Crybaby

by K. Webster

  “At my house.”

  “Brody who?” Drew snaps.

  “Norisssssss,” I say with a laugh.

  “Stay on the line,” Drew barks. “I’m coming for you.”

  “Will you make me come too?” I ask.

  He growls. Like a dog. My phone slips from my grip and hits the carpeted floor with a thud that echoes inside me. Brody laughs and his hands are all over me. He slips his palm under my shirt and it tickles.

  “Show us your tits, Rowe,” Curtis teases, his laughter infectious.

  I groan and shake my head. “No.”

  Brody nips at my breast through my shirt. “Ahh, come on, Soph. We’re your friends. Let us see.” And then he’s pushing my shirt up my body. I whine when he peels it off me and then starts for my bra. “A little help, lazy ass,” he says to Curtis.

  Curtis calls him an idiot but then he’s squeezing into the bed beside me and rolling me to face Brody. Their hands all over me feel good but beneath the haze, I feel confused and apprehensive. It feels wrong. My bra gets tugged away and then Brody’s mouth is on my nipple. Curtis kisses my neck while he works the button on my jeans. He’s hard as he presses up against my ass. Brody bites my nipple and I moan.

  “Ohhhh….” Pleasure zings through me. “Stop…” Another moan.

  Brody laughs against my nipple. “People who want to stop don’t moan like that, Rowe. I bet your panties are wet as fuck.”

  “Let’s see,” Curtis says.

  His hand has managed to get the zipper down and then he slides his palm into my underwear. I choke on the sensations surging through me. It feels good but something feels wrong. He pushes his finger inside me and I cry out. A burn ripples through me but then I get distracted when Brody sucks on me again.

  “Take your pants off, Soph,” Brody says playfully, his teeth teasing my nipple. “Don’t you want to share what you’re hiding in there?”

  When I don’t make any moves to help, Brody begins inching my pants down. Curtis keeps fingerfucking me. And then I’m naked. Completely naked.

  “Feel how wet she is,” Curtis says to his friend.

  Brody reaches between my thighs and adds his finger in beside Curtis’s. It stretches me and hurts, enough so that I find some sense among the cloudy haze.

  “Stop…”

  “Your body says go,” Brody teases, his laughter light and boyish. He slides his hand back out and then hikes my thigh over his hip. My own hip screams in pain despite the drug fog.

  “Owwww.”

  “Shhh,” Curtis murmurs, his mouth suckling on my throat. “Let us make you feel good.”

  “Can you reach the condoms?” Brody asks, his voice breathless.

  Curtis rolls to reach them and falls off the bed. He laughs from the floor and Brody snorts on the bed. I start to giggle too.

  Why am I laughing?

  “Come here, little Soph,” Brody murmurs as he rolls onto his back, dragging me on top of him. He’s hard through his jeans.

  “I…” I squint and frown. “I want to go home.”

  “Stay,” he begs. “I thought you wanted oxy.”

  “Uh…I need to call someone…”

  “Found them,” Curtis says as he nearly knocks off everything on the bedside table in the process. I hear a tear of foil and then Curtis is behind me. His mediocre cock rubs against my spine. “Want my cock, Soph?”

  “Fucker,” Brody complains. “You were supposed to get me the condom. She’s my friend.”

  “Since when do you not share?” Curtis challenges, his palms cupping my breasts from behind. “Oh, fuck, I could come just like this.” His cock rubs up and down my spine.

  Brody fumbles with his jeans and pulls out his own dick. His eyes are bloodshot and half lidded. “Sit on it, Soph. I’ll play with your clit and make you come.”

  “I don’t want to—”

  A loud splintering sound jerks at my consciousness. Begs me to recognize reality and not this fog I’m in. Brody rubs his long finger against my clit distracting me. Pleasure pulsates through me. I’m so lost in the way it feels that I bend to Curtis’s urging. His palms are on my bare ass and the tip of his sheathed cock slides against my opening.

  “I think we should stop—”

  Crash!

  I hear a slap and then a grunt.

  And someone strong jerks me into their arms. The scent is one I recognize. Masculine. Expensive. Delicious. Drew.

  “Oh, fuck, baby,” he hisses. “What the hell did you do?”

  I sag against his chest. “I don’t know.”

