’t stop. Take me back to campus and I won’t tell a soul. I just want you to leave me alone!”
Yelling. I’d gotten out of many tough spots by yelling. Why should this one be any different? Just because I was scared of John Hewett didn’t mean he was actually larger than life. I could push back. Maybe I could win.
“I can’t leave you alone. I’m a man, Amina. I need sex. Now come on. I don’t remember this being so difficult the last time.”
“You raped me.”
I pushed him again. He was drunk enough to fall over against the table. But then he hit his head on the table on the way down, which got him angry. And he needed to remind me that he could overpower me. He lunged for me. I tried to dodge him but daddy had been a football star in high school. He kept in good enough shape to catch me.
I kicked him. And he subdued me, pinning me to the wall with his forearm against my neck. I gasped for air. I could breathe, but he kept me still. If I moved, I’d risk choking myself.
“Listen,” he snarled, the smell of whiskey turning my stomach again, “you tell anyone what happened between us and I’ll tell them exactly what they want to hear... that you were a fast little girl who came onto me and wrecked a Southern Christian home. I’ll ruin you. So stop messing around, kid.”
I spat on him. He hit me. Hard. He’d hit me the second time too. I’d tried to fight back then. Now I remembered why I’d put fighting back out of the question. He slammed my head into the wall. I grabbed the lamp on the table and swung it at his head. I missed, but he let go of me. I scrambled for the door. He’d locked it. Fuck. My hands were shaking so much and he was close to catching me again. And I opened the door. I burst into the hallway screaming.
“HELP!”
“Amina!”
Crispin. He was at the end of the hallway, his ear pressed against a door. Had he planned to listen in on every door here? I ran toward Crispin. I didn’t know what the hell he was doing here, but I knew he was my best chance of hell. I burst down the hallway. Daddy peered out of the doorway and I screamed.
Crispin, realizing that my father was chasing me, thrust my body behind his and he lunged for my father without a moment of consideration. With his long stride, Crispin crossed the hallway quickly. My father didn’t know who he was and surprise registered on his face. Crispin used that momentary lapse to his advantage. He picked John Hewett up by the collar and I saw a terrifying look crossing Crispin’s face.
He’s going to kill my dad, I thought. For the first time, I saw something more terrifying in Crispin than the night he pressed my naked body into the grass. I could tell just from looking at him just how badly he wanted to kill my father. The expression on his face was purely psychopathic bloodlust. My breath caught. Despite everything, I didn’t want Crispin to murder John Hewett. Not like this.
I screamed, “Crispin, no!”
He shoved my father into his hotel room. I raced for the door. Crispin Barclay, please don’t do anything stupid... But it was Crispin. So I could count on the fact that he’d do something stupid. The door shut before I could get to it.
“CRISPIN! Open the door!”
I heard a thud. I heard a yell. Another thud. More yelling. Furniture. I slammed on the door again. No one so much as peered out of their hotel room. The English tended to mind their own business. Americans would have swarmed out with phones by now. The door eventually thrust open. I gasped, not sure who I’d see.
Crispin stood in the doorway, panting, blond hair stuck to his neck and his eyes nearly glowing with adrenaline and fear. Fuck. His eyes were beautiful. I didn’t know why I ever stopped looking at them. Sweat dripped over his brow bone as he panted.
His knuckles were covered in blood. The bruise on his eye had returned with a vengeance. His lower lip was fat and blood dripped down his cheeks.
“He’s unconscious,” heaved, “but he’s alive. Let’s get out of here.”
I didn’t care that there was blood all over him. I didn’t care what he’d done in there. I pressed him against the wall and kissed him. My fury surprised Crispin, but he didn’t stop me. I kissed his cheeks and then licked the blood from his lips and let our lips mingle together. He sucked back on my lower lip and then pushed me to the other wall.
I wanted him. I couldn’t stop myself from wanting him. He pulled away from me, confused. His dark brows wrinkled up and he shook his head.
“I’ve got your dad’s blood on my hands,” he murmured.
“Take me somewhere,” I said, “Anywhere with a bed.”
“Fuck, Amina...” He pressed his forehead against mine and clutched my body against his, “Did he hurt you?”
“Yes,” I whispered, “But you were here. I’m fine.”
He kissed me again. Not a yes we’re leaving, but good enough for me. I ran my fingers over his bloodied knuckles and then raked my fingers through his hair. He winced as I tugged at a bruised part of his forehead. But then he kissed me harder after. When I pulled away he took my hand in his and we scampered out of a back entrance. Daddy got him pretty good, but he’d been too drunk to take on a varsity athlete the size of Crispin Barclay.
Once we got outside, Crispin exhaled loudly, “Fuck’s sake. I want to smoke.”
“Blood in the Maserati?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Crispin muttered, “I can handle cleaning up blood.”
I tentatively walked toward him and slipped my arm through his.
“How the hell did you know where I was?”
“I’ve spent the better part of four hours following you. Your father talks incessantly.”
“What, you parked out in your binoculars with your subtle Maserati?”
“I didn’t bring the Maserati. I borrowed Stubbins car.”
I guess that was why he didn’t mind the blood. If the car had belonged to anyone except Felix Stubbins, I might have cared. Crispin pointed to the custom yellow mini-cooper with a vanity plate that said “FESTUB89”. The car looked cartoonish.
“Is that seriously your getaway car?”
“He was the only person in the common room,” Crispin groaned. “Can you drive?”
“Where is your car?!”
Crispin didn’t answer my question. “Bloody hell, Amina. Can you drive?”
My heart was racing. He was right. I had to answer quickly and honestly, did it matter if I could drive? We needed to get the hell out of here anyway.
“I dunno. I’ve never driven on the left.”
“Okay. Not much traffic. You can handle it. I’ll scream if you fuck it. Plus, its Stubbins car, so I don’t care if you give it to a gypsy.”
“That feels politically incorrect.”
“It probably is, but I’m feeling politically incorrect right about now considering your dad probably broke one of my ribs. Fish the key out of my pocket, will you?”
I fished the key out of his corduroys and climbed into the driver’s seat, making the adjustments for my height.
“I got your phone, by the way,” Crispin said, tapping his other pocket. I glanced over at him and I couldn’t help but think he looked ridiculous in a car this tiny. Crispin looked like Shaquille O’Neal in a Barbie car to my left. I snickered at him and he groaned, “Shut up.”
“We can’t go back to campus, can we?” I asked, panicking at the thought of my father turning up there and dragging back to his hotel. Or worse. He could drag my ass to the airport and take me back to Texas.
“No,” Crispin groaned. “We can’t go there. Don’t worry. I have plans.”
I tried to steady my hands as I started the car. “Where are we going, Prince Charming?”
It was exhilarating to have control over something, even if there was also an element of terror having to drive in England when I’d never done it before. Crispin’s face was all red and he looked like he was in serious pain. I had to help him.
“Ten miles East. I have the keys to my grandparents' country cottage where my granddad used to take his... you know...”
That wasn’t exactly specific, but I knew where East was, so I started that way, although I had no idea what Crispin meant when he trailed off.
