He twisted my hair in his hands, jerking my neck up in an arch and the laundry basket in my hand fell on the ground with a thud. He growled and pressed his forehead to mine. “Shut up,” he rasped. “Just…fucking shut up.”
I’d never heard him curse before. It was beautiful, musical even. My pussy gushed to the tune of his voice.
“Make me.”
With a furious pull of my hair, he fell on my lips like a starving animal and crushed me to his chest. Without breaking the kiss, he walked us backward until my back hit the wall, next to his bed. We broke apart for air; my hazy brain couldn’t understand the need to breathe though.
He looked at me with feral need in his eyes. I was sure my eyes matched his. His one hand was splayed wide on the back of my head and the other covered my throat.
I bent my head to the side and arched up my spine, showing him the bruise. “Do you see that? Hmm? Do you see what you did to me? You bit me. You made me bleed, James. It hurt so much. I told you it’s not my fault if you can’t control yourself. I’m the victim.”
He tightened his hold around my neck and drawled, “Yeah, you are. You’re the perfect victim. You love it so much, you beg for it. But one of these days, you’ll reach your limit. You’ll break, Madison.” He circled the bruise, flicked it with his nails, making me shudder.
I touched my wet lips to his and whispered, “I told you I’m already broken, James.”
His eyes raked over my face. “And I told you I don’t believe it.”
“So what, you think you’ll be the one to break me?”
He remained quiet for so long that I thought he wouldn’t say anything, but then he did. “Only you can answer that.”
He squeezed my neck up and kissed me all over again. We ate at each other’s lips like we’d never get to see each other after this. He pulled me away from the wall and turned us around, still kissing me.
I had managed to open his shirt halfway, tearing at the buttons. He halted my progress though, fisting his hands over mine. I moved away from his lips, irritated, like a child. I want my candy. His taut pectorals peeked through, along with his dark brown nipples. They inclined down, forming a sexy ravine on his chest, sprinkled with slight black hair. I wanted to see all of it, damn it, but he wouldn’t let me unbutton it further.
His fingers grabbed on to my waist, squeezing the flesh like kneadable dough. He made quick work of my top and bra and stared down at my bare breasts. His fingerprints on my breasts had vanished, leaving me a blank slate.
“Last night in the shower, I kneaded my breasts imagining it was you. They became red and angry like you’d just fucked me.” I arched my back and rubbed my naked breasts against his chest.
He groaned, squeezing them. “I’ll give you more. And this time they’ll last a long time.”
He pinched my tight nipples and I barely controlled my shudder, fisting his shirt to stay upright. I couldn’t lose control this time. I had to drag it out. It was his turn to lose. But when he bent down and took my nipples in his mouth, I forgot about being in control. He sucked on them, vacuumed them in. My lower tummy contracted, cramping out a wave of arousal.
Still sucking on my nipples and torturing my other breast, James hauled me up and my thighs wrapped around his waist. He stumbled to the right, just a few steps off the bed, and knelt down on shaking legs. I felt the coarse carpet on my back as he lowered me to the floor.
I spread my legs and arched my back, thrusting my breasts out—giving him a show. He looked mesmerized by my jiggling tits. Men. Vibrations centered at my breasts, dying for him to paw at them, scrape the flesh out. He grabbed my legs and turned me over on my knees, making me grunt when they hit the floor. He pulled my shorts off my waist, down my thighs.
I whirled around and bit my lips; he smiled then as if he had a plan. I was suspicious.
Without warning, he shoved two fingers inside my wet, contracting core. I slid forward with the force of his movements. I was drenched; I could feel my juices dripping down my thighs, making a mess. His fingers moved, slid in my wetness, causing me to arch my back, moaning as he curled them inside me, tracing my skin on the inside. To my disappointment, he took those fingers out. But he reached over to shove them inside my mouth, making me taste my own stickiness.
He gagged me with them; my throat contracted and coughed out threads of saliva. They dangled down to the floor. Even through the discomfort, I never wanted him to stop. He snapped the fingers out of my mouth and wiped them over my face. I grunted, imagining him kissing my slobbering wet lips clean.
