Page 39

Story: Did They Break You

I want to be normal for once.

The muscles in my legs relax, and as soon as they do, his hands are on my thighs, pulling them apart. Then he runs his middle finger down my slit, parting my wet lips, and it’s like a release all on its own. I’m panting, moaning with the feel of him toying with me, but it sounds like a whimper.

Heat flashes through me, and its desire and discomfort, and my knees are still trembling as he curls his fingers, poised at my entrance.

“You want to pretend you don’t want this again?” he asks me quietly, his breath there, against my pussy. The feeling startles me, and I almost open my eyes again.

Almost.

But if I do, this is over.

The bubble will pop.

Reality will explode around me.

I keep my eyes closed.

“You want to pretend I’m another guy?” He pushes two fingers into me, and I gasp, clenching around him.

He laughs, a wicked sound, and his mouth comes to my clit, his tongue lapping against it as he fingers me before he speaks, the words on my sensitive skin.

“Another guy wouldn’t be so fucking nice, not after what you put me through, baby.

” His fingers tighten on my thigh and panic surges through me.

I think about that night.

How not nice Chase was.

My stomach churns, but I force it away. Force myself to feel him fingering me, feel his tongue teasing me, running up my slit before he sucks my clit in his mouth.

It’s a feeling I’ve never felt. A sensation I want to drown in.

I whimper, and he pulls back.

“You’re so damn wet for a girl who doesn’t like to be violated.

” His teeth scrape against my thigh, his words and his tone turning angry.

“For someone who wants to cover every fucking inch of your beautiful body, I never imagined you could be so damn desperate, Rems.” Then he’s quiet, like he’s holding his breath, and I hold mine too, hearing the slick sounds of his fingers plunging into and out of me.

My face heats and it’s almost enough to break the spell. But he slaps the inside of my thigh, and I widen my stance because I want to.

“That’s how you sounded that night, you know,” he says against me, his every breath sending pleasure radiating down my entire body. “Desperate and needy, my very own little rag doll.”

“No,” I murmur, even as he pulls his fingers from me, spreads me apart with them, running his tongue up and down me, teasing my hole before he plunges all the way in.

My walls clench tight as he fucks me with his tongue before he drags it up my slit, licking every inch of me.

“No…” I still have my fingers wrapped tight in his hair, and I can’t stop pulling harder, leaning against the wall, sliding down a little, my knees weak. “I wasn’t… I didn’t?—”

He bites my thigh, cutting off my words as I whimper. “You didn’t what, baby?” He pushes his fingers back into me, hitting deep, knuckles grazing my entrance. “You didn’t want me? You don’t want me? Lie to me, if you have to.” His tongue circles my clit, messy and rough and so good.

“If you have to, you can tell me you didn’t like it,” he murmurs against me. “Tell me you didn’t want to be used, Remi. Come on, give me your fucking lies.”

“I didn’t,” I say, every muscle in my body coiled tight as pleasure like I’ve never known sweeps through me.

My knees threaten to buckle beneath me, and I’m clenching around his fingers so tightly, even with as wet as I am, he has to work at fingerfucking me faster, his tongue flicking over my clit as he drives me closer.

“I didn’t want it, I didn’t want it, I didn’t—” The orgasm rolls through me and I’m gasping, panting, calling out his name, my fingers tugging at the strands of his hair.

“Cortland.” I say it over and over and over.

I want to keep telling him no, that I don’t want it now, that as I finish with his fingers inside of me, his mouth on me, I don’t want it.

I want to tell him I hate it.

Hate him.

But he turns his head and bites my thigh again, hard, and I know he’s left a mark, just like he did that night, and the words die on my tongue, only heavy pants leaving my lips.

I knock my head against the wall as the orgasm leaves me, exhaustion and anger and disgust in its wake. It’s like I collapse backward, and if the wall wasn’t there, I don’t know how I’d hold myself up.

Slowly, he slides his fingers out of me, and I sense him stand in the dark. His fingers graze my lips. I can smell myself, an earthy scent that makes my entire body flush.

“Open your mouth, pretty baby.”

