Page 32 of Burn With Me

Eric’s body lowers on top of mine, squishing the air out of my lungs until there’s nothing left inside of me. “Just be a good little girl, Aurora,” he whispers against the side of my face as he draws his hand away. There isn’t enough room between us or enough air in my lungs for me to even try to scream again. “You’ve been tempting me for so long. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

I shake my head, turning my cheeks back and forth rapidly, denying his claim. I wasn’t. But … if he thinks I have, then do other people think that? If I told anyone about this, if I screamed and called my mom in here, would she believe me?

Eric Wood has a perfect record. No one has ever accused him of this.What if he’s right? What if I was unintentionally…

My thoughts derail as one of his hands snakes his way beneath my shorts and two firm fingers touch my pussy. I jerk and whimper. I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want this. I really don’t fucking want this.

“Please stop,” I beg, my voice breathless. He’s practically sitting on my chest. Spots dance in front of my eyes, my vision narrowing. I can’t breathe. I can’tfuckingbreathe! “I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean—”

“To tempt me?” he interrupts. “Of course you did. You’re just like your mother. You think I can’t see that? You’re nothing withoutthis—” He punctuates ‘this’ as he shoves those two fingers right into my bone-dry vagina.

I wince as pain spears through me. Reaching down, I try to shove his arms down to get his fingers to leave my insides. It feels like he’s spearing me with hot spikes. “It hurts,” I whimper.

Eric doesn’t listen, he just pulls his hands back and shoves his fingers right back in. “Be a good girl,” he urges. “Just let go. If you remain quiet and let me do this, you’ll feel so much better.”

More tears track down my face. No, it won’t. I know it won’t. I can’t even lie to myself the way he’s trying to lie to me. My legs clamp together, trying to avoid the jerky movements he’s making. That frustrates him because he rears back and slaps my face once more.

“Open your fucking legs,” he growls, shoving them apart. The sudden shift of movement as he moves between my thighs makes him finally lift up off my chest and for the first time in what feels like forever, I can finally draw a full breath.

My lips part and I suck in as much air as I can, preparing to let out the loudest scream I’ve ever made in my entire life. I don’t care if it disturbs the house. I don’t care if people miles away can hear me. I just want someone to come here and stop him.

Eric must sense my intentions, though, because at just the first sounds of my scream erupting from my throat, a pillow is shoved over my face, blocking both the sound and the air from escaping my lungs. I’m flipped over onto my front and my arms are dragged behind me and locked at the center of my back with cotton fabric—something that feels similar to the sleep shirt I’d been wearing. The fabric tightens impossibly, cutting into my wrists, and I struggle to undo the bindings, only it’s too late. I’m well and truly trapped.

Shock and horror rip through me as his fingers find the waistband of my shorts and he jerks them down. “Fuck, you’re hotter than your mom,” he says, as if that should be a compliment.

I struggle again, fighting my way upward as I feel my flesh being revealed. Cool air washes over my skin. Fire licks along my spine. No, no, nonononono. No! This can’t be fucking happening. Not to me. Why? No. Please no. But it is, and no amount of begging internally can stop it now.

The more I struggle, the harder Eric presses against the back of my head, shoving my face into the pillow until I can’t breathe and start feeling light-headed. A firm hand grips one of my ass cheeks, pulling it open as his fingers slide into the space between.

I open my mouth and immediately it’s filled with fabric from the pillow in front of me. I choke and cough, trying to spit it out, but it’s shoved so far in, wet and wedged between my cheeks that fighting against it does nothing.

My mind goes hazy and suddenly I’m floating. Perhaps it’s a lack of oxygen or panic as my heart gallops inside of my chest, trapped and pounding, but I think I pass out for several long moments.

When I open my eyes again, the world around me has shifted. I look up as my legs are separated. My body feels limp. “Here you go, sweetheart.” Eric’s voice is soft, almost gentle—completely different from how it was. He pushes a thumb into my mouth, holding it open as he leans forward and kisses me.

My eyes widen, and I flinch back in disgust as his tongue invades. Something hard but quickly dissolving hits my tongue. He shushes me as he pulls back. “Don’t worry,” he whispers. “It’s just gonna make you feel real good.”

Drugs. He drugged me.

I start to cry. Fuck. I hate crying, but I can’t stop the tears now. My mouth moves, but it feels numb and no words come out. No more protests. The world tips over, and I stare up at the ceiling of my childhood bedroom as he pushes my legs even further apart and moves between them.

I’m completely naked now. Whatever he gave me made it so that I can’t move. When I try, it feels like I’m trying to lift a thousand pounds, even though all I’m trying to do is swat away his hand as he cups my face.

“There, now,” he says as he moves over me. “That’s better, isn’t it? You’re being so good now. That’s all you needed to behave.”

The urge to vomit is gone now. I never thought I’d wish for it back, but I do. I’d love nothing more than to puke all over this asshole as he takes himself in hand and pushes the head of his cock towards my core.

Empty. All I feel is empty. Devoid of all emotions. My eyes make their way back to the ceiling. I don’t even wince when he breaks through my hymen and groans.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” He begins to saw back and forth inside of me, his cock pressing deep and then withdrawing. “That’s it. Good girl. What a good fucking girl. Such a tight pussy.”

My skin tingles, and it’s the only sign that I can even still feel myself there. His commentary slips through my mind. Good girl. Good girl. Good girl.

I don’t want to be a good girl; I think. I don’t want to be anything anymore. I just want to disappear.

Vanish into the mattress that I can’t even feel at my back like I never existed. Maybe if I never existed, this would’ve never happened. Maybe if I wasn’t here, he wouldn’t be here—taking everything I never knew he could steal.

I hate staring at my ceiling while this is happening. With its glow-in-the-dark stars that Marcus gave me for my ninth birthday and the soda stain from dumping an entire bag of Mentos into a liter of Coke. It’s only a reminder of who I was and who I will never be again.

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