The same features my mind drew atop Joseph’s when it was desperate to feel something pleasurable during our miserably long, needlessly unsatisfying fucks.
Seb leans his body against me and it’s all rock-hard muscle and long, lean limbs. A body used to constant movement, to exercise, to the punishment of manual labour.
At six-two, he towers over me by a foot, but when he arches his lower back, his cock nestles into the exact right spot, sending a bolt of savage lust surging through my pussy. He’s already hard, but that’s not a surprise. In the few minutes since he entered the room, my cunt has turned into a fountain.
I hate that my body wants this even as my mind turns in upon itself, ricocheting off the worst of my hidden memories to cause more damage. I pray for someone to bust through the door, ready to put a stop to this madness.
And if he starts the whole thing back up again? How will that work?
It won’t. That’s the only answer. If I go back into the hell of a year ago at the public high school, I won’t make it out alive. I barely escaped the first time.
So instead of hoping someone comes, I try to shove what’s happening undercover. “Close the door.” My voice whips out the command with no regard for tone, for subtlety, propelled by shame and fear.
Seb laughs, but he always laughs at me, like he thinks every word I say is a punch line, and maybe it is. Maybe in his mind all I am is a long-running joke, the humour never wearing thin.
I can’t believe he’s here. I can’t believe he invaded the safe space I built for myself. It’s so goddamn unfair I want to scream.
If I did, he’d probably laugh at that as well.
His walk from me to the door and back again doesn’t last nearly long enough. I don’t even get the chance to inhale, not that I’m able to do that, not properly. My breathing is already so shallow, there’s a parade of fancy fairy lights dancing before my eyes.
Then he grabs a handful of my hair, wrenching my head back, his eyes sparkling in the light from the back yard, tinted silver from the moon. It snaps me back to attention, a surge of energy coursing through my blood stream, ready for me to fight, to run.
And instead, I stand with my palms flush on the wall and submit.
“I’ll let that one slide since you’re on edge, but watch your tone.”
He lets go of my hair, but the screeching from my scalp doesn’t quieten. He might as well still be yanking. I tilt my head from side to side and some of the harshest notes retreat.
“You have to…” I break off, mindful of his warning. My teeth take a savage bite on my bottom lip, drawing blood that tastes of salt, meat, metal. The delicate skin of my neck tingles in warning and I belatedly think of the condom nestled in my pocket. I lift my right hand from the wall and stop when a growl erupts in my ear.
“Not without permission.”
Saliva floods my mouth as the vibrations sink into my flesh. “There’s a condom in my jacket.”
His hand reaches in, groping, then emerges with the tiny wrapper in hand. He chuckles into the side of my neck, curving his lips until they’re pressing against my ear. “Are you sure? Don’t you want a troupe of little baby Sebastians to take care of you in your old age?”
I lean my forehead against the wall, biting on my lip to forestall any smart aleck remarks that might want to make an appearance. “I’m on the pill. This is for protection.”
“Are you implying that I’m diseased, or are you?”
My mouth wants to snap at him again, but I settle for jerking my chin at the tiny package. “If you wear this, neither of us will need to find out.”
He takes it and my lungs open a little wider.
Then he says, “Hold it for me,” and pushes it between my lips. I clamp them shut, scared to get my teeth involved in case they accidentally pierce the contents.
I press my palms so hard against the wall my shoulders tense like they’re carved from marble. A tightening band around my head makes my temples ache.
Then Seb’s hand settles on the curve of my neck. It rests there for a second, gently warming my skin until my muscles relax, and I curl towards the touch.
“Anyone would think you liked me.” He chortles at his own joke, not needing feedback. My muscles want to contract again, and I force them not to. If I stay this frozen, everything will be so much worse. Will hurt so much worse.
So, I make my shoulders drop, let my torso sag back against his. Even when he gives a soft laugh at my capitulation.
His breath tickles at the hairs on the back of my neck and a new flood of warmth erupts from the spot, pouring down to set patches of my body alight; my nipples hardening while the skin of my arms pops out into gooseflesh.
“I’m taking your jacket off,” he whispers, dragging the neckline down and freeing each hand in turn before placing them back against the stippled wallpaper. “Do you want me to peel your dress off, too?”
