by L V Chase
I bow my head down, kissing her hip. She turns onto her back, my hand still resting over her pussy.
It’s never just been about fucking. I’ve always been repelled by virgins. I don’t want the responsibility over a fragile little thing who will spend her lifetime talking about how rough and discourteous her first was. I don’t want to be the man who has to coax a woman into being an active participant. I don’t want a clingy woman, crying at my doorstep because I never looked at her again.
Sadie wasn’t like that, but I would have been happy to be responsible for her, to change the way I have sex, to give her enough pleasure to encourage her to participate, and to look at her until she gets sick of me looking at her.
I undo my pants. Her hand cups my face as she leans up to kiss me. I yank down my clothes and straddle her, our bodies coming together with a recklessness that could only come with a looming threat.
When the end of the world is hurtling towards us, we forget everything except pleasure and pain.
I kick back the rest of the blanket with my feet. When I look down at her, it feels different than in the private gym. This is my girl. Before, it was Sadie, but it was a version of Sadie that I didn’t have a complex, personal history with.
This is the one that knows that cheesesteaks are my weakness and that, as a child, I used to cry besides my mother while she was high on drugs. This is the one that remembers confessing how she once stole five dollars from her grandmother to buy fake tattoos. This is the one that who told me she used to wake up in the middle of the night, thinking she’d heard screeching car brakes.
She’s the only good person I know, she’s the only person who knows me, and I’ll do anything to not lose her.
I lurch forward, filling her as her back arches. As I lean over her, she grips onto my arms, her nails digging into my wrists. If she didn’t feel much before, she’s fully responsive and sensitive now.
And I’m not fairing much better.
I grip onto her shoulders, driving into her with all of my pent-up frustration and lust. She’s so small and delicate, it’s monstrous to treat her so carelessly, but her nails are digging into my ribs and the sounds she’s making are practically begging for my worst aggression.
The way her body takes in my cock, her curves, the unbridled enjoyment on her face, and the fucking fact that I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone—all of it makes every other woman vanish into the background.
With some difficulty, I slow down my thrusts, grinding up against her. It has the desired effect that it always does. Her body tenses, her hips thrusting up to get as much contact as possible.
I rock against her slowly. She squirms under me, trying to reach up high enough to grab onto my lower back, but I put my hand back on her shoulder and guide her back down. Her pouting vanishes as I gyrate against her, transforming into a contorted expression of a body that’s ready to erupt.
I concentrate on a wrinkle in the sheets near Sadie’s head to stop myself from going over the edge. Her fingers touch my jaw, pushing my face back toward her. She mouths the words, I love you.
“I love you more,” I say back. More than you can imagine, more than I can stand, more than any person is meant to love anyone else.
The end is quickly approaching. I touch her cheek before running my fingers over her hair and settling my hand under her head. I thrust in her once more and lock my mouth against hers. As we kiss, desperate and urging, I grind against her, much faster than before.
Right before I know she’s about to come, my body betrays me. The climax is an explosion with pleasure destroying every other thought in my head. It’s a wave of oblivion and ecstasy.
The only thing that brings me back is Sadie’s orgasm as she rapidly contracts around me, her body tensing so tightly that her nails cut into my waist and my name gets caught in her throat.
Almost too quickly, she relaxes underneath me. I pull out and unsteadily fall down beside her. She reaches out for me. I take her hand, kissing the knuckles.
“How are you feeling now?” I ask hoarsely.
She gives a light laugh. “Oh. Well. Insane.”
We both laugh, high on our chemistry. Science would tell me that the drug is wearing off, but as we nuzzle and our mouths move together, it’s hard not to believe that our actions led her out of her paralysis.
But the problem still exists.
“We should just go through with the surgery,” she says. “It’s the best scenario.”
“I can’t do that to you.”
“Do it for me,” she replies. “It’s the only solution. I don’t mind. I know you’ll do what you can for me. You’ve already done so much—”
“I’ve barely done anything,” I cut in. “You’ve done everything. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have told you anything.”