  I wake with a killer headache and no recollection of where I’m at or how I got there. It’s dark outside though. A groan escapes me.

  “About time you woke up,” Drew snaps from somewhere in the dark bedroom.

  I try to roll toward the sound of his voice but my hip sears with pain. I cry out instead. The bed sinks from a heavy body and then his massive, warm one curls around mine.

  “I should call my dad and check in.”

  “Already taken care of.”

  “You called my dad?”

  “I called Miles and Olivia told your dad you were spending the weekend with her.”

  My mind is blank as I try to recall what happened before I woke up. Everything is fuzzy but I do recall some naked memories of Brody and Curtis. I tense and let out a howl.

  “Nooo!”

  Drew grips me tight and kisses my shoulder. “You hadn’t fucked them yet.”

  Yet.

  I shiver uncontrollably. Drew pulls the covers tighter around us.

  “Oh my God.”

  “They fucked up. They know this.”

  “What happened?” I breathe.

  He strokes the hair away from my face. “They got you high and took advantage of you. Sheriff found enough drugs to send Brody to prison. He’s eighteen now. And Curtis, while still seventeen, is glad I was more concerned about you. He only got a punch to the goddamned eye. Rape is rape.”

  I choke on my words. “W-What? They didn’t have sex with me.”

  “Had Sheriff and I not shown up, you’d probably have had both their dicks inside every one of your little holes. The only reason the eighteen-year-old is sitting in jail right now for just drugs and not attempted rape is because I asked Sheriff not to do anything until your mind was right again. I wanted you to make the decision on how you wanted to proceed.” A growl rumbles through his chest vibrating against me. “What the fuck were you thinking, Sophia?”

  “I wasn’t,” I whisper. Anger surges through me. “Maybe had you not taken my pills, I wouldn’t have had to go ask for more!”

  His fingers dig into my jaw and he forces my face to his. Hot breath tickles my lips. “You have a fucking problem, babe. A big fucking problem. And starting tonight, I’m taking care of the problem.”

  He releases me and then he turns on the lamp. I frown to see him so disheveled looking. As if he hasn’t slept in days. His shirt is wrinkly and untucked. Shoes are gone from his feet. Scruff is growing on his handsome face. But it’s the wild scowl on his face that has my heart tripping. He was afraid. I scared him.

  Guilt surges through me. If Dad knew what I did, he’d lock me in the house forever. Man, I really did fuck up. I’m still deep in thought when he scoops me in his arms despite the searing pain in my hip. He must have dressed me in one of his T-shirts because that’s all I have on. I have no idea where my clothes are.

  “Time to take a piss,” he grunts as he sets me on the toilet.

  Irritation claws its way up inside me but I swallow it down. My gaze scans the bathroom for my purse. “I need my purse, Drew.”

  His jaw clenches. “You’re going to piss first.”

  “With you staring?”

  “Someone has to make sure you don’t do anything stupid,” he snaps. “Now use the goddamned toilet.”

  My bladder aches. It’s gross that he wants to watch me pee. I give him the finger as I relieve myself. If he gets off on watching me go to the
bathroom, then he’s getting quite the show right now. His narrowed eyes never leave mine as I finish up. He makes no moves to help me stand. I flush and hobble over to the sink. One look in the mirror and I gasp. My dark hair is tangled and a hot mess. Mascara runs down my cheeks and is smeared. And dark circles ring my eyes. I look like death.

  “That weed Brody gave me this afternoon was fucked up,” I grumble as I wash my hands.

  Drew comes to stand behind me, glaring. “Yesterday. We’re no longer in Thursday, Dorothy. It’s Friday night. You slept off and on for over twenty-four hours.”

  “W-What?”

  “Are you hungry?” he asks, changing the subject.

  My hands start shaking and my hip throbs. I shut off the water before turning to him. “I missed school?”

  He nods, his nostrils flaring. “And food. And showers. And fucking life, goddammit.”

  I swallow and drop my gaze to the bathroom floor. I can’t believe I messed up so badly. “I’m sorry,” I croak out.

  Instead of answering, he scoops me in his arms again. He carries me over to the bed and lies me down. Then, he disappears. My gaze scans the room but my purse is nowhere to be found. When he comes sauntering back in with a pair of handcuffs, I frown.