Suddenly, I remembered that I should be in charge of this. I wasn’t going to come like a fucking virgin this time. I straightened and faced him. His face was flushed and his lips were spotted with bloody streaks.
I coiled my arms around his neck, gripping his hair, and kissed him hard, coating his mouth with my tart juices. He turned hungry, devouring my taste. I took advantage of his distraction and pushed him on the floor. Still kissing him, I unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down. I took his raging cock in my hands, long, thick—it felt longer and thicker though when it was inside me. My pussy contracted, and I slammed down and jammed his cock inside.
His head dug on the floor as he arched his back, his fingers tearing at the flesh of my hips. We grunted in unison, high and out of control. I felt what he felt. A simultaneous burst of pleasure or something equally cheesy that you never understood until it happened to you. I began moving, back and forth, gyrating my hips, hearing his cock inside, knocking against my soggy walls, and moaned at the loud sloshing sounds.
I squeezed my core around his cock, clenching and unclenching like a fist, circling my breasts with my fingers, squeezing them, pulling at my nipples, the hint of a smile gracing my lips. The veins on his neck bulged, thick and angry. He hated that. He hated that I was driving him wild. I shivered with satisfaction. He knocked my hands off my breasts and squashed them in his own. Pain ripped through them. God! I loved how greedy he became when he was inside me. So very different from his controlled, silent persona.
Still moving at my own pace, I bent down and hovered over his mouth. “I think you’re gonna lose this one, James.” I raked my nails over his half-naked chest and pecked his parted lips.
It was as if he woke up from a deep sleep. He shot his arms out and grabbed the back of my neck to keep me from moving away. He looked like an angry bull, puffed up nostrils, pulsing veins, taut muscles.
His hips bucked beneath me with such force that I gasped. He curled his torso and sat up, my neck tightly locked under his hands and my forehead pressed against his. He lifted me off his cock and I panted, my body flared with fear and arousal.
Every time James took charge, there was a moment where I couldn’t decide whether to be afraid or to be irrevocably happy. Was this what I’d been searching for? This loss of control. This feeling of being hated and desired at the same time. Would I do anything for it, everything?
He pounced on me, pushing me back to the ground, knocking the breath out of my lungs. But at the last minute, he changed his mind. Grabbing my legs, he flipped me over, bringing me on all fours.
Pressing a hand on my lower back to keep me still, he rammed his cock inside me. I arched my back to take more of him. He moved inside me, hammering, slapping his hips against my ass. My moans grew louder and he covered my mouth with his hand, pulling at my hair, causing me to arch like a bowstring.
The movie from last night flashed through my mind. I pictured the muscles of James’ ass digging and clenching as he drove inside my pussy. I pictured his back, shining with his sweat, stretching wide on the top and tapering down in a V. I wanted to see it for real. I started to sob and hiccup when the visual became too much for me. He uncovered my mouth and slashed my back with his nails, drawing blood; I felt the sting. I didn’t think I could hold on much longer.
But he slowed down his thrusts to a snail’s pace and reached over, wrapping one arm around my waist. I tried to push my hips back, ask
ing him to move. I needed him to fucking move or I’d lose my mind. He covered my back with his body as he smelled my hair, ran his nose along my cheek.
I shifted my unfocused eyes to his and we stared at each other. His eyes were so fucking beautiful. So crazy wild and breathtaking. I felt his other hand groping for my hanging breasts and catching one of them in his palm.
Without taking his eyes off me, his lips searched and found the bruise I’d showed him earlier. He bit down at the puckered skin and I barely suppressed a howl, my mouth falling open, my body convulsing as if electrocuted. My eyes watered. I scrambled to get away from him, from the pain as a kneejerk reaction. But he wouldn’t let me and then my core rippled in a roaring orgasm. My back bowed and shivered under him.
