Page 55 of Let the Game Begin
“Why are you here?” I asked in a small voice, unmoving.
“To fuck you,” he answered boldly, right next to my ear. I could feel his chest pressing against my back and his fingers brushing my tensed arm. His breath was warm and controlled, as though nothing in the world could make him lose his self-possession.
“You’ve already done that.” I trembled as I said it. I wasn’t trying to provoke him, though I realized that he might have taken it that way. I stiffened when his hand touched the zipper on the back of my dress.
“Not the way I wanted to,” he whispered, slowly opening the zipper as though I were some china doll to be handled delicately. I remained motionless, at the mercy of his movements, and I was ashamed of the way I submitted so easily to his every command, but at the same time, I found myself unable to oppose him. I wanted to turn around and look him in the eyes, maybe kick him out and tell him to stop touching me. But I was afraid that he’d see what I really wanted written all over my face, and I wanted to hide it for as long as I could.
“You aren’t hurting for women; why do you want me?” I felt his hand stop at the base of my spine. Neil wasn’t expecting such a blunt question.I turned my face slightly, resting my chin on my shoulder and waiting for a response that never came. Instead, he inhaled irritably through his nose and continue to undress me.
He let my dress slide down my body until it was just a crumple of fabric around my ankles.
Why was I letting him do all of this? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I was clay in his hands, and he was the sculptor. I was the canvas to his painter, the sheet of blank paper to his ink.
“You should watch out for feelings—they can affect the coldest of hearts. Even yours,” I continued, trying to needle him even as my body was moved by involuntary tremors. By now it was clear to me that he was no more indifferent to me than I was to him.
“Are you thinking I’m some sentimental guy just because I was considerate with your body the first time, little virgin?” he whispered into my ear, and I didn’t like the derisive tone of his voice.
I shouldn’t have let him talk to me that way. I wanted to snap back at him, slap him or even kick him in the balls, but when I tried to turn around and do just that, Neil grabbed me violently by the hair.
“What the hell are you doing?” I screamed, beside myself with fear and rage. I tried to struggle free from his grip, the way his fingers clamped down on my hair was painful. I cursed and shouted but none of it made him stop.
Neil swept the books off my desk and forcibly bent me over it. My chest, still covered by my bra, flattened against the cold surface. My ribs and hipbones collided with the wood so hard that I clenched my teeth in pain.
“I’m showing you just how romantic and sentimental I really am,” he sneered, and I could hear him fumbling with the fly of his jeans. With one hand still holding me down by my neck, he used the other hand to lower his pants and then his boxers. I couldn’t see much from my position but I could make out enough to know what he was about to do.
Stupid.
I had been so stupid but that realization hardly mattered now. This boy was an animal, with serious personal issues and a deep indifference to the feelings of others. Neil was completely different from—
Shit.
Jared.
Was he going to hear me screaming? Was he going to find everything out in the most horrifying way? I imagined him bursting into my room and finding me bent over the desk with Neil behind me.
I tried to push him away, but the truth was: I wanted that. I was too weak. I couldn’t suppress the need that I felt flowing through me. I stopped moving, stopped fighting. Pretending to resist him would have been pointless. Neil already knew what I was feeling; he could read my body.
“You want it too; I can tell.” He leaned over me, his upper body pressing against my bare back and his pelvis tight against my ass. I could feel him rubbing himself between my ass cheeks, over my panties. He was fully hard and it was just as long and thick as I remembered it.
“This is all wrong,” I said, referring to the entire situation. My voice, however, was not as decisive as I wanted it to be, and I had allowed my legs to fall open in a clear invitation. Meanwhile, Neil continued to slowly rub himself against me, panting against the back of my neck, grasping my hair in his fist.
He slapped the palm of his other hand on the wooden surface of the desk, right by my face, and I was hypnotized, staring at those large, strong fingers, the regular nails and raised veins on the back.
I surrendered to our mutual desire with a deep sigh.
“I know how much you liked using me,” he whispered into my ear before licking me like an animal might. I could feel his hot tongue gliding down the curve of my neck to my shoulder until it reached my nape. He continued downward, following the line of my backbone and I arched into him, delighting in this utterly masculine display of possession. “Just as much as I liked using you,” he finished mischievously.
“I didn’t use you.” My cheek was pressed against the desk so hard it was difficult to articulate the words clearly. I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming when he slapped my right butt cheek, making the skin burn. My head spun and a sudden wave of cold and heat hit me at the same time from my chest to my toes.
“I did and I intend to do it again,” he admitted with the kind of sadistic smile that revealed all his nasty intentions. I watched him from the corner ofmy eye while he pulled my panties to one side and touched me. I was soaked and ashamed of my treacherous body’s reaction to him.
Despite everything, I wanted this—wanted him—and there was no excuse or justification for it. Only this profound sense of shame.
He penetrated me with two fingers and I moaned aloud, tensing every muscle in my body, even the smallest and most imperceptible. He moved his fingers expertly, caressing my tight yet yielding inner walls. Immediately, he found my most sensitive spot, locating it with an ease that spoke to his vast experience.
I pressed my lips together to suppress a moan, not wanting to let him win or give in to him or show him just how much power he had over me. But he felt it anyway.
“You’re a bastard,” I murmured irritably, grasping the edge of the desk with both hands. I could feel my knees trembling and I had pins and needles on the soles of my feet, a sign that my orgasm was close. But Neil withdrew his fingers and just stood there behind me. I turned my face slightly to look at him. I was enervated but aroused; angry yet eager for him.
