Free Their Straight-A Student by Laurel Adams

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Part One
     
    Melanie Forsythe was a straight-A student, on schedule to graduate with honors. One more year until graduation, and all she had to do was keep her grades up. Which meant staying away from guys and other distractions. Or at least, that's what she told herself when she dumped her last boyfriend. 
    She couldn't get serious. Not when her future looked so bright. But the truth was, she'd never dated a guy who could give her what she really wanted; they were all too timid. And Melanie had no time for underachievers in the bedroom or anywhere else…
    With a big history exam in the morning, she decided to camp out at the college library that night. It was quiet with a great view of the lake, and she could concentrate on her studies without anyone bothering her. Though the building was locked from the outside at night, the janitors always let her stay if she wanted to and Melanie planned to study until morning.
    She even brought a pillow. 
    It wasn't until well past the witching hour that she finally decided to take a break. 
    She got up, stretched, then put her head down on her book, promising herself that she'd just close her eyes for a minute . 
    The truth is, she never heard them coming.
    Melanie woke up to her arm being twisted painfully behind her back and a gloved hand over her mouth. "Get up slowly, come with us and everything will be fine," a man whispered in her ear as another grabbed at her legs. Though Melanie ought to have been groggy from her nap, sheer terror made her wide awake. Her heart raced wildly and her first instinct was to fight. Her body flailed against her attackers and she screamed but the sound was muffled under the gloved hand over her mouth. 
    As the men dragged her toward the stairwell door, she kicked her desk chair over. She even managed to knock books onto the floor. But there were two of them and they were strong. Melanie's struggles were all for naught. 
    Once in the stairwell, she felt the cool click of metal around her wrist. She realized that one of the men had handcuffed her to the stairs by the railing. Then the man covering her mouth took his hand off and she screamed bloody murder. "Help me! Help! Someone help me! They're going to kill me!" 
    "We're not going to kill you, Melanie," said a familiar voice. "But you can go ahead and scream. This stairwell is all concrete blocks and no windows. No one can hear you. No one else is even in the library." 
    That's when one of her attackers stepped out from the shadows and she saw his face. She blinked several times. It was him . Clayton Thomas. Her ex-boyfriend. The one she broke up with over the summer. She'd agreed to go out with him in the first place because the tall and handsome African American was the only guy in her Political Science class who knew the answer to every damned question. He'd totally blown the bell curve. 
    He was also the only guy in the whole school she really lusted for, not that he'd been up to the challenge when she'd given him the opportunity. How was it that he was the smartest guy in the class, but never seemed to figure out that Melanie liked it rough?
    Well, he seemed to have figured it out now…
    "We're not going to hurt you, Mel," Clayton said. "At least, we're not going to hurt you the way you think." To prove it, he nodded to his friend—the guy who had twisted her arm behind her back. That guy released her arm and started to rub the pain away. Clayton took her abused wrist from his friend, and clicked another cuff around it, handcuffing that to the railing too. 
    "We just want to fuck you," the other guy said. 
    Melanie knew his voice too. Recognized it now, when she hadn't before in her groggy state. It was Brad Avery, the captain of the basketball team. Tall, thin, and really shy. She'd dated him freshman year. By the time he mustered up the gumption to do more than feel her up, Melanie had already decided not to waste her time. 
    Was it even possible that such