Chapter 5
5
Aviva
D on’t cry. Whatever you do, don’t cry.
And don’t come, either.
I was enraged, humiliated, and so turned on I wanted to die. I’d never had an orgasm with someone else, never been this aroused, never had a man’s dick in my mouth , and now I was half-naked and restrained by this jackass bully of a hockey player who thought he was god’s gift to the world. Was I about to have my first orgasm with another person? I didn’t want it. How the hell had I gotten here? How had things gone so wrong, so fast?
And why did they feel so right? Why did having zero control make me feel so…free?
I’d always been in control of everything. Aunt Gladys had been ill the whole time we’d lived with her, and so Asher and I had to step up. I wanted him to focus on hockey, so I’d taken care of everything: the house, the finances, food. Everything. I got so used to being in control, it never occurred to me that not having it could feel good .
Which was a horrifying thought. I couldn’t like this. Couldn’t enjoy being forced. How depraved was I?
Not nearly as depraved as Jack, at least. He stood in front of me, straddling the bench and my thighs, his cock so hard the head was purple and pressing up against his abs. My jaw hurt. My throat ached . I could still taste him.
And oh god, what was wrong with me? Because I wanted more.
Jack rested his huge hand on my pussy again. I clenched.
“This is too easy,” he told me conversationally as he started tapping his fingers against the seam of my pussy and slowly working his dick with his other hand.
I whimpered.
A drop of precum appeared at the tip of his dick.
“That pathetic little sound makes me so hard, Aviva,” he said. “Let’s see if you’ll make it again.”
And then he started tracing little circles over my pussy, again and again, over and over, avoiding my clit but touching me everywhere else. Featherlight touches on my thighs, my hips, my mound. It took every last ounce of strength not to buck and chase his fingers and the pleasure they brought.
“Stop,” I begged.
He paused. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”
When I didn’t respond, he started tracing little patterns again, making everything in me wind tighter.
“You know what I think? I think you aren’t telling me because you don’t want me to stop, not really. I think this tight little good girl pussy is secretly a greedy slut. She’s the most honest part of you. I think—” he moved his fingers higher, higher, oh god, higher— “you want this, don’t you?”
A circle and a tap, right on my clit .
I cried out, wound tight, so tight, terrified and exhilarated and ashamed of what would happen next?—
—and then he removed his hand.
I trembled.
Relieved.
Disappointed.
For a moment, and then his fingers were back.
“Has anyone ever gotten you off, princess?”
He didn’t deserve an answer.
“Didn’t think so.”
He slowly pushed one inside of me, and I jolted. Lifting his finger—his middle finger—up, he showed it to me.
“Look how fucking wet you are,” Jack said, and if I didn’t know better, if I didn’t know how much he already hated me, I’d have thought he said it with awe. “Barely touched you, and you covered my finger.” He watched me as he slid his finger into his mouth, sucking it.
“Guess even thieving, conniving little pussies taste good.”
He sounded frustrated. He was frustrated. Because the next thing he did was shove two fingers inside of me this time, fast and hard. His fingers were long and thick and even as wet as I was, it hurt. The only fingers that had ever been inside of me were my own.
“Jack, please,” I begged.
“Tell me why you’re here.”
If I told him, he might tip off Joshua Jensen and put him on his guard. I needed the element of surprise and secrecy, or I’d never get justice for my brother.
I inhaled slowly, trying to ignore him, his hard chest, his huge, angry cock, his fingers. He was torturing me to try to get me to talk, but he wouldn’t win .
I closed my eyes to shut him out, and in punishment, he shoved three fingers inside of me this time.
Too much.
I screamed.
“Wonder if I could fit my whole fist inside you.”
My eyes flew open as I bucked underneath him. “No!”
“Then talk.”
But I couldn’t.
Terrified, I shut my eyes again and braced myself for the pain that was sure to come next, which is why I was surprised when his fingers disappeared, and so did his body.
And then I was being dragged down the bench, my thighs spread open wide. I opened my eyes again, only to see his head descend between my legs. He licked me, once, twice, three times, and the threat of orgasm that had faded away came roaring back. I couldn’t buck him off, he was gripping my thighs too hard with his big hands.
I was about to come this way, wasn’t I? My first orgasm from someone else, and it was happening without my consent, tied to a bench in a locker room that stunk of pheromones and long-stale sweat. It felt so good and I hated it, hated him…
Pain, sharp and shocking. Jack had bitten my clit, and he wasn’t letting go.
I shrieked, so loud the whole campus must have heard me.
It hurt so bad.
It felt so good.
Finally, Jack lifted his head, his lips wet—with me.
“Talk,” he said. “Or this is going to get worse.”
“Fine, then do your worst,” I gasped.
“With pleasure.”
He lowered his head, licking and sucking and biting— my pussy, my inner thighs, my clit. Each time I thought I would come, each time he stopped just before it happened. Each time, he demanded I tell him the truth—each time, it got more and more difficult to keep silent. Time blurred, or maybe paused, I wasn’t sure. Overwhelmed, overwrought, I sobbed, my cries mixing with Jack’s groans and the slapping sound of his hand on his own cock as he took turns punishing me and pleasing himself.
Finally, he stopped. I opened my eyes, afraid of what I would see. His own dark eyes were almost black with lust and anger as he released my weakened legs and rose to his feet in front of me. In that moment, I understood why he was treated like a god here.
“Poor little princess,” he crooned in a voice thick with mockery and desire he didn’t even bother to hide. “So desperate and so afraid. Just waiting for my cock to rip you apart.”
“Jack,” I whimpered, begging. “Please…”
“Please what. Please stop, or please make you come?”
I didn’t know the answer.
Growling, he used one hand to spread me wide, and with the other, guided his cock forward, the crown pressing against me, seeking an opening. The sensation was too much—too terrifying, too goddamned good. I couldn’t take anymore. I couldn’t lose my virginity this way. I refused.
“Stop, Jack, please! Not like this! I’ll tell you why I’m here, okay? Just please, don’t do this to me.”
Don’t do this.
Don’t make sex this humiliating and horrible.
He froze, his chest heaving, then released my hips and pulled away, slowly, almost reluctantly. Almost like he regretted winning.
But this was not a man who ever lost .
“I won’t fuck you this time,” he said. “But we aren’t done here.”
And then, just to reinforce his own words, he pumped his cock with his fist, hard and fast, eyes on mine, and that alone brought me closer to my own orgasm.
I shook, teeth clenched, trying so hard not to follow him over the cliff before me into an abyss I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to climb out of.
“Oh, you’re going to come for me, princess,” he promised.
I opened my mouth to disagree, just as he caught my clit between his thumb and finger and pinched —tossing me over the edge and sending me into freefall.
It was like nothing I’d felt before. Huge and powerful and overwhelmingly raw. I wanted to bask in it; I wanted to run from it.
Jack didn’t give me a choice. With a strangled shout, he threw his head back and came. Wet heat splashed over me—my pussy, my bare stomach, my shirt. The shock of being used that way only seemed to draw out my orgasm, and I hung on for dear life.
Finally, he sighed.
“Fuuuuuuck.”
He leaned over me, wiping his wet hand over my lips, painting me with his release and my shame.
He moved his leg like he was dismounting a horse, kneeling in front of me as I shivered, overwrought.
“Now. Talk.”