Those last two words embarrass me further, and I clamp my mouth shut, thankful his hands are off of me, there, where the lingering sensation of my orgasm seem to still be vibrating through me, my pants and underwear still around my ankles.

He presses his brow to mine. “Open your mouth or open your eyes, Remi. Pick one.”

Reluctantly, I part my lips, and he laughs, a deep, low sound that makes my toes curl. He pushes two fingers into my mouth, past my teeth.

“Suck yourself off of me. Taste what I did to you, baby.”

I purse my lips, circling his fingers as he pushes them far back in my throat. I do exactly what he says, tasting what he did to me.

“You came all over my fingers again, Rems.” He runs his mouth over my jaw, his lip ring cold on my skin.

I can taste myself on his mouth, on his fingers.

My nipples are tight points and I imagine what that ring would feel like over my breasts again.

“I love making you feel good. Next time, though, I think I need you to come on my cock.”

Nerves run through me, but before I can react, he pulls his fingers out of my mouth, then pushes them back in, to the very back of my throat. I gag, my stomach convulsing, and it’s then that my eyes fly open.

Snap to his.

I can see them in the dark, just the gleam of his pupils.

But he must notice, because he seems just as surprised as I am, stilling with his hand in my mouth as we make eye contact. I can sense his chest heaving as we stare at each other.

Then he drags his fingers out, smears them over my lips, tracing the outline of my mouth.

He turns my head to the side, hand on my neck, and plants a kiss on my cheek. “Pull up your pants, Remi,” he whispers against my ear.

He releases me, but only moves back enough for me to do just that. Squat down and pull up my underwear and my pants, situating them both back on me.

“Good girl,” he whispers in the dark, and my face warms.

“Cortland,” I say, still feeling shaky, but relaxed. Good. Like that night after the cemetery, when I slept well for once. “I’m not your rag doll.”

I can almost hear his smirk in the darkness. “Your cum on my mouth says otherwise.”

I grit my teeth, my face flushing, and I’m thankful the lights are off. “You can go now you’ve served your purpose,” I bite back.

Silence.

That’s all.

Just silence.

Then he’s grabbing my wrist, forcing my hand over his cock, thick and hard and big beneath his shorts. He steps forward, knocking me back against the wall. “Oh, but you haven’t served yours,” he snarls in my ear.

I try to snatch my hand away, but he doesn’t let go. He forces my hand up and down the length of him.

“Cortland.” My chest heaves against his shoulders as he keeps me crowded against the wall.

“You don’t wanna make me feel good, too, baby?” His words are a taunt, his grip on my wrist tighter. “You don’t wanna serve your fucking purpose?”

I swallow down my nerves, even as my fingers circle his cock, and he’s not forcing me to do that. “Don’t ruin this,” I say in the dark.

He stills, his hold loosening around my wrist.

For a moment, no one speaks.

Then he says, “I think I already have.” He laughs. “Just like I apparently ruined you.” He throws those words in my face, and I start to deflate, the high from my orgasm leaving me.

He drops my hand and steps back. “Before you can start hating yourself for this, I’m going to walk out.”

My mouth falls open, then my chest tightens as I realize that’s not what I want.

I want him to stay.

I don’t want him to leave.

Despite our angry words, I want him here.

But I hear him move in the dark, then the light is flipped on.

He turns to stare at me, and I take in his gray basketball shorts, his erection evident through them. He’s in another West River shirt, like he can’t let the past go, and his hair is a mess, deep circles under his eyes.

He grabs the backpack he must’ve dropped by the door without me even hearing it because of my headphones. Then he yanks open the door, his eyes sweeping over my body as my face flushes.

I realize I’m going to let him go.

Do just what he said.

Hate myself when he’s gone.

But he stills in the doorway, the muscles in his shoulders flexing. He turns to look at me, his eyes connecting with mine, narrowed and dark. “But I’ll be waiting outside.” He pulls his phone from his shorts, glancing at the screen. “It’s almost two in the morning. I’ll walk you back.”

I open my mouth to argue with him, but he cuts me off.

“I don’t care what you say. Get your shit together and meet me outside. I’ll be there.”

Then he closes the door and I hear his footsteps as he walks off down the hall.