Down and Out

The first floor of the penthouse buzzes with energy as people move on the dance floor. Colorful lights flash in time with the music, illuminating all their happy, smiling faces.
Being here makes me feel like an imposter. I’d go home, if I didn’t think it’d be worse than this.
“Cheer up, babe. This is your night.” Macy sits next to me on one of the plush benches lining the outskirts of the dance floor.
I force a smile at her as she hands me a neon drink in a martini glass. Here she is, looking all pretty and expecting a fun night out, and I’m being such a Debbie Downer. I suck.
Exhaling, I bring the glass up to my mouth. “Sorry. I just wish Declan was here and that we weren’t. . .” I shrug and take a sip of the fruity concoction, feeling the burn from the alcohol as it settles into my belly.
“Fighting?” she muses before taking her own sip.
“Fighting. Broken. A couple of jackasses. Take your pick,” I say, downing the rest of my drink.
Macy sighs. “Look, babe, you’ve got three options: you either move out, or you stay and try to have a real relationship with him.”
Both options terrify me. “What’s the third option?” Go back in time and keep it in my pants? ’Cause I think I’d like to take that one.
“The third option is a delayed variation of the first. You stay and try to go back to being just roommates. One of you will start dating again, and the other will most likely have to hear it at night. You’ll both wind up hurting each other and eventually it’ll fester into hate, at which point you’ll move out anyway.” Meeting my eyes, she says slowly and succinctly, “I do not suggest this option.”
With aching clarity, I realize she’s right. Tonight’s the most we’ve talked since our blow-up two weeks ago, and it wasn’t exactly productive. If we keep this up we’ll end up hating each other, and I don’t want that. I don’t think Declan does either.
“You can always move in with me, if you want. Kelsey’s one thrust away from getting her ass kicked to the curb.”
Staring at the writhing bodies on the dance floor, I absently nod. “I might have to take you up on that.”
“Do you love him?”
Macy’s question grabs my attention, and I frown, wondering if I heard her right. “Love?” I splutter. “Whoa, nobody ever said anything about love. We were never that serious. It was just sex.” Even as I say it, I know it’s not true. It was more than sex. But love? I don’t think so.
It doesn’t matter anyway, not after what I did tonight. I f*cked up. I really f*cked up. Declan said it himself, he’s done. I’ve pushed him too far.
Shit, he’s probably going to ask me to move out when I get home, lease or not. My throat aches at the thought, and I try to swallow down the knot.
I knew this would happen eventually and that it would hurt, but I never expected this magnitude of pain. It’s crippling, and it’s my own damn fault. I should’ve kept him at arm’s length, just like everybody else. Then I wouldn’t be in this mess. I’d be . . . well, not whole, but a lot more intact than I am right now.
I heave myself off the bench, trying to wipe my eyes as inconspicuously as I can. “All right, let’s go get good and drunk. I think I’ve had enough drama for the night.”

“Who was he? He’s cute,” Macy says as she approaches, craning her neck to get a better look at the retreating form of the guy I just shot down. He’s the third guy to come up to me tonight and say, “So you’re a fighter, huh?”
I think it’s safe to say those guys were less interested in me as a woman and more interested in bagging a “fighter,” so I politely told them all to take a hike. I’ve got my hands full with a certain fighter of my own right now, and I’m not looking to take on anyone else.
Especially when I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the sex wouldn’t even compare to said fighter.
Yep, I’m ruined, all right.
Taking the drink she’s holding out to me, I scrunch up my face. “Cute? I don’t think so. That guy’s a troll.” ’Course I might be a little biased towards beautiful, tattooed men now, but still. . . “Cute” is not a word I’d use to describe that guy.
I snatch her drink from her and quickly down it. “I’m officially cutting you off. Your vagina will thank me for it tomorrow morning when you wake up alone.”
Macy tries to glare at me, but she’s too buzzed to keep it up. “I don’t know, my vagina’s been pretty lonely lately. I think it’s got cobwebs.”
I choke on my drink, my eyes watering as it burns my windpipe. When I can finally breathe, I wheeze out an “Oh my god.”
She giggles, but it quickly dies out as she spots something behind me. Her brown eyes become large, almost entranced, as she breathes, “Holy shit, why didn’t you tell me there were two of them?”
“What?” I frown and turn around, my jaw going slack at the sight of Declan and Blake walking through the crowd.
