18
Naomi
“Nao?”
“W-what?” I stare at my best friend who has been talking for the past half an hour, but apparently, I haven’t listened to anything.
Lucy bumps her shoulder against mine as we head to the lunch table. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. I just didn’t sleep much.”
“Watching serial killers again?”
No. Contemplating whether or not I need help.
Ever since Sebastian left me on the steps of my house two days ago with blood coating my thighs and his cum on my face, I’ve been seriously thinking I have some loose screw that needs taking care of.
So no, I haven’t slept. Instead, I’ve spent every moment obsessing over what happened, rethinking every touch and every brutal thrust.
Every hit and ever orgasm.
And…I got wet in the process. I might have touched myself to the memory, too.
That’s not normal.
That’s not how people react to being savagely fucked for the first time after being so paranoid about sex their entire life.
That’s not how one’s virginity is supposed to be taken.
But now that it happened, I don’t think I’d want it any other way.
Something changed that night.
Sebastian and I passed the point of no return and now, it’s just a huge clusterfuck.
It would’ve been different if he’d forced me. I would’ve reported him and started an uproar in our town. I would’ve gone against him and his political ties, even if it meant destroying myself in the process.
But that’s not the case.
He gave me a choice and a way out. One I could’ve taken before he fucked me on those stairs. One where I could’ve ended the chase before it even started.
But I didn’t.
I was too addicted to the thrill and like any addict, I burned for more.
For a redo.
For the next level.
I got what I asked for and more.
He didn’t hold back, didn’t take it easy, and I found myself slammed into a brutal alternate reality.
One I’ve been thinking about since it ended.
One I’ve dreamt about every time I’ve closed my eyes.
I thought he’d disappear and ignore me now that he got what he wanted, but he texted me yesterday.