“I would have found out eventually,” she says.
I sit up, angrier at myself than I have been in a long time. “I fucked up. I shouldn’t have told you anything. Now my father’s set up an ultimatum. I need to convince him that you can lie through the rest of the Hunt.”
“He seems determined to think that I can’t,” she says.
“He doesn’t want to risk it. He’s a surgeon. He wants to minimize risk as much as possible.” I rub my face.
“Why don’t I take the drug again?” she asks. “The one that messed with my memory? If I take it again, it should be okay, right?”
“You really want to do this all over again?”
“I don’t want to, no,” she says. “I don’t want to forget you again. But if I forget you, I’ll remember you again, like I did this time. We found each other once, we’ll find each other again.”
I rub my jaw. “I don’t know how we’d get the other families to go along with a reset so early, especially with Ethan and Roman both believing they’re about to win. The only reason they would consider it is—”
I stop. I glance over at her.
“The only reason they would consider it,” I repeat., “is if they thought you’d accidentally found out the truth. It would ruin all three participant’s chances of winning. You’d need to act like you hated all three of us—”
“For Ethan and Roman, that’s true. What about your father?”
“He’ll have to agree. With any other option, there’s a risk that I’ll tell someone the truth.” Maybe I’m a fool, but the faint glimmer of hope flickers in the darkness. “I hate it, but it’s our one slim chance. You’ll have to go through everything again, but you won’t be forced to become anybody’s slave.”
I love her. Crazily, unrelentingly, absolutely, I love her. And when she nods, I love her as my heart breaks.
38
Sadie
I’m shackled to the dining room table with zip ties. I stare up at the ceiling as I hear new voices for the first time.
“How could you allow this to happen, Harrington?” a man’s voice asks harshly. “You should never have been talking about Society business with her in the house.”
“I wasn’t aware she was around,” Dr. Harrington says. “The last I had known, she was waiting for me in the car, and my son and I were arguing. I wasn’t overly concerned about where she was.”
“You should have been,” another man’s voice scolds. “What’s the Society going to think?”
“They’re not going to think anything,” Dr. Harrington says. “We led you here under false pretenses. We already have a plan. We’re going to reset her.”
“Reset her? Give her the drug again?” the second man asks. “That’s ridiculous. We can’t—”
“We won’t do that,” the first man says.
“Quite frankly, my son and I made a mistake, which was done because we weren’t completely aware of the circumstances,” Dr. Harrington says. “However, one of your sons knowingly broke the rules by knowingly giving Miss Blair a date rape drug.”
“That can’t be proven,” the first man says. “The burden of proof is on you. That could have been anyon
e.”
“We can bring in some of the Society’s investigators,” Dr. Harrington says. “They can determine that if you’d like. But we could skip that and simply reset her. Would both of you like to bet the Society’s wrath on whether your sons were stupid enough to use drugs?”
Silence fills the house.
“You’ve made your point, Harrington,” the first man says. “Where’s the girl now?”
“She’s restrained in the dining room. I have the drug ready.”
The echoes of formal shoes clicking against the wooden floor sound like a ticking bomb. Sweat gathers near my hairline and under my arms, seeping into the chair’s armrests.
I need to flee. I need to get out of here.
I glance over at Klay. He’s sitting near the doorway lounging against the right armrest, but I can see the tension in his hand as he tries to crack his knuckles. He presses his thumb against the back of each of his fingers, trying to get a satisfying crack or break his finger.
“Klay,” I whisper.
He glances over at me, his eyes wide and more startled than I’ve ever seen before. More gold is visible in his irises than usual. It’s been so easy to get lost in his body, consumed in his combustion, but I don’t want to overlook a single part of him. I don’t want to forget that he loved me even when I hated him.
He opens his mouth to say something, but his head snaps back to the doorway. He stands up as three men walk in.
The first man is his father. The next one is several inches taller with gray-streaked, auburn hair. He’s wearing an expensive-looking suit, despite the fact that it has to be around 3 or 4 a.m. The third one is far shorter and wider than the other two, but he’s clearly Roman’s father with the same maple brown hair and smug, yet unsatisfied expression on his face.