What’s he doing here?
A tiny flare of hope surges in my chest, but it’s dashed as I register Declan’s tightly drawn brows and the tense way he’s carrying himself. He looks anxious. Why does he look anxious?
“Hey,” he says, stopping in front of me. “We need to talk.”
Oh, God, he’s going to do it, isn’t he? He’s about to ask me to move out.
I glance at Blake, but his expression’s inscrutable. Ice shoots through my veins, making it hard to move from my spot. I seem to be frozen in place.
With horrifying clarity, I realize this is it. This is how it ends.
Surprisingly, I’m not at all prepared.
I look down at Declan’s arms, to the long sleeves he’s pushed up his forearms. I’ll miss those arms. And that face. And that smile. The dimples. . .
Nodding slowly, I say, “Okay.” It takes everything in me to get that one little word out.
I turn to Macy, but she’s too busy watching Blake with barely concealed lust. “Will you be okay by yourself for a bit?”
She nods and waves me off without even looking at me. “I’m fine. Go.”
Blake’s mouth perks up into a grin. “Don’t worry, Kitten, I’ll keep your girl entertained while you’re gone.”
Declan scowls as soon my nickname leaves Blake’s lips. He hits him on the chest and turns his back to us, lowering his voice to say something to Blake. It sounds kind of like, “Don’t entertain her too much.”
I set our glasses on a nearby table and follow Declan away from the crowded living area and down a winding hallway with several doors. He stops at the first one and tries the handle. When it opens, he gives the room a cursory glance before ushering me inside.
It’s a decently-sized guest room, with its own private bath. The curtains are open, the lights from the city below casting a faint glow through the otherwise dark room. A queen-sized bed sits in the middle of the room, neatly made with clean lines, just like the rest of the penthouse’s modern furnishings.
The door closes behind Declan and the sound of the lock sliding into place has me turning around to face him. Might as well get this over with.
“I know what you’re going to say, and I’m totally in agreement. I should move out.” I try to remain calm and detached as I say it, like that can somehow make this easier. It doesn’t, of course, but it needs to be done. It hurts too much to stay, and I can’t bear to hear him ask me to leave. So I’ll make the break, and I’ll try to make it as clean as possible. “I’ll be out by this weekend.”
I expect him to look relieved or happy. Instead, I’m shocked to see him look . . . well, shocked.
He’s looking at me like I’ve shot him.
Releasing a ragged breath, his brows draw tight. “What? Why?”
“Why?” Anger rushes me as I repeat his question. Declan wavers in my vision as tears threaten to spill, and I clench my jaw, trying to keep them in check. “Why wouldn’t I? Declan, tonight’s the first time we’ve said more than five words to each other in two weeks! Why would I stay for more of your punishment?”
He winces, but I’m not sure if it’s from my words or the heartbroken way they poured out of me. Declan presses his hands together, touching the sides of his fingers to his lips. His eyes burn into me as he says, “Is that what you think? That I’m punishing you?” He steps forward. “Savannah, I’m not mad at you, I’m hurt. You agreed to do this fight without even talking to me about it. And no, you don’t need permission,” he says, holding up a hand to stop me from arguing, “but a discussion about it would’ve been nice. It’s a big decision, and you didn’t even think to include me in it. I was just an afterthought to you, and it f*cking broke my heart.” He shakes his head, his mouth pressed tight. “I trade punches for a living, but nobody can hurt me like you. Nobody can land a hit like you and leave me as breathless and torn up.”
His voice rises with every impassioned word, and I’m left here, speechless and floored.
“Why can’t you see that?” he continues. “Why can’t you see how much I care? Why can’t you see that I’d do anything for you!”
“I’m not asking you to do anything for me!” I can’t help but feel defensive, especially now that I realize our rift was my fault. Here I’ve spent all this time being mad at him and blaming him when it was me who did us in.
“You don’t have to!” he shouts back. “I want to do stuff for you. I want to take care of you, Kitten—”
“I said don’t call me that.” Feeling a tear hit my lip, I smack his hand away as he reaches for me. It still hurts to hear that name, and I feel stupid for getting attached to it in the first place. “I’m not your Kitten anymore.”
His jaw tightens. “Yes, you are.” The words come out thick and sure. His eyes—swimming with such depth and emotion—absolutely destroy me when they turn shiny with unshed tears.
My throat burns with the force of trying to hold everything in. All I can do is shake my head no.
