Page 42 of The Worst Pucking Deal

He doesn’t answer me, instead he grinds into me faster and harder. The tip of his cock hitting me just right. Once again, I feel my pleasure building.

“Who’s John?”

I cry out in disappointment and anger when he robs me of my orgasm again. “You bastard!” I scream, balling my hands into fists. “Get off me.”

He continues the unbearable torture, taking me right to the edge before repeating his question. I try to hide when I’m close both by holding my breath and forcing my limbs to remain unmoving. But he knows. I don’t know how, but he fucking knows and stops every time before I can come.

“Suit yourself,” he smirks when I deny him for the sixth time.

Shifting, so his cock isn’t hitting my clit, only my opening and lips, he groans. Then he continues rutting against me until he curses and becomes tense. It takes me a second to realize he just came. The bastard fucking came without giving me the orgasm he promised me, and has been teasing me with for God only knows how long.

“You’re such a fucking jerk,” I hiss, pushing against his chest.

He laughs, but doesn’t budge. “I gave you the opportunity. Not my fault you didn’t take it, baby. But I’ll give you one last chance.”

Before I can ask him what he means, he shuffles down until his head is perched between my spread legs. “No,” I shriek, panic setting in. I try to close my legs, but of course I can’t do that when he’s resting there and has no intention of stopping his torture.

Sawyer frowns. “Calm down,” he says so matter-of-factly, I would laugh if I wasn’t busy fighting the dread I’m feeling.

“Not again,” I cry. “Please, Sawyer. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, just… please don’t do this.”

“Lucia.” I can barely hear him over the thundering beat of my heart. “Lucia. Hey, it’s okay.”

It’s not okay. He’s still down there, and the last time anyone was in that position… no, I can’t think about it.

Breathe, Lucia.

You’re stronger than this.

Don’t let him see you like this.

Pull yourself the fuck together!

“Lucia!”

Wait, this is Sawyer and not Fabian.

Doesn’t matter, I can’t fight him in this position.

I can’t let him get that close.

“No!” I scream again, thrashing and bucking to get him to let go.

I’m vaguely aware I’m being jostled, and then I feel warm arms engulf me, holding me tight while he whispers my name over and over. “Come on, Lucia. Breathe for me. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know.”

Slowly, I peel my eyelids back, and as I look around, I realize it’s Sawyer holding me. But it wasn’t him before, was it? Yes, I think it was. Fuck, that means I just allowed my trauma to show my weakness to someone who can’t be trusted with it.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I don’t know what happened.” It’s a pathetic lie, but right now, it’s all I’ve got.

“You don’t know what happened?” he asks, incredulously. “You just freaked the fuck out and screamed bloody murder. That’s what happened.”

Taking a shuddering breath, I admit, “I know.”

He strokes my hair. “Wanna tell me what that was all about?” I shake my head vehemently. “Okay. Do you just want to go to sleep?”

“Please,” I croak, feeling too out of sorts, too emotionally exhausted to continue this conversation. When I feel him shift, I take his hand and hold it. “Don’t go, please.”

I have no idea where the words come from, and frankly, it doesn’t matter. My guards are down, exposing me, making me vulnerable. Tomorrow I’ll rebuild my mental walls and make them stronger. But for now, I need someone to stay with me so I’m not left with my own thoughts. And even though it’s not ideal, Sawyer’s better than being alone.

---