by Cassie James
He forces me up onto my knees and surprises me again by slapping my ass hard enough to make my yelp.
He lets go of me for a second, the bedside drawer yanking open and then slamming shut. He’s undeniably frustrated and fully intending to take it out on me. My body tenses with dread as I imagine how much damage he could do to me right now.
A wrapper crinkles, so at least the asshole has the foresight to be safe. Neither one of us has any business considering ever bringing kids into this world.
We’re both too fucked up. We don’t deserve to be that close to anything innocent.
Logan grips both of my hips and pulls me closer to the edge of the bed. On instinct, I dig my knees in, but all that does is give me the mattress version of rug burn.
Neither of us speaks as Logan lines himself up at my entrance. I squeeze my eyes shut but try to relax my body, knowing it’s only going to be worse for me if I stay this tense. Apparently, Logan is paying attention too, because the second my muscles relax he pushes into me. My body stretches to accommodate him even as every muscle in my body screams in protest at the intrusion.
Seeing his thickness is one thing, experiencing it is a whole other monster. It doesn’t matter that there’s history. Every time with him is the first time. It’s the pain of being fucked by his thick cock—that beast was not built for a normal woman’s body.
Logan mutters something so unintelligible it sounds like a whole other language.
I don’t bother asking for clarification. I’m sure I’d rather not know what’s going through his head right now.
I brace myself on the bed as he uses me like a sex doll. The first strokes are messy, erratic, desperate. Something completely unexpected. I know Logan knows his way around a woman’s body, but for a moment it’s like he forgets himself.
“I should have made you look at me,” he mutters.
“Can you shut up? I’m trying to picture literally anyone else fucking me right now.”
I cry out nonsense as Logan slams into me hard enough to make the whole bed rattle under me. At this rate, I feel bad for whoever is below us right now.
I should hate him fucking me like this, but my body begs to differ. There’s no denying that I’m physically turned on even if I’m mentally disgusted. This whole game of his is sick and twisted—the exact kind of thing I should avoid getting involved in.
This isn’t what I came for.
Still, my pussy clenches around him in a vice-like grip. If I could just forget the history between us, maybe I could enjoy the delicious brand of pain that only Logan knows how to deliver.
It’s not like this is my first time fucking someone under less than stellar circumstances.
My body tenses as a realization hits me. Murphy’s lingerie. I don’t have to ask him what it means because in my gut I know. Whatever information I’m supposed to find here, he expects me to get it by using my body. And in a way, that’s exactly what I’m doing right now. Using sex as a manipulation to hide what I was doing out of my room yesterday morning.
“What?” Logan spits out, clearly seeing—or feeling—the change.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
I arch slightly, the only encouragement I’m willing to give him. And even still, it’s only because I want to distract him. I would rather die than admit to thinking mid-sex about lingerie my uncle sent me. That’s a whole lot of fucked up to unpack.
Logan slows slightly, twisting his body as if he’s trying to get a good look at me. I turn my head the opposite direction. It’s a lot harder to utilize my poker face when a man’s cock is buried deep inside of me.
He huffs at me, but doesn’t comment. It’s not like he can just ask me nicely to look at him. I take great joy in denying him the things he wants, and he likes returning the favor.
It’s the reason I know there’s no way in hell I’m going to let him get me off. He would only hold it over my head later, and I’ve got zero interest in tipping the scales in his favor. If I want to survive him, I need to be fighting him on an equal playing field.
And I do have to survive Logan if I intend to stay at Banner-Hill.
When my body tries to betray me, I think about the least sexy things possible. Visiting my uncle in prison. Negotiating with Tommy Newport to leak my drug photos. Adams Ever After filming me buying tampons for the first time at thirteen.
All very effective at staving off orgasms.
Logan still seems to know something is up—I’m sure it’s obvious that my head’s not completely in this.
He reaches around my body to put his thumb against my clit. I clench my jaw so tight my teeth ground together painfully. Pain. That seems to be the theme of this whole encounter. That’s the part I focus on as Logan works my clit with the fingers of an expert. It would be all too easy to give in to the tide of pleasure threatening to crash over me, but I don’t want it.
I form fists, curling my nails into my palms for an extra sensation to focus on.
Anything to keep the impending orgasm at bay.
Logan slams into me hard enough to make me lose my balance, my arms collapsing out from under me. I turn my head at the last second to avoid smashing my face into the mattress.
“Are you seriously not going to let me get you off?”
“No.”
He pinches my clit for good measure before withdrawing his efforts. I can tell from the way he’s slowed that he’s trying to hold off for my sake.
If he were anyone else I might actually appreciate the effort.
“What the hell is your problem?” he asks between gritted teeth. “Just fucking orgasm already. Your body is begging for it.” He runs a finger along the inside of my thigh through the slick trail of my arousal. I’m so wet it’s literally coating my thighs, but I’ll be damned before I give in.
“No,” I repeat stubbornly. I’m pretty sure I can stop myself from getting off purely from sheer willpower.
