A brittle laugh escapes.Enjoy.“You’re serious?” My voice is hollow. “Either way, the answer’s no.”
He shifts beside me, a thick finger tapping my brow. “You’re meant to say yes. Everyone else I’ve slept with has.” Tongue clicking, he hugs me, sleepily brushing my arm in long strokes like I’m a cat. “Is it anhedonia?”
The normalcy of his conversation jars against everything that’s happened. Another pocket of strangeness I don’t have maps for.
“I don’t know what that is.”
His thumb rasps against my cheekbone, hair fluttering in his breath as he rests his head level to mine. “A depression thing. Where you don’t get any pleasure from things you used to enjoy.”
“Sure, it’s depression. It’s definitely not because you forced yourself on me in a filthy carpark.” Bitterness taints each syllable.
This time, when I struggle to sit upright, he lets me, and there’s relief when I tug my kilt down to cover me again. Specks of crimson dot my fingernails and I stare at them, remembering how they tore across his back. The seat tilts.
“Can I go now?”
“Lie back down.” His voice carries the heaviness of approaching sleep, but his hand is firm as it circles my neck, pulling me atop him, arms forming a cage. “Stay. Talk with me.”
A long silence follows, the warmth of his body soaking into mine. His heart thuds against my sternum.
“Are you hoarding the pills because of Craig?”
The usual images flash, but my trauma well is dry; they don’t carry the same power. “I’m not answering your questions. You already have enough advantages over me. Why do you want to watch?”
His heart rate increases and I don’t expect an answer. But his lips part and he gives a long sigh. “Because I don’t feel emotions like other people, I’m just hollow. And the emptier I get, themore the friction builds. Crime soothes me, and being with you… they’re the only things that cuts through the static.”
It reminds me of the emotional flatness of depression. The lethargy that turns each day into something to get through rather than enjoy.
His fingers work through my hair, each stroke massaging my scalp in tiny circles. “I’ve never seen someone die before, let alone been their last… it feels like destiny that it’s you, when we already have a connection.”
My chest constricts painfully.
Other girls get a prince charming, and I get a sociopath who wants to watch me die. But life being unfair is nothing new to me. Maybe we do fit together.
I push free of his embrace, and my nose wrinkles at the wetness between my thighs. “Do you have napkins or something?”
“Stay here.”
He slides from the back seat, the car rocking slightly as he stands on the asphalt, setting his hands on his hips.
“Actually…” There’s a whisper of fabric, then Damien surges back inside, binding my wrists with his school tie and fastening them to the overhead safety handle. “I’ll be five minutes.”
“No.” I tug and the silk digs into my skin, the knot holding. “Wait!” His cologne lingers as he straightens out of the car. “Where are you going?”
“Shh or I’ll stuff those panties into your mouth. Are you going to be good?”
I kick at his face, but my heels hit the slammed door. His footsteps fade into the ambient hum of the carpark. A distant chime sounds as the lift doors open.
Sensation returns to my numb body in waves. My centre pulses, stretched raw, but as the minutes tick by, the burnsoftens into warmth. A pulled muscle heats my side, and my shoulders cramp when I strain against my bonds.
It seems a lot longer than five minutes before Damien’s distinctive stride clips across the concrete. The rear door opens, letting in a rush of cool air as he crouches in front of me, features barely visible.
“Got you a replacement.” Plastic crinkles as he tears open packaging. “It’s going to hold all my cum inside you, too.”
I fight not to squeeze my thighs around his wrist as his cool fingers insert a new period cup inside me.
“The pharmacy assistant said you can have sex with this one in, but that’ll wait until I get you home.”
Get me home.Hishome?