“She doesn’t appear to recognize us,” Ethan’s father says.
“Of course not.” Dr. Harrington runs his hand through his hair. “Limited memories have started to return since she found out the facts. You weren’t a profound memory to her.”
“I still don’t know about this,” Roman’s father mutters. “It’s…I can’t risk the Society finding out.”
“None of us can risk it,” Dr. Harrington says. “Mutually assured destruction. If anyone gets cold feet, they’ll get what’s coming to them.”
“We’ll need to adjust our reports,” Ethan’s father says, still staring at me. “We’ll acknowledge the party and that one of the attendees drugged Miss Blair. The hospital visit will support this. We’ll tell them that a culprit came forward and that Klay injured him severely enough to send a message. This will also be supported by the hospital records. After the attempted rape, we’ll report that Miss Blair suffered from the effects of PTSD and became withdrawn, overturning all of our sons’ work. That will explain why the anecdotes will be similar to when she first started the trial.”
Roman’s father releases a heavy sigh. “Sounds convincing enough. They’ll be preoccupied with the other Hunts anyway.”
I blink several times, looking over at Klay, but he’s focused on the other men. He didn’t mention any other Hunts.
“It’s adequate,” Dr. Harrington says. His upper lip twitches as he looks away from Ethan’s father. “Klay, prepare her for the injection.”
Klay walks over to me, not looking me in the eye. He kneels down beside the chair, twisting around my arm and cleaning it with an alcohol wipe. His father opens up the package containing the drug.
Klay’s still avoiding my eyes while tying a tourniquet around my arm. I don’t want my last memory of him to be him avoiding my face.
I spit at Klay.
He jerks back, standing up quickly as he rubs his face with his hand. “What the fuck?”
“That’s for being a lying piece of shit.” I snarl each word out like I mean it. “I should have trusted my gut. I thought you were a heartless asshole, and you are. No, you’re worse.”
He looks down at me, his eyes searching for some truth to grab onto. He sucks in a sharp breath, his resolve shaken.
“Just do it.” I cut myself off before my voice shakes.
I continue to stare at him for several seconds, locking onto the expression on his face.
“No matter what happens, no matter what you do, I won’t love you.” I emphasize the last two words, desperate to get the message across.
“Let’s finish this,” Dr. Harrington says, crossing between Klay and me.
He unnecessarily pins down my hand as he plunges the needle into the crook of my arm. He slowly applies pressure to the plunger.
The world starts to turn overwhelmingly bright. In the back of my mind, I thought maybe the FBI would barge in at the last second, revealing they’d already arrested the Society, and that everyone except Klay and I were going to spend the rest of their lives in prison. I thought maybe everyone would get in a gunfight and Klay and I would miraculously survive. I thought I’d get the chance to wipe my spit off Klay’s face.
Instead, everyone starts to disappear in the blinding light. I let my head tilt up, looking over at Klay. I cling onto the image of his face as the light begins to overtake him.
But I know that no matter what they do us, we’ll find each other again, like we did this time. I’ll remember. Klay will learn. He’ll figure out a way to beat this twisted game.
We almost did it once. We can do it again.
But as my vision turns white, the last thing I hear before passing out is a man’s voice.
“A wager, Harrington. How about we make this next round a bit more interesting?”
I hope you enjoyed my first novel! Don’t miss the conclusion to Sadie and Klay’s story in Hate to Forget, the upcoming sequel. Sign up for my newsletter if you don’t want to miss its release! The newsletter link is at:
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About the Author
I love stories that are fast, twisted, heart-wrenching, and alive, because the happiest ending can only take place after the most delicious struggle.
After years of being a bookworm, I finally got around to writing down all the things tumbling in my head. I have plenty of more contemporary, dark, and new adult stories planned!
I swear nothing in these books is remotely related to my actual life, which mostly involves mundane suburbia interrupted by the antics of a growing toddler.
