Page 137 of Did They Break You

But I can’t deny that it’s there.

I notice circles under his eyes, the gaunt look to his cheeks, the way his brows are pinched together now.

He hurts, too.

And I’m tired of hurting this way.

I don’t want his apologies, either. I thought I did. I thought I wanted him to acknowledge what he did. What they did. But I don’t.

It doesn’t feel good like I thought it would.

And I’m not ready to give up this bad girl persona.

I’m not ready to drown in the past again, those memories from the basement flooding up.

“I just got fucked up,” he says, an edge to his words. “It’s all so… It’s fucked up, Remi.”

No.I don’t want that. His excuses. I don’t want to hear it.

I yank my wrist from his hand, and he lets me, his eyes springing open. I’m not entirely sure how to do this, but I can figure it out.

I reach for the hem of his pants again.

“Remi.” He catches my hands with his, but I glare up at him.

“Let me do this.”

He stares at me, like he’s trying to read me, but I can feel his dick growing harder under my wrist, the way it’s angled over his pants. “You don’t have to?—”

“Let me do it.”

His hands leave mine, smoothing back the flyaways that escaped my braids. “Baby, you really don’t?—”

“Don’t be… like this,” I tell him, yanking at his pants.

He shifts his hips, let’s me pull them down. His boxers, too, just to his knees, his cock free.

My breath catches as I wrap my fingers around him, and he groans at my touch, his head leaned back against the seat.

“How do you want me to be, then, Remi?” he asks, his words hoarse as I pump him in my hand, crouched awkwardly over the console, growing wet between my thighs as I stare down at him, my heart racing.

“Don’t be nice to me,” I tell him. “That’s not what this is.” Even as I say the words, nervousness has sweat pricking on the back of my neck as I stroke him. He’s big, which I knew. If I had to choose a starter dick to take my virginity, it wouldn’t have been this one. I glance up at him, see him watching me.

He must see the anxiety written all over my face, because his lips pull into a wolfish smile. “Nervous?” he asks me quietly, smoothing back my hair again.

I swallow the knot that’s tight in my throat and keep pumping him.

He bites his lip, careful not to pull in his lip ring.

“I just…” I don’t want to admit I’ve never done this before.

He cocks his head, the smile falling from his mouth. “Am I the first?”

So many different ways to interpret that question.“Yes,” I tell him truthfully, less embarrassed than I would be if I wasn’t high.

“But your tongue…”

I arch a brow, confused as I stop mid-stroke, his cock hard and warm in my hand. He smells good, too. Like soap, but not overwhelmingly so. “What about it?”

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