Page 31

Sebastian:

I pull up in front of my house and turn the car off. Alina feels so distant from me. I’m not sure what to do about it or where to go from here when she says that she wants to be alone down at the shed. I nod and hand her the key again. She leaves quietly, gripping her bag from the sex shop. I watch her back disappear as the darkness grows around her, swallowing her whole as she walks away from me. My forehead meets the steering wheel as I start to cry.

I don’t know if I’ve ever cried this much in my entire life. It was literally beaten into me to suppress my emotions as a kid. Alina has a knack for cracking me open though. It’s actually really fucking scary when you’re used to hiding from everyone. I eventually get out of my car and enter my house, traipsing up the stairs while feeling all kinds of sorry for myself. But if I’m being honest, I’m really just mad at the fact that Alina’s right and I’m once again realizing how much of a dickhead I’m being. I keep fucking this up and it’s terrifying me. I don’t want to fucking lose her.

I really fucking don’t .

And she’s right. Pretending that Luke doesn’t exist isn’t the right way to go about this shit and making her out to be a villain because of what she’s had to do to survive is not the way to handle it either. She isn’t the villain. I’ve literally made her feel like her situation is her fault again .

Man, I used to fucking hate that shit.

When my dad would fuck with my head and blame me for the things that he’d done to me in anger. It made me question my reality and what was actually true. More often than not, I found that I agreed with him. Because he was bigger than me and used pain as my teacher. I learned from him that I was bad. I never truly felt that way deep down, but it would hurt to try and tell myself otherwise. It felt fundamentally wrong to be kind to myself after his beatings. And now I’m gaslighting Alina, the one fucking angel who never questioned me. She always only helped me without judgement.

Everything comes to a head. All the voices barking at me and the emotions bubbling up inside my skull cause me to break. I’m blasting the fuck off as I swing.

“ Fuck me!! ” I scream as I throw my already busted fist into the wall next to me. My knuckles burn deliciously from the blow, the pain feeling like an old girlfriend coming back to life and satiating me again.

Ha .

They’re covered in carnage as I stand there watching them drip onto the carpet. It puddles up in the fibers as it begins to congeal on my hand.

I wish I were touching Alina. My fingers are aching for softness after my outburst. Her wet skin, her slick pussy. I can practically taste it as I begin to salivate at the thought of digging my tongue into her depths. I need her.

But I have to respect her past and stop trying to change her current reality because it makes me uncomfortable. I’m finally getting that. It took long enough, but it’s clicking. It’s something I wouldn’t want anyone else to put on me. I’d be pissed.

I walk to the sink, trying to tend to my hand. I feel calmer and more centered now. I’m beginning to soap up my knuckles when I hear a small gasp from behind me.

I instantly tense back up.

My mom invited herself into my house without asking or knocking first. She does it way too frequently. Whenever I’d come visit and work on the place while on a break from touring, she’d invite herself to dinners I made, wanting to eat together. Or she’d show up afterwards, asking to watch a movie with me, popcorn in hand. Most of the time I’d turn her away, needing the solace of my quiet house that a giant bus didn’t give me while traveling. Sometimes I felt obligated to socialize, but it was usually quiet and lacked authenticity if I gave in to her requests for quality time. It never felt like it was about real connection. She still acts as if nothing that happened during my childhood was fucked up or traumatizing. And I can’t do that for her comfort anymore. Especially to my detriment.

Tonight, I’m not in the mood to hide any of my feelings and the one currently rising up is irritation at her continued disrespect of my space and privacy. “What the fuck do you want, Carol?” I ask menacingly, echoes of my father’s voice lacing the words coming from my mouth. She freezes as I turn to her, wrapping my hand in a dish towel, leaning my hips on the countertop as I stare at her without remorse for my tone. “I’ve asked you repeatedly to knock and you have, once again, crossed a boundary I set with you.” I don’t say anything else, knowing she’ll squirm more if she doesn’t have a direct question to answer. And boy, does she ever. I narrow my eyes as every ounce of kindness leaks from my facial expression while she searches for words.

“That girl,” she starts feebly. I’m advancing on her before she can even comprehend the thought she was trying to form.

“What about Alina? ” I ask with a deep growl. She cowers before me, holding her hands up, playing up the whole scene as the victim she loves to be. “I don’t put my hands on women like that fucker you kept around my entire life!” I hiss at her. “Stop acting so goddamn helpless, Carol!”

She doesn’t like that. I can see the evil enter her eyes. Or maybe it’s her finally growing a pair of balls.

She slaps me. The bitch actually fucking slaps me.