“Dammit, Natalie.” He adds a string of other curses under his breath, punctuating each of his thrusts as he renews his efforts to hurt me. The punishment might have been intended for Siobhan originally, but it’s clear this particular punishment is all for me. Years of hatred pour out of him as he makes one hell of an effort to fully fucking ruin my pussy.
I uncurl my fists so I can dig my fingers into the mattress in a half-hearted effort to keep from being launched across the bed. Logan thrusts into me with the kind of anger that can’t be controlled. The kind of anger that only builds and builds until there’s nothing left of either of us.
“I hate you,” he growls into my ear as his body jerks while he cums.
“I hate you more,” I whisper into the room as he groans and collapses on top of me. The weight of him is almost comforting, anchoring me to earth as my mind feels tempted to float away.
It’s a comfort I don’t want.
Logan doesn’t say a word as I elbow him until he rolls off of me. I wince as I stand, the ache between my legs so severe that any hope of putting this out of my head is out of the question. I redress in silence, neither of us having anything left to say to each other.
If I knew what was good for me I’d hightail it out of here. Instead, I hover at the edge of the bed looking down at him.
“Truth or dare, Logan.”
He grins lazily. “Truth.”
“How did you know I was here?”
His lips flatten into a straight line. I almost think he’s not going to answer me, and for a second I panic that I’ve stepped into a trap. He could all too easily refuse to answer me and take the fuck option just for the hell of it.
“The whole damn room smelled like you. Your shampoo smells like… I don’t know, fucking pineapples or some shit.”
I mentally add buying new hair products to my to-do list.
“How did you know that I knew?” Logan asks.
I don’t owe him anything. And he didn’t return my truth or dare. Still, I know my answer reveals more about him than it does me.
His mouth tilts up again.
“I guess the joke’s on you,” I tell him as I retreat towards the door. “Five minutes from now, you’re the last thing I’ll be thinking about, but you’ll be smelling me on your sheets for days.”
5
Siobhan finds me the next morning, a familiar blonde in tow behind her. Sadie Harrington studies me with thinly veiled interest. She’s sizing me up in that way pretty, rich girls size up other pretty, rich girls. We’re equals, but she’s still looking for my weak spots. I’m guilty of it, too. Call it a self-preservation skill from years of catty bitches and underhanded power plays. We come from the same kind of social circles.
Siobhan, meanwhile, looks positively green.
“I was hoping maybe you left,” she blurts out.
Sadie elbows her. “Remember the part where we agreed you should play it cool?”
“Why would I leave?” My voice is cool, revealing nothing. I think Siobhan did me a favor back in that room, but now I’m second-guessing myself. I’m not exactly the best judge of character. It took twenty years for me to see the truth about my own father.
“Logan’s been saying some fucked up shit about you. I thought for sure you’d tap out.” Siobhan shudders. “I didn’t want to let you take my punishment, but word would have gotten around if I undermined you. People here whisper warnings about you, the last thing I wanted was to turn you into a laughing stock, instead.”
I gape at her. “Warnings about me?”
The unspoken part of my comment hangs in the air. That it would make more sense for the warnings to be about her.
Siobhan shrugs it off, unconcerned.
“You’re like an urban legend here, Nat.” The reverent way Sadie’s light blue eyes stare at me makes me a little uncomfortable. “The orgy in the woods made you infamous.”
No one would still be talking about that if Killian hadn’t been involved. I know his is the name people whispered in awe years ago. It feels wrong for people to still be talking about that all these years later. Dash would be so fucking proud of himself—if he were still alive to hear people talking about that night in the woods.
He was the one who instigated it.
The one that suggested truth or dare.
He knew I never could turn down a dare. I’d been every bit the wild child my TV show painted me out to be back then. I wouldn’t say no to anything, especially not when he was the one asking.
I didn’t know better. That what Dash had asked of me would end up destroying him. Destroying all of us.
I can still picture Dash casually leaning against a tree as he stroked himself. His stare never faltering, even when Logan face-fucked me so thoroughly that I’d been a mess of tears and eyeliner. Dash had just looked at Killian and told him he better keep up.
Dash liked seeing me that way… until he didn’t.
“Are you okay?”
I have to blink several times before the memory fades away again. Siobhan is in my face, her eyes scanning mine with concern. I’m not sure what’s wrong with her that she’s so interested in me. It just makes me suspicious of her all over again.
Or maybe it’s the memory of Dash doing me in, leaving me with a dark cloud hanging over my head.
I swear, I can practically feel his ghost leaning in, swinging an arm over my shoulder to hold me close. Claiming me in the public eye only to thrill in giving me away in private. It shouldn’t have taken me so long to realize something was very, very wrong.
“I’m fine,” I answer after just enough of a pause to make it awkward.
“Uh-huh.” Siobhan glances over to exchange a look with Sadie. They seem to communicate silently, coming up with some kind of agreement without ever uttering a word aloud. “You’re getting ready to go into group with us, right?”
