Page 37 of False Idols

“I’m sorry.”

“When I am with you, I am your god.”

I gasp before I can stop myself. I don’t know why I do. I don’t think I believe in God anymore. I don’t think I’ve believed in him since the night Carrie Salt died and I probably should have too. If there was a God, why would he put Beau and I together like this?

He chuckles and rubs a thumb over my bottom lip. “Oh, angel, you’re going to have to get used to a lot more from me than that. Now, suck my dick.” I should be scared, but I’m not. At least not truly. I’m curious. I’ve never touched a man like this. I’ve never done anything like this before and now I get to do it with Beau.

My hands shake as I unbuckle his belt and work down his zipper but I manage it. I don’t know what to do and I freeze with my hands just above the top of his boxers. The warm glow of Sunny’s night light washes Beau in a gentle light. The sharp lines and the glare on his face is softened in the warm light. If I concentrate, I can pretend Beau doesn’t hate me. That he isn’t angry with me or that he isn’t doing this to punish me. I can pretend that he actually wants me for me. That what we’re doing is something we both want.

I can pretend that he loves me.

Beau puts a hand to the back of my head and he strokes his fingers through my hair. The gentle touch is light and I almost give into the make believe world where Beau loves me the way I want him to. God, why do I still want that? I shouldn’t. Beau’s light touch turns sharp and he grabs a fistful of my hair and jerks my head back to look up at him. I can see him better at this angle and there’s nothing soft about him.

His eyes are black and he bares his teeth at me in a snarl.

“Faster, Nevaeh or you won’t like what I do to you,” he says and shoves my head away from him. The party is still going on, the light of it pours into the room through the half open door and none of this feels real. How can it be? A week ago Beau Du Pont was locked away and I spent every night in bed thinking about him and hating myself for what I saw that night. Now he’s free, The Reaper is on the hunt again and I’m caught in this twisted thing with Beau.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I don’t know where to look so I drop my eyes to the floor. I don’t know what I’m apologizing for. Not going fast enough to satisfy Beau’s demand or for getting it wrong all those years ago. Either way. “I’m sorry,” I say again and pull his pants and boxers down. Beau is big. Bigger than anything I could have imagined, even though I’ve never seen a dick before. Beau’s dick lays thick and heavy against his thigh. The width of it makes me nervous. I don’t know how I’m going to get my mouth around it. There’s a slight curve to it and the mushroom head of it has a drip of precum already beading at the tip. His balls are big too, they’re darker than his dick and anxiety shoots through me, because I don’t know what to do.

If I mess this up is Beau going to get angrier? What will he do then?

Beau grabs me by the throat and squeezes. “Goddammit, Nevaeh.”

I grab Beau’s hand and try to scream but there’s no air getting to my lungs. The scream is cut off before it makes a sound by the hand on my neck and all I end up doing is choking. I thrash in Beau’s hold but he doesn’t let me go. He holds me tighter, squeezes harder and strokes a hand down my throat while I claw at his hand. I swing a hand at his dick but he catches that with a laugh.

“Oh, angel. I don’t think so.”

I keep fighting Beau, but it’s not long before my vision starts to darken and I feel my arms getting heavier. I sag forward and almost pass out but Beau’s grip on my neck loosens. My body reacts on instinct and my lips part as I gasp and choke. Air fills my lungs, but a second later, Beau grips the side of my face and forces my mouth wider. I can’t take in enough air to stop the burning of my lungs, but I try to manage it anyway. I sob and take another ragged breath as tears slide down my cheeks. I can’t see past my tears and reach out, grabbing onto Beau’s thighs to steady myself, but he slaps my hands away and I almost fall over again. He steadies me with the hand gripping my face that still keeps my mouth from closing. I try to speak, but I can’t form words, not with the way he’s holding me. He digs his fingers into my cheeks and I cry out from the pain of it. It feels like he’s prying my jaw apart, but no matter how hard I try, there’s no getting away from him.

