Page 105 of Jagged Line Paradise

“Is that what this is?”

“I feel fucking high when I’m around you. How do you feel?”

His fingers draw a line up the back of my thigh, tracing along the curve of my bottom, up and down along my panty line. I’m sweating and shivering at the same time and I don’t know how to put into words what I’m feeling.

“Good,” is all I manage to come up with.

He chuckles and the low rumble of his sound vibrates along my neck. “Good? Just good?”

I arch my back to press against him. “Put your fingers inside me.”

“Bold, baby.” His track shifts and his palm slips between my legs. He rubs me over the fabric of my underwear, and I crumple in his hold. “I thought we were playing a game. You run, I chase. I want it, you don’t. How am I supposed to buy into your role if you don’t play the part? How am I supposed to buy into it if you’re already so fucking wet that your panties are soaked through?”

“Andrés,” I beg, though I don’t know for what.

His palm cups my sex and the heel of his hand thrusts upward. He grabs hold of me, his hand tight over my pussy as if he owns me. “If you say my name like that again, I might rip you to shreds.”

I turn my head a little farther, twisting my neck, and encouraging him to look at my face as I whimper, “Andrés.”

His hand slaps around the back of my neck and he yanks me backward harshly. He reaches around me, grabs the backseat door handle, and wrenches it open. When he pushes me forward, my heart skips a beat. A flash of a memory crosses my mind—his father slapping a cloth over my mouth beside his car before he took me.

You’re safe. You’re safe; it’s Andrés.

I quickly chant the words inside my mind as instinct brings my hands up to brace against the door frame. I push back on him as he tries to force me inside the car. I expect him to stop, to let go and step back when I fight getting in, but he doesn’t. He grabs my wrists, yanks my hands away from the metal frame, and bends me over the seat.

He tucks my bent elbows against my sides, holding them tight against me as he folds over me. He pins me down with his weight and lets go with one hand to lift my skirt, pushing the bottom edge of my panties up to expose my cheek.

I nearly scream in surprise at the sharp impact of his hand as he swats me. I squirm beneath him, but he holds me down successfully, heavy on my back. He swats me again as he grinds into my ass and his fingers land with a thwack around my hip. His fingertips curl as his nails dig into my skin. Then he lets go.

He grabs my underwear and pulls them down with a single, insistent tug, bringing them down to hang around my knees. I hear his belt buckle and it triggers the spark of that deep, desperate drive within me that’s somehow the perfect mix of fear and arousal.

My body begs to give into it while my mind fights to shut down. The spiders spinning webs in the corner of my mind, sharing space with my trauma, creep out and threaten to send me spiraling through overwhelming panic.

You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe.

I don’t want him to stop. I want him to force me if he has to, because I need it. I need this from him, and I know he needs it, too.

I try to push up, but he keeps me down, freeing his cock with one hand between us. His bare bulge wedges into my crack as his hips rock forward and my stomach aches where it bends and cuts into the edge of the seat.

I expect to feel his hand. I expect him to touch me, tease me, coax me open for him. But that’s not what I get. I feel the tip of him line up with my opening, and then he punches his cock inside me, pressing forcefully through the tight space where my inner walls clench against the intrusion, and I scream. With my legs locked together instead of being spread wide for him, he hardly fits, but manages to drive inside me uncomfortably, nonetheless.

My back arches as he fills me unexpectedly, as my body stretches to accommodate him without any time for adjustment. I’m wet for him, but my body wasn’t fully prepared for that rough invasion and truthfully, it hurts.

My eyes water as he pulls out and slams back inside me, forcing me to take him unprepared for a second time. As he drives into me again, and again, his fingernails claw into my flesh from farther down my leg, just above the back of my knee. He draws upward, scratching my skin all the way up to the curve of my ass.

Ithurts.

All of it hurts.

I wonder if he knows that or whether he has the capacity to care in the moment.

He thrusts again and again, and then he buries deep inside me and holds there, making me feel every inch of him stretching me.

I love the way it feels, but I also hate it.

I hate how it makes me sore, but I love the way it pleases him. I love the sound of him desperate, panting and groaning behind me.

He grips both of my arms, just above my elbows where they’re pinned at my sides, and he lifts me backward from the seat. My back arches awkwardly as he pulls me upright and it makes me ache. My shoulder blades pinch together and my shoulders strain as he leans in close and brushes my hair back away from my ear with his nose.

---