Declan closes the space between us, cupping my jaw and making me look up at him. “Yes. As long as I’m alive and breathing, you’ll be my Kitten. It doesn’t matter how many miles you put between us or how much time passes. I’ll never not think of you as mine.”
His fingers trail down my arms as he sucks in a shaky breath. “These hands?” He brings my hands up to his face and kisses the back of each one. “These fingers?” he says, kissing the pads. “Mine. All of it.” He looks down and rubs the base of my left ring finger as a lone tear drops down his cheek. “It doesn’t matter if it has someone else’s ring on it someday.” Giving me the world’s saddest smile, he says, “It’ll still be mine.”
My eyes sting as this unnamed emotion wells inside me. It’s suffocating. Painful.
“And this?” He presses his palm over my heart, and I glance down at the anchor on the back of his hand—anything to keep from having to look at the tortured expression on his face. “It beats faster when I touch you, doesn’t it?”
My traitorous heart jumps in response, which has the side of his mouth curving up. As my heart spastically thumps against his hand, Declan’s thumb traces the little valley of skin exposed by the cowl neck of my dress.
“That’s because it’s mine,” he says. “You can pretend like it’s not all you want, but the heart doesn’t lie.”
The damn thing skips a beat as my stomach does what’s written on his knuckles, underneath the anchor.
He takes my hand in his free one and places it atop his heart. “You feel that? Those wild, crazy beats? You do that to me,” he says, pressing my palm into his chest so I can feel every erratic pound.
I shake my head, feeling moisture spill down my face in a steady stream. “Stop,” I cry, trying to pull my hand away.
But he doesn’t. He places his other hand atop mine, trapping it to his chest. “I can’t stop, Savannah. Don’t you get it yet? I love you. I love you so much it f*cking hurts, so much I can’t even f*cking breathe, and your constant indifference to it breaks my heart every goddamn day.”
My eyes shoot up to his as the air rushes out of my lungs. Did he just say he loves me? He can’t love me. That’s just. . .
Anxiety seizes up my throat, closing off my airway as my mind spirals out of control. “You can’t love me. You can’t. I—”
What have I done? How did I let things get this far? Real feelings weren’t supposed to get involved and they certainly weren’t supposed to get hurt. Oh, God, this is too much.
None of this was supposed to happen.
Declan’s chest rises and falls rapidly. “I do. My heart belongs to you. It’s worthless to me without you, so if you leave, you better take it with you. I don’t want it if you’re not here. It’ll be dead and broken, so put me out of my misery now and just take it, please.” A tear slips down and hits his cheek as he desperately clings to my hand over his heart. “Take it!”
“I don’t want it.” I choke on a sob. I swear I can feel his heart shatter and break underneath my fingertips, and I hate myself for hurting him, but it’s true.
I don’t want his heart. It’s too much responsibility, and I wouldn’t have any idea how to take care of something so precious. I don’t know how to be something to someone, and I don’t want to be. It leaves too much room to get hurt. I just never stopped to think the person getting hurt would be Declan instead of me, and for that, I’m truly sorry.
I wish I could be as brave as him and trek into the unknown with my head held high and my heart wide open, but I can’t, and I’m a f*cking coward for it. Declan deserves someone with more faith—someone whose heart isn’t defective and can love him back the way he deserves to be loved. I’m not sure I’d be able to love him so freely, without reservation, and it’s not fair of me to lead him on in the hopes of trying to figure it out.
He deserves more. And I hope one day he’ll find it. But in order for him to do that, I need to let him go.
Declan’s expression flickers. “You don’t mean that. You’re scared and you’re just trying to push me away.”
“I’m sorry if I led you on. This was just supposed to be temporary, Declan. I told you in the beginning, if we do this, then it’s purely physical.” I bite my bottom lip to keep it from trembling as I shrug and force out the next few words. “We f*cked twice. That’s not a relationship, it’s just sex.”
He lets his hands fall from mine. “You’re really gonna do this? You’re really gonna downplay what we have?” He laughs bitterly and shakes his head. “Wow. You’re even more f*cked up than I thought.”
That hurts, but what hurts even more is the look on his face. It’s the realization of what I’ve been trying to tell him all along—that I’m beyond saving.
His eyes turn cold—mocking, even—as he steps forward. “And I hate to break it to you, Kitten, but I’ve never really f*cked you.” My back hits the wall as he leans in, boxing me in with his arms. His lips are dangerously close to mine as he murmurs, “Do you want to see the difference before you go?”
