Chapter 7

DYLAN

“What’sthe problem if the bitch likes it?” Bryce asked, laughing as he grabbed the hair of the blonde girl giving him head and shoving her further down his cock.

She gagged and struggled in his grasp and my stomach went tight but I couldn’t look away. “I don’t know. I’m not sure she likes it.”

I also wasn’t sure if I wanted to rip Bryce’s hands off the girl and help her to the elevator and out of the building or if I wanted to rip Bryce’s hands off the girl and shove her down on my own cock. Fuck, even the thought—I’ve been stiff for the last fifteen minutes ever since Bryce texted her and she came right over. He ordered her on her knees and she’s been there ever since while we kept on gaming and talking.

Bryce was cool. I met him an MIT Alumni dinner where he and I started chatting. He was like me. He was making shit happen even though he was in his mid-twenties. His company was already gaining recognition and getting international tech contracts. We were the new fucking generation in tech and we were gonna be the next power players.

But Bryce worked hard and played harder. The more I hung out with him, the more I saw shit like this. The wild parties he threw, the way he treated the girls he always had around—

Bryce rolled his eyes and pulled the blonde girl up by her hair. She winced in pain and there were tears in her eyes. “Do you want to leave?” he snapped at her.

She shook her head quickly.

“Then what the fuck are you doing? Suck my fucking cock!” With that, Bryce shoved her back down on his dick.

I frowned even as my cock gave a little jolt in my pants. Bryce just laughed. “Lighten the fuck up. Jesus. You’re only twenty-three. Besides, you already told me you had a good time at my party the other night.”

I can’t help nodding at that. Fuck yeah I had a good time the other night. A disturbingly good time. That girl had been like this one, passive and willing to do whatever Bryce demanded.

The question was, why? Were they just into kink, like Bryce said? The girl sucking Bryce’s cock right now didn’t seem to be having a very good time.

Bryce reassured me earlier that neither this girl or the girl from the other night was a prostitute. I think I might have felt better if they were. That would have at least made sense to me. They’d be getting something out of it I could understand. Then I could get why they stayed.

I put my hand to the back of my neck uncomfortably and then pulled out my phone. “I gotta bounce. Promised my sister I’d take her out to the movies.”

Bryce choked out a laugh. “You’d rather babysit than get a blow job? You know I always share. I was gonna give you the bitch when she’s done with me.”

I just shook my head.

“Damn. You got a warped sense of priorities, brother.”

I rolled my eyes as I left. Bryce was cool but he could be a real dick sometimes. Didn’t mean I wasn’t thinking about the girl sucking him off as I drove home. Was he fucking her now? She was probably a slut if she just came over and immediately dropped to her knees to suck him off like that. Dad was always warning me to watch out for weak-willed sluts who’d be after me just for the family money.

Like Mom.

I frowned. I didn’t like to think about Mom like that but Dad called her a money-grubbing slut often enough. When I was young, every time there’d be some really ugly scene, Dad would buy her some new jewelry. I’d always hear her brag about it to her friends, how he still doted on her and then she’d show off the new diamond bracelet or ring or earrings.

Why else had she stayed all these years and put up with Dad’s shit? Did she stay just because of the prenup? She lost everything if she left him. Or did she, in some twisted way, like what he did to her?

Her obsession the past few years had become plastic surgery instead of diamonds and I’d heard her scream, Not in the face! one time when dad was wailing on her, like they had some pact where he wouldn’t hit her in her brand new face.

I was sixteen and I ran in when she screamed. Dad was fucking her. I ran at his back and wrestled him off her. I’d just hit a growth spurt and I was finally big enough to take him on. But Dad wouldn’t fight me. He just shoved me off him.

Ask the slut if she wants it, was all he’d said.

And I’d turned to Mom. She’d pulled her skirt down and her head was bowed. Mom, I’ll get you out of here. Let’s go, I begged. Right now. You don’t have to stay here with this—

But she just cut me off. Enough. I’m fine, Dylan. Leave us alone. Now. Don’t try to get involved in things you don’t understand.