“Yeah.” Only because the staff told me if I didn’t do group they were going to make me do a one-on-one today.
It’s a lot easier to get away with not saying anything in a group setting.
“Could you give us a minute?” Siobhan asks Sadie.
Sadie pulls a face like the last thing she wants to do is miss a second of this, but she nods anyway. I can’t help but notice she gives Siobhan’s hand a quick squeeze before disappearing into the room for the group therapy session we’re all overdue for.
Siobhan peers in the door and then at me.
“Are you okay? I wanted to come find you last night but I figured you could probably use some time to decompress on your own first.” She tilts her head. “Was that the right call?”
“It was fine. I’m fine. You can consider us even or whatever.”
“Even?” Lines appear between her brow line. “Natalie, this isn’t about last night. I mean, I can’t even begin to thank you for stepping in, but I didn’t cover for you because I was expecting anything in return. That was a show of respect for you.”
“What?”
She laughs. “Most people can’t get away from me fast enough when they find out who I am. You didn’t even flinch.”
“Seriously? That’s why you decided to plead the fifth to Logan?”
“I did tell you I had your back if you needed anything.”
“Yeah, to be honest I thought that was code for hooking me up with drugs.” I search her face but her smile doesn’t slip at all. “You are a dealer—right? That’s what you were doing at Killian’s room the other morning? Selling to him?”
“Is there something you’re looking for?” She arches an eyebrow, challenging me.
“There is something I need actually.” Her shoulders straighten, her curiosity piqued. “I need you to stop selling to Killian.”
She tilts her head. “You sure? If he finds out you’ve cut him off… It certainly wouldn’t help the situation you’re in now.”
I can’t speak right away, the shock too palpable in my system. I didn’t expect her to actually consider the request. It’s not exactly good business to be a dealer refusing to serve someone whose money is good.
“Listen, Natalie. The Romas clan isn’t good for much but one thing you can count on is loyalty. Just because I saved your ass didn’t mean you were obligated to save mine, but you did it anyway. “ Her whole body shudders. “I’m a lesbian for fuck’s sake. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to taking on that man’s terrifying anaconda.”
I try to hold my laugh in, but it only comes out as a half-snort instead.
“Girl, I’ve heard the rumors. I’m impressed you’re not walking cowboy-style today. Or is it different for you since you’ve had him before?” Her mouth twists into a sassy smile like she’s in on some special secret.
As if this whole damn place doesn’t still swirl with rumors of my fabled orgy. Which wasn’t really an orgy so much as a devil’s threesome with a one-man audience. The reality is every bit as scandalous as the rumors. But as someone who’s a chronic victim to reality being stretched and twisted into something almost unrecognizable—the details matter.
“I don’t know what has you sneaking around here in the dark, and I’m not going to ask. All I want to know is that whatever is going on, we’re playing for the same team.” Siobhan lowers her voice. “This isn’t the kind of place someone survives on their own. You need allies. Especially when you’ve got enemies in high places.”
She nods her head inside the room.
Killian is already seated, his blank eyes meeting mine as I stare at him slouched in a blue plastic chair.
Siobhan nudges me forward towards what I’m pretty sure is my own personal hell. Killian finally looks away as we enter side-by-side. Sadie perks up at our entrance, waving us over to the two empty seats beside her, and Siobhan guides me into the seat between them.
It’s weird to have them flank me as
if they’re trying to protect me.
Just my luck, not only is Killian here, but the therapist on duty for this session is Lynne, the same woman who greeted me when I arrived. She studies me with too much interest for my liking, taking in the way the two women on either side of me shift slightly closer at the attention.
I probably look like I started a girl gang or something.
“Alright, I think we’re ready to get started,” Lynne announces, the slight upturn of her nose telling me she’s not thrilled to have been kept waiting for my sake.
Maybe I should have just bit the bullet on a regular therapy session after all. There’s nothing particularly comforting about starting a therapy session with someone clearly disappointed in you. I really should be used to it by now—I’m really quite good at disappointing people. I’ve had a lot of practice.
Lynne starts the group discussion, her attention mercifully transferred from me when a women starts sobbing hysterically about how much she misses heroin.
I try—and fail—to keep my eyes off of Killian.
It’s my first time getting a good look at him since he shut his door in my face. If I’ve been scarce around the common areas, then he’s been nonexistent. I’m not sure why he even came to rehab considering all anyone says about him is that he rarely leaves his room.
I’m sure his mother could have arranged some kind of personal one-on-one treatment from the comfort of his own home.
There’s a momentary lull in dialogue as Lynne moves the conversation away from the heroin crybaby.
She glances down at a thick stack of file folders placed carefully beside her feet. She taps her closed-toe, low heeled shoe, the motion dragging my own eyes away from the files and up to meet hers.
Lynne holds my gaze from across the circle. I can see the calculation in her eyes as she tries to figure out how to coerce me into participating. Talking during these group sessions isn’t technically mandatory, but it doesn’t escape my notice that I’m the only one who’s said exactly nothing so far.
