“Where do you want my come, sweetness? Three choices,” he grounds out through gritted teeth. “Pussy, throat, or inside that tight little ass of yours?”
I don’t know. I can’t think. I’m growing numb and disoriented from the brutality of how hard he’s still fucking me.
“W-where do you want to come?” Even my teeth are rattling. He is literally fucking every part of me.
“Everywhere. Your mouth, down your throat, all over your sweet little clit, across those perfect fucking tits. I dream about fucking your ass, about making it impossible for you to sit down for a week.”
I am speechless.
“Do you get it, now, baby?” He jerks my head backward by my hair until I’m upright and surprisingly his dick is still buried safely inside of me. “This is how I am. Fucked-up. Rough. Dangerous. This is how I fuck. That shit in Austin, and the pity fuck here a few months ago, that wasn’t me. This is me.”
Nothing hits me quite as hard as those two words.
Pity. Fuck.
I cannot have heard that right.
But I can smell his breath again from here and I know he’s drunk. Actually, I’m pretty sure he’s shitfaced because the Gavin I know would never handle me this way or speak to me like this. I’m not complaining, it’s kind of hot. But not if he’s angry and not if he’s too drunk to use sense.
“Fucking come, Gavin. Get it over with and get the hell away from me before you say something else you’re going to regret.”
A strange manic sound escapes him. He thrusts in hard and deep and holds me there, tethered by my hair, impaled by his cock. “That’s the worst part. I have no remorse, baby. Ever.”
“Fuck you,” I hiss out because I don’t like this anymore. It’s not fun and it feels malicious and hateful. And wrong. “Actually, I’m done fucking you right now. Thank you.”
I slam my elbow backward, catching him in the rib cage and startling him enough that he lets go of me.
As soon as I’m free I run into the bathroom and shut the door hard behind me before sinking onto the cold, tile floor with my sore, bare ass. It actually helps a little.
I don’t know what just happened, or why he behaved that way, but I know now that Robyn is right.
Gavin is fighting his own battle. He has darkness inside him and it is capable of destroying me.
It just did.
14 | Gavin
SHE’S IN THE bathroom. Locked on the other side of a barrier I’m more familiar with than most.
If there is anything lower than scum, like scum that grows on scum, that’s me right now.
It wasn’t supposed to go there, to get like that.
“Mommy? Please come out now. I’m hungry . . .”
Where the fuck did that come from?
“Dixie,” I call out over the uninvited sound of my warped childhood. “Baby, I’m sorry. Please . . . I can explain . . .”
Can’t I? I don’t even know anymore. All I know is I can’t leave like this—having done what I did, hurting her that way.
I lean forward until my forehead touches the door.
“I’m so sorry, Bluebird. I lost myself but that’s no excuse.” And I’m hammered as hell but that’s no excuse, either. The hall spins around me and I am grounded only by my forehead pressed to the wood.
“Please come out, Mommy. I’m scared. Someone is knocking on the door.”
Memories I thought I’d effectively smothered years ago attempt to break through the surface. My mom had a habit of running to the bathroom—sick, high, or to elude the local dealers, she’d run in there and hide—leaving me locked out on the other side. Alone, helpless, starving. Scared for countless reasons. Some nights I slept outside the bathroom door. Many nights.
My own heartbeat throbs inside my skull.
“Dixie, please.” I hear my voice crack and I let my fist bang lightly against the door. “Please don’t shut me out, baby. I am so, so damn sorry. Please. At least let me see that you’re okay and then I’ll go. I promise.”