Page 60 of The Cruelest Chaos

I grip the couch beneath my hands. Take a deep breath. Ignore the feel of him inside of me. “What’re we doing here? You just wanna rape me? Whip me? Beat me? Send me back to my trailer? That how you think girls from trailer parks should be treated,Mavy?”

I watch the corded muscles of his neck strain against his skin, like he wants to kill me.“I think that’s how you want me to treat you.”

And before I can respond, he grabs something from the couch, yanking himself out of me as the belt comes around my windpipe, spinning my head around, away from him. My fingers instinctively move toward it, trying to pull it off, trying to give me room to breathe.

This is still a game.

“Don’t fight me,” he whispers in my ear, his chest against my back. “Don’t fight me, or I’ll make it worse.”

My entire body is coiled with tension, and I think about the glass on the floor. I think about the fact that I can feel his hard cock against my back. I think about the fact thatI can’t breathe.

I stop fighting, my fingers still at the belt, but no longer trying to pull it off.

“Hold onto the couch,” he instructs me.

If I do as he asks, he won’t do what I don’t want him to do. He won’t make this worse. So, I do as he said, slowly, panic lighting through my limbs at the belt around my throat. I wonder how long it will take me to pass out.

But then, mercifully, he loosens his grip, giving the belt some slack.

A second later and he’s back to pressing the tip of his cock against methere.

Panic engulfs me and I twist my head around to look at him. He’s staring right at me. “You thought this would be fun for you?” he asks me with a manic grin.

I shake my head. My body breaks out in a cold sweat. Like New Year’s Eve? I could do New Year’s Eve. Iwantedlike New Year’s Eve, and every time after. We could fuck this out.

But this…

I can’t speak.

His fingers slide underneath me, up my wet slit and I shudder. “Here?” he teases me, the pads of his fingers circling my swollen clit.

I grip the couch tighter and nod my head.

“No one else has been here have they, Ella?” he asks me, grazing my entrance with his pinky as he keeps circling my clit. “Since I was?”

I shake my head. Don’t speak.

“But I don’t want to be there.” He takes his fingers away, presses his dick against my ass. “I want to behere.”

I bite my lip, tears springing into my eyes. The last time I did that…my eyes fall closed. I remember the blood. The way my stomach convulsed. It had been more than rough. It had been…torturous.

It had been the first and last time.

I never let myself become a victim, not with my mother. Not with my exes. But there was one night…one time. We were both drunk and Shane…

I think I’ve underestimated Maverick. I think this isn’t a game anymore. I think I’m an idiot for going to a man’s house I don’t know, that I met in the woods and let hit me. I think I’ve tried to find an escape from the life I deserve. The shitty trailer and the shitty mom and no food. That’s my life.

But this… Maybe I deserve this, too.

He presses further against me, the belt tightening around my throat, making my head spin back around. I grip the couch tighter, bury my face against it, tears hot behind my eyes.

He’s not going to stop.

I don’t know why I thought he might. I don’t know why I taunted him. I don’t know why I didn’t recognize a monster when I first looked into his eyes at Liber. I’d told him I’d seen the devil. I’d told him I saw that same devil in myself.

And I did. After that night I fucked up. After that night I poured myself one beer after another for the carbs, for something to put in my mouth. For...the forgetting. After the night my mom left to get her fix and her boyfriend stayed.

After the night he came to my room.