Page 79 of Under the Bed

I’m on the verge of losing my mind. Or throwing up.

Definitely losing my mind.

I’m about to give in to it. I’ll open my eyes and truly wake up to this sweet, painful hell I’m in.

I won’t.

He touched me while I was out; there’s no denying that. The sting in my breasts means he did something to them. And my pussy, fuck, I’m soaked.

It’s too good. It’s hell on Earth.

I don’t open my eyes, pretending to be asleep.

Kaleb isn’t having it. He’s pulling so hard the roots of my hair burn. He’s hurting me.

A part of me—the sick and depraved part—screams from within to just go with it. Let him have me.

Letmehave him.

The sane part of me is furious at him for many, many reasons. It knows that losing this battle could be the end of both of us.

He has to learn to treat me right.

He has to realize this could end up with him getting caught, damn him.

I won’t clench my thighs. But I want to. It’s humiliating, how much I want it. This degradation. This abuse.

I hated it when those kids forced themselves on me.

I can’t bring myself to hate it now.

I can’t even bring myself to care about it. To worry about what it says about me.

With every passing second, my desire grows. Multiplies. Lust makes me dizzy. My lungs are on fire.

The nausea is all but gone. So is the drowsiness.

I’m in the process of listening to my body. Of checking on my arms that feel stretched. My wrists.

They’re held over my head, but?—

“I know you’re awake.” His voice is demanding.

Tap, tap, tapon my lips. The blunt, smooth head of his cock. A metallic piercing, too, slapping my mouth in a consistent tempo.

It’s the worst.I’mthe worst for being unbelievably hot for this. The urge to slip my tongue out, to have just a little taste?—

No. Even though the pain in my scalp is gone. Even though I need to come so bad I could cry.

I feel awful enough as it is. I’ve already forgiven him for killing my friend. Acquaintance. Whatever.

He has to learn—fuck, my mouth waters to taste the tip of his cock—he seriously has to—what will his piercing feel like when it hits the back of my throat?—that I have boundaries.

Boundaries I’ve set up for him.

For us.

My eyes fly open, taking in the dimly lit room.

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