Page 42 of Can You Take It?

I storm inside the house, thinking I can escape from his looming presence. But I can still hear his voice in the distance, like a pesky echo that won’t go away. It’s making me jittery, and I need some space to breathe.

But just as I’m about to put some much-needed distance between us, Richard grabs my arm with a grip that could crush my bones and turns me around to face him. I crash right into his chest, and he looks like he’s about to explode with anger.

“What happened?”

“You didn’t have to stand up for me. I can take care of myself,” I spit out, not holding back. It’s like I need him to know that I’m no damsel in distress.

He’s still got that intense look in his eyes, and he’s not letting me go. “Well, I know you can take care of yourself. I didn’t stand up for you because I think you’re weak. I stood up because I can’t take disrespect.”

“Disrespect? Seriously?” I scoff, shaking my head. “That guy’s just an idiot. I can handle a few nasty words. I don’t need a knight in shining armor to save me from creeps on the street.”

“I get it. You’re tough, but that doesn’t mean you should have to put up with garbage like that.”

I look away, avoiding his intense gaze. “Well, I’ve been doing just fine on my own, so thanks but no thanks.”

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks.

I bristle. It’s like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump into a storm. “What’s wrong with me?” I shoot back. “People are not nice, Richard. So stop acting like you’re not just like the rest of them.”

It’s one of those moments where I wish I could just grab my words and shove them back in my mouth, but they’re already out there, hanging in the air like a dirty secret. I can see the storm clouds gathering in his eyes, and I wonder what kind of mess I’ve just stirred up.

His response surprises me. He doesn’t react with more anger or defensiveness. Instead, he brushes his knuckles gently against my cheek and asks softly, “Who hurt you?”

The anger’s still bubbling inside me, but something about the way he’s peering into my soul makes me want to tell him everything. And I want to tell him. God, I really do, I want to tell him everything, let him in on all the messy details, and hope he’ll understand. But I can’t. The words are too heavy, too tangled in my throat.

So, I do something impulsive, something that’s like throwing a match into a barrel of gasoline. I close the gap between us, ignoring all the uncertainty that’s been floating around, and I kiss him. It’s not a timid peck; it’s a full-on, let’s-set-the-world-on-fire kind of kiss.

Richard’s taken aback for a moment, but then he responds by tangling his fingers in my hair, kissing me back with an intensity that leaves me breathless. It’s like we’re two stars colliding, sparking and igniting the dark sky.

But it’s more than that. It’s a tornado meeting a volcano. I’m the tornado, spinning, reckless, tearing through everything in my path. He’s the volcano, quiet on the surface, but beneath, there’s molten destruction waiting to explode. And when we come together, it’s cataclysmic. The storm feeds the fire, and the fire fuels the storm, creating something unstoppable, untamable.

We’re caught in each other’s gravity, spiraling out of control. His lips are demanding, claiming, and I give as good as I get, pouring all my anger, my fear, and my lust into him. The world around us could burn, and we wouldn’t care.

Before I know it, Richard’s pushing me against the wall. His lips trail down, and he starts biting and sucking on my neck. It’s a sweet torture, that’s driving me to the edge of reason. It’slike he’s untangling me, pulling me apart and putting me back together in a completely different way.

And in return, all I want is to do is break him. Watch the purity in his eyes shatter as I mold him into a reflection of the monster I’ve become.

My hands clutch at his shoulders, pulling him closer. The wall at my back is my only support as my knees threaten to give way.

With a nudge, Richard separates my legs with his knee. My legs spread apart almost on instinct, as if my body’s a traitor to my brain.

His fingers move lower, and he grabs my hips, pushing my pants down. I hesitate, not because I don’t want him to see me, to touch me, but because I’m not exactly the same as I used to be. The horrors I’ve been through have left their mark, and it’s like a scar on my soul.

“What’s the matter, Izel?” he commands. “Spread your legs for me.”

“I’ll spread them when I’m good and ready,” I fire back.

“Oh baby, you’re way past good and ready.”

His fingers inch towards my pussy, and my instinct is to close my legs, to protect the part of me that’s become so fragile over the years.

He knows he’s getting to me, and he revels in it. “I can fucking feel you,” he continues. “You’re dripping wet.”

And to make his point crystal clear, his fingers graze my pussy, and I gasp. I can’t deny it. He’s right. I’m wet, in a way I’ve never been before.

“Just because I’m wet doesn’t mean I’m ready,” I snap.

Richard’s eyes flash with something dark as his pupils dilate, swallowing the soft blue of his irises until there’s almost nothing left but a thin ring of color. “I vividly recall you like being forced.”

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