He pops the caps then hands me a bottle when he sits back down next to me.
“I know he’s not the ideal choice, and I wasn’t even going to mess with him, but he’s working with me on an event and we’re spending a lot of time together. I dunno . . .” I take a sip of my beer, and then add, “Time will only tell, but I can already see the intrigue. But I just met him, so I’m still trying to figure him out.”
“And what do you think so far?”
“I think he’s the type of guy who likes to have control. But at the same time, he seems amused when I get snarky with him. I already planted the seed that I’m a person that might need to be saved.” I laugh at the memory of being in his car just a couple hours ago. “I’m pretty sure he bought right into it. Stupid fool.”
“Has he touched you yet?” he clips.
“No, Pike. I’ve known the guy for a week; you know I don’t work that way. Men like to chase, so I’m gonna make him chase until he can’t resist.”
“You think he could possibly fall for you?”
“I’m hoping he does,” I tell him.
“I do too. I’m sick of living like this, babe. You have no idea,” he says as he clutches my face in his hands and looks me over. “Knowing that f**k has his hands on you . . .”
“I don’t feel it.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not,” I say, but I am. I try so hard to not feel Bennett’s hands on me. I work at staving off any orgasm with him, and I hate myself when my body isn’t strong enough to fight it and he makes me come. It happens every now and then and the bile that rises is a burning reminder of the weakness that still lives inside of me. A weakness I continue to try to kill off, but Pike would be pissed if he knew, so I lie, allowing him to believe that only he has that part of me. The part his eyes are telling me he wants right now.
“Tell me you hate him, Elizabeth,” he grits as he crawls on top of me, pushing my back down on the couch.
“I hate him.”
With a near growl, he crashes his mouth to mine, and the beer slips out of my hand, clanking against the floor. His tongue invades my mouth, hands grab locks of my hair, body pressing hard against mine. He takes over me, grinding his hard dick between my legs as I start fiddling with the buttons on his jeans. Once undone, I shove them down, past his hips, and he yanks mine down as well. We move quickly and carelessly. He sits back and jerks the pants off one of my legs.
“Show me your tits,” he demands, looking down at me.
I pull my top off and unclasp my bra, tossing it aside, and his rough hands are on them quick. He then takes his c**k and pulls off a couple hard pumps while he twists one of my ni**les between his fingers, sending a shockwave straight to my belly.
“You want me to take it away?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Say it. Tell me that you need me to take it away.”
He continues his torturous attack on my nipple before releasing and moving to the other. Pike knows I need him to numb. He’s always allowed me to use him like this. To numb the pain. Numb the past. Numb the present. Fucking Pike is my personal narcotic, and I’m long overdue for a hit. The words are near agony, when I give him what he loves to hear, “You’re the only who can make it go away, Pike.”
He lowers his head, sucking the abused bud into his mouth.
“Ohh, God, Pike. Fuck me. Just do it,” I beg.
He quickly rips his shirt off, revealing the ink splayed across his chest and arms, before shoving my panties to the side and thrusting himself inside me. A volatile transgression as the sounds of our flesh slapping together fill the room. I grab his ass, urging him harder, and he gives it, pounding into me.
Closing my eyes, I drift away to where nothing exists but the pleasure that builds inside. His carnal grunts heat my ear with his breath as he buries his head in the crook of my neck. We f**k filthy, like animals. The denim of his jeans that are shoved below his ass chafe the backs of my thighs while we grind ourselves into each other, my butt off the couch as I meet his thrusts with my own. Greedy.
He grabs my hips as he sits back on his knees, bringing my pu**y up to him when he starts slamming into me at a brutal pace.
“Fuck, Pike,” I pant as I reach both my arms over my head and grip the arm of the couch.
The swell of his dick inside of me as he gets close causes an eruption of fire, singeing its way through my veins as he makes me come. I go rigid, tensing up to get the most out of the orgasm, grinding my clit against his pelvis. A few seconds later he crashes into me and stills, letting go of a guttural hiss, as he shoots his tranquilizing disease inside of me.
Collapsing his sweaty chest on top of mine, our labored breaths are heavy, and I’m pacified. For as long as I keep my eyes closed so I don’t have to see the best friend that I just used, I’m okay.
Pike gives me a sick power that I crave. The power to take control, if even for a moment. Using him to clean me of the rot that contaminates me. And he gets off on being the one who can do that. To be the only person who can take it away, making my body a tomb. But now, as he slips his softening dick out from inside me, his warm cum running between my thighs when I sit up, I’m bathed in degradation, and he knows it. It’s always the same.
He pulls me into his arms as he sits back after tugging his pants up. With his hand rubbing my back, I swallow hard as I attempt to control the feelings of shame.
“Why do you still feel this way?” he asks, knowing me all too well.