I try to twist my head, to get free of him, to get space to breathe for a second. But he presses them deeper into my mouth and his eyes take on a dark glint as I stare up at him through tears.
"I said,suck."
The hand on my throat tightens, and I think I might die right here in this church, in the very same spot where Noah killed himself. I hope wherever he is, he isn't watching this, that he never knows I let his best friend fuck me like a whore in the spot where his blood was pooled a year ago.
I don't know why I listen. Because I want it to end, because the quicker he comes the quicker it will be over. Because I'm a slut who does everything a man tells her to.
I swirl my tongue around Nick's fingers, and he groans, sliding out of me and then back in, building a pace that chases pressure inside of me again. This time, it's not a good pressure. It's painful, uncomfortable, and each movement of his hips shoves it deeper.
His gasps turn ragged as I suck his fingers harder, trying not to think about the fact that I'm licking my own release off of himlike I enjoyed it. I effectively shut my brain down, refusing to indulge in the shame for a second longer; I'll have to deal with it in the morning.
For tonight, I need to do what I need to do to make this stop.
I can tell he's close by the way his movements get less coordinated, so I suck him harder, desperate for him to be done, desperate for all of it to stop. My cheeks hurt from the force and my tongue feels bruised, but I lick and suck greedily, and he loves every second of it.
When I open my eyes, I see his face screwed in concentration, his jaw clenched, and beads of sweat dotting his forehead.
"Fuck!" He slams into me, one final time, so deep that I feel myself move as I try to escape the relentless force of him. But he only grips my hip with his free hand, the other one pushing deeper inside me, his fingers nearing the back of my throat and making me gag. He doesn't seem to care whether I vomit, and I can taste the eggnog in the back of my throat, my stomach turning with it as he tilts his hips, trying to empty the last of his release inside me.
He pulls out of my mouth first, a thick string of saliva trailing his fingers as he wipes them on my stomach and pumps into me, once, twice, small little movements that feel like stabs in an open wound.
When finally his cock slips out of me, I see him draw back.
I stopped crying a while ago, and now I feel hollowed out, half dead—like he scooped something from inside of me on his way out and took it with him.
"Oh, shit." He muses. "Are you on your fucking period?"
I don't know what that has to do with anything or why he'd be asking, and I can't make myself care enough to answer him.
I just stare at him, trying to decide how I'm ever going to live with myself knowing I let this happen.
"That's not enough blood for that," Brant shakes his head. "Trust me. You made her come. If she was on the rag, it would have been much messier."
"Nasty."
"No way that was virgin pussy?" Nick says, but something about his tone of voice makes it sound like a question instead of a statement.
"She's a church girl." Cole reasons. “That a purity ring on her finger?”
It's just occurred to me that I'm still naked, completely exposed. I haven't even snapped my legs back together yet, and I can feel their eyes on me, all over me.
It takes a lot of effort, but I manage to roll over, flipping myself onto my stomach and hiding all the vulnerable parts of me that were left exposed when Nick moved away from me.
I want to lay my head down on the glossy wood beneath me, to lay there and wait until I have the energy for something more, but I'm still cold, so I roll myself onto my knees, swaying a little as the motion makes the whole world tilt precariously.
"The fuck does that mean? Noah and her were together for like five years. You really think he never got it in?"
I find my feet somehow and get them beneath me.
My brain doesn't feel like it's operating at a hundred percent. Everything is dim and hazy, like when a snowstorm knocks out the power and plunges you into icy darkness. The emergency lights come on, but nothing is still operating as normal.
I pick up the snow globe I left on the steps, ignoring their bickering as I stare at the photo inside.
The couple in that picture is gone. Noah died, and I may as well have. I'm looking at ghosts.
"I don't fucking know. Ask her."
"Does it change anything?"