Yes, please.
I swallow, trying not to look at the tattooed forearms next to my head or the lip ring that’s so close to me, I could stick my tongue out and touch it. That damn silver hoop is my kryptonite.
His proximity and the heat of his words makes my core clench in familiar anticipation. I want him. I’ll always want him. But that doesn’t mean this is a good idea. Sex only complicates things, and they’re complicated enough.
Somehow, by the grace of God, I manage to say, “W-we shouldn’t.” Yes, my voice is shaky and breathless, but so what? I should get a cookie just for managing coherent words at this point.
Declan’s lips brush my jaw as he kisses his way down to the pulse point in my neck. My eyes flutter closed as I fist my hands by my sides to keep from reaching out and touching him, because I really want to touch him. I want to slip my hands under his shirt and feel the warmth and hardness of his washboard abs, or tangle my fingers in his hair while I kiss him stupid.
But I shouldn’t. Sex will only make this harder and confuse him. I can’t be selfish right now, even though my mind’s telling me to take advantage of what will surely be our last time.
“Says who?” His breath’s hot against my skin. “I’m the one who’s getting left. I should at least get a parting gift, don’t you think?”
My heart cracks. That’s got to be the ugliest thing he’s ever said to me, and even though I know I deserve it, it still makes me want to karate-chop him in the throat. So I settle with telling him, “You’re an a*shole,” as I try to push past him.
“Says the girl who just ripped out my f*cking heart.”
Touché.
He pulls me back until I’m pressed against the wall again, but I refuse to look at him. Undeterred, his knuckles graze my stomach through my dress. It backflips at his touch, then drops to somewhere near my feet when he takes my earlobe into his hot, wet mouth, sending shivers to all the right places.
“You know it’ll be good,” he murmurs, brushing my ear with his sinful words.
“Good” wouldn’t even describe it. It’d be so amazingly fantastic I’d be a twitchy, comatose mess afterward.
I place my hands on his chest with the intention of pushing him away, but the broad, hard muscles under me are highly distracting. All I want to do is rip off this shirt and worship him with my mouth. “Not if you’re gonna be mean about it. Be nicer.” Hmm. That didn’t sound very convincing at all, did it?
His fingers dip lower, brushing up the insides of my thighs as he slips under my dress. It has my pulse skyrocketing into overdrive and my panties clinging to me as I grow wet and achy.
Why isn’t this a good idea, again?
My eyes squeeze shut as my head lolls to the side. This is not fair. How can he reduce me to such a quivering, aroused mess with only a few words and PG-13 touches?
“I’m tired of being nice. Look where it’s gotten me. Right now I want to be very, very mean and rough and bad,” he says slowly, painfully enunciating every erotic word.
A sliver of fear creeps in and mixes with the lust flowing through me. What exactly does he mean by “rough?” I know from experience that rough sex and f*cking are not always the same.
I don’t deal well with rough.
Sliding higher, he breaches my panty-line and his fingers slip into my embarrassingly wet folds. Skilled fingers circle my flesh, making my fingers dig into his shoulders as I all but forget my name.
Holy shit, how can he make me feel this good with just his fingers?
Declan kisses my jaw. “Do you think you can handle that?”
My legs twitch as he works between them, rubbing me with a steady rhythm that has my mouth parting and my knees about to give out. I want to say yes, because at this moment I think I could handle anything he throws my way so long as he never stops touching me, but I’m still hesitant.
I haven’t relinquished control to someone in a very long time. I like to be in charge when it comes to sex. Every single time I’ve done it in the past two years, I’ve been on top. Anything else makes me anxious. I feel . . . powerless. Helpless. And I refuse to feel that way. I’m not a victim.
Victims say “no” and I didn’t.
Besides, I trust Declan. He would never hurt me. If I tell him to stop at any point, he will. I know it.
His arm’s in front of my face, resting on the wall. Pulling a hand away from his shoulder, I run it down the inked sinews until I’m grasping the outside of his wrist. My lips press a soft kiss to the inside of his arm, and when I pull back, I can still feel the lingering warmth from his skin like a brand.
I lock eyes with him, biting my lip as his fingers caress me, and nod.
“Good.”
