It’s a blur of motions.
After the third orgasm, I lost count of what actually happened.
I lost count of how many times he pushed me down against the dirt and spread my legs so he could fuck me deeper.
Or how long he slammed me against the tree and choked me with a hand around my throat as he drove into me like a madman.
Or how many times he slapped my breasts and pulled me up by my nipples, then forced me to take his cock to the back of my throat and choked me with it.
The more I begged, “Please, no,” the more ruthless he became. The harder I cried, the more merciless his touch turned.
I was dealing with a beast, one with no Off buttons and nothing to stop him.
Except for a measly safe word that I stubbornly refused to use.
Because if I do, this whole thing will vanish into thin air. I’ll no longer be chased and fucked savagely.
I’ll no longer feel alive.
And I do feel alive during the entire act. With every thrust and every slap. Every dirty word and every degradation.
No invisible shackles prison my ankles and no hidden fear paralyzes me. The pain is my aphrodisiac and the roughness is my fix.
And I simply get to let go.
By the time Sebastian finishes, I’m curled into a fetal position on the rock with his cum trickling between my thighs, running down my ass cheeks, and clinging to the tips of my breasts.
I think he orgasmed three times and ejaculated twice. I have no clue how the hell he managed to pick up right after he finished, but apparently, it’s possible. His stamina is the craziest thing I’ve ever come across.
I might have been a virgin, but I watch porn, and he was on a whole different level than that. I’m perversely into the hardcore stuff, but even the intensity in those doesn’t compare to whatever the hell happened tonight or what he’s capable of.
My inability to move is no joke. I’m panting, gasping, and still weeping softly as my core pulses.
And the most perverted part is that I would do it all over again. Hell, I wouldn’t even mind if he hadn’t stopped.
That would kill me, though. For real. Not like in some fantasy.
The rustle of clothes sounds from the side and I tilt my head slightly in its direction. He pulls his sweatshirt up and from his silhouette in the dark, I can tell there’s no underwear. Commando. He came prepared to ruin me beyond repair.
Why do I love that so much?
He lowers his hood until it’s covering his head and shadows his eyes, and then he turns.
To leave.
To erase everything that happened.
I barely survived last time, but I can’t do this anymore. I…don’t think I’ll be able to live with myself if I just take his abuse and pretend nothing happened afterward.
My mouth opens, but only a wince comes out as I attempt to sit up. It takes me several deep breaths until I can speak. “Wait…”
He stops, his back shadowed by the silver of the half moon, but he doesn’t turn around.
“I…” The words get lost. What do I want? To have a conversation? To hear him say anything aside from how I’m a good, filthy slut and toy?
God. I’m starting to sound victimized and I hate that feeling.
I don’t want to be victimized.
“Can we…talk?” I finally mutter.
“One word,” he says with a calm he never uses when he whispers dirty words in my ear. “You only have the right to that.”
“But…”
“Fight harder next time, and I might let you enjoy it.”
And with that, he disappears between the trees.
I gulp, the bitter aftertaste stuck at the back of my throat. I want to follow after him, but my inability to move keeps me pinned in place.
For a few minutes, I just lie there. My gaze gets lost in the darkness of the forest and the dusty blanket of stars above. A gust of wind blows through my damp hair and forms goosebumps on my bare skin.
I slowly crawl to a sitting position, whimpering softly due to the soreness between my legs, on my nipples, my ass, my throat, my jaw. Everywhere.
It takes me effort I don’t have to stand up and put myself together. Well, as much as possible, considering my torn short and panties.
I bend down to fetch my phone that I hid by the side of the rock when I got here. I foolishly arrived at six forty-five because I was overly excited.
And that sense of thrill had bled into my everyday life.
Today, I noticed the people when I never have before. I noticed the way they walked and talked, the way they laughed and scowled. I even stopped to admire the beauty of Blackwood’s forest and its tall trees.
And it’s due to feeling alive after years of just…existing.
It’s the exhilaration after desperation.
I used to only breathe air before; now, I breathe life. The same life that I went to countless therapists to be able to get back but never managed to.
Turns out that consenting to a fucked-up fantasy might have been the answer all along.
