Everything inside me screamsrun. It begs me to bite him and dart out of the car, but I’mnotmoving. I kiss him back, even though my face is moist with his saliva. I jerk him off, guided by his hand, every move rough and fast, even though I want to squeeze his balls until they pop like balloons.
I want him doubling over in pain. I want his screams, his pleas. I want him to beg me not to cut his dick off with the first sharp thing I find.
I don’t do any of that. I keep working his length, my thumb wet with impatient precum leaking from the tip.
Two different consciousnesses occupy my headspace.
One’s terrified, one’s resigned.
The gentle rustle of trees fades into the background, covered by my thunderous heart and Alex’s urgent grunts.
I don’t know if my pulse is hummingbirding now or in the past, but it hurts. Everythinghurts. My chest, my heart, my lungs.
Alex breaks the kiss and leans back, shoving my head down hard. My lips stop a breath from his cock.
“Go on, Hailey, open up. It’ll be quick. I’m almost ready to blow.”
I clamp my jaw shut so hard my teeth start cracking but somehow my lips fall open anyway. The musky smell of him invades my senses and the salty taste dances across my tongue.
I brace against him, clawing, kicking, screaming but... only in my head. Only in the present.
Back then, I’m calm. Numb.
I suck him off even though my teeth are clenched so hard the blood should be spraying from his deflating cock. The blend between now and then is maddening. Like I’m balancing on the edge, swaying between past and present.
“Shh, you’re okay.” Nash’s voice breaks through.
A soft whisper coming from far away at first. His voice gains volume and strength with every word he speaks, pulling me out of the memory.
“Stop fighting, Hailey, I won’t hurt you.”
The past fades away. I blink, and Alex is gone. His cock’s not in my mouth. His hand’s not on my head.
The heat of Nash’s body beneath me grounds me on the right side of the line. In the present. With him. Away from Alex.
We’re not inside the car... we’re on the damp forest floor. I’m cradled in his lap, his hands holding me flush against his chest.
I guess I ran. I kicked, screamed, and fought, if the three long, red lines marking Nash’s cheek are any hint. He doesn’t have to tell me I scratched him in the frenzy.
“I’m sorry...” I whisper, my voice breaking, throat dry as if I screamed for hours. Lifting a trembling hand, I gently brush my fingertips over the angry marks. “I didn’t mean to, I—”
“You’re not safe alone,” he interrupts, gripping me like a straitjacket. He’s angry, but also... worried. “Your memories come back worse every time, don’t they? What did you see?”
My cheeks burn bright, shame spilling all over my neck and chest. I shift my concentration to a nearby fern, suddenly interested in the world’s flora. The Pontiac is parked a fair distance away, the doors on both sides wide open.
“It’s nothing, I’m fine.”
He gently tilts my chin back toward him, a dark look crossing his face. “You jumped out and ran, screamingnoon repeat. You don’t have to tell me...” he grinds out like it costs him a lot to say it, “but if you want to, I’ll listen.”
“Thank you. I’m really sorry about your face.”
“I’d rather have you hurt me than yourself.” He brushes his fingertips along my jaw. “Come on, you’re freezing.” He guides me back to the car, closing the door behind me, then takes the driver’s seat and holds out a water bottle. “Drink. It’ll help.”
It does, washing away the lingering taste of panic and the musky, salty taste of Alex’s cock. Nash pulls off his hoodie, ignoring me when I say I’m not cold.
“I decide if you’re warm enough.” He pushes it over my head, dressing me like a child. “You shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’m not. You’re here.”
