Page 62 of The Boy I Loved
I didn’t want to relax. I wanted to punch him in the face and take off running. I wanted to hurt him for doing this to me, for treating me like I was nothing more than a hole. And to think, I’d almost hooked up with him of my own free will. Repulsion bubbled up within my abdomen, spreading upwards until acid was pushing to the back of my throat.
I’d never felt so hopeless before.
The hand around my waist drifted upwards until he was settling it over one of my breasts, running his thumb over the nipple beneath the thin, lacey fabric. He pumped his finger in and out of me, my body protesting the movement by refusing to get wet. Ithurt. He didn’t seem that concerned with my pain, though. He forced his finger through the tight barrier, pumping it in and out rapidly.
“Relax,” he gritted out. “It’ll feel better if you do.”
My thighs trembled, something foreign stirring to life in my lower stomach.
God. No.
No part of me wanted this, so why was my body coming to life with pleasure? I attempted to close my legs, but Mason dropped the hand on my breast to my inner thigh and pushed it open again. A whimper of protest rolled off my tongue, dread coiling inside of me like a snake getting ready to strike.
“That’s it, baby.” He panted. “Your body’s responding so fucking well to me.”
I clamped my eyes shut, sucking in deep breath after deep breath. I tried to think of something—anything—else, but anytime my mind drifted, Mason was there, pulling me right back to this nightmare of a reality.
“So … tight.” He thrusted his finger in and out, the moisture causing it to make squelching sounds. He’d touched me before, but we didn’t get far before Dominic stormed into the room. Now, there was no one to save me. He eased a second finger in without warning, electricity shooting down my spine with ferocity. I bit back the moan threatening to escape, holding my breath the best I could.
But it was hard.
It was so fucking hard to pretend it didn’t feel good.
“Soon, it’ll be my cock instead of my fingers,” he assured me, his words coming out ragged. He was getting off on this. I could see it when my eyes dropped down, his cock straining and rising with the promise he made. “Would you like that, Hazel?” he whisperedagainst my ear, making sure no one else could hear. “We were stopped last time. But next time, we won’t be.”
A shudder of repulsion tumbled through me in waves, and I gave the slightest shake of my head. He asked me a question, and I answered. Right now, I didn’t give a fuck if he liked my response or not.
“You will. You’ll want it so bad that you’ll beg for it.”
What did he care if I wanted him or not? This wasn’t about consent. It was about power. None of the others cared about if the girl wanted them or not, and from what I could see, Mason was no different.
“Grind on my dick,” he ordered.
A soft gasp of surprise fluttered past my lips, fear shooting through me. Against my better judgement, I shook my head. Mason responded by hooking his fingers inside, positioning them upwards until I was shaking.
“Do it,” he growled. “Or Iwillfuck you.”
“Y-you can’t,” I stammered, my head whirling. “I thought Clay said?—”
“Do I look like someone who follows the rules?” he shot back. “But if you want to call my bluff, by all means.”
I silently weighed my options. I didn’t doubt he’d follow through with that promise in the slightest. Mason was the kind of guy who took what he wanted, consequences be damned. Blowing out a breath, I repositioned myself over his lap, making his dick settle between my folds. My only consolation was that I got to wear my panties. I rocked forward, bracing my hands on his thighs. Pleasure shot through my core with ferocity, despair following shortly after.
Mason’s breathing grew ragged, his fingers twisting and curling, and finally, a soft moan of pleasure fled from my defenses. He knew what he was doing and I hated it.
I hated it so damn much.
“Please,” I whispered, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. “Please don’t.”
“Don’t what?” he asked, mocking me. “You don’t want to come?”
I shook my head profusely, hoping he’d spare me of this one thing. I’d be good. They could do whatever they wanted to me. But to get off on this … that would be the worst bodily betrayal I could think of.
I could feel it happening. There was a fire sparking within my core, hedging ever so slightly to the edge it threatened to destroy me with. If he didn’t stop, it would happen—sooner rather than later.
He moved his free hand to my throat and squeezed lightly, brushing his thumb over my pulse. My body twitched beneath his grip, my hips still rocking against him as he ordered, but that only made it worse, that only brought me closer. Would it still feel this way if it was an ugly, old man? Or was Mason just attractive and it didn’t matter?
“Come for me,” he growled. “I want to feel you soak my fucking hand with your release. I want everything you have to give until you’re nothing—nobody—just a pathetic girl who couldn’t help herself.”
