“I heard you like it dirty and hard,” he says, kissing me, lips rough against mine. One hand circles my waist, thumb digging into my flesh while the other squeezes my breast.
“Who told you that?” I ask, reaching for the button on his jeans. I unzip his pants and pull his cock out. I just about die when I get my hands on him, a slow heat building between my legs. He’s long and thick. Big like the rumors. Warm and ready.
His hips buck forward, pushing it into my palm. He shrugs at my question and gives me a smirk. “Think you can take that?”
I open my mouth to answer, to tell him that I’m not a virgin and I’m ready to do this, but he kisses me again, harder this time, using his body to angle me to the bed. I try to keep up with his kisses, with his warm tongue, and when the back of my knees hit the mattress, I run my hands down his chest, hoping to slow him down. This isn’t like Reilly from Spanish, or Trevor from The Nerd, or Lance from my parents’ Christmas party. Being with a guy like Heston is something I want to savor.
“You’re so sexy,” I tell him, kissing along his shoulders.
He cups my face in his hands and grins down at me, a twinkle in his eye. In that moment, I feel like I’m the only girl he sees. The only one he wants. I feel special. His thumb runs down my cheek, and he bends to kiss me. Sparks ignite across my body, down my limbs, to my fingers and toes. His hand runs down to the hem of my skirt and then back up, fingers twisting tight in my panties. When the kiss breaks, I look at him once again.
“You want this, right?”
“Yes,” I admit, but as I say it something feels… off. It’s the change in his expression. It’s the feel of my panties digging into my sides. It’s the dark glaze in his eye that tells me I’m not entirely sure what it is I’m agreeing to.
“Good.” He moves faster than I can blink, using his size, power, and athleticism against me. He pushes me back on the bed and before I can bounce, he’s on top of me, yanking my panties down my thighs in a sharp motion. His cock presses into me, hard and intimidating. He shifts and thrusts a finger inside, making me gasp. “Jesus you’re tight. Sure you’re not a virgin? Is Halloway a liar?”
I blink, trying to follow his words while he fucks me with his finger. John Halloway? We’d hooked up a few times over the summer. I’d gone down on him behind the tennis courts at the club and let him fuck me at the Fourth of July party. Did he say something to Heston?
“I’m not a virgin,” I gasp out, trying to get into the rhythm. Heston moves fast, hard. It’s a challenge to keep up. I sit up to meet him, to find his mouth. He withdraws his finger and plants a hand right into the middle of my chest, shoving me back down flat. He waits for a beat, glancing over to the laptop. From this angle, he’s like a magnificent animal, muscle stretched tight, corded and perfected. I reach for his cock, stroking it with my fingers. He looks down on me, his expression shuttered, and falls forward, both hands cinched roughly around my wrists. I grimace but spread my legs, giving him access.
This isn’t quite like Reilly, or Lance, or Trevor, or even Josh, who fucked me fast and hard in the coat closet. There’s this spark in Heston’s eye, a strange tightness at the corners of his jaw. He’s just excited, I think—by me—but a dark shadow flickers across his face, and a chill settles in my belly. It intensifies when his grip grows tighter and I say, “Wait, can you—”
His hand loosens, but not to release me. It’s just enough to gain leverage so that he can flip me on my stomach. The heavy weight of his hand presses on my lower back and I twist my head to the side. “Heston, I—” but the air stalls in my lungs, pushed out by the weight of his hand around my neck, curling around my throat. Over the music, I hear the tear of foil and the sound of him rolling the rubber down. My heartbeat is like thunder now, but I can’t untangle the threads of fear and arousal long enough to decide which wins. I squirm against his hold, and the thing is, I’ve been with a few guys by now. I’ve been with the sweet ones and the rough ones. The clumsy ones and the experienced ones. Generally, I’m down to try every flavor.
Absolutely nothing has made me as wet as I am right this second.
A moment later, fingers dig into my hip, lifting me up, and he enters me fast and hard, the sound of our flesh coming together a deafening slap.
It strikes me then what that tight, dark shadow on his face reminds me of.
Like someone who wants to hurt me.
I close my eyes and let him.
Afterwards, when we’re pulling our clothes, he looks different again. Relaxed, calm. Like everything is normal, totally casual. I try my best to mirror this, taking my cues from the way he moves languorously around his room, pulling on a clean shirt, even though there’s a lump wedged in the back of my throat.
He says goodbye with a two-fingered wave, goes back to join the party, and barely looks at me again the rest of the night.
An hour later, I’m back in Campbell’s car. It’s quiet again. I don’t try to make small talk this time, instead staring out the window at the passing streetlights, wondering what this knot is that’s taken residence in my chest.
It was just sex.
Truthfully, I don’t even really mind that he blew me off after. That’s what guys do. If they want some more, then they’ll start being nice again, paying me attention. I’m used to it. Probably better off anyway, because boyfriends are just drama and a long stretch of same-same boring.
It was just… not the kind of sex I’m used to. Hot, but also cold. It felt good, but also hurt. It was nice, but also mean. Savage. Scary. Heston’s a strong guy—a lot stronger than me. Being at his mercy like that—being hurt like that—should have been
repulsive and terrifying, and in some ways, it was.
Mostly, it was the best sex I’ve ever had.
My cheeks burn with shame, because I might be young, and maybe I’ve only slept with a few guys, but I’m pretty sure that’s not what sex is supposed to be—even casual hookups at parties with older guys. I already hear whisper behind my back at school, that I’m easy. What would people say if they knew that I liked… that?
From beside me, Campbell lets out this long sigh. “Are you, like… okay, or whatever?”
I turn to her, blinking in surprise. “Yeah.”
“Heston didn’t do anything to you, did he?” Her gaze slides over to me. “Something you didn’t want? You’re not drunk or stoned?”