Aria's POV
Marco had his hands on me from the second we stepped into the car.
He was drunk.
Stupidly drunk, and probably high off those cigars.
His kisses were sloppy, and his hand coordination was off.
He moaned against my ear, his hands pricking at the fabric of my dress. I tried to push him off me, but he was stronger than me.
"Maybe we should wait till we get to the house," i whispered against his ear, and he mumbled something that I couldn't catch.
"Marco, please." I said when he tried to press on and pushed him off me. He grunted something but didn't try to touch me again.
When we got to the house, he seemed to have gotten a bit sobered up. He went to the kitchen to get a glass of water, and when he came back, he grabbed my hand and basically pulled me up to his room.
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