That laugh again, like a drill in my ear.
“I wish I was a cancer. Buried inside you and growing, taking you over from the inside out, stealing everything you think belongs to you and using it to fuel my attack until I’ve eaten away every scrap of your being. Would you like that? Would you like to fall asleep at night with me pulsing inside, spreading my malignant fingers into every cell until I turn it against you. It’s all you deserve.”
I slap behind me, wanting to hurt him. Wanting to punish him the same way he feels entitled to punish me.
Wanting to hurt him because I’m in the wrong and I know it, have always known it. Even though it didn’t seem like I had a choice. Even now, when I’m older, more experienced, more thoughtful, I can’t see another way. No viable path except the one that turns me weak.
“Did you want me inside you when you dragged the police into my house, into my home, and spread your lies about my mother? Was that all you needed? One good fuck and you thought you could run away from me. Dodge all your responsibility.”
I barely hear the words. The same words he’s thrown at me before. The words that I can’t fight against because he’s right, he’s always right.
His hand slaps against my arse and the stinging pain burns like his palm was made from fire.
“Do your fancy new friends know what you’re really like?” he asks, the snarl clear in his voice. “Do they know that all you really want is for someone to drag you down into the mud and give you a good seeing to? Do you have a fancy boyfriend hanging around, treating you like a lady when all you want is to rut like a fucking pig.”
He pulls me back against him, tilting so severely that my feet leave the ground when his next thrust hits, bouncing me against his pelvis like I’m no more substantial than a bargain-bin toy.
Then he withdraws, manhandling me to the wide sill of the window and forcing me to my knees. He spreads my legs so far apart, the muscles of my groin scream in protest.
Then he’s back inside, hitting a spot inside me that makes my toes curl, forces a moan from my mouth when all I want to do is yell at him to stay away, to get the fuck out of my life, this new start I carved out for myself, the chance I bought with so much pain and fear that I will never find the will to do it again.
This is my one shot, and he was meant to stay away, stay so far away, but now he’s buried inside me, bumping up against a spot that no one else ever reaches, hitting inside my head in the same strange way, unleashing thoughts that should make me vomit, make me howl, but instead send another orgasm ripping through me.
Harder than the first.
Clenching muscles so he hisses air through his teeth as my cunt squeezes, convulses, milks him until he comes with a roar and pumps his hips, the cum spilling over to run down the inside of my thighs.
I collapse forward, the top of my head hitting against the cold glass of the window as the sobs overtake me, half lost in a delirium of pleasure and revulsion. Feeling that old sensation of freefall, of me hurtling towards the ground at terminal velocity. No brakes. No parachute.
My limbs shake as I knee crawl sideways, away from him, tugging my pants up and my dress down.
“Don’t go,” Seb jeers. “I thought we could spend the night whispering sweet nothings to each other.” He dissolves into half-hysterical laughter while I grab for my jacket, pausing when I see the condom wrapper. Torn open but its contents clearly still inside.
“You fucking arsehole.” I throw the useless,uselessrubber at him and he bats it away, still chuckling.
He turns, sitting on the floor with his legs splayed, knees bent, hands laced behind his head. His chest heaves up and down though whether that’s through exertion or the tail end of his laughter, I can’t tell.
“Don’t be like that.” He rubs his hands over his scalp a few times, then finger combs his hair. It falls back into its not-quite-perfect placement as his smile grows wider.
When I stride towards the door, he teases, “It’s just a tiny dose of the clap, you’ll be fine.” The light note drops from his voice as he adds, “You shouldn’t go back to the party. Not in that state. Not just yet.”
The note of warning in his voice halts me, launching an attack of self-consciousness I can’t shake. I stare down at myself, trying to see what’s amiss, out of place.
Everything.
The answer is everything.
If I made it to a mirror, I’m sure the dishevelment of my clothing would match to the dishevelment of my face.
Seb grabs the window frame and uses it to lever himself upright. He stays in place, eyes flitting over my body, seemingly happy with what he sees.
“So, same time next week?”
It’s a joke. I know it’s a joke, but there’s still a cold run of fear along my backbone. “You said you were only here a few nights.”
“Did I?” His smirk grows so broad I can’t keep staring at him. My gaze drops to the floor, my throat stings like it’s bathing in acid. Then he must take pity on me because he walks over, grabs my hand, and starts tracing a circle on my palm. “That’s right. I’m camping on a sofa. We’ll have to make it tomorrow, otherwise, you’ll miss out.”
I snatch my hand back, wriggling my fingers to shake loose the remnants of his touch.
