Page 15 of Necessary Cruelty

His hand finds the damp crotch of my panties, and he exhales sharply against my neck. Moments like this are the only time when he is ever gentle, touching me in a way that is slow and deliberate.

Almost reverent.

I could fight him off if I really wanted. If I screamed or said no and pushed him away, then he would leave. He isn’t here to force me. It would almost be easier to deal with if he were. Knowing that I could end this, and I still don’t, makes it so much worse.

I don’t say yes, but I don’t say no.

Because I don’t say anything at all.

My silence is also my consent.

He pulls my underwear to the side. One thick finger pushes inside me, and my body uncoils until I sink into the mattress. The moment I’ve been anticipating since I first woke up with him in my room is finally here.

It’s never as bad as I imagine it will be, as part of me hopes it will be. I think he does that on purpose, building up suspense until I can only focus on what he might do next.

A second finger joins the first. Vin works them in and out of me, curling just slightly on the downstroke to brush against the little ball of flesh inside of me that is so sensitive the pleasure borders on pain. He watches my face as he pulls out and uses the gathered wetness on his fingers to draw circles around my clit, sending sparks of painful pleasure down my spine.

I turn my head and squeeze my eyes shut so he won’t see whatever emotion hides behind my gaze. He continues to tease me, using his fingers like implements of destruction as he strokes and thrusts. It is the most exquisite sort of torture.

I both love and hate it.

Similar to how I feel about him.

I keep my body still, even as my breathing comes faster and in sharp little gasps. God forbid I actually give him what he wants, a sign that I want this. He needs me to confirm that he doesn’t climb into my window at night because he is some pervert who knows he can get away with abusing the girl that doesn’t have anyone left to protect her.

He has to convince himself that I want this as much as he does.

Vin keeps going until I’m on the very edge of climax as stars burst behind my closed eyelids. Then his fingers slide away, leaving a trail of moisture on the inside of my thigh. He leans back, which leaves me feeling cold, like I’m standing next to a fire that just went out.

I hear the familiar sound of foil ripping, but I don’t turn to look as he unwraps the condom. This is my last chance to raise a protest and make him stop. He moves more slowly than he needs to, almost leisurely as he pinches the center of the latex circle and then rolls it down himself.

Vin gives me plenty of time to protest, to react at all.

Like always, I don’t say a word.

His hand comes back to my thigh to adjust the angle of my hips, and then the hard length of him pushes inside of me. He takes it slow, always does at first, with unhurried strokes. Pressure builds deep inside my belly as the pleasure overwhelms my ability to resist. When my nails dig into the heavy arm he has wrapped around my waist, it’s a signal for him.

He thrusts inside me with the all the force of his strong hips, bottoming out until he fills me completely. I let out another gasp as my hands tighten on the only anchor I have as he pounds into me like he wants to drive both our bodies into the springs of my thin mattress. His name dances on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it down until it feels like I might choke on it.

I won’t give him the satisfaction.

Sex doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to, except part of me wishes it did. Even with all the negative emotions swirling between us, this becomes something greater. We’re more than just two bodies illuminated by a streak of light from the low-hanging moon outside my window.

Anger. Hatred. The sins of the past. Things that connect us in a way that transcends anything physical. Sex is an afterthought to what lies between us.

It’s at moments like this, in the darkness when the whole world has gone quiet, that I can almost convince myself we’ve gone back to a time before. Before we lost faith in each other. Before the world conspired to destroy whatever precious thing once existed between us.

Before it all went wrong.

My beat-up copy of Antigone is on the nightstand, and I focus my gaze on it, willing myself to go somewhere else mentally. I try to remember the first line of the play as my mind descends into fog.

My mouth moves, even though no sound comes out. “You would think that we had already suffered enough.”

The arm around me shifts so his hand can worm its way between the thighs I try to keep clamped shut. His thumb flicks against my clit like he’s thrumming a guitar, and then he presses down ever so slightly with the sharp edge of his nail.

I try to hide my reaction, but he pays too close attention. Orgasm hits me hard enough that my spine bows back against him as my mouth opens in a silent scream. Despite my attempts to keep still, my body turns boneless and loose as I collapse back against him.

Vin lets out a satisfied groan as he comes, gripping my hip hard enough that it will leave a bruised imprint of his fingers later. He chuckles darkly to himself as he rolls away, and I don’t bother to ask him what he’s laughing at.

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