“Hunter,” I say warily, putting my hands up like some kind of shoddy, makeshift barrier. “I didn’t. I wasn’t going to sleep with him. You have to believe me. I didn’t even kiss him—he kissed me, and it was only what you saw. We weren’t kissing before that.”
He grabs my arm, yanking me against his muscular body.
I gasp in surprise, but I don’t fight him.
“Did you want to fuck him, Riley?” he asks, his voice low and dangerous again. “I got your first time over with and opened you up for business. Now you tell me no. Were you gonna tell him yes?”
“No,” I cry, my heart sinking as he starts dragging me toward his bed. I try to push him away, but his grip on me is too tight. “I told you, I wasn’t going to—”
“Might not have mattered,” he interrupts. “He’s rougher than I am. More aggressive.” He locks his arm around my waist, crudely pulling me against him so I can feel how hard he is. “Do you know that already? Maybe you like it.”
My racing heart is already in my throat, then in a move he executes so quickly I can’t be sure what’s happening, he eases his grip, tugs me away from his body, spins me around, and shoves me forward onto his bed.
I catch myself, bracing my palms on the mattress.
I’m not afraid, not really, but… I am wary.
Hunter has always stopped when I told him to, but I’ve never encountered him drunk before, and right now he’s hurt and angry on top of it. When he got jealous of Anderson at Valerie’s party, he did get more aggressive—and that night he was sober. Alcohol isn’t known for calming aggression in people, as far as I know.
“Hunter, you’re drunk.”
“How perceptive.” He yanks my knees out from under me, flattening me against the mattress.
Anxiety tightens my chest. “You’re drunk, and you’re mad. Slow down. Let’s talk about this.”
“Nothing to talk about,” he mutters. “You were going to fuck my friend.”
“I wasn’t. Why won’t you believe me?”
He yanks up my skirt, sliding his hands over my ass and squeezing. “You brought a condom and you’re dressed like you want to be fucked, Riley. Sorry I’m not the guy you had in mind, but I’m happy to oblige.”
He wouldn’t.
He won’t.
I’m… 99% sure.
That other one percent gets lodged in my gut as he yanks my panties down.
Stop gets stuck in my throat.
If I say it, everything changes.
If I say it and he ignores me…
He has fucked me before. Maybe it’s not such a big deal if I... let him?
I didn’t want to let him touch me again after he fucked Valerie, but… well, I’m not sure this entirely counts. I’d only be letting him to protect us both from getting burnt up in the heat of this awful moment.
I gasp as he yanks me closer to the edge of the bed, positioning me the way he wants me and prying open my legs so he can get between them.
No, no, no. Not like this. It’s not supposed to be like this.
“Hunter, please...”
He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even slow down. His fingers dig into my flesh, greedy and demanding, taking what I’ve been reluctant to give freely.
I know he’s not in his right mind. I know he’s not thinking clearly.
I know that I still want him, too, whether he’s angry and mean or tender and loving.
I’m still a little scared.
Normally, I can want him and still resist. Right now, if I resist… this becomes an entirely different thing.
Another boundary he won’t respect.
I can’t risk that. Dealing with the first crossed boundary is hard enough. There can’t be two.
My heart hammers wildly in my chest. I plant my hands against the mattress, drawing a rushed, nervous breath as I try to crawl forward to get away from him.
Maybe I can’t tell him no, but if I can evade him, buy him a couple of minutes to calm down… he’ll see reason. He’ll stop.
His hands close around my thighs, prying them apart and dragging me back to the edge of the bed at the same time.
I hear him unzip his pants.
My heart sinks.
This is going to happen. There’s no stopping it.
“Condom,” I say quickly, turning my head to try to look back at him. “Hunter, please use a condom.”
“Oh, yeah. That would ruin your plans, wouldn’t it? Getting saddled with my baby. Maybe you already are.”
“I’m not,” I tell him. “And it would ruin both of our plans, not just mine.”
“I meant your plans with Sherlock.”
I sigh, momentarily exasperated. “That’s because you’re being crazy. There is no me and Sherlock. Hunter, please, let go of me. Let’s talk.”
Instead of talking, he aligns his bare cock between my thighs, presses the swollen head against my entrance, and shoves into me.
I cry out, losing my breath and going rigid against the mattress as he stretches me.
Fuck, that stings.
I didn’t entirely expect it, and my body tenses up even more at the sudden ache as he fills me so aggressively.
I dig my fingers into the soft fabric of his bedspread and try to regroup. Since I only had sex the one time and he did nothing to prepare me this time, my body is tight and unwelcoming. He has to force his way even more now than the night he took my virginity.
He’s not being as considerate tonight, either.
I clutch the bedding tighter as he drives deeper before I’m ready, my knuckles turning white from the strain. I squeeze my eyes closed, trying like hell to relax my body so I can take him more easily, but I’m too tense.
“You’re hurting me,” I say, my stomach sinking even as I utter the words. I’m terrified to tell him. Terrified that—in the moment—he won’t care.
I know he’ll care later, when he’s not so blinded by rage.
He’s such a fucking hothead sometimes.
Anger wells up inside me. I try to get up on my knees so I can dislodge him and get away from the discomfort.
“Uh-unh,” he murmurs, holding onto my hips to keep himself inside me as he climbs on the bed. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
My heart stalls at the hardness of his words.
I swallow. Some of my ire dissipates, replaced by caution.
He’s not backing down, so I guess I have to this time.
“You don’t want to do this, Hunter. Not like this. Please, just put a condom on.”
“I take it you’re not pregnant,” he murmurs, keeping one hand on my hip, but easing his body down so that he’s on top of me, burying me in the pillow-top mattress.
“No,” I say softly. “I would’ve told you, but you weren’t speaking to me.”
He doesn’t say anything to that. His cock is still shoved into me, but not as deep as it can go.
He pulls back, giving me momentary relief, then eases in less brutally.
My body still strains to fit him. I squeeze my eyes shut, my stomach twisting up as he shoves deeper and stretches me around him.
It feels like a violation, but not an unwelcome one, if that makes any fucking sense. I wish he would’ve put a condom on his dick, but despite the discomfort, it feels good to have him inside me again.