And the thought that more is still in store for me fills me with morbid anticipation. But there’s also a bitter taste that hasn’t disappeared since he left me.
For the second time.
I pause with my phone in my hand when I find a few missed calls. One from Mom, one from Lucy, and one from Kai.
My heart skips a beat as I click on the Call button while I slowly make my way down the path to where I left my car.
I clear my throat a few times, afraid of how my voice sounds after all the screams and sobbing that transpired not too long ago.
The PI answers after a few rings. “Kai speaking.”
“It’s me, Naomi. You called me?”
“Yes.”
A gust of wind hits me in the bones as I cautiously ask, “Is there anything new?”
“There’s progress, yes.”
“Why do you sound so…serious?”
“I’m always serious.”
“I know that, but it’s more than usual. You’re scaring me.”
“There’s no other way to deliver the news, Ms. Chester, so here it goes. I found the owner of the car we managed to process from that picture, but he’s dead.”
I physically reel back, a savage pulse pounding in my throat. I always thought about finding my dad, but I never actually considered the idea that he might be dead.
Maybe because, all this time, with the way my mother made it her mission to hide any information concerning him, I thought he just lived elsewhere. That he wanted to find me as much as I want to find him, but Mom got in the way.
“He…can’t be dead.” My voice is brittle. “Look again.”
“The owner of that car died due to a traffic accident twenty years ago.”
One year after I was born.
Does that mean I met him when I was a baby and then he just died?
I internally shake my head, refusing to believe my father is dead. If that were the case, Mom would’ve mentioned it, right?
“Look again, please.”
“I’ll check to see if I missed anything, but I wouldn’t be optimistic.”
After Kai hangs up, two fat tears slide down my cheeks. They’re so different from the tears of pleasure that never dried from my face.
I crouch in front of my car and quietly cry into my unsteady palms. My chest racks and the haunting noises I make reverberate around me.
There’s always been a hole in my chest that couldn’t be filled, no matter what I tried. One I thought only my dad would occupy, but apparently, that’s not possible anymore.
That hole was supposed to stay hollow, because like Mom has always said, my father doesn’t exist.
“Nao.”
My head jerks up and I stare at the eyes that were malicious not even fifteen minutes ago.
He has a flashlight on and his hoodie is open, revealing a white tee. His shiny dark blond hair is slicked back and his jaw is set.
Sebastian.
He’s back to being the star quarterback, not the beast from my fantasies who called me a slut and made me come with it.
“What is it, baby? Why are you crying?” His voice is calm, soothing almost.
I don’t know if it’s the stress from knowing about my father or the bitterness I felt earlier, but they all climb to the surface, ripping at the last screw that’s been holding me together.
Jumping to my feet, I storm over to stand in front of him, but he doesn’t even flinch, almost as if he was expecting the attack.
“Am I supposed to pretend nothing happened just now, Sebastian? Again?”
His expression remains the same. “I thought that was what you wanted.”
“Maybe that’s what you want.”
His eyes roam over me in deliberate slowness. “We want the same thing.”
“I don’t want to brush over everything that’s happened as if it’s…it’s…”
“A fantasy? Taboo?”
“As if it’s nothing,” I breathe out on a sniffle.
“It’s definitely not nothing.”
“Then act like it. Talk about it. Don’t leave me wondering if I’ve lost my mind or if I should check myself into a mental institute.”
His jaw hardens and I think he’ll say that’s exactly what I should do, but the lines around his eyes ease. “You don’t need a shrink just because you’re different.”
“Then what else do I need in this madness?”
“Someone who understands your needs and fulfills them.”
“But…what we’re doing is fucked up.”
“The best things are.”
“Don’t you have second thoughts about it? Any form of hesitation?”
“I’m assertive enough to accept that I’m an anomaly to what society expects from us, and I’m fine with that. I’d rather be abnormal than fit into a mold that’s not designed for me.”
“Even if it means raping someone?”
“Not someone. You.”
“It could be someone else tomorrow.”
He shakes his head. “We’re not that common, Tsundere. I wouldn’t be able to find someone whose crazy matches mine.”
“So you would leave if you were to stumble upon such a person?”
“Never.”
