He’s not Sy.
My subconscious scolds me as though I’m about to cheat on the only person I’ve ever been in love with. But that’s bullshit and unfair. I bet Brooklyn has already thoroughly enjoyed Sylas by now. The bitch would strip naked and seduce him without a second thought. My awareness snaps back to Josh just as he tugs his jeans open and shoves them down his thighs but doesn’t bother to take them off completely.
Am I doing this?
His middle finger slips into my heat and curls forward. A devilish smile spreads over his lips and his eyelids grow heavier with lust and alcohol. He’s hot and god his fingers feel amazing. Feels so much better than the hurt in my chest. I screw my eyes shut and roll my hips forward meeting every plunge of his finger into my body.
“That’s it darlin’,” he coos in his raspy voice. His finger slips out and my eyes lazily open to spot him reaching for his nightstand. He gulps the whiskey in one shot, which seems like way too much for any one person, but I wouldn’t really know a thing about it. He tugs the drawer open and fumbles with the contents for a moment then produces a condom.
I’m doing this. To hell with Brooklyn and Sy. They can have each other.
Josh rips the foil open and covers his length like he’s had plenty of practice and that makes me feel a little dirty but who am I to judge? I’m about to have sex with a guy I don’t even really know and quite frankly he’s handsome and older than me so of course he’s had his fair share of girls. Josh leans forward roughly working his lips over my nipples one and then the other. I squirm against him, seeking contact. His lips seal around one nipple and he sucks hard then abruptly releases it with a wet pop. The scent of whiskey on his breath is stronger than it was before and I hate that it’s distracting me. I reach for him wanting sex to make me forget the whiskey and the guy that has me all out of sorts. Josh angles his hips between my legs and without a second guess, enters me with one rough thrust. I shiver against his invasion. He rocks forward, driving into me fully then immediately pulls back to drive forward again. Sylas doesn’t do it this way. He’s never this rough. Always tender. I peek up at him and see his eyes nearly black with dilated pupils; his breath is heavy and humid with whiskey. He huffs with effort as he takes my body and it all feels so terribly wrong. He isn’t Sylas and suddenly I feel so stupid for letting Josh replace Sylas in this way. I don’t want my memories of Sylas against my body glazed over by a sweaty stranger who has had too much to drink.
“Josh,” I whisper but lost in his efforts and probably a serious buzz he hasn’t heard me. “Josh,” I repeat louder this time with my palms lightly pressed against his chest. To my shock he still doesn’t acknowledge me. “Josh, I can’t. Stop,” I say loud and clear clutching his shoulders firmly. Sweat beads on his brow as he drives on, invading my body with his. Disbelief makes room in my head for stunned realization. He had to have heard me but he’s choosing to ignore me. My eyes widen until they begin to water. I shove against his chest and try to draw my body away from him but his weight only seems to increase. “Stop it,” I screech, slapping at his chest, panic and shock causing adrenaline to fill my veins. The sweat on his forehead gathers into droplets and the splatter down on my face, making me grimace. It hurts now and true fear is cresting over me. “Josh, please, stop,” I plead using all I have to push him off me but again his black eyes and determined focus is unwavering. I begin thrashing beneath him but that was a mistake because he immediately flattens his weight against me and all air leaves my chest under his much larger body. He grips both my wrists in his much bigger hands and pins them above my head. His waist pins me down further while his thighs widen, forcing my much shorter legs impossibly far apart. My hips ache and cramp. “Stop,” I wheeze, still fighting to undo this but the more I fight the heavier he seems and my vision is already splotchy and white at the edges. I’m going to pass out if I keep fighting like this.
Stop, a voice inside whispers, calm but commanding. Am I hallucinating god’s voice? I must be because the god I was raised to love and respect wouldn't resign me to this fate. No, god is definitely not with me tonight.
He carries on raping me with vacant eyes and determined jamming movement of his hips. My mind floats away, maybe in shock, or maybe I’m oxygen deprived, maybe both. As Josh’s rancid sweat and criminality rains down on me one drop at a time, as his boney breast bone rubs a terrible bruise on my chest, as his body tears at mine making my flesh burn in protest, tears leak out of my eyes for the boy I called my best friend. They trail one by one, marching forward for the young man I fell for and ultimately walked away from. I did this. I left Sy, and I walked right into this vile monster’s arms tonight. Perhaps this is what I deserve.
Minute by minute drags by under this abuse and with my mind somewhere else I can’t exactly say but awareness returns when I feel the twitching man on top of me slow then halt completely just to collapse deeper into me. Breathing gets even more difficult but I find myself pushing at his torso. With his exhausted state and his pleasure attained at my defiled body’s expense he doesn’t fight me. He simply rolls, his body exiting mine as suddenly as it had entered, his limbs lolling weakly. “Darlin’,” he mumbles then sighs, sending more of that wretched scent of whiskey my way. I wince in pain and absently wonder if I’m going to need medical attention. I stand up on weak, shaking legs and back away from him numbly, in total disbelief that I’ve just been raped. The sudden upright position and renewed oxygen supply makes me dizzy. I teeter on my feet for a moment then gather myself enough to make my escape. His eyes shut as though I am not even here with him. I’m not sure if he would rape me again if he woke, and I was still here but I won’t stick around to find out.
It wasn’t the violent sort of thing you think of when they warn girls about rape. They tell us to keep a look out for guys lurking in shadows, to always watch your drinks at parties, but this is a guy living down the road, a coworker with a pretty smile and a nice tan. No one said shit about this brand of bad guy. This was consensual until it wasn’t. I wobble when I lean down to scoop up my clothes. I’m lightheaded and mentally reeling. I dress as quickly as I can, constantly looking at the snoring, naked guy whose flaccid dick is now lying against his lower stomach all traces of it being used as a weapon gone along with its erect state. I notice the thin material of the condom looks weird now with his dick shriveled up. The sight causes nausea to consume me, leaving a bitter, tingling sensation in the back of my throat. I’m going to be sick. Without wasting another moment, I rush to my car, double over by the driver’s side door and heave for several minutes. The shaking in my hands is growing exponentially with every step toward realization I take. The events of the entire evening tumble through my brain, bumping around drunkenly because none of it makes sense. Nothing adds up. I never should have been here. I never should have been in this house with that guy. I never would have. If things were the way they were supposed to be I likely would have been safe with Sy tonight, probably watching some movie we’ve seen a hundred times while he steals gentle touches and sweet kisses. This night… this is just as much his fault as it is mine.
I’ll never forgive either of us.