Chapter 63
CHAPTER 63
BETH
I never went to class. What was the point? My emotions were all over the place. Nigel didn’t listen to anything I said, and school seems redundant now. I doubt Nolan will let me go to college or get a job sometime in the future.
For a while, all I wanted was a way to escape Nigel’s grasp, but now I’ve found myself in another cage, one who’s bars I can’t avoid. It’s suffocating.
I walk out of the school and stroll down the sidewalk, holding my school bag to my shoulder. My only companion is the music pumping through my headphones, the melancholy beat of Interpol’s Say Hello To The Angels . It calms me, but then I become numb as I make my way across town. I stumble to my hotel room and swipe my key before entering the cold, dark room.
It’s dead silent, and it brings back the heartache of everything that happened.
I drop my bag on the floor, slipping out of my shoes, before I push down my skirt and climb directly into the unused bed.
For the first time since I found out about the cluster of cells growing in my womb, I press my hand against the protective skin guarding my child’s temporary home, and my lip trembles. “I guess it’s just going to be us for a while, little bean.” I wrap my body around my pillow and stare at the plain white wall.
Nigel is gone. Martin still hasn’t responded to the dozens of texts I sent him. I doubt Ollie will have much of a presence at all. I’m no longer in his house, right in his face. He has no responsibility to me since Nigel is no longer in jail.
I stare and let my mind go completely blank until the wall texture starts to separate itself from the paint in my mind. It starts to drip and mix with the blue curtains and gray couch.
Nothing becomes everything. Everything dwindles into nothingness.
A boom echoes off the door, and I sit up suddenly, clutching my chest.
“Beth, open the door!”
My heart calms. Oliver.
“Come on. Let me in, dammit!”
I rush from the bed in a hurry to get to him, tripping over the blanket on my way, and I rip open the door, a little worried the force I used might rip it from the hinges. My pain comes back full force as he moves into the room and closes the door before turning to me.
His icy blues blaze into me with an intensity I can’t decipher before he pulls me into his arms. My forearms loop around his neck as a sob wracks through my body.
He doesn’t hold me like I’m fragile. No, he holds me like he wants to be the one to put me together as I shatter in his arms. He’s not afraid to cause a crack in my armor.
My fingers dig into his hair as I hold myself tight to him, and the pressure his arms create increases.
“What do you need?” he whispers. “Whatever it is, we’ll do it.”
We all knew Nigel would hurt me. His words have always been like daggers when he wants them to be.
My heart aches but in the best possible way…for him, for my psychopath, my Oliver.
I pull back far enough to look into his eyes so he can see every inch of my truth. “You. Just you.” Then, I kiss him so, he knows it's okay. The moment his fingers tangle in my hair, it’s like an explosion on my lips and through every vein and artery. My brain fogs, and yet nothing has ever been more clear than this right here.
Me and Oliver.
He pulls me to the couch with him, and I straddle his waist once he’s sitting down. Teeth clanking, our lips fused in a battle we fight together, and his hands wander, pulling me closer.
He pulls back with something between a gasp and a growl on his lips. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” His mouth descends down my throat, running hungry kisses past my pulse point and over my shoulder.
“Yes, we should.”
There’s nothing wrong with this. It’s not hurting anyone.Even when it could’ve hurt Nigel, we did this because it was something we all knew he deserved.
I need a distraction, but I also just need Oliver.
Dropping my hands to his lap, I work hurriedly on getting his pants undone and open as he growls against my throat.
“Are you sure?”
“Please,” I whimper as he yanks down the front of my shirt to get to my tits, his tongue teasing my nipples like the torture expert he is. “I’ve been going crazy. I need you.”
Just as my fingers reach into his jeans and wrap around his massive cock, he jerks into my hand, cursing like he hasn’t been touched in weeks, which I know isn’t true. His hand is suddenly at my waist, and he pulls at my panties until they tear from my body, ripping them to shreds. I moan like a dying animal who needs to be put out of its misery, and my shirt is the next to go, completely torn down the center of my chest. My tits stay pressed to his face as he sucks one of my peaks into his mouth. His tongue lashes the sensitive skin, sending heat waves through my body with each slap of the barbell in his mouth.
