Page 228 of Sin With Me

His pupils are blown so wide, his eyes almost look black. And with his neck straining, his teeth bared, he looks like…

He looks like Isaac.

Whatever he sees on my face makes his movements falter before finally stopping. “Goldie,” he rasps as he pulls out of my mouth. He wipes my chin, but I shove his hand away.

“What are you doing?” Isaac asks, his voice low. “Put it back in. Finish—”

“Goldie,” Roman says again, his eyes on mine.

I want everything around us to disappear. I want to stop feeling Isaac’s punishing thrusts, the way his cock is slamming into my fucking cervix, the way his thumb is lodged deeper in my ass. But I can’t ignore any of it.

A tear slides down my cheek, and Roman stumbles back a step. My mouth opens, but I don’t know what I want to say. If I want to scream at him, if I want to beg him to come back, beg Isaac to keep going. To stop.

Nothing comes out, though. Not a sound. Not a breath.

Roman fumbles with his jeans, shoving his cock back into his boxers before flicking his eyes to his father. The hatred burning in them is enough to make me shrink away. But Isaac laughs. It’s a taunting, dark laugh, one that’s full of triumph.

“I—I’m sorry,” Roman says, dropping his eyes to mine.

And then he does what he always does—he turns, and runs. He goes back to his room, the bang of his door like a bomb before Isaac slams into me so hard I jolt forward, my arms giving out. My face falls to the coffee table and I press it against the slick, cool wood.

He laughs again, his thumb still inside me, as he fucks into me harder. “Tight, young fucking cunt. So good for your Lord.”

My jaw clenches at his words, at the way he’s just…using me.

He’s using me.

Not caring about my pleasure, only his.

One more thrust, another, then he stills, his groan deep and loud as he spills inside me. I feel him fill me up, feel his cum overflow around his cock and drip from my pussy.

I feel him slide out of both my holes. And I feel him slap my ass.

“That was good, sweetheart,” he mutters, the sound of his zipper as he does his pants up a stark contrast to the sudden silence around us. “I need to wash up.” He smacks my ass a final time, then his steady, unhurried footsteps lead him to the stairs.

I count them as he ascends, then shut my eyes as his door closes.

Being a hole for men to use is all she’s good for.

Is that what he’s thought the entire time we’ve been together? That I’m just a hole for men? For him?

That it’s all I’m good for?

I clench my jaw at the wave of emotions building inside me, but I force them down. I force myself to swallow everything that’s building, because if I break, I won’t ever be whole again. If I break, I’ll shatter and there will be nothing left.

So I pull myself up, and, with shaky hands, reach for my panties lying discarded on the floor. My muscles tremble as I slip the fabric up my legs. My knees wobble when I make my way across the house, stopping to put my sandals on, to grab my dress and slip it over my head.

The sunlight is bright against my eyes as I pull the door open. Fresh air. That’s all I need. Just for a minute.

But then my feet hit the gravel, and I begin walking. Down the long dirt road, the house at my back, Barry’s water lapping in the distance.

I walk faster.

Being a hole for men to use is all she’s good for.

I wipe roughly at my cheek as his words slash through me again, his cum spilling out with every step, soaking into my panties.

I begin jogging.

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