Her hand whips across my face so fast, it takes a moment for me to actually register what she’s done. My body seizes up, wanting to fight back. It takes everything within me not to react, not to hit my mother . Because all I want to do is protect myself from this pain. The realization of her turning on me too, at thirty-fucking-two. I stand before her, frozen in place. Internally panicking. I can’t read her own face anymore; what she may or may not be thinking.

But I think that in this moment, I fucking hate her.

So goddamn completely.

It finally manifests fully. And I’m shaking from the change inside me.

That’s when I see movement from the corner of my eye. A flash of it before my mother screams, holding her head as Alina stands there, throwing her fists at her repeatedly in a red, plaid schoolgirl’s skirt and cropped, white collared shirt.

I’m doing everything I can not to pop a fucking boner as I watch her barefoot, livid, and manhandling the woman who refused to help me my entire life. Her skirt flies up and I’m ogling her ass as she kicks at my mom, who cries out for my help, reminding me somewhere deep inside how I used to do the same and she never came to my aid.

So, I stand there and allow Alina to beat the fuck out of her for me. I pop that fucking boner, because honestly, Alina has got to be the hottest motherfucking woman I’ve ever met. And I’ve hated my mom for so long, I couldn’t give a fuck about her pleas. I stand in the pain and the gore and the glory that is her karma as Alina retaliates for me in a way I never could. And I promise myself this is exactly what I’ll give to her when we go after Luke.

So, to make sure that can happen, I do eventually pull her off of my mom and hold her back as she breathes heavily, the fight draining from her. I fist the thong at the top of her ass cheeks in my hand as I look down at the woman who birthed me and raised me with hatred and contempt in my eyes.

“Get the fuck out of my house, unless you wanna witness me fucking Alina over the kitchen counter while I look at your blood painting my floor and feel all the happiness you ever denied me in my childhood, you fucking bitch.”

I don’t wait for her to answer as I pull Alina back to my hips, still holding her by her thong, and walk us over to the counter. My mother watches as I unbuckle my belt, staring directly at her, daring her to stay. She doesn’t. She yelps, running as I spear Alina before I know my mom has fully exited my house. The door crashes closed as I crash my cock into Alina’s wet cunt, thrusting furiously to reward my fuck doll for all that she’s done for me this evening.

Alina:

“You beautiful monster. The fucking nightmare I’ve prayed for,” he rasps in my ear. I’m slick as shit as he pounds into me from behind. He grabs my chin forcefully and turns my face to his. “You beat the fuck out of my bully,” he says with tears in his eyes. I nod my head, baring myself to him more as I push my hips up and back.

“I will slay every demon you possess, Sebastian Cox. I will kill for you,” I promise him as he abuses my mouth with his own, our fuck savage and mean and raw and wild. His fingernails dig into my hips as I moan extra loudly, hoping his mom can hear us getting off on her pain.

“Fuck, the way you’re taking my dick, my evil little fuck doll!!” he roars as his nickname for me in high school makes our love feel fully alive around us again. I buck back into him, growling as I clutch the counter in front of me for support. “Goddammit, you’re so fucking pretty on my cock, fuck doll!”

“I better be your goddamn fuck doll!!” I scream as he laughs maniacally behind me. “I’ll always protect you, Bash!!” It flies out of my mouth as he falls over my back. He’s crying while pulling my body into his, pounding his cock into me as he releases all the pain he’s been holding onto alone his entire life. I let him use me to fuck his burdens away. I’m his hole and healing in one person. I open to his body, devastating mine with the most brutally loving thrusts.

His fingers grip my breasts over my shirt with fury and his hips punish me for all the hurt he’s been through in his past. I surrender myself to his pain and allow it to consume me wholly, because he is mine and I am his and we’re in this shit show together. He bucks his hurt into me, so I transmute it into pleasure and release it as I come over his cock, convulsing violently. His fingers are bruising the flesh of my breasts as I scream. He grinds my body over his dick as he presses me down, forcing more sensation into my orgasm. “ BASH!!! ” I shriek, his teeth sinking into every inch across my clothed shoulders as I spasm. It feels so good and yet, unlike anything we’ve experienced together. “ I’m your fuck doll!! ” I shout and he’s laughing again, shaking his head as he holds me still. I breathe heavily as I come down from my orgasm.

“I love you so goddamn much,” he confesses on a sob. I throw my torso back into his chest, trying to get closer to him. He cradles me in his arms and finally releases his death grip on me, slowly stroking up into my pussy, giving me a tempo break. His fingers have marked this fuck upon my body, and I cannot wait to see the bruises leftover from his liberation.

He begins to lick me.