  “What’s that for?”

  “Something I borrowed from Sheriff.”

  “No shit,” I snap. “What’s it for?”

  He snags my wrist and cuffs it. “This.” I screech at him and struggle but he easily drags my wrist to the headboard and cuffs the other side to the bed between the wood and the mattress. I’m not going anywhere.

  “Let me go, ass!” I scream at him, fighting against the restraint.

  His face is murderous. “Not until I’ve sobered your ass up. I’m sorry, Soph, but you have an addiction. And I’m about to fucking take care of it.”

  He sheds his shirt and slacks. After turning off all the lights, he settles into bed next to me. “Now, maybe I can get some damn sleep.”

  “What the fuck?” I snarl.

  He turns his back to me and within seconds, he’s passed out. And that’s that.

  With a loud, ugly sob, I cry until I fall asleep too.

  Her brows are furled together in pain. Even in sleep. It fucks with my head to know I’m responsible for that pain. I took away her crutches. They were going to kill her otherwise. I rub at the back of my neck as I watch her from the chair in my room. It’s two in the afternoon and she’s still out of it. Probably for the best. As soon as she wakes up and realizes what I plan to do, she’ll hate me.

  Baggage.

  That’s what Miles told me Sophia was. And it’s the truth. Girl has more baggage than an airport carousel. Normally, I’d be done with a chick and have moved on by now. But with Soph? I can’t. I can’t fucking move on. She’s so goddamned broken and she needs me.

  Dammit, I need her too.

  I need to see her smiles and hear her laughter.

  My phone buzzes and I see that it’s Miles.

  Miles: Long says to send her there after school Monday. It’s done. He’ll take her on.

  I let out a sigh of relief and respond.

  Me: Thank you.

  His response is immediate.

  Miles: Those Rowe girls sure know how to make a man fucking crazy.

  Ain’t that the truth?

  Me: You guys still planning to come over Sunday to cook out? I think Sophia could use to see her sister.

  Miles: We’ll be there.

  I let out a sigh of relief. Knowing that Sophia is going to start working with Coach Long—whether she likes it or not—is a huge weight off my shoulders. She has too much time on her hands. Her dad isn’t home often and her sister moved out. That leaves a depressed, drug-addicted girl to sit and wallow in her pity for far too many hours of the day. Coach is going to let her learn some sports medicine and treat injuries. I’ve seen the anatomy book she carries around in her big ass purse. I know she’s trying to learn about her hip injury. Working for Coach will be a good fit for her. And when she’s not working for him, I’ve already decided to open up an intern spot for her at the clinic. James and Johnna are going to have a fit but they’ll get the fuck over it.

  I need for this to work.

  Soph is running out of options and quickly.

  My mind flits to Thursday afternoon and rage burns under my skin. I’d wanted to kill those punks. I’d even knocked the shit out of the one called Curtis. Even though she dropped the phone, I heard everything. Her confusion, her slurred words, her pleading with them to stop. Sure, she was high as fuck and went with it, but somewhere in her mind, she found the sense to ask them to stop.

  They. Didn’t. Stop.

  Had I not shown up, they’d have both fucked her. Fucked what’s mine. And she is mine, goddammit. I don’t know why I saddled myself with such a problem, but it’s my problem. I want to solve it. I want to solve her.

  She stirs and lets out a moan. A bad moan. A pained moan. The hairs on my arms stand on end. I rise from the chair and walk over to the bedside table beside her.

  “Eat,” I mutter as I pick up a banana and peel it for her. She groggily opens her eyes and frowns. When she tugs at her arm and realizes she’s handcuffed to the bed, she lets out a hiss of curse words.

  “You can’t imprison me! It’s illegal!” she yells, her voice hoarse from sleep.

  I give her a bored stare and hand her the fruit. Reluctantly, she takes it. Even though she’s glaring daggers at me, she devours the banana. She must have been sweating off her withdrawals because her hair sticks to her face and her shirt is damp. When I hand her a bottle of water and a Tramadol, relief flickers in her eyes. As soon as she downs it, her lip curls up.

  “Don’t start,” I snap. “It’s done. You’re here. No more drugs that aren’t prescribed to you. No more abusing the drugs that are prescribed to you. If you can’t take them properly, then I’ll make sure you do.”

