The bed shakes and shudders under his ruthless thrusts. My tears soak the pillowcase, creating a damp circle beneath my cheek.For Sandman, fucking me isn’t just about achieving orgasm. It’s about power and control. He needs me to suffer. My betrayal cut him deep, and he’s reciprocating tenfold, severing me to the marrow.
“Tell me how bad it hurts,” he demands.
“It hurts so much,” I croak, my throat raw from crying.
I’ll say whatever he wants me to say. Do whatever he wants me to do. I just want him to be done and this night to be over.
“Your pain is like a heroin addiction,” he murmurs against my neck. “I wish I could inject it into my veins.”
Sandman moves to his knees, pulling me with him. His large hand spans the middle of my back and pushes down, accentuating my arch.
“Stay,” he orders, his steel fingers digging into my hips.
He drives deeper into my tight hole, callously pummeling my rectum. Each thrust feels like a bomb exploding inside my body. I scream into the pillow until he finally curls over me, groaning in my ear.
“Take every last drop,” he growls, undulating his hips against me.
After a brief pause, he slips out of me and falls onto his back. “Check on the cake.”
I can barely move, and he wants me to check on the cake! Fuck the cake! I want to rant at him, damn him to hell, but I clamber to my feet instead and hobble to the door. I’m an utter mess—half naked, bruised and burned, with his semen leaking from my ass.
“Zilphia,” he calls out to me.
I squeeze my eyes shut for several seconds before turning around to face him. “Yes?”
I fucking despise how relaxed he looks with his back propped against the headboard and his hands folded behind his golden mane. He spent the last thirty minutes terrorizing me, and he’s completely remorseless.
“Don’t run.”
“Like you said, there’s nowhere for me to run.”
“It’s way too short,” Leah complains, pulling on the hem of her dress. “You were supposed to make it knee length.” She tilts her head sideways, perusing her reflection in the mirror. “It barely covers my ass, and my boobs are practically hanging out. One wrong move and it’s hello world.”
I stifle a chuckle as I reposition myself against the mountain of pillows on Meela’s bed. We’re getting ready for douchebag perv’s birthday party. I, for one, am looking forward to going. Leah, on the other hand, is not. I’m pretty sure she would rather eat a bowl of rocks.
When she picked me up for my first shift at the hospital this morning, she ranted and raved about how much she detests parties during the entire fifteen-minute drive. I dutifully listened with the occasional nod; after all, she drove ten minutes out of her way to get me. She didn’t have to, even though we volunteer at the same time. Afterward, I caught the bus to Meela’s while Leah started her shift at the gift shop.
“I was,” Meela replies as she zips up the back of Leah’s dress. “But I changed my mind. Sorry.”
Leah looks back at her, a scowl on her pretty features. “I doubt if you’ve ever been sorry about anything in your entire life.”
“You would be correct,” Meela quips unapologetically and walks over to her closet. “Hmm, what am I going to wear?” she mutters, clamping a hand on her hip.
“You’re such a witch,” Leah gripes and turns back around, studying her reflection in the mirror again.
“Bitch,” Meela corrects her. “I’m such a bitch. You must give a queen her due respect.”
“Oh God.” Leah rolls her eyes heavenward. “You are the most conceited person I’ve ever met.”
“It’s called self-confidence, honey,” she counters, rummaging through the multitude of colorful clothes in her closet. “Anyway, I’ve decided your grandma days are over.”
Leah sighs. “Isn’t it enough that I agreed to go in the first place?”
“I kept my grades up, per our arrangement,” Meela shrugs out of her silk robe and flings it onto the back of her vanity chair. “That’s the only reason why you’re coming. Otherwise, you’d be at home with your nose in a book.”
“And?” she gripes defensively. “I like reading. What’s wrong with that?”
Meela clucks her tongue disapprovingly. “The fact you even asked that is proof you need an intervention immediately. Teenage years are wasted on you, girl. You should’ve been born an old woman.”