All over my neck.

The sides along my pulse, the back above my shoulders, and around the crest of my jaw by my ears. His fingers find my nipples underneath my shirt and rub them softly, allowing my entire being to settle from the previous climax, encouraging the start of a new one as I catch my breath.

He feels so full and warm inside of me. I clench my pussy around his shaft, forcing his tongue to lash out and grab my earlobe. He bites the flesh of it between his teeth. I moan, dancing on his cock as he breathes heavily next to me. He reaches around the front of my face and places his fingers in my mouth. I wet them for him before he’s reaching down for my clit, swirling my spit over my swollen flesh.

He pinches it; I seize up, clenching him further. He bucks into me as he holds my clit tightly between his fingers. The tension I have around his cock feels sinfully good as he thrashes against it, his fit inside me snug as hell. He fucks me like this for a few minutes, enjoying my body’s responsiveness and feel.

“You bought this tonight?” he asks, finally referencing the outfit I’m in. I nod, quiet. I don’t want to bring up earlier. Shame is already threatening to flare up inside me. “Is that what you are? My fucking whore who got detention?”

I can’t help but feel confusion as I turn to look him in his face. His eyes are apologetic, but I’m scared to play into this game. He wasn’t about it, multiple times now. And I don’t want to be… punished. And punishment from Bash is blame. It makes me feel so stupid and empty inside.

I grab the counter in front of me and pray that it supports me as I try to navigate this.

Sebastian:

She’s fucking terrified. I can see it in her eyes. I can feel it in her pussy. She’s tightening over my shaft and drying up while I’m still inside of her, her thong pushed to the side.

“I’m sorry, Lina Girl.”

She deserves to hear it, and I want to say it. She releases a breath slowly, a sob catching on the end of it.

“Stop making me feel bad for what you knew coming into this relationship,” she pleads quietly. I nod, even though she won’t look at me. She just said relationship . I feel like I’m about to leave my body from that one word alone.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” I say again, fucking stunned still.

“ We need help . Help us, Bash. Don’t criticize us for being victims. Help us find the power we need to overcome this fucking douche bag. He’s our bully and we need you. I’m sorry to put that on you, but we do,” she cries out hysterically. I gather her in my arms again, crushing her to my body even tighter.

“No more. I promise. I’m here to help,” I whisper in her ear. “But first I need to see what everyone can’t stop paying you for.” I nervously press forward, hoping she’ll take the bait. I know it seems fucked up, but we’ve got to move past this, and sex has always been that barrier breaker for us.

“I think I’m booked currently, but maybe you can come back later,” she whispers as she shimmies her hips over my dick. Her pussy feels more relaxed as it coats me in a new dose of her wetness. I send a silent thank you to the heavens that we’re about to push through this shit and overcome something really big for us both.

“In that case, meet me in my room,” I grit out as I rip my dick from her cunt and replace her panties over her dripping hole. “You had my wallet last. Where is it?”

“I left it in the shed,” she says with a wicked glint in her eye.

“Don’t come back without it. That’s your payment in there,” I say as I walk away, my slicked cock hanging free as I climb the stairs.

She cusses me out as I disappear, knowing she has to walk back down to the shed before I’ll fuck her again.

I keep walking upstairs, waiting for her to get back.

Alina:

I’d like to pretend I’m madder than I actually am about having to walk back down to the shed. I’m not though. Something about this feels healthy. Like we’re going to trust each other deeper after this. Or at least, I’m hoping so.

I hold myself as I walk as fast as I can back to the pond. My fucking titties feel like they’re going to fall off. When I reach the inside of the shed, I grab my discarded jacket from earlier and find Bash’s wallet on the bed. I stuff it in my pocket, turning to leave, when I stop. The nightstand with the toys catches my eye. I walk up to it and open the drawer, purple hearts glittering at me from its depths.

An idea forms. I grab one and place it in my pocket along with his wallet. I smirk as I leave, lube in my other hand.

Sebastian:

I’m nervous as shit. I don’t really have a plan here.

I’m just trying to allow Alina the safe space to be fully free and not have to feel like she has to hide herself and what she does for a living from me. I don’t want that. Not in the slightest. We’re both at home in each other’s darkness and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Maybe it should just be her to lead here. I scrub a hand down my face, wanting to get this right. It feels like the first time almost, and I smile at that. That we’ve gone through so much and she still has this kind of effect over me. I’m intoxicated by her.

I’m organizing my room, not having another outlet for my nervous energy until I see what’s left of my guitars and think Duh, strum one of them, you fucking idiot .