  She winces at my words. “I need to pee.”

  With a nod, I produce the key from my pocket and unlock the cuff around the bed post. Then, I snap it around my wrist before she can do anything stupid. A furious growl escapes her but she doesn’t have the strength to fight. I can’t carry her now that we’re hooked together but I use my other arm to hold her up as we make our way to the bathroom. She sits gingerly on the commode, the pain from her hip evident, and shoots venom at me with her eyes as she pees. I stare unabashedly at her pussy as she wipes and then flushes the toilet.

  Those fuckers touched her.

  They touched my girl.

  I’m practically raging as she washes her hands and wets mine in the process.

  “I want to shower,” she bites. Her face is pale. Fuck, is it pale.

  I shrug. “Later. We’re going to do some therapy.”

  “Water therapy?” Hope tinges her words.

  “Later, if you’re a good girl.”

  We’ve just headed to the bedroom when she spears her hand into my pocket after my key. There’s a struggle which she quickly loses. I pin her to the doorframe by her throat.

  “No.”

  She spits in my face.

  I’m so infuriated with her. She’s risked her life and now she’s acting like a little bitch when all I want to do is help her. With a growl that reeks of warning and punishment, I haul her back to the bedroom. I swap the cuff from my wrist to the bed frame and bend her over the bed. She screams and struggles when I pull her shirt up. The first slap of my hand silences her completely.

  The calm before the storm.

  I whip her again—hard enough that my hand stings.

  Pop! Pop! Pop!

  She’s stiff and quiet as I unleash more spankings than I can keep up with. By the time I come to my senses, her ass is bright red and I’m dizzied with a mix of sorrow and fury. Guilt and anger.

  Then, cutting through the silence like a hot knife, she wails. A gut-wrenching sob. I scoop her up from her position and lay her out on the bed on her back. Tears strea
m down her messy face. It rips my heart right from my chest. When I open my mouth to apologize, she speaks.

  “I’m s-sorry.”

  I kiss her soft mouth and stroke her hair. “Me too. I just want to fix you.”

  Her body trembles and she nods. “I want you to fix me.”

  I run my palm possessively over her breasts which are covered by my shirt before sliding it down to her hip. She whines when I begin kneading the flesh there.

  “I know it hurts,” I murmur against her mouth. “You need to work it out though.”

  Through her tears, she nods. I massage her until I’m sure she’s loosened up. Then, I sit up and begin doing her exercises for her. Her sobs have long subsided and she now watches me with an intense, heated stare. Our eyes lock and I don’t let her go. Not like this. Not ever.

  “Drew…”

  Neediness flashes in her eyes. It manages to make it past the heartache and pain—searching—searching for me. I latch onto it and stroke it. Make promises to it. With one hand, I reach behind me and grab the collar of my shirt before tugging it off my body over my head. I slide off the bed and lose my pants and boxers. Her need morphs into hunger. Desire and desperation.

  I climb onto the mattress and settle myself before her spread legs. With locked eyes, I push into her wet body with one hard thrust that makes her groan. Then, I lower myself to where she’s pinned beneath me with my dick deep inside.

  I fuck her slow.

  With my eyes raking over her exposed vulnerabilities which lie bleeding before me.

  She moans and begs and curses and cries.

  All for me.

  “I’m going to make it all better, crybaby,” I vow, my tone dead serious. “All of it.”

  She nods with relief flickering in her gaze. I bury my face against the side of her throat and suckle her sweet flesh that tastes of salt and her. Her earlobe bores the brunt of my teeth and tongue. I nip and suck as I fuck.

  Mine.

  Fuck, she’s mine.

  I curl an arm beneath her and cradle the back of her head as I drive into her. My other palm slides between us so that I can bring her pleasure. She writhes against my touch. Begs and jolts. I work her straight into bliss and then I’m claiming her pouty lips as she screams at me. Her screams are of relief. Of fury. Of frustration. Regardless, she pours it all out and lets me drink it from her. I taste her pain and her self-loathing. I drown in it for her. The feral groan that rips from me is a promise. To heal her. To fucking take care of her. Primal and male. My seed pours into her hot and furious as though it’s sealing a bond that can only be formed with my dick deep inside her. A proclamation. A motherfucking vow.