Mom—

Get out of here!

I ran but I didn’t make it out of the front door before I heard dad start up again, rutting her like she was a common whore.

I hadn’t understood it back then. I thought dad was just a monster. But now, thinking back to the woman from Bryce’s party the other night… That chick was one hot piece of ass and she’d gotten off on everything we’d done to her. A room full of guys. And she just kept cumming, no matter what we did. Spanking. Slapping her tits. Spitting. She fucking loved all of it.

I’d left early but today, before the blonde got there, Bryce showed me footage taken that night. Bryce said the video was from the end of the night, long after I’d left. The girl had looked like a broken doll, so worn out she couldn’t even get up on her knees anymore. But when Bryce fucked her, hard, using her body more roughly than any porno I’d ever seen, she still came.

So maybe some bitches really did just like it like that.

Fuck, even thinking about it now was enough to make me hard. I frowned deeper as I adjusted myself and pulled into the garage of our family house. The only time I ever came by here anymore was to hang out with my little sister. I looked through some baseball stats on my phone till my stiffy was gone, then hopped out of my car and went inside looking for Chloe.

The garage entrance was close to the kitchen, so I popped in and grabbed an apple, calling out, “Chloe?” and taking a big bite of the crisp fruit. It was October and the apple was hard and sweet.

I chewed and swallowed, walking through the first floor with its lofty ceilings. All the white furniture was spotless, as always. Not a piece out of place. Nor any evidence that any humans actually lived there. Just like Mom liked it.

“Mom? Chloe?”

I turned around after checking in the TV room and finding it empty.

Jesus this place was lifeless. I should call Dare and make him come over for dinner sometime this week. We saw or Skyped each other almost every day as we were getting Lennox Brothers off the ground. We’d almost finished getting our first round of investor funding. Darren was the charismatic face of the company and I was the engineering brains.

But more than that, it was really fucking cool to get to know my brother as a man. We’d lost touch for a few years there while I was out on the east coast at MIT and he went to Stanford. But he was a good guy and well… it meant a lot to me to be able to build a business with someone from my family. Someone from my family I wasn’t ashamed of.

Not to mention, Dare didn’t just know how to work hard, he knew how to have fun—something I wasn’t always the best at. He helped me not take life so damn seriously all the time.

But while things between me and Darren were better than ever, Chloe was still stuck here in this house with my parents. She deserved more than a once a month drop in from her oldest brother. Dare and I should be coming by for dinner once a week. Maybe on Sundays. Just to make sure Dad wasn’t getting too out of line and to make sure she was doing good in school. And to double check there weren’t any boys sniffing around.

Sure, she could start dating eventually. Maybe when she was like thirty-five.

I headed upstairs. Chloe was probably in her room with her noise-canceling headphones on, watching YouTube, totally lost to the world.

I smiled and shook my head as I jogged up the last of the stairs and turned the corner.

And heard a muffled scream. But this time, it wasn’t Mom. It was too high-pitched. Girlish.

“Chloe!” I yelled, sprinting for her door at the end of the hallway. “Chloe!”

But her door was locked.

Her door was locked and I couldn’t get to her.

“Chloe!” I screamed again, throwing my shoulder against the door. “CHLOE!”

“Dylan. Dylan! Wake up!”

Someone’s trying to hold me back from getting to her, arms around my chest trying to hold me back. No. “Chloe!”

I fight until I hear a female cry of pain that has me freezing and blinking in confusion. Wait, wha—

I’m not in my parent’s house. I’m not— I’m not—

I look around in confusion.

And see Miranda with eyes as wide as saucers, holding her arm to her chest like— Like it was hurt. Oh Jesus fuck, like I hurt her—

“Dylan,” she whispers. “Who’s Chloe?”

I have to get the fuck out of here.

Now.

I whip the sheets off of me and head for the door, grabbing my clothes and stumbling into my pants as I go.