He nibbled on the bruise as he slid in and out, gently. He lapped my blood up and I came again, losing my breath as pleasure tore through my body. He straightened, his hands going to my hips, and his thrusts grew frantic, uncontrolled, without any rhythm.
My knees rubbed against the floor with each thrust. I reached back and dug my nails in his ass, forcing him to go faster. That pushed him over the edge and his cock erupted barely a few seconds later, hot cream splashing inside me. It was devastating and beautiful and soul- sucking.
I dropped against the floor, huffing. I wanted him to fall on me, exhausted and satisfied. But he pulled himself out. I heard his heavy breaths, the rustle of his clothes and then his footsteps leaving the room.
He left me well-fucked and ruined on his bedroom floor.
Chapter Fourteen
Madison
There were distinct differences when it came to having sex with a woman and a man. With women, there was a softness, a solidarity, maybe. Even the angry sex is somehow gentle. You couldn’t punish your own kind without feeling that punishment in yourself. If they bled, you bled. But with men, it was always punishing, hard and rough, the very skin of fucking was jagged and coarse. Men made you bleed while they laughed.
And my bleeding heart begged to hear James’ laugh.
I was fucked up. Totally. Irrevocably.
James stood in the kitchen, staring out the window when I managed to dress and drag myself out of his bedroom, laundry basket in tow.
When he heard me come out, he spoke, “Katie was an accident. We weren’t expecting her. When I found out the first time, I wanted to run away. Leave everything and hide somewhere. But then I realized a baby would bind us together forever because I knew she’d leave me when she realized I was incapable of love. Love is not my forte. Never has been. She blamed me for the pregnancy, and I made peace with it. I believed that I did it on purpose to trap her. We got married. I got what I wanted, what I thought I wanted.” He turned around and gripped the edge of the sink. “My genes are screwed up, Madison. I’m screwed. I don’t want to repeat that. I can’t ruin any more lives. I…won’t.”
I hated his wife. Yeah, I know. Shouldn’t hate the dead and all that. But I hated what she’d done to him. Like James magically made the baby by himself. The man had superb bedroom skills, and I was sure his scientist skills were just as mad. But even he wasn’t that talented.
His defeated face and drooped shoulders made me blurt out, “I have bad periods.”
He frowned in confusion.
“I take birth control pills for that. So you can rest easy. You won’t be trapping me or vice versa.” I shrugged. “Though I can’t promise about your dick. It might fall off.”
His lips twitched, and he ducked his head down. “If it does, then I’m coming after you.”
“As if you wouldn’t already,” I muttered. “Stalker.”
He smiled, and I felt a warmth in my chest. “As if you don’t like it. Stalkee.”
Jesus! He was such a fucking nerd.
“Is that even a legit word, Mr. Webster?”
“Not technically. But I’ve realized that when it comes to you, normal words sort of fail.”
Was he complementing me or insulting me? Well, I was going with the first option.
“I know. I’m dazzling that way,” I quipped.
He chuckled, shaking his head and looking away.
“So were you watching something…interesting on there earlier?” I gestured toward his open laptop.
He looked at me and then at his computer and shook his head, chuckling. “Internet is used for more than watching pornography. You know that, right?”
“Okay, James,” I grumbled. “Thanks for letting me know.”
He slid his hands into his pockets and said in an arrogant tone, “Don’t mention it.”
Hmm, if I had to be honest, like, extremely honest, I’d say I was kind of liking this cocky version of James. “I was only asking because your skills in there were, you know, worthy of a compliment. I thought maybe you did your homework.”
His eyes had turned intense, making my breath shudder. Slowly, he made his way over to me until his body was warming up mine. “I don’t need homework to be able to have exceptional skills, Madison.”
“Are you saying you’re a natural?”
Without answering, he advanced on me and I backed up until my back hit the wall. “I don’t have to…” he whispered, putting his arms around me. “Your screams say plenty.”
I opened my mouth to put him down a notch, but he shut me up with his mouth. We ended up fucking against the wall until he came inside me—bare, a second before sending me into oblivion.
Panting, I quipped, “It’s a tie for today, don’t you think?”
