Page 30 of I Despise You
I’m moaning.
I’m moaning as he fucks me with his tongue and fingers until I can’t take it anymore. My body is on fire as an orgasm ripples through me, leaving me breathless.
Chase lets go of me, and I hear the sound of a plastic wrapper ripping. I want to get up, but my legs are like jelly, and they don’t obey me.
Chase grips my hips, leaning over me, and instead of recoiling, I’m aroused again as his cock presses against my ass.
But my fear is still here.
I’m a virgin.
It’s going to hurt. I have to—
Chase slams himself inside me in one swift movement. I cry out, but there’s no pain. It’s just the odd feeling of him filling and stretching me.
And that incredible, strong pleasure.
He shoves his hips against mine, the sounds of flesh hitting flesh and Chase’s grunts filling the room. My breaths come out as moans and gasps as he pounds into me, his strokes fast, hard, and punishing.
I shouldn’t enjoy this.
It’s Chase.
The guy I despise is fucking me, his body embracing mine, his cock buried deep inside me.
But it feels good.
And wrong.
But good.
I’m a bubble of pleasure waiting to burst. Chase dives into me, and the bubble explodes, leaving my whole body tingling.
A few moments later, he lets out a loud groan and leans over me again.
His lips brush against my shoulder.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous and so fucking tight, princess,” he whispers, slapping my ass. “And you taste good.”
I don’t move as he lets go of me. But when my strength returns to me, I push myself up. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness, so I find my shirt.
With shaking hands, I pull it over my head and fix my bra. My panties are on the floor, but I don’t want to be here any longer, so I straighten my skirt and dash for the door.
Everything around me is a blur as I stumble to my room. My skin is crawling now, all the pleasure and desire long gone, and now there’s just disgust.
I lock the door while I tremble all over.
Bathroom. I have to get to the bathroom and wash the smell of sex and Chase off me.
As I toss my clothes to the floor and step in the shower, my chest is rapidly rising and falling. I let the water run over my skin.
And I know I’m destroying evidence.
I rub at my skin until it’s red and try to ignore the soreness between my legs. Then I huddle in the corner of the shower, tears filling my eyes.
I should’ve called the cops. I could’ve made Chase pay for everything he’s done. But it’s all just a fantasy.
I can’t even afford a lawyer, let alone bring myself to allow someone to touch and probe me. Not after what happened.