I should never have listened to Dr. Laghari. What the fuck was I thinking? I’m so fucking stupid. I’m a fucking monster exactly like Dad. That’ll never change. It’s in my fucking DNA. The first woman I try to get close to in years and she ends up— Jesus, I couldn’t even go one night without hurting her.

“Dylan,” she calls after me. “Dammit, Dylan!”

She’s fast and she catches up to me before I can get to the front door. She scurries around me and blocks the door with her body.

“What the fuck?” she asks, eyes blazing in the light of the kitchen we never turned off earlier. She didn’t bother to throw anything on so she’s still completely naked. She’s absolutely fucking glorious.

And not for you.

I avert my eyes. “I have to go.” I say it in a tone that brooks no argument and reach around her for the doorknob but she blocks my hand with her hip.

“The fuck you do. What was that about? You had a nightmare. That’s all.”

What the fuck— Is she really going to stand there and deny that I— “I hurt you!”

“On accident! While you were asleep.” She throws her hands up in exasperation. “So next time I won’t body wrestle you to wake you up if you’re having a nightmare. You flail. It’s understandable. Lesson learned.”

But I’m already shaking my head. She doesn’t understand. I’m a violent man. Dangerous. Jesus Christ, didn’t she learn anything from the first night we met?

What the fuck time is it anyway? A quick glance toward the window shows it’s still dark out.

“I have to go,” I say, voice icy. “This was a mistake. One that won’t happen again.”

She scoffs. “You said that the first time, remember?”

I breathe out in frustration. What the hell can I say that will get her to move?

I’m about two seconds from bodily lifting her out of the way when suddenly she stops blocking the door and instead slips her arms around my waist. She squeezes me and buries her head against my chest.

Instead of obstinate, her voice is soft when she whispers, “I’m sorry you had a nightmare. I’m so sorry. It sounded horrible. You don’t have to, but I’m here to listen if you want to talk about it.”

Then she squeezes me tight again, like she’s using all her strength. I– I– No one’s— I stumble a step backwards and she just follows, still hugging me.

No one’s hugged me like this since Chloe.

I choke as I try to swallow hard at the thought.

I don’t deserve—

But at the same time it feels so good. Welcome home, her embrace seems to say.

NO. This isn’t how— I need to leave.

But she just keeps hugging me and after several more long seconds, my arms that have been stiff hovering in the air finally settle down around her.

The second I do, it’s like my body has a mind of its own. It sinks against her like candle wax melting into a mold.

A Miranda shaped mold.

And it’s more than on the outside.

Every space she’s empty, I want to fill. It’s a longing so fierce and sudden, I feel a little short of breath.

What the fuck am I doing?

Am I coming or going? I don’t fucking know.

Going. You should be going. You’ll only hurt her in the end. More than you already have.

But when she whispers, “Come back to bed,” I can only shake my head.

I feel her disappointment when she whispers, “oh,” and her shoulders fall. But it’s only because she’s misunderstood me.

I quickly clarify by cupping her cheeks and lifting her face to me, exposing that mouth that I’m becoming fucking addicted to.

I kiss her and she’s just as sweet as earlier when I couldn’t get enough of her. The way she kisses. It’s like she’s surprised every time, opening her mouth on a gasp to me. Her tongue is questioning and eager against mine and it drives me fucking crazy.

I push her up against the door she was blocking and grab both her arms, slamming them to the wood up above her head.

I’m hard again. Somehow. Christ knows I could never go this many times in one night back before my self-imposed bout of celibacy. Maybe it’s just because my dick is excited to be near a flesh and blood woman again but no, I know it’s more than that.

It’s her.

With the hand not holding her wrists, I reach down and grab her buttocks, squeezing hard and then giving a sharp smack. She yelps and arches her breasts into my chest.

I didn’t have time to actually button my slacks earlier which is good because I can’t stand another second not being inside her.

I jerk my pants down over my ass and then hike her up against the door, impaling her ruthlessly the next second.

I feel her full body shudder as she arches into me even further. “Yesssss,” she hisses.

Yes.

