Page 78 of Don't You Pucking Dare

"Sure, babe. I’m cooking, so…"

I turn away before she can see my tears. All that fear, all that worry—and she's just high in some boyfriend's apartment, not even caring enough to let me know she's alive.

Some relationships aren't worth saving.

The Range Rover's door barely closes before my mother disappears back inside. I sit rigid in the passenger seat, pressing my lips together so hard they start to numb. My chest feels like it's caving in—how can she care so little when I've spent days imagining the worst?

"Hey." Brody's voice is soft.

"Just drive." The words come out sharp, defensive.

The city blurs past my window. All those days of fear, of guilt, of imagining her body in some trunk—and she's just high in her boyfriend's apartment, not giving a single thought to whatI've been through. Did Rick Kemper even have her, or was that just another mind game?

Brody pulls into McDonald's without asking, orders two Oreo McFlurries. The extra cookies almost break me—this small kindness when my own mother can't even pretend to care.

Every bite tastes like childhood disappointment. Like all the times she chose drugs over me, all the times I made excuses for her, all the times I convinced myself that her love was just different, not absent. The pain settles somewhere behind my ribs, familiar and raw—the hurt of a daughter who will never be enough for her mother to choose her, to stay clean for her, to even pick up a phone and say, "Hey, daughter. I'm alive."

Back at my dorm, Brody follows me up without asking. His presence feels necessary now, like gravity. Kiah's eye roll bounces off me as I finish my ice cream, then reach for my cello.

The first note rips from the strings like a scream. I pour everything into the music—rage, betrayal, that eternal ache of being unwanted by the one person who should want you most. Brody watches, silent and steady, while Kiah huffs in annoyance.

I don't care that my roommate's right there. I need to feel something other than abandoned. When I kiss Brody, it's desperate, seeking. His hands on my skin promise presence, persistence. He might be a monster, but he's here. He stays. He sees me.

And right now, that's enough.

"Duchess," he whispers.

"I don’t care if she watches, I need you. I need you right fucking now."

He doesn’t argue. His dick is already hard when I touch him, so I waste no time, shoving my hands down his jeans. He doesn’t care that Kiah is sitting across the room as he starts to undress me.

Kiah finally jumps out of her bed and huffs, leaving the room.

He sucks my nipple into his mouth. I grab his face and pull his lips to meet mine. Then I yank his pants down and aim him right into me.

He’s staring into my eyes, and I feel like I’m seeing another side to him. He’s been so devilish since the moment we met, but right now, he’s fucking me slowly, watching me, connecting with me without any words. He’s here with me, and that’s all that matters.

I roll my head back, so he kisses my neck.

"Fuck, Duchess," he says. "You’re fucking beautiful."

"Fuck me harder. I really need it."

He grabs my neck and pumps faster.

I moan, "You’re mine just as much as I am yours."

He squeezes my throat harder. I start coughing and crying out at the slaps of his hips. I grab his wrist and he finally releases his tight hold.

"Your fucking pussy, Lola," he whispers into my ear.

I grab his ass. "Your fucking dick, Brody."

He pushes me onto the bed and turns me around. He inserts himself easily and pulls my hair as he fucks me hard from the back.

He comes inside of me and then pulls out.

I stare at the wall, body still but mind racing. Sex didn't help. Nothing helps. The emptiness my mother left feels like a black hole, threatening to swallow everything.

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