I pick one up and sling it over my shoulder, the weight of it instantly grounding me like I’m desperately craving. It’s my acoustic Epiphone. I tune it for a few minutes, allowing the task to consume and distract me. Once I get it to that sweet spot, I start to strum the strings. My fingers take over as I begin to play I’m With You by Avril Lavigne. The words fall easily from my mouth as I sing them to myself. And my anxiety begins to fade.

Music used to have this effect on me and that’s why I loved it. Why I wanted to share it with the world. But then it became everything I feared. It brought the anxiety, instead of squashing it. And that’s when I began to fall apart and turn to drugs to feel better. Drank before every show. Had to stay awake with coke. Had to wind down with heroin. There was an excuse for everything. A reason as to why I had to do everything I got addicted to.

But none of it truly fixed the problem. The trauma buried within me from my shitty childhood. My abandonment wound from Alina. My anger at my mom for never helping me, then the guilt that ate away at me for not fixing shit for her.

I’m a mess. I’ve always been a mess. Not to Alina though.

I was too in love to see it coming, the end that happened so quickly. I was barely able to register her absence before I just died internally and shut down. I got by until I was discovered, and that excitement was enough to wake me up again, but I was never truly whole. Not until she came back to me.

I sing to myself. To the empty room. I think of the woman I’m waiting for and a smile springs to my lips. Alina fucking Timber. The woman of my fucking dreams.

I trail off as I hear the door opening downstairs, sitting myself in the chair next to my guitar stands as I hold the one in my arms for comfort. I hear nothing but the shifting of steps as she climbs them to my room. I grip the fret board tighter, my anxiety peaking as her purple hair clears the landing and then she’s standing there in a jacket and her little schoolgirl outfit. Her toes are still bare, and her legs are cold with goosebumps. Her nipples are hard as shit beneath the shirt she’s wearing. She has no bra on. My boner presses into the back of the guitar on my lap as I audibly swallow. She looks absolutely gorgeous.

“Is this your wallet I picked up on my way up here?” she asks as I nod my head yes, unable to speak. She opens it and throws whatever money is inside upon the floor between us. “It’s not enough,” she bites out in an annoyed voice. I’m swallowing again, uncomfortable that I’ve upset her. Luckily I have access to hordes of cash.

“How much more do you need?” My voice is low, a little shaky, and dark. I’m clinging to the guitar as she overpowers me with her energy and presence.

“To remove my jacket? Five fucking hundred,” she challenges. I nod, unphased by the number.

“Venmo, ok?” I ask her. She nods back.

“Venmo is great ,” she says. “ Don’t say it’s a service, though.” I smirk at her very thorough, smartass remark.

“Username?” I ask next and she gives it to me. The sound of a cha-ching rings out in the room. Alina grabs her phone. There’s a five-hundred-and-fifty-dollar payment waiting for her.

“Take the jacket off,” I quietly command as she sets her phone off to the side and does as I directed. Her nipples peak harder, the temperature change apparent. “How much to take off your shirt?” I inquire. She smirks.

“Eight fifty,” she throws at me and I Venmo her another nine hundred dollars. She rubs her legs together as the notification rings out in my room before she checks her phone and the next thing I know, she’s unbuttoning her shirt and letting her breasts topple out. She bounces a little bit, jiggling them for me. It sends me into a tailspin. I have to pull my panting tongue back into my mouth.

“Jesus Christ, baby,” I complain absentmindedly as she smiles evilly. She licks her thumbs and swipes them over her perky nipples. They glisten in the light of my room. “You pretty, little tease,” I say as she smiles deeper. She’s still standing far away from me, and I know she’s doing it on purpose. She doesn’t trust me yet. She fully removes her shirt as she eats up my attention. “What do I call you?” I ask her and she shrugs.

“Who am I tonight?” Her voice is different. Alluring. Low. Provocative. If I’m being honest, her facade is completely intimidating. I’m holding on by a thread.

“How about the girl who broke my heart all those years ago?” I suggest and she shakes her head no, leaving me feeling small by her rejection. “You have something else in mind?” She nods her head yes. I swallow for a third time.

“I’m in charge,” she replies instead. I narrow my eyes, wondering what that means. “Can you be submissive?” She reaches into her jacket on the ground, grabbing something before walking up to me. Her fingers trail over the hard line of my shoulders as she continues behind me. I shiver as she rounds the chair I’m in and makes eye contact with me, dipping her head to mine. She holds up something silver in her hand. I realize it’s the smallest plug from the collection of purple hearts at the shed. She smiles at it before rolling it on her tongue, looking at me again. “ Can you be my fuck doll tonight? ” she whispers into my ear as I shiver.