“Ollie!” I cry out from how good it feels. I pump his cock, squeezing it with each twist, as he pushes his pants down to his knees. Without missing a beat, I take his rigid dick inside of me. Instantly, I scream like a banshee from how fucking good it feels to have him back inside me after so long, stretching and breaking every barrier between us.
It’s been a real struggle not to give into temptation. There were weeks when he would walk into a room, and my body craved him. I missed his kisses, the way his hands felt on my body, and his cock so deep inside me that I can’t differentiate between where I end and he begins.
His thick, strong fingers wrap around my throat, and he drags me to him, his face pressed into my own before he lets out the most possessive and demanding of growls. “ Mine .” He thrusts hard into me, and I gasp at how good it is, shock waves running through my body from my cunt to the ends of my hair. “Say it,” he orders vehemently.
I moan. “I’m yours, Oliver. I’ve always been yours.” Oliver and I have a chance to be together–granted, it has its own deadline–but we can discover if something between us would be viable. If these feelings are still here in thirteen years, we can give this a real chance.
Maybe Oliver Doyle is my end of everything.
His mouth crashes against mine, and the war between our tongues is the most delicious thing I’ve felt in forever. He ruts into me like a madman, and I mewl like a cat in heat from the pleasure of it as his mouth leaves mine.
“Oh my god…Yes!” I roll my hips against him, meeting him thrust for thrust as I beg for more, but then he yanks me back against him. With my throat in one hand and a possessive grip on my ass with the other, he growls the words.
“I’m your God. Pray to me. Let me fill you with my blessing.”
Holy shit. I think that might be the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. With the religious toxicity I’ve dealt with in my life, nothing could make me crazy with lust like that, like calling him my?—
“You’re my God, Ollie. Please!” I whimper, and he flips us, laying me flat on my back as he slams into me again and again, taking me like I belong solely to him.
* * *
Sex with Oliver Doyle is fucking explosive. That’s the only way to describe it. It’s a bomb detonating in my very soul, leaving a million shattered pieces of my psyche and my body in its wake. It’s everything.
We moved to the bed after the first round of raw fucking then, he screwed my brains out again for added measure. I’m not complaining one bit. It’s so hot that he just grabs me and takes me with no hesitation, and Oliver Doyle fucks like the maniac he is. All clawing, biting, and fucking. He’s not afraid to leave a mark or harm the baby I’m carrying.
With his arm thrown around my shoulder, I snuggle close to him, trying to get my breathing under control from the amount of cardio I got through. I definitely don’t need to go for a run today.
“How did you get here from school?” Oliver asks suddenly.
I lift my head from the canvas of tattoos I’ve been dissecting for an unknown amount of time. He gazes at me with narrowed icy blues, and I smirk. “How did you know where my hotel was or my room number?” I redirect the conversation, but Mr. Grumpy Pants just glares at me for not answering his question in a timely manner.
“Answer the question,” he demands.
“What if I don’t want to? We both know you’re not going to kill me. What's the worst you could do?” I brat him so hard, and I’m quite proud of myself. He might scare everyone else, but he doesn’t scare me.
Suddenly, he flips us, slamming my back into the bed, my head crashing against the pillow with his hand tight around my throat. Then, he pries my legs apart and shoves two fingers straight into my weeping cunt. I cry out from the shock of it.
“You’re right. I’m not going to kill you, crazy girl, but I can do some things that you won’t like,” he rasps against my lips, breathing in every moan I expel as if the taste of it is all the nourishment he requires.
“Oh, really? Like what?”
Then, his fingers coax in and out of my pussy, running his thumb over my nub in a rhythm that is so delicious I whimper from how good it feels.
He doesn’t need his cock to blow my mind. His fingers do the job just fine.
“For example,” he groans as he teases my sweet spot and my hips buck of their own accord against his fingers. “I can bring you right to the edge, so close you can taste your orgasm on your fucking tongue…” he trails off as his digits gain momentum, pumping me closer to my release.
“Yesss,” I whimper. “I’m so close.”
“Can you taste it, Beth?” he growls.
“Uh-huh.” I can’t even muster a word as I feel the cliff I’m about to fall over right before he rips his fingers from my body, and I hiss from the loss of his fingers and the painful zing of my orgasm being yanked from me like a rug under my feet. “No,” I cry.
