Chapter 32 #2
“That’s better,” he teases, dragging his length in and out of my mouth.
“Two minutes,” Ezra warns through gritted teeth, and I can tell how close he is too.
My brain completely shuts off, trusting them to take care of me as I focus only on feeling good and making them feel even better. I tighten around Ezra and a giddiness runs through me when he groans.
Jude feels heavy on my tongue, as he’s being gentle not to overwhelm me. I hollow my cheeks, swirl my tongue around him, and then swallow, repeating this over and over again. It takes a few times before he curses and states thrusting faster, no longer worried about being gentle.
I tilt my chin up, opening my throat for him to fuck, craving for him to be as wild and reckless as Ezra is being.
“Baby Girl,” he whispers, holding my breasts as he fucks my throat.
My backs arches off the bed and Exra’s grip on my thighs is so tight I know bruises will be there tomorrow. Everything in my body slows as pressure builds to that sweet breaking point. Ezra groans and warmth floods me, sending me over the edge as my orgasm tears through me.
Jude hits the back of my throat and I’m swallowing his come as he moans my name, twisting my nipples as my orgasm continues to wash through me. He pulls free of my mouth with a slick pop at the same time someone starts banging on the door.
“Wrap it up,” Summer yells, though I can hear her amusement. “We’re going to be late.”
All three of us trade guilty expressions before laughing. Jude leans down to give me a sweet kiss, licking some of his come from the corner of my mouth.
Ezra pulls free from me, lifting my legs higher as he stares at his handiwork. “I’d clean you up, but I think this is your punishment for being naughty.” Jude nods, hopping off the bed and grabbing an outfit for me to wear and handing it to Ezra.
I lay on the bed, slack-jawed and sated as I watch them. Ezra lowers my legs only enough to pull my underwear on and his words finally hit me.
He smirks when he gets them over my ass and cups my pussy through the fabric. It’s immediately drenched from the mess of both of us. “I want you to feel me all day until I can keep my promise,” he says and fuck me. I’m nearly panting all over again.
“Not now,” Jude warns, wagging a finger in my direction. “You have class to get to.”
The two of them work in tandem to get me dressed, rushing me when all I want to do is bask in my post orgasm haze. The day doesn’t seem as dark though when they tie my shoes and pull me out of bed.
Summer is in the kitchen with West, shaking her head as she spots me. My cheeks flame, but she doesn’t say anything. She hands me a breakfast sandwich and West hands me an iced coffee and then they’re pushing me out the door.
I wave Summer’s offer to follow me back to the guys’ house off. She has another class right now, and I’m free until the afternoon. There’s no need for her to be late.
On the way to class, we picked up my car so I wouldn’t be stranded if the guys’ meetings took longer than expected. They were meeting that woman from yesterday to finalize their plans and put things in motion, but their uncle also called and asked to meet.
They even somehow managed to get eyes on my father and found he was spending most of his time here sticking his nose into the investigation. According to Ezra, it’ll actually help point the finger right back at him.
Either way, they’re likely to be busy for most of the day and I promised to avoid my house and go straight back to their place. A promise I repeat to Summer as I hug her goodbye and she heads off to her next class and I head to the parking lot by myself.
Nerves make my stomach hurt about what the guys are trying to do. It’s such an obvious plan, takes care of all our problems, and allows us to move on freely. Erase my past from being a problem.
They didn’t say it, but I know they don’t plan on stopping at having him arrested for Richards’ murder. I don’t know the extent of everything they are involved in, but at this point it doesn’t seem far-fetched that they could hire a hit once my father is behind bars.
Does it make me a bad person to hope that’s the plan? For relief to be the only feeling I can muster when I think about my father no longer being a threat constantly looming over my head?
“At least you have some sense of responsibility.”
A chill races down my spine and I freeze where I’m about to set off the curb into the parking lot.
So close. I was so fucking close.
I can see my car, only a dozen or so steps away.
“Get in the car,” my father demands, his voice ice cold as he opens the door to his car parked in a handicap stall.
I underestimated him. He’s never had to work to have me under his thumb before. I didn’t consider he would track me down anywhere other than my house.
A mistake. A very very stupid mistake.
I grip the strap of my backpack, frozen in place, refusing to turn and see the man who should be my safe space but has been everything but.