Beau gives my face a shake. “I said you weren’t going to like it, now didn’t I?” He growls as he shoves his dick into my mouth and down my throat. Fresh tears fill my eyes when he hits the back of my throat, but I’m powerless with the hold Beau has on me. I’m still weak from the lack of air and all I can do is brace my hands on his thighs while he starts to thrust. I’m grateful he’s at least letting me hold myself up now. He rolls his hips and the fat length of him moves over my tongue. I can taste him. Salty and musky. It’s a taste I’ve never had before, but I’ve heard the girls in youth group talk about it.

They made it sound terrible. Like the taste of cum is worse than death, but it’s not like that with Beau. But what do I know? Maybe the worst is yet to come, but I don’t know if that’s true with the way Beau’s hand on my face has started to relax. He isn’t digging his fingers into my face like he wants to rip my jaw in half. He’s touching me softer now and his hand moves lower until it’s cupping my jaw. He slides his thumb along my bottom lip before he moves into my mouth. He slides it in and out of my mouth in a mimic of his dick. He shifts closer and moves a hand to the back of my head before he gives a hard thrust and feeds me the full length of his dick. I choke and try to pull away from him when he holds himself there. He’s so deep in my throat and I can’t breathe. I push at his hips but he’s too big to move and he feels like solid stone beneath my hands. I’m not moving him. I’m not getting away from the hard length shoved down my throat and cutting off my air. Panic fills me and I try to jerk back, but then I hear Beau speak.

“Nevaeh.” Beau’s voice is low and deep. Beau says my name like a whispered prayer and the sound of it surprises me. It’s almost tender. “Filthy, beautiful, Nevaeh.”

My body feels warm because, even though he isn’t saying the sweet things I always imagined from him, the way he’s saying these dirty words to me is just how I thought they would sound. The tone. The timbre. The longing. I can hear it all there and I want more.

“That’s it. You’re going to be my dirty fucking slut now, aren’t you?”

I stop fighting him but I don’t know what to say. I’ve never had anyone talk to me like this. I try to pull myself off of his dick, it’s still filling my mouth and throat. Spit pools in my mouth and drips down my chin and onto the floor.

He groans and grabs one of my hands and brings them to his balls. He cups my hand around them and gives my hand a light squeeze. “Gentle, or I’ll slit your fucking throat. You can be gentle for me, can’t you, angel?” Again the praise mixed with his cruel and filthy words sets my body on fire and I feel myself start to get wet. I press my thighs together and try to breathe through my nose, but Beau’s free hand is back around my neck and no matter how hard I try, I can’t get enough air. My throat tightens and I can still feel his hand on my neck, cutting off my air. I thought Beau wouldn’t hurt me. Not really. But I don’t know anymore. Even so, I can’t deny the rush of adrenaline that floods my body, or the way my clit aches when he touches me.

He grunts and starts to thrust, the wet sound of his dick moving in and out of my mouth mingles with my stuttered gasps for air and I blush. It’s stupid, I know it is. Why am I blushing like the bashful virgin I was trying to muster up the courage to talk to my crush and not like the woman Beau’s forced to her knees like a supplicant to an angry god.

“You’re perfect.”

Those two words make me dizzy. When I look up at Beau, I see he’s watching me. His eyes are on my face and it’s like nothing else exists in the world to him. Every move I make, he sees. Every breath I choke on, he drinks up. I know he likes it when I choke, because he thrusts deeper then, the hard length of him sliding past my lips and down my throat with a satisfied groan. I should hate it and want to get away from him, but I don’t. Because that’s also when he praises me the most.

“You’re mine.”

“That’s it, angel.”

“You take me so good. I knew you would.”

It’s all like a drug to me and I’m addicted. I don’t know how long I’m on my knees or how I’ve managed to stay conscious with so little air but one second bleeds into the next and all there is in my world is Beau. I stroke him the way he likes best from the moans he gives me, cradling him in my palm and sliding my fingers over him while I take him down my throat and swirl my tongue over the tip of his cock when he slides past my lips. I bring my free hand up and start to slide it along the length of his dick, squeezing it hard at the base when I hear his breath hitch.

“That’s it, angel. Faster. That’s my fucking whore.”

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