I don’t answer that. Of course I like what I see. Any guy who says he doesn’t fantasize about forced sex on occasion is a fucking liar.
Would I act on it, though? No, I’m no rapist.
“Would you like to do that, say … to me?”
“I already told you. I don’t do sloppy--”
She slaps a hand over my mouth, and she’s lucky I’m already in the shithouse with my father, or she’d regret laying a hand on me. No one touches without asking.
I pry her fingers from my lips and throw her hand off to prove that point.
“I want you to meet me down in the cave tonight. I want to show you something.”
This chick is relentless. She’s got to be ten years older than me, at least. What the hell does she want with me?
“I’m sure I’ll be grounded.”
“Oh, poor baby.” Testing my limits again, she sets her palm against my chest. “Do they lock your crib at night, so you can’t crawl out?” Not even giving me the chance to make a smartass comment, she leans into me. “I wanted to show you a trick.”
“What kind of trick?”
Something brushes the head of my dick through the slacks, and my stomach knots up. My mom could come through the door at any second, and this woman doesn’t seem to care. “You’ll have to come, if you want to find out.”
Pressing the magazine into my chest, she guides my hand to take it from her.
“A gift from me,” she whispers, and steps past me. “Enjoy.”
A throbbing ache swells behind my eye socket, and I set an ice pack there to numb the pain as I sit on a boulder inside the cave. A fist to the eye is nothing to me. Besides growing up with a violent bastard for a father, I got into more fights than I can count in school. This one’s just another chip against my dwindling self-control. The truth is, even if Solange didn’t invite me down here, I’d have ended up here eventually. It’s where I go when I need to escape the prick. My mother had conveniently already swallowed back her valium before he arrived home. Not that she’d have stopped him. Sure, she’d have protested, like any mom, but she isn’t stupid. Griffin Blackthorne would’ve happily doled out the same punishment to her, so it’s better she didn’t get in the middle of it. Asshole didn’t even seem all that pissed about the fire extinguisher, so I’m guessing I merely served as a punching bag to his frustrations over a botched business deal.
Second one in the last couple of months, which means the old man is losing his touch.
Shadows at the mouth of the cave draw my attention to where a lithe form stands at the entrance. I daresay she’s a welcomed sight right now, as I solemnly nurse the wounds that’ll ultimately leave me with a black eye. I lower the pack of ice, confirming that I still can’t see out of my left eye, and she rushes toward me, falling to her knees before the boulder.
“Mon bébé! My sweet boy, what happened to you?” Her fingertips brush over the bruise, and even the slightest pressure intensifies the ache.
Sweet boy? She hardly knows me.
“I’m fine.” Pushing her hand aside, I catch the pout of her lips, telling of her disappointment.
“I didn’t think you’d come.”
“I didn’t come for you.”
“Are you not attracted to me?”
“What does it matter? You’re too old for me.”
Her eyes flinch at that, as if I’ve slapped her. “Old,” she echoes, and pushes to her feet. “May I show you the trick now, young master?”
“Whatever floats your boat.” The dismissal in my tone is the result of the increasingly aching throb behind my eyeball. What I wouldn’t give for some weed to help dull the misery.
Like she senses as much, she hooks her finger beneath my chin, tipping my head back. “You’re in pain?”
“I said I’m fine.”
Reaching down into her shirt, she pulls a silver flask out from between her breasts. “I’ve brought you something that might help.”
Accepting the proffered drink, I open the cap and take a sniff of what’s undoubtedly liquor, but sweet, like sugar. “What is it?”
“Rum. Have some. It’ll help take the pain away.”
With a sniff, I throw back the flask on a long swill. A burn slides down my throat, warming my chest as it makes its way to my stomach. I tip it back again.
Solange chuckles and sinks to her knees before me, wedging herself between my thighs. Running her hands up and down my legs, she smiles and licks her lips. “Such powerful legs. You play sports?”
For a second, her face blurs, and I double blink to bring her back into focus. “Lacrosse and swim.” The slur in my words is unexpected, and with a frown, I lift the flask again. “D’you spike this w’something?” Two sips of liquor would’ve hardly left me feeling this woozy so fast. At school, Jude and I did tequila shots when we played cards, and I still won eighty percent of the time.
With a devious smile, she leans forward and licks the shell of my ear. “Yes,” she whispers.
My muscles turn weak, lax, with that fireplace coziness that makes me want to lie down somewhere. I don’t even realize I’ve slid down the rock onto the sand until Solange straddles my thighs, lifting my arms above my head as she removes my shirt.
Should I be doing this? What’s happening?
Without protest, I let her undress me, as I stare up at the ceiling of the cave. There are brief moments of blackness, like a long blink. A cold sensation. Then warmth. I lift my hand to rub my eyes, surprised to find it’s already raised, and I follow the path of my limb to a pair of handcuffs that bind my wrists together, and a rope tied to an old, rusted post that used to be a ‘Danger Stay Out’ sign. It’s somehow weathered years of high tide, though the actual sign popped off a while back.
Long blink.
My muscles jerk, and I’m staring up at the rope tied to the post. I tug, but it doesn’t give.
Long blink.
A spasm rocks me awake. Something cold tickles my feet. I lift my head to find the water splashing around my legs.
Rising with the tide.
Panic freezes my veins. I tug at the rope again, to no avail.
Long blink.
Ice cold liquid crashes against my face, and I gasp, kicking myself back. The water has risen up to my chest, my legs fully submerged. Perched on a boulder off to the side is a black object that doesn’t immediately come into focus until I squint. It’s a bird. A black bird. I zero in on the missing eyeball. The bird I shot with Jude.
Its caw echoes through the cave, and a fist of salt and fury smashes against my face with an incoming wave, kicking my head to the side. The sea is rough tonight.
“Help me!” I manage to call out, the sound of my voice bouncing inside the empty cave. “Somebody help!”
The bird flies off.
Long blink.
“Tell me more about swim.” Solange kneels beside me, looking down on me, and warmth engulfs my exposed cock as she curls her hand around it. To my surprise, it feels good. So fucking good. When did she pull down my pants? I tug at the rope, but only for leverage, as I arch into her strokes.
“The water … it gets deep.” Before I can finish the thought, a wave crashes against my face again, and I shake my head, snorting the salt that shoots up into my sinuses.