Page 32

I want so badly to say no. I should. “Shane, I’m tired and Iwant to go home.” Standing my ground, I lean into my car. I wish I smoked because then I could play the cool card and light a cigarette. Maybe even get myself a leather jacket and some combat boots. Steel-toed ones.
His eyes snap to mine, shocked I’ve denied him. “Get in the fucking car, Evie.”
“Why should I?” I stare at him. There’s something off about him. His pupils are swallowing his irises and he’s colder than usual. Gone is the one begging for forgiveness and I’m left with the one who hurts and causes pain.
“I don’t think you want to know what I’ll do if you don’t,” he hisses.
My heart beats wildly in my chest, my hands shaking as I fidget with my keys. Unsure what else to do, fear working through me in waves, I leave my car in the parking lot and get in Shane’s car.
The minute I’m in the car, he turns onto the highway without words, his hand on my thigh.
I try to push him away, but he isn’t having it. “I don’t fucking think so. Not now.”
His jaw tenses and he swerves, driving down an old dirt road off the main highway.
I know immediately what’s about to happen. He’s going to take what I won’t give him.
When he kills the engine, shadowed amongst overgrown shrubs and thick trees, he unbuttons his belt buckle first and then the zipper, each click louder than the next.
Reaching over, his right hand comes to rest behind my neck and tightens in my hair, trying to coax me toward him. He leans in and presses his lips to my temple. I hate the reminder that Grayson kissed that same spot this morning.
You will never take his place. You will never mean to me what he does.
Wincing, I shake my head, pleading, knowing my denial means nothing. “No.”
“I didn’t ask for your permission.” I gasp for a breath. Tightness claws at my chest, tears stinging. Salty tears trickle down my cheeks. As he moves, he pushes his jeans past his hips and then to my mouth, his fingers probing along my jaw and then inside my mouth. “You know you want to.”
It’s revolting. Both him forcing his fingers in my mouth and the fact I’m saying no and my denial means nothing. “Shane, don’t.” I twist my head away from him, toward the window. “This is what I’m talking about. You beg for forgiveness and then you do this.”
His grip around my neck tightens, his right hand pinching the side of my face so hard I feel the burn and know damn well I’ll have another bruise to cover up tomorrow. “Why should I ask for forgiveness anymore? You never fucking give it.”
I stare at him, not hiding my tears. “Why are you doing this?” I sob, unable to control my crying.
“Because you need to know who you actually belong to.”
“I don’t belong to any—” I’m not able to finish, his hand draws back and connects against my cheek.
The sting is immediate, then the throbbing and the realization that I did this. I got in the car with him. I didn’t ask for it, but I also knew better. I hold my hand to my heated face, my throat painfully dry as tears come harder.
I want to fight him off but I don’t. Instead, I cry silently as he forces my head into his lap. “This is what your mouth should be used for. Not talking.”
If I hadn’t been so scared of him hurting me worse than this, I would fight back. But I think I’m past that point. What I have right now, this is all I have left of me. A girl. A broken girl being forced, no, letting someone control her in ways no one should ever be controlled.
I don’t want to go down without a fight. I always thought a girl could fight back and never be forced to do something like this. But right now, what would fighting back get me?
More bruises I can’t explain. More pain I can’t take.
Halfway through it, I’m numb, no longer in my body and mentally in a place I can cope with it. I make the motions to get it over with so I can run away from him.
I think of Grayson, try to imagine him even, but that only makes me cry harder because Grayson would never force me to do something like this.
Shane slams my head down on him. “Fucking suck it. I know you know how.”
With my body no longer my own in his presence, I gag and beg for him to stop, but it does nothing. He doesn’t let go. At some point, my teeth scrape him.
He pulls at my hair and I beg for him to let me stop. He hears none of that. “You fucking bite me, Evie, and I will hurt you so much worse than ever before.” He forces me down harder. “You understand?”
I say nothing in response. I can’t actually. I don’t know many people who can coherently talk with a dick in their mouth. I do cry though. I cry because I allow him to do this. I cry because in my world, I have no other choice.