She’s laughing again, and his hand threads through her hair as he moves her closer to the bed.
I can’t see his face.
I can’t see hers either, but I notice she’s got something around the back of her head. For a moment, I just stare at it, unseeing. Unwilling to believe this is real.
I must be dreaming.
He wouldn’t.
Not like this.
He wouldn’t.
But…he is.
I could scream.
I could yell.
I could beg for help.
I say nothing.
He lays the girl on the bed, her small tits jiggling as he does, her nipples hard.
I see it then. What’s around her head.
A blindfold.
It’s a skull bandana, one of the ones he wears everyday around his neck.
His neck.
Oh, god. His fucking neck.
He runs his palms over her breasts, and she raises her arms overhead, her fingers just inches from my feet under the covers. But he’s got her down at the edge of the bed, her legs dangling over the side. He’s standing between them, stroking her tits.
And I think he’s looking at me, but I can’t stop staring at his neck.
He’s not wearing a shirt, and even in the dark, in the soft glow from the alarm clock and the light from the hallway, I can see his neck.
It’s covered in bruises. He has her bites all over his throat, up and down one entire side of his neck.
My mouth falls open. My head is propped up on a pillow, at the perfect angle to watch his mouth trail kisses down her skinny stomach, her hands gripping the sheets as she moans, arching her back.
I want to see her blood.
I want to see his.
I want to hurt them both.
I can’t move.
He wouldn’t.
He won’t.
He’s just testing me. This is payback, but he’s going to stop.
He’s going to stop.
I stop staring at his neck. I look at his face. And he’s looking right at me as his tongue runs down her belly, over her belly button, to the top of her thong.
No, I want to scream. No.
I think I shake my head, just a little, but it doesn’t matter. He hooks his thumbs into the strap of her underwear, yanks them down her slender legs. And then he grabs her knees, just like he did with me, and he spreads her apart.
His eyes don’t leave mine.
She moans, arching her hips again.
Don’t.
She lowers her hands, makes to pull at the blindfold.
“Don’t,” he warns her, lifting his head.
“Yes, Daddy, whatever you say,” she gasps.
He smiles, his eyes still on mine as he peels her apart with his fingers and she moans again.
“Say it again,” he commands her. “Call me Daddy.”
The girl laughs. He slaps the inside of her thigh, and she quiets. “Sorry, Daddy,” she whispers, “don’t stop.”
I’m going to be sick.
I’m going to throw up all over his bed and she’s going to hear me. And what could be worse than this? Both of them laughing at me. At my jealousy.
Humiliation is the worst punishment. My mom taught me that.
I clamp my jaw together and close my eyes.
I try to find the movie version of this. It’s a dream. This isn’t real. This is where I wake up and find him asleep next to me, his arms wrapped around me. And I realize how much I love him.
And he loves me back.
My dream is just trying to make me jealous, to tell me what my heart already knows. But I’ve already told him what my heart knows.
He denied me.
And this pain?
He wants to see it.
He wants to watch me hurt.
I keep my eyes closed, even though I know his cock is in her now, the way she’s scratching at the sheets, breathing hard and moaning, Mayhem.
Mayhem?
Another secret I don’t know.
I pull my knees up to my chest slowly, so she doesn’t notice, and so she doesn’t touch me.
I keep floating away from here. I’m spinning behind my closed eyes. The movie version isn’t working, but I can be in a different movie. A movie where a girl is chained to a bed and gives herself an out-of-body experience so she can fucking survive.
That’s the movie version of my life.
I smell sex in the air, musky and thick. It’s choking me, just like this girl’s reckless pants, her loud screams. The feel of the bed moving with each of his thrusts. My chains clank against the bed, and I wonder if he’s just a fucking idiot.
But he doesn’t slow down, and the girl gets louder, calling him Daddy again, and I hear his grunts, too.
I’m not here.
I’m not here.
This isn’t happening to me.
A scream lodges itself in my throat as the darkness spins around me, but then I snap back to reality with Maverick’s groan, all male, guttural, like he just had the best orgasm of his fucking life.
My eyes fly open.
I can’t help it. I can’t help staring straight ahead. And he’s staring right back at me, breathing hard, his mouth open. I can’t see it, but I can imagine the sweat dripping from his brow.
The girl has her arms up, lost in ecstasy, and she’s panting too.
And when I look down, I see he’s still in her.
He came inside of her. My heart breaks a little more and I bite my tongue to stop from openly sobbing.
I hear him snort with amusement, and my pulse quickens as he slowly pulls out of her, his hand on her belly, just like its been on mine. His still-hard dick is against her thigh.
Then he rolls off the condom as he watches me.
And I hate myself when I exhale silently. A sigh of relief.
But then he says, “Turn over. I want to fuck you in the ass,” and I think I’m going to die.
I lock eyes with him.
He smirks as the girl laughs and does as he asks, her ass in his face, her head toward me.
He glances down at her, back up at me.
No.
His hand finds her ass.
No.
He spreads her beneath his hands, watching me the entire time.
I shake my head again. No.
I mouth the word.
He smiles, cocks his head.
I mouth it again, and I feel hot tears roll down my face.
He stills. And then he blows out a breath, turns his head as he rolls his eyes.
And he kicks the girl out of his room.
Part of me is relieved. Watching them sleep together would’ve pushed me over the edge. Part of me hates him more for it. I don’t know if she leaves this house, but he locks the door from the inside when she’s gone, after a noisy kiss ‘goodbye’. He had slapped her ass as she left the room, and I hated that that was the least painful thing I’d had to watch.
He goes to the bathroom, washes his hands, and when he comes back out, the door stays open at his back, letting light spool into the room. He’s changed into shorts.
I want to be unaffected. I want to tell him I’m going to sleep. I want to kill him. I want to carve those hickeys off of his neck.
I do none of those things. I lock eyes with him instead and watch with bated breath while he comes to sit on the bed beside me.
He reaches out to smooth the hair from my face and I jerk my head from his touch. A laugh comes from his mouth, carefree and breezy, like I’m an amusing child. He still touches my face, even as I refuse to look at him. Refuse to make it easy for him.
His fingers trail down my jaw, over my neck.