“I can give it, and I can take it. It hurts, doesn’t it?” he taunts me like a predator, and I whine, begging him to give me what I need with my eyes, but Oliver doesn’t surrender easily. “Are you going to answer my question or continue being a brat?”
Asshole.
“I choose the brat option.” Then, I stick my tongue out at him to annunciate my point further.
“Punishment it is.” His eyes narrow, darkening instantly as if I just woke up the sadist in him.
Before I can blink, he flips me onto my face, my knees pressed together with my ass in the air. I try to grab the sheet to pull myself up, but he yanks my arms behind my back, securing them with…something soft that he wraps around them repeatedly until it's completely secure.
I grunt with frustration and try like hell to kick my legs out, but he captures my legs with his own, holding me in that exposed position.
Oliver doesn’t want me to have any wiggle room. He wants me to be vulnerable, completely immobile.
“This is the enjoyable option for me, baby. Are you sure you want to fight me?” he teases darkly as he grips the back of my neck, digging his fingers into the soft tissue. It stings, but I like the pain. I have a weird kinship with discomfort. Anguish brings me pleasure in a way nothing else does.
“Was that a rhetorical question, Daddy?” I sass breathlessly.
His fingers smooth over my exposed behind, discovering every pore, every blemish, every freckle for his enjoyment. It’s the anticipation. The what is he going to do with me in this position question that always comes with the unknown. I hope he just fucks me, but I know he won’t reward me like that.
“Don’t you dare move,” he warns with a growl, and every muscle in my body shudders at the sound of his deadly voice.
“Yes, Daddy.” He can’t see it, but I’m smiling from ear to ear. So far, I’ve liked his punishments. The way he makes me hurt so good…it’s just as good as getting me off.
His knees loosen their hold on me a bit as he leans back, and I make my move to flee, not really trying to get away but pushing his limits. He’s too fast and has me back in position in a flash.
His fingers dig deep into my neck and press me harder into the mattress. “ I said ,” he whispers in my ear as he presses his chest into my restrained arms, probably leaving a bruise there. The sting along with the pressure feels incredible. “Don’t. You. Dare. Move… In what way was I unclear, little one?”
“None,” I gasp. “I didn’t want to listen.”
He lifts his body up, and his hand comes down hard on my ass. I shriek from the surprise of it before the involuntary moan slips out. I’ve never been spanked so hard or gotten so much pleasure from one, either.
His hand comes down again, just as hard as the last, so hard I’m sure to have welts covering my ass tomorrow.
Slap.
Slap.
Slap.
My thighs rub together from how good his punishment feels, all the way down to my toes.
“Please,” I whimper, pressing my thighs tighter together from the need coursing through my body.
“Have you had enough? Are you ready to answer my question?”
I can barely remember the question, but it doesn’t matter. As long as Oliver keeps playing with my body in any way, I don’t want this to stop.
“Was the answer seven? I forgot,” I feign ignorance as sweat drips down my forehead. My limbs ache from the position.
Another smack comes down on my pink and purple flesh, but I just smirk to myself. Then, he pulls his knees back and spreads my thighs apart.
“Present my pretty pussy to me,” he commands as he spreads my cheeks to get a look at the most intimate part of my body.
Arching my back, I do as he says because I’m pretty sure I’m going to like whatever it is. My cunt is on display for him, and he hums his approval before he lands another slap, but it’s not on my ass. It’s right between my thighs, on my dripping pussy. I yell from the slap, and my head splits as both pain and pleasure stir inside me, existing as one. It’s a dizzying feeling that I hope he gives me again.
“So fucking wet,” he growls as he runs his fingers over me, feeling every last inch of my heat.
“Please,” I whimper. “Do that again,” I beg because it felt that good.
“Maybe I will if you behave for Daddy. Stay just like that.” He pulls his hand away, and something cool and smooth replaces it. Maybe a vibrator?
I have no clue, but it feels so good as it runs over my clit, teasingly circling the bud before making it to my pussy. Oliver sinks it in, and I cry out from how sensitive I am.
“Oh, fuck,” I rasp as my hips buck toward the assumed vibrator, but Oliver puts a firm hand on my ass, fully stopping me.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you unless you want to cut yourself.”
My brain stops working for a second. Cut myself?… Oh, no, he did not.
I turn my head to look in the mirror, and sure enough, Oliver has his pocket knife in his hand with the handle inside my pussy. His fingers wrap around the blade, pumping it in and out of me, blood dripping from the blade. He’s cutting himself while fucking me with his knife.
