His grip clamps around my legs and yanks me back.
“Let me go, you psycho,” I scream. I twist and kick, my heel crashing into him again and again. But he doesn’t even flinch.
“No,” he says. “Finish.”
“Finish what?” I shout. “Drowning me?”
He laughs and moves closer.
“Meal.”
“Meal?” The word barely leaves my mouth before regret hits. His breath ghosts my inner thighs.
My hands fly back, reaching for him. I can’t touch him. His strong hands keep me locked in place, pinned between the water and the edge of the pool.
He spreads my ass cheeks and brings his face up to me. I gasp as his tongue finds my clit, a sharp spark of heat shooting through my body.
My fist slams against the tiles, as if it might ground me, and I shout, “Fuck.”
His grip only tightens.
“Sit,” he commands, lowering me down on his face.
“Fuck,” I moan as his tongue slides from my clit, dipping into my inner flesh. I am already throbbing, swollen, and I hate how my body gives in even as my mind fights it. It feels too good not to.
I close my eyes, holding myself on the slick tiles of the pool, my wet hair spread down my back. He drags his teeth upward, from below to my clit, sucking it into his mouth while his tongue moves slowly up and down. Eating me.
One hand leaves my ass. I feel his fingers slip inside me, first one, then two. He thrusts them in slowly as his tongue circles my clit. He curls his fingers, hooking them just right, and I know his only intention is to break me. And I am already broken.
A moan tears out of me. I can’t hold it back. He doesn’t stop. He makes sure I feel every single thrust, hooking and releasing, moving in and out until my inner walls clamp down around hisfingers. His mouth never leaves me, his tongue dragging up and down my throbbing, sensitive skin.
“Oh God,” I gasp. “Please.” Another moan spills out of me.
He says nothing. He keeps thrusting until my thighs start to shake, until I feel how tight I am around his fingers. He pulls them free, slaps my clit once, then lowers his face again, dragging his tongue from my clit down to my ass, his teeth grazing my skin before he moves back up.
“Fuck,” I gasp as his fingers return, thrusting in and out until my body gives up again.
My hands curl against the tiles, my mouth falling open as short, broken breaths spill out of me. He drives his fingers inside relentlessly.
My thighs tremble, every last shred of dignity slipping away as wetness trails down his hand when he pulls out. He moves his fingers over my clit, slapping it fast, my sensitive skin screaming under his touch as my legs shake.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I moan, trying to hold myself up on the tiles, but nothing keeps me in place except him.
As he moves his face back to my throbbing pussy, he drags his tongue along my inner flesh until I can’t take it anymore.
A moan rips out of me, almost a scream. I press my palm over my mouth, my thighs still shaking. Then he grips me and pulls me down into the water. My head goes under, and in the next breath, he is gone, climbing out of the pool, walking away, laughing.
I want to drown.
I stay under, the water moving in my ears, my mind replaying everything that just happened. My lungs burn, begging for air. I break the surface with a gasp and haul myself out, my hands slipping on the tiles as I drag my legs onto the floor. I collapse there, staring up, my body still shuddering with the aftershocks he left behind.
This is the first time he touched me. The first time, I actually let him.
And even though my mind wants to erase everything that happened, my body still aches for more.
I stare at the pile of dirt I just dug to bury Jimmy’s cock. Ever since Judas disappeared, Catherine didn’t like the idea of bringing the police over. I still think she is keeping something from me, but in the past two years, I have seen her maybe ten times total. Most of the time, she stays at Lucas’s place, and I don’t blame her.
They say houses hold memories. This one has too many. Hold the worst ones. Death. Grief. Despair. I stayed because it feels no different than my life.