My breath hitches and an involuntary hiccup leaves me. “How can you be so sure?”
“It’s who I am. I don’t lie to myself, so when I say I only want you. I mean it.”
“So you’re stuck with me?”
“No. You’re stuck with me, baby.”
A slow sigh mixed with a whimper heaves out of me. “But it’s…abnormal. I recognize sexual deviant behavior. It’s what makes serial killers who they are, and that’s sick and twisted and…”
“Sick and twisted are only labels they try to contain us with. We’re not serial killers just because we enjoy consensual non-consensual sexual activities. We’re grown adults who recognize our fantasies, and unlike the cowards who only dream about it, we actually make it happen.”
“But what if it’s more than that? What if this is only the beginning of divergent behavior?”
“Why is that a problem?”
“You can hurt people.”
“I’m not interested in hurting people. I’m only interested in hurting you.”
My heart hammers and everything inside me seems to melt under the impact. God. There’s nothing I want to do other than let him hurt me all over again.
“Maybe you already have.”
He frowns. “You…didn’t use the word, so I thought you could still take it.”
“I don’t mean that.” I clear my throat. “You fucked me without a condom.”
“So?”
“Hello, pregnancy?”
“Oh, that.”
“Yes, that. What would you have done if you’d shot your spawn inside me?”
“Take care of it when it comes.”
“What makes you think I want children this young?”
“It’s not planned, so if it happens, it happens.”
“Are you serious?”
“Very.”
“But there’d be another life we’d have to be responsible for.”
“So be it. Why do you have to make it into a fucking event?”
“I don’t know, oh, let me think, maybe because it would be? We’re college kids, Sebastian, and we’re not even in a relationship.”
“We are. You just refuse to admit it and what great parents we’d make, Tsundere.”
“This isn’t the time to joke around! A child out of wedlock would cause a political scandal in your family.”
“I couldn’t give two fucks about that.”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“That’s the difference between us, Naomi. My focus is solely on you and me, but your attention is scattered elsewhere.”
“You…really wouldn’t care if I conceived.” It’s not a question, because I see his answer loud and clear in his relaxed features.
“I wouldn’t make it a fucking issue like you’re doing, but now that you’ve put it in my head, I’m curious to see you…”
“Don’t even think about it. I’m on birth control shots.”
His face turns blank, as if he’s disappointed. “Then what was the whole drama for?”
“Condoms!”
“Yeah, no. I don’t like them with you.”
“You could’ve given me something, considering all the girls you’ve fucked.”
“I’ve never fucked anyone without protection.”
I swallow. “No one?”
“No one but you, and I’m keeping it that way,” he says it as if it’s an established fact he doesn’t want to argue. “As for my medical record, I’ll send you the one from the physical I had before school started. It says I’m healthy and in my prime.”
“Fucked up, too,” I mutter.
“That makes two of us, baby. I like hurting you and you love being hurt.”
“Why?” I murmur.
“Why what?”
“Why do you like hurting me?”
“Because when I do, you fight, and subduing you alleviates my need for violence.”
“Even when I tell you no and beg you to stop?”
“Especially then.” His voice doesn’t change, but it’s like his words are stroking a dark corner of my chest.
Maybe talking about it wasn’t the best idea after all. At the moment, I don’t have the stamina to bare myself or to entertain the buried memories that are attempting to puncture the surface.
“What about you?” he asks.
“What about me?”
“You like it when I’m rough. You come harder and your pussy feels scared and in need of more.”
My cheeks burn. “Stop it.”
“You wanted to talk. We’re talking.”
“I take it back.” I turn to my car. “I’m tired.”
He grabs me by the wrist. “Not so fast, Tsundere. You don’t get to run away.”
“From what?”
“From facing the reason you’re like this.”
“Who told you there’s a reason?”
“I wasn’t sure before, but the way your pulse quickened beneath my fingers just now proves I’m right.”
I pull my hand free. The manipulative jerk. “I…don’t want to talk about it.”
“Yet.”
“Ever.”
“You will eventually tell me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because, in return, I’ll tell you my reasons.” He leans in and wraps a hand around my throat, slowly stroking the pulse point. “Until you’re ready to go down that road, you’re mine to destroy.”
