29. Kelsey
Kelsey
Ihate him. I want to punch him in the balls for calling me a slut. I want to scream in his face that it’s my foster brother that’s hunting for me. I want to hurt him by telling him that the baby was his. She was his. Ours.
But when he digs his fingers under the waist of my panties, skims my mound and curls two fingers inside my aching pussy, my anger and my hate turn into need.
“You’re soaked. I knew you would be.” His mouth finds the side of my throat as he thrusts mercilessly inside me, grinding my clit with his palm.
My breath quickens. My body is his to play. I grab his forearm, urging him to fuck me deeper and harder with his fingers. “You better fuck me like you hate me, asshole. Don’t hold back.”
“I’m going to fuck you so hard.” He growls into my shoulder. His other hand comes up to pin me to the wall by my neck. “Every time you sit for the next week, your pussy is going to ache and remind you exactly how much I hate you and how much of a slut you are for me.”
Damn it. Why is that hot?
I get wetter.
He withdraws and strips out of his jacket and the white waffle weave Henley he’s wearing underneath. “Get your clothes off.”
I drag my pajama top over my head while he pops the button on his jeans and toes off his boots. Shimmying out of my pajama bottoms, I watch him shove his jeans down and kick them away.
His cock is hard and jutting to attention. Pre-cum glistens when he forms a fist around it and drags his hand up the flushed shaft. I can see the little blue and purple veins under the skin. “You better wrap it. I don’t want that plague carrying member anywhere near me without a condom.”
I can’t afford to go through anything like what I did last time we were together. Even doing this is crazy. I must be crazy to want his cock inside me when all we have is hate.
“Don’t worry, Little Vandal.” He turns around and rifles through the basket of items the band keeps on their runner for every hotel room they stay in. He finds a foil square and rips into it. “There’s no chance I’m going to bottom out in your toxicity without one.”
He rolls the latex down the length of his cock and lunges for me.
My feet leave the tiles, my legs twist around his hips as he impales me on his cock.
Hips drawing back, he pulls almost all the way out—scraping against places that haven’t been touched like this in a long time—before slamming in hard enough that my back smacks the wall.
“Prove to me that you hate me.” His breath is hot against my collarbone, bitter to my sense of smell. “Rip my back up with those claws.”
He pulls back once again and slams into me hard enough that it feels like the wall pushes back. I dig my nails into his lats until he winces.
“That’s it.” He fucks me rough and fast. His hand tightening around my throat. “Mark me up. Make me pay for what I did to you. Because I’m sure as hell going to make you pay for your part in all this.”
“I didn’t…” I whimper as he drags me perilously close to an edge I am not ready for. “Do anything... to... you.”
“You let some other guy get you pregnant,” he grunts, his hips punishing mine.
I shut my eyes against the onslaught in his gaze. Now is not the time. The time was two years ago. When it mattered. It doesn’t anymore. “Anyone was a better option than you.”
He pulls his cock out of me so quickly I’m bereft. Then he’s pushing my hips against the vanity and thrusting back inside me from behind. He wraps an arm around my hips to play with my clit and the other bands around my chest where he tortures a nipple.
I’m close. Breathless and consumed by him. Realizing I don’t hate him as much as I want to. As much as I wish I did. But it doesn’t matter. After this he’ll never touch me again. I won’t let him.
My orgasm is a twisted rush of carnal pleasure and mixed emotion. It turns my muscles to mush. It flattens me. He groans as he shoots his load into the rubber while my body ripples around him. His fingers grow lazy on my clit until they stop altogether.
Chests heaving, he continues to hold me. For a moment, everything feels right. Like what might have been if everything hadn’t gone so wrong between us. Our breaths and bodies in sync. But the moment ends.
He pulls away, his cock leaving an empty space inside me. He fumbles with removing the condom and then tosses it in the bin. “I can’t be around you without wanting you. And I don’t fucking want to want you.”
“I don’t want to want you either.” I wish I didn’t. I hurriedly pick up my clothes and run back into the bedroom to dress.
By the time he comes out in his jeans, his shirt and jacket in his hands I’m on the phone to Doc.
“Is he out of the woods? Because I can’t spend one more second with the little bitch boy.”
Doc makes an uncomfortable hissing sound. “It’s like that is it?”
Being around him, remembering what we had, mourning what will never be…. “Doc?”
“Yeah. He should be fine.”
“Thank you.” I hang up on Doc.
“Tell me one thing,” Riot says. “Who’s the guy? Who are you running from?”
He’s asking me to tell him who the father was because he’s linked the two together over considering the idea that it could ever have happened while we were together.
But I can’t tell him when there’s no baby anymore.
I can’t open up those old wounds; they hurt too damn much.
If I tell him I’ll break, and then no amount of anger will keep me upright and moving.
I’m barely holding it together as it is. Doc was right about that when we talked last night. And I very much need to keep moving. Keep breathing. Keep fighting for my survival.
“Fucking tell me,” he orders.
“Marco,” I spit my foster brother’s name. “Marco is looking for me.”
His jaw slackens. The color drains from his face. Something flickers in his eyes. Guilt, maybe? Concern?
I yank open the door and stand aside. “Get the hell out.”
He swallows hard, throat working like the words are stuck. He creeps toward me, palms up. As if I’m a wounded animal. Like he’s worried he’ll spook me. “Kels—”
I don’t need his pity.
I turn my face away. “I said get out.”