God, it feels so good, but I want more. The amount he’s giving me isn’t enough to reach my sweet spot, only enough to get me going.
“You bastard,” I rasp.
He smirks. “ Your Bastard. If you’re going to call me names, at least do it right.” Then, he gains momentum with each press of the handle into my dripping cunt.
“Daddy,” I cry out.
“Yeah?” he teases as my juices drip onto the handle, making a sloshing noise as it goes in and out of me.
“Please, I need you.” A sob falls from my lips. I’m so desperate it tastes bitter on my tongue.
“You need me, huh? Use your words. What part of me do you need? Would that be my fingers, my tongue, my cock…or maybe all you need is my filthy words?” His thumb runs over my rosebud before it’s replaced with his tongue.
I scream from the mixture of sensation.
I want this so bad I can’t see straight. I’m so turned on that a part of me wants to rip my own cunt to shreds just so I won’t feel this out of sorts.
“I need it all. Your cock, your fingers, your tongue. I need you so bad. Please!”
Then, he presses his tongue inside past my sphincter, and I swear I black out from the dots covering my vision, but when I come to, his tongue is still inside me, and I’m crying like a baby from how good everything feels.
“Are you going to answer my question?” he asks again.
I fucking break. “I walked.”
Suddenly the knife is pulled from my pussy, and Oliver moves over me, pressing his chin into my shoulder.
“Why? You could’ve called me. Instead, you left school with no warning. Your friends were worried about you.”
My eyes water even more. “I don’t have friends. I just have you and Judy. She’s my friend, and you’re…well, you.”
“What about Martin?” he pushes.
“I don’t know. I think he’s avoiding me. I don’t know why.”
He sighs against my shoulder before he mutters, “You do have friends. Ro was worried about you. So was Shanti.”
“Not Nigel, though. He hates me. He’d rather see me dead than see me at all.” My voice cracks from that horrific confrontation coming to the forefront of my mind.
“ What ?” His voice is sharp with anger. “Did he say that to you?”
I can’t even bring myself to speak because of how much it hurts deep in my chest. Oliver unbinds my wrists before pulling me back into his arms and grips my shoulders, pulling me back until I’m sitting up.
“Why didn’t you call me? The school is far, and you fucking walked. Do you have any clue how dangerous that was?”
I wouldn’t call it dangerous, but sure, let’s go with that. The question at hand, though. Why didn’t I call Ollie? The answer is simple. “I didn’t think that…” I trail off as the lump rises back up my throat, my heart aching.
“What?” His fingers soothingly trail down my arm, but it doesn’t ease the pain in my chest.
“I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.” My voice cracks, and his arms tighten, holding me so close to him that I wonder if he might absorb me into him to protect me from everything. “I know how things work. I was with Nigel, and…everyone only liked having me around because of their respect for him. Like the whole Casey thing. Once she and Nigel broke up, everyone acted like she didn’t exist. Plus, he’s out of jail now. You don’t have a responsibility to me anymore.”
A deep growl rumbles against my back as his lips trail along my neck. “You seriously thought I was around you for him? I’m around you for me , crazy girl. I don’t do anything unless I want to do it. The world is full of fickle people, but you should always know that if I’m here, it’s because I want to be. I went out looking for you because I wanted to find you. I got into that truck hanging off the bridge because I wanted to save you. I stayed in that hospital for nearly a week because I wanted to make sure you were okay and didn’t wake up alone. You never have to ask if I want to do something because, if I’m doing it, there’s nothing I want more at that moment.”
His free hand smooths up the valley between my breasts and wraps around my throat as he kisses up the length of my neck.
A moan falls from my lips as he breathes in my ear. “And, if my cock is buried balls deep in your tight cunt, it’s because I want to fuck you more than I want to breathe.” He turns my face to his and slams his mouth down on mine, and with that one kiss, I can feel everything deep down in my soul. Everything is going to be okay because Ollie is right here. “Now, get back on your hands and knees. I need your pussy wrapped around my dick… now .”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice. Moving into position, I arch my back, and I barely have a second before he presses into me. A loud moan bellows from my throat as he grips my hair and ruts into me like he’s chasing the madness away by way of my body, and I am completely fine with that.