****
In the evening, when I returned home, there were faint voices floating through the crack of my front door. It felt weird. We never had any visitors over, other than Lily. A strange sort of trepidation took me over as I pushed the door open. The room was flooded with sunlight, causing my eyes to squint. There on the couch, crisscrossed with offending sunlight, was Julia with a woman who I never wanted to see again. My mom’s sister, Alana.
She perched on the edge of the couch, her long limbs covered in a white skirt, resting gracefully. Alana wasn’t petite like my mom or me. She was tall, slender, her hair a lighter shade of brown that hung loose around her shoulders. Sort of like a model. A model who wore hobo prints and enough jewelry to suffocate a two-year-old. Her honeyed eyes settled on me with wariness and a dash of hope. I wanted to take that hope and crush it between my fingers. Sex made me bloodthirsty, I guessed.
She slowly stood up as I remained at the door, unable to move. Even though Alana was different from us in a lot of respects, it was hard to miss the family resemblance. Round cheeks and chin and the stretched shape of her eyes spoke of her connection to me, to my mom. I hated that. I hated that I loved it sometimes. Loved the fact that there was one other person in the world connected to my mom.
Tucking her loose hair behind her ears, she smiled. “I freeze every time I look at you. You look so much like her. Just like her.” The tremble in her voice shot sharp pain through my chest. For a second there, I wanted to smile at her, hug her, tell her that I froze, too, when I looked in the mirror.
Turning my eyes away from Alana, I looked at Julia. “How come you’re home early?”
It came out an accusation, and Julia stood up with a serene smile, as if it was a perfect day and the woman in front of me wasn’t dredging up things I usually kept hidden. “Alana called telling me she wanted to deliver something.” She pointed to a brown shoebox sitting on the coffee table. “So I came home to receive her. She’s been trying to reach you for the past week.”
On the surface, Julia appeared calm, like she always did. But her eyes held a different sort of emotion. There was a flame of excitement, of righteousness. And I knew what Alana was really doing here. She was here to make me sick, suck the life out of me so Julia could bring me back to life. She was trying to spice things up. Some people bought dildos for that kind of thing, but my girlfriend brought my estranged aunt.
“So?” I asked. “She could’ve left the box at the door. Or she could’ve dropped
by when I wasn’t here. She knows my schedule well enough.” Even though I was talking about Alana, I looked at Julia, wanting to confirm my suspicions.
She smiled, arranging her pearl necklace around her neck. “She could have. But she’s your family. She’s a part of you. You can’t keep ignoring her.”
“I was doing a bang-up job of it till now.”
“Just hear her out. It’s not a bad thing to remember the past every now and then,” she said, confirming everything.
Alana spoke up then. “I know you don’t want to see me, but I wanted to give you something before I left.”
“Left for where?”
“I’m going away for a little while. I’m going to be travelling with a group of people all over Europe.”
Crossing my arms across my chest, I stared at her. “You’re running away to be an actress. Again. So what’re you playing? The flighty sister? The one who runs away after she finds out her little sister is pregnant? I think you’ll be perfect for that role.” I kicked the door shut behind me, dropped my bag on the floor, and began walking toward the bedroom. “Good luck! Maybe I’ll see you in the papers or something. Well, if I read any.”
“Wait!” Alana said. “Please, Madison. Please just hear me out.”
I stopped and turned. My hostility must have been written on my face. In fact, I made sure that it was written on my face. But she, still pushed through. “I know you’ll never forgive me for what I did. Even I won’t forgive myself. I was young and stupid, and I thought…my sister was getting in my way of achieving my dreams.” She chuckled without humor. “Even though those dreams were stupid and…and unachievable. I thought I could have it all and come back someday and everything would be fine.”
“It wasn’t,” I reminded her, thinking back to the times my mom came back home with blisters on her feet due to waitressing for hours, when she cried herself to sleep. When I couldn’t sleep at all because I was caring for her, changing bandages. Where was she when we could’ve used a family, someone who cared for us, or at least for my mom?
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