“Don’t make me ask again,” he demands, his voice sharper and I can picture the throbbing vein in his forehead without looking. My eyes are locked on my car. So close and yet still too far away.
Thoughts start to move slower as I instinctively react to his familiar tone. My feet move without my permission. Towards his car. Towards pain and suffering.
Why did I ever think I could escape this life?
The door closes as I sit in the passenger seat and I don’t even remember taking the last few steps to get in his car. Fury radiates off him in palpable waves that drown me. The need for air burns and my stomach turns but all I can do is sit.
Hold still and pray that it’s over quickly.
I blink and I’m dragged back to the present when pain shoots up my arm to my shoulder as it’s nearly ripped from its socket.
When did we get to my house?
My father’s mouth is twisted into an ugly snarl, spit flying from it as it hits me in the face. He’s screaming but the words don’t ever reach my ears. Lost in the water I’m drowning in.
I don’t have to hear them to know what he’s saying. Useless. Disgraceful. My mother would be so heartbroken to see what an ungrateful brat I’ve grown up to be.
Worthless.
Shaking my head, I close my eyes. I can’t, I can’t. I just can’t.
I want to be back in my library, back to this morning and never crawl out of bed.
The yanking on my arm finally stops but I only have a moment of relief before my scalp is on fire. The pain so much sharper and immediate, there is no burying the yelp that escapes. My body instinctively moves with my father to avoid a chunk of my hair being ripped from my head.
My eyes dart wildly around, hoping and praying one of my neighbors is around. Someone. Anyone. But we’re at my front door before I can even think about screaming for help.
“You will make this so much worse for yourself if you don’t start behaving, Berlyn,” my father warns. Without thought, my hand is moving, reaching for the security system to turn it off and let us inside.
I’m only going to make it worse.
It’s never going to end.
I’m never going to be free.
The only thing I can do is allow him to take. At least then it’ll be over.
His hand wraps around my throat the second the front door closes behind us. He’s cutting off my air, but it didn’t feel good to breathe any longer anyway. I want to be away from here. Away from me.
It was a mistake to think I would ever be worth getting my happy ending.
Detaching isn’t something that happens all at once.
It’s not a switch I can flip and no longer have to bear the cross of my mother’s death for my father’s benefit.
It’s a slow crawl of fear that starts in my feet, paralyzing me to the spot.
Ice spreads through my veins, turning me into the perfect sculpture I’m expected to be inch by inch.
The cold hurts, my skin prickling as it screams in agony from the burning sensation of being torn inside out. I’m frozen in place, barely aware, unable to scream, or cry, or run, but feeling every bit of the pain and shame until it’s the only thing I am aware of.
In a blizzard the most important thing to do is find shelter. When the cold comes in merciless downfalls of ice and snow and insults, I have my cave to hunker down in until the worst of it has passed.
There’s no bad in this hollow cave I’ve dug out inside my chest where my heart is supposed to live. The ruthless and relentless storm my father is chases me into myself, forces me to shelter in place.
There used to be good things here. Ferris wheels and cotton candy and my mother’s smile. But they lay shattered in broken pieces on the floor. The light from them stolen, leaving this cavernous hole that used to keep me strong, barren and lifeless.
That’s when the cold recedes and the numb gains control. There’s nothing to chase away the cold, make the degradation easier to bear. I’m alone. Locked in my own body without an escape as my father continues to take and take and take.
He’s different today. Angrier. Wanting to punish, not for pleasure. Something far worse. Retaliation. He knows about the guys.
It’s like watching a movie in slow motion.
It’s no longer happening to me. There’s sound but it’s not reaching my ears.
A part of me knows from experience that everything will speed back up, reality will come crashing back into me and I’ll face the consequences.
There will be bruises and scratches that hurt and may even scar.
If there’s an ache between my thighs, it will last for days.
Every move I make will be a sharp reminder of the humiliation and hurt of this betrayal.
Flashbacks will haunt my dreams and memories will stroke my anxiety into a raging fire that I have no chance of controlling.
I’ll withdraw, ruin relationships, hurt myself to feel something.
For weeks it will be hard to exist. Breathing will feel like a chore. I’ll never be warm enough.
But I’ll survive. I got away once. I can do it again.