She’s not saying no or even pretending to struggle. But I’m still hard. Rock hard with no sign of it changing any time soon.

I pull back from her, breathing hard as I look at her in confusion. What does it mean? Could she be— Could she cure me? Could I finally have sex without needing to—

She doesn’t seem to be in the mood for deep thought at the moment, though, because she dips her head to kiss me again, biting at my bottom lip and digging her fingers into my hair, nails dragging down my scalp.

Fuck but she’s so goddamned hot.

I pull out and then slam in again, rattling the door in its frame with the force of my thrust. She only wraps her legs around me and squeezes around my shaft harder. Jesus Christ but I’ve never been with anyone who could—

I let out a low growl and thrust my tongue back in her mouth. I have one hand under her thigh to support her but I drop the other one down as well. This one I reach further around.

And shove a finger up her ass.

Her entire body reacts. It’s like I just jabbed her with a cattle prod, she’s so sensitive back there after I reamed her out earlier. Just the thought sends satisfaction rumbling throughout my body and my cock gets stiffer.

So much for being cured.

But as deep inside her as I am, I can’t give a fuck.

So I shove a second finger inside her backside and love how her grasp around my neck tightens. It’s more like she’s holding on for dear life now.

Like I’m her bouy in a storm—even though I am the storm.

I lose it. Absolutely fucking lose it.

I fuck her ruthlessly. And I don’t come quick. I draw it out. Long minutes fucking her up against the door. Five minutes. Ten.

We’re both sweating. I work out five times a week and still my muscles are straining to the max but I don’t want to stop.

I want to take Miranda there. To the brink. I want to push her. I want to hurt her. To break and remake her. I want everything she fucking has.

I take her to the edge of coming and when she’s about to go over, I still all my movements, leaving her frustrated. Over and over and over until she’s crying and begging and exhausted with fucking.

And then and only then do I give it to both of us

In one last burst of strength, I pull back and then slam her repeatedly against the door, grinding my hips and swirling to give her the satisfaction she’s been craving.

She comes with a high-pitched cry, tears streaming down her cheeks as she buries her head against my neck. I pump into her, finally allowing my own release as well.

I’m all but dizzy as I use the very last of my strength to carry her back to the bedroom and we both collapse exhausted into bed. And I mean fucking exhausted. Worn out, soul spent, exhausted. But it’s a clean tired, which might sound funny, cause that sex was dirty and hot as fucking hell.

But shit, I can’t even think any more, because I swear Miranda just sucked out my life force through my dick and I crash to the pillow.

I thought after all that I’d be out like a light.

And maybe I do fall asleep for a few minutes.

Miranda is stroking her fingers through my hair. Somehow instead of ending up with her in my arms, I’ve ended up in hers, my head on her ample chest.

Maybe some part of me is too wary of falling back asleep again, though. What if I have another nightmare? The second the thought passes through my brain, I instantly become more alert.

I can hear her heartbeat thudding through her chest and it’s so… nice. Peaceful. I’ve never laid like this with a woman before.

So many firsts with this woman.

She keeps stroking my hair and I think any second she’ll stop, that she’ll drop off to sleep, but her breathing never slows or evens out.

I settle in, soothed like a beast by her petting.

“You’re good at that,” I murmur.

She laughs and I love the way I can feel it rumbling throughout her body.

“You have good hair,” she says, grazing her nails gently along my scalp before rubbing circles at my temples with her thumbs.

We don’t say anything else for long minutes. Her touch is too soothing. It would be too easy to drop back off to sleep and I can’t fucking do that.

The image of her holding her arm to her chest flashes through my head. Followed by another image—my sister, curled in a ball on her bed. I’m instantly more awake.

Eventually her hand slows, she finally stops stroking my hair, and I hear her breathing ease.

But I don’t allow myself to fall back asleep for the rest of the night. I checked the clock beside her bed. She set it for six-thirty. I slip out of her house at six-twenty-five after one last, lingering look at the woman who is far, far too good for me.

If I were any kind of honorable man, I’d never look back.