He slides inside me, catching my gasp with his mouth as he kisses me fiercely. I can taste the tears on our lips, all salty and sweet, as my hands fist the sides of his shirt. For a moment, all our problems fade away to mere background noise until the only thing that matters are his demanding lips and how I can get them all over every square inch of me.
I suck his lip ring into my mouth and absorb the following groan that hums through him. I love that f*cking sound. It’s so guttural and animalistic, and sexy as hell.
His hand leaves my thong and wanders around back to grab my ass. He grinds his hips into me as my fingers run up his back and knot in his hair, then suddenly my feet are leaving the ground as I’m lifted up. My legs automatically wrap around him as he half-carries, half-stumbles with me to the bed. It’s probably hard for him to see where he’s going when our mouths are locked together like this. . .
My body slides down his as he sets me next to the bed, making my hardened nipples tingle from the friction. I have every intention of ripping his clothes off and laying into him, but before I have the chance, he pulls back and says, “Turn around.”
What?
I stare at his red, slightly puffy lips as I try to make sense of it, because I seem to have forgotten the English language in my lust-filled haze. When I don’t move fast enough, he spins me around so I’m facing the bed and tugs up the hem of my dress, lifting it up to my waist. His fingers hook inside my panties as he pushes them down.
Craning my neck over my shoulder, I see him kneel on the floor as he removes them. His hands skim up the sides of my thighs as he stands and snakes his hands around my belly, moving up to cup my breasts through the flimsy fabric of my dress.
My head falls back as his fingers graze my nipples. It pebbles my skin even more and heats my whole body. I feel it straight between my legs, my p-ssy clenching painfully and impatiently.
I can practically hear her screaming, “Gimme, gimme, gimme!”
His artful fingers are gone all too soon as he says, “Spread your legs and bend over.” His voice is right at my ear, rough and low, and has me shivering in anticipation until I actually register what he’s just said.
“What?” Slightly panicked, I try to look at him over my shoulder, but he holds me in place.
“Do it, or I’ll spank you.”
His words spark a fresh wave of heat and desire that unfurls deep in my belly, despite my apprehension. This is so . . . open. There’d be no place to hide bent over this bed and spread apart. It’d leave me completely at his mercy.
My heart’s beating so hard I honestly think it might give out on me as I tentatively bend over the impossibly high bed and spread my feet a little more than shoulder-width apart. He presses his hand on my back, making me go lower until the side of my face rests against the soft comforter. It triggers something in me long-buried that punches its way to the surface and has my eyes squeezing shut as I’m suddenly thrust back into that basement, bent over the couch with my face pressed against the cushion. Shame pumps through me, hot, thick, and slow as I struggle to breathe.
Nudging my feet farther apart, Declan says, “Wider.”
His familiar voice rips me back to the present, and I open my eyes, blinking as I take in the room.
I’m okay. Declan’s here, and I’m okay.
Nothing happens at first, and I’m left waiting anxiously while on full display. I’d turn around and look if I didn’t think he meant what he said about spanking—
Wet warmth licks up my slit and I gasp and jerk at the unexpected contact. Declan grabs my thighs, stilling me, as he licks another slow, torturous path up me. I fist the blanket next to my head as embarrassing sounds pass my lips and my breathing accelerates. The initial shock fades and is quickly replaced by arousal as he does this awesome, swirly thing with his skillful tongue that makes my legs quiver as I melt under him.
“You taste un-f*cking-believable,” he murmurs against me.
What started off as light, teasing strokes quickly turns into deep, drugging sweeps and pulls of his hot, wet mouth. My head swims as my body locks up, tension settling into every muscle as I feel the impending arrival of my release. It starts to bloom in the center of my core, right where he’s devouring me, when he abruptly pulls away and I’m left a writhing, aching puddle before him.
I cry out in frustration, clawing the sheets to keep from turning around and shoving his head back down there in order to make him finish what he started. There’s a rustle of clothes, then the sound of his zipper and his gravelly voice.
“Sorry, Kitten, but I need to feel this squeezing my cock when you come.” Placing a hand on my hip, the warm, hard tip of him glides along my slick folds. He hisses in a breath while mine catches. “Do you know how tight you get when you come?”
I shake my head against the comforter, briefly closing my eyes as he rubs his head around my * in measured circles. Why does he get off on teasing me so mercilessly? It’s not fair.
“The way you clench and unclench around me. . . It’s like you’re milking my cock with your p-ssy.” His breath is a harsh rasp as he says, “It’s the best f*cking feeling in the world.”
