Page 38 of False Idols

I work him faster, bobbing my head along the length of him until he’s no longer forcing me with the hand at the back of my head.

“Fuck, Nevaeh.” Beau grunts and rocks his hips, bringing them forward to meet my mouth as I slide down the length of him. “I’ve wanted you for years.”

My clit throbs. Years? I almost bring my hand to my clit to touch myself but I don’t, because I don’t want to make Beau angry. I want him to be happy with me, so I keep touching him, but I almost cum from hearing those words come from him. The man that’s been my greatest fantasy, the one that’s ruined me for everyone else, has wanted me. He wanted me after I put him in prison. Are we both as fucked up as the other one? We have to be for any of this to make sense. I moan and start to work Beau faster. I want him to cum, I need him to, because then maybe I will too. Maybe he’ll touch me then. No one’s ever touched me before. The only time I’ve ever felt like this is when I did it. When I was alone at night and the only thing I could think of was Beau and what I would do with him if he was free.

What I had always wished I’d done when I had the chance. But that was with the Beau I knew before. The kind boy, the one that all the girls wanted to date, the ones every family wanted to see turn up on their door asking for permission to court their girls. He was everything I’d been told to want by the church and it had been so easy to fall in love with him as an awkward teenager. Beau had been the standard that I measured every other boy I met. Even with that horrific night, Beau continued to be everything I wanted. Somehow, he’d gotten into my bones, into the marrow and blood that kept me upright and I wasn’t stupid.

I knew Beau hadn’t noticed me. Not with the girls fighting for his attention. They had been just as perfect as him. That’s why he’d been with Carrie that night, but now…she was gone and he was with me. I didn’t care that he only wanted to hurt me now, because no one else had ever had this version of him. The old Beau belonged to everyone, but this one? The dark and angry man that put me on my knees?

This man belongs to me and me alone.

“Get your tits out.” The order is harsh and I can barely understand him, but I try to do what he says. I pull down the front of the top I’m wearing. It’s a sweetheart cut blouse which makes it easy enough, but before I can get my bra down, Beau’s big hands are there. He steps back, his hard dick slides out of my wet mouth when he does. Beau grabs the front of my bra and pulls it forward. I hear the faint snick of a blade opening before he brings the knife to my bra and cuts clean through it with a rough jerk of his hand. I feel a slight sting from the blade sliding over my skin and I know he cut me. I press a hand to my chest and feel the sticky heat of my blood against my palm.

“You cut me,” I whisper. I should scream. I should run. I don’t. I stay exactly where I am while Beau’s knife glints in front of me. He moves it slowly, brings it close and drags the blade along my jaw.

He turns it and presses the flat side of the blade to my lips. “I did, angel.”

“Beau-” I start, but he isn’t done speaking. He turns the knife and flicks the tip of it below my jaw. I freeze, because I can feel the change in energy. The man that whispered my name like a prayer is gone.

“If I cut you, what do you think I’m going to do to that fuck boy out there that thinks he’s going to pop your cherry?” He presses the tip into my skin and I feel the sharp sting of the blade breaking the skin. He cut me again, I know he did. There’s no way he didn’t with the pain in my neck and I swallow hard as a stream of blood comes forward and heats my skin on its way down my neck. Blood drips onto the floor beneath me with a soft tap and my heart starts to pound.

Just because Beau isn’t The Reaper doesn’t mean he won’t hurt me. He’s done it already. The cut on my chest burns more with each second and I can hear my blood dripping onto the floor. Just because he wasn’t the person that killed Carrie Salt doesn’t mean he won’t kill me.

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

“I’ll kill him,” Beau says and digs the blade into me for a second more before he pulls it away and I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding with a whimper. “If he touches you again I’ll cut his heart out and tonight, angel, I’m claiming what’s always been mine.” I hear the telltale snick as Beau closes the knife up. A second later he’s grabbing me. His hands are rough on my body and he hooks his hands under my armpits to hoist me up from my knees. I turn and struggle, because I know that’s what I’m supposed to do.

I’m a good girl. I don’t do this kind of thing. I’m not supposed to have this happen to me. I struggle, but I don’t mean it and I think Beau knows that. He picks me up and carries me forward before he throws me down on my bed. I cry out when I land on my bed face first and hit my bed with a hard bounce. I push myself up and there’s blood on my hands and the sheets in front of me. I can see the dark color of it in the warm light of the nightlight still cheerily lighting the room.

“B-Beau, what are you doing?”

For a split second I don’t know where he is and when I hear the floorboards creak near the door, I think he’s left. It’s then I realize the door is still halfway open and the party that I was terrified someone would hear us from is still raging on outside. Oh god. How did I forget that the party was still going?

I hadn’t cared how loud I was or who heard when Beau had me choking on his dick. I grab at my sheets and try to draw them to my chest when Beau slams the door shut. He locks it, the snap of the lock sliding home is deafening in my now quiet room.

“Beau?” I whisper and slide back on my bed until my back is against the wall. “W-what are you doing?” My voice is shaky and weak. I hate it, but I don’t know how else to be. God what is happening right now? Why do I want it to keep going? Even if Beau hurts me, I want more.

I deserve more from him for what I did. Maybe this is my penance. Maybe this is what was always meant to happen to right the scales for what I did to him.

“I’m making sure no one fucking sees what’s mine,” Beau snaps. He’s angry. I can hear the venom in his voice but I stay where I am as he comes to me.

“I don’t understand.” I’m lying. I know exactly what Beau’s going to take from me tonight.

“Sweet angel, I think you do understand.” My cheeks heat because he knows. He knows me just like I know him. “Isn’t that right?” he asks.

“Yes,” I whisper. I hear the sound of Beau’s belt sliding free and my pulse picks up. What is he going to do with that belt?

“That’s my filthy little liar. You know what you owe me, angel. You are going to give me everything tonight. Isn’t that right?”

Again I whisper my answer. “Yes.”

“You will never let another man touch you. Never let another one fucking feel just how good that mouth of yours is.” Beau’s in front of me now. He plants a knee on the bed and grabs my foot with one hand. He yanks me to him and I cry out when my back hits my bed.

“I’m going to be the first one to feel that perfect fucking virgin cunt,” he says and I squirm in his hold. He drags me forward, right to the edge of the bed and pulls my jeans off with an angry jerk of his hands.

“Beau, please.”

“Please, what?” he asks and tosses my jeans to the side. He leans over me and presses a palm to my still bleeding chest. “Are you going to beg me not to do this, angel?”

---