Page 116 of Isolation

He bends his knees slightly and starts to grind into me. Unable to find any support, I reach out for the window curtain next to me and pull at it for leverage as he hits every spot on my sex.

“God,” I bite down on my bottom lip, digging my heels into his back.

Milo moves us off the wall and walks with me in his arms. A loud thud, followed by the sound of something falling on the floor, jolts my senses from the lust surrounding me.

“What the fuck was that?” I look around in the dark.

Milo doesn’t respond. We bump into something else en route, but this time I don’t bother asking what shattered.

I don’t need lights to know that Milo’s darkened eyes are on a single track right now. He reaches the living room and pushes us both down onto the soft rug.

Before my back can hit the rug, I wrap my legs around his waist and shove at his shoulders, indicating to turn us over so I can straddle him.

Lifting myself up, I brace a palm on his chest and sink further onto him.

“Holy shit, baby!” Milo trembles under me.

His hands are gripping my waist, but I pull his wrists off and pin them by his head. Tightening my hold on his wrist, I start riding him.

“Use my shirt,” he groans.

“What?”

“If you are trying to restrain me, pull my shirt over my head, and leave it there. It will free your hands. I want to feel your hands all over my body,” he says in between broken breaths.

I still my movements and narrow my eyes at him. Milo lifts his head as I stare down.

“I know a hate fuck when I see one,” he explains casually with an arrogant smile. “I don’t care. I’ll take you in any way I can, and you are not having any reactions right now.”

Of course, he knows. I let go of his wrists, and Milo holds his arms up straight above his head.

Peeling his shirt off, I leave it right over his head, so his arms stay locked.

Milo is built like superman. He can tear through that flimsy shirt anytime he wants to.

But I do it anyway because I need visual proof that I am not what Mia suggested.

Right now, I am not a fucking victim.

I am not weak.

I am in charge.

I repeat those mantras. I scream them in my head and stare down at him. Milo lifts his head to catch my lips with his. I push him back down, refusing to let him have any say over this.

I remove my jacket, untie the knot of my wraparound dress to slide it off me, and undo my bra.

It’s a cold day, and the heat is turned off in this house. I should be freezing, but my whole body is on fire. My blood is sizzling, and my bones are burning.

Milo’s body vibrates under me. He sounds like he is going out of his mind. He is grunting like an animal with each thrust, trying to reign in control.

I roll my hips and grind into him harder. I can feel Milo writhing under me.

My palm lands flat on his chest while the other fists into his hair. I keep slamming into him until I come with tears seeping out of my eyes.

Numbness.

Oblivion.