Right on cue, my walls clench as I wait in breathless anticipation. Have I mentioned how much I love his dirty talk?
Declan slips and slides along me until he becomes poised at my entrance, and when the velvety tip of him starts to push inside me, I groan.
“We can’t keep doing this without a condom,” he grates, though he makes no effort to stop or slow down.
Biting my lip, I steal a glance at him over my shoulder. “Just don’t come in me, okay?” My eyes take in the ink swirling up his forearms as he grips my hips, then flick up higher to admire the way his white Henley stretches across his biceps. It’s a shame I won’t really be able to watch him in this position. . .
It would help in more ways than one.
“I’ll pull out, I promise.”
He pulls out a bit, wetting himself with my arousal, then slides into me all at once, raw, hot, and completely unfettered. Violent starbursts erupt behind my lids at the delicious, full feeling of being possessed by him. I clutch the blanket in my fists and moan into the mattress as his fingers dig into me. I think I hear a curse buried somewhere in his unintelligible sounds as he pulls back and thrusts forward, making my breasts bounce with the force.
Soon he establishes a steady pace. The only sounds that fill the room are his harsh breaths and the slap of his skin against mine. It’s all too familiar and I feel myself start to slip back into dangerous territory when Declan speaks and pulls me back into the moment.
“You feel so f*cking good,” he rasps. “It’s like you were made for me.”
“Keep talking,” I breathe against the mattress, clinging to his words like they can anchor me to here and now. “I need to hear your voice.”
Declan groans as he slams into me. “You’re so wet. Is that for me? Did I make you that wet?”
I nod as a breathy moan leaves me.
He thrusts harder. “Say it,” he bites out.
Gasping, I feel the familiar tension coiling low, urged onward by the punishing rhythm of his hips as he surges within me again and again. “Yes, it’s for you. Just you.” I reach between my legs and touch myself, desperately trying to reach that high I know is waiting for me.
“No,” he says, pinning my arm behind my back at the wrist. Panic spikes in me, but it doesn’t dim the overwhelming arousal riding me. Instead it gives it a sharp edge. “If you’re gonna come, it’ll be from my cock and the way I’m f*cking you. Do you understand?”
Declan’s voice soothes away the panic and leaves something else burning in its place. Something good. This is different. This is Declan. Focus on that. “Yes,” I moan, fisting the sheet with my free hand.
The hand still holding my hip leaves, and a second later I feel it wrapping around my ponytail. I cry out as Declan pulls my head back, making my back arch while he rams into me. He’s got my knees and the front of my thighs pinned against the side of the mattress with my arm still caught between us as he thrusts behind me. The slight change in position has him dragging against all the right spots and I can feel myself tightening around him.
“God,” Declan groans. “You’re close, I can feel it. Are you gonna come all over my cock?”
I gasp and curse, feeling closer and closer to my release. It’s going to be epic, I just know it.
“Shit,” he says. “I’m getting so deep this way. I—can—feel—everything,” he grates in time with his thrusts.
My muscles clamp down on him right as he stills and my whole body screams in protest. Why is he stopping? I’m right there!
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” I yell frantically as I push back with my hips.
He releases my wrist and my hair, gripping my hips once more as he slams into me with abandon. Every single muscle locks up as a tidal wave of ecstasy rips through my core. I cry out as rushing blood fills my ears, followed by the sound of my pounding heart and shallow breaths.
Vaguely, I hear Declan groan while his movements turn jerky. Warmth floods me, but I’m too busy riding the wave as it fans outward, making my toes curl and my fingers clutch the blanket while I push back thrust for thrust.
Declan’s fingers eventually loosen from their death-grip on my hips. He leans forward and rests his forehead to my shoulder, pressing a kiss to my back.
My high fades as an ugly, familiar emotion creeps in and makes my skin crawl. I can’t seem to catch my breath, my eyes fluttering closed as I try to stop the flashback from happening.
Pain lances up my arm as he twists it behind my back and mashes my face into the beige fabric of the couch. All I can smell is the scent of Febreze as he grunts behind me, knees wedged between mine as I’m spread apart and bent over the seat while he takes his “due.” My legs quake as shame clogs my throat and hot tears stream down the side of my face, but not because it hurts.
No, the tears are because my traitorous body wouldn’t stop responding to him.
I’m crying because I just came.