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“Don’t tell me what to do,” he growled in her ear, hand closing around her neck.
“I’ll tell you whatever I want and you’re going to have to force me—”
“Oh, I can force you,” he breathed.
And then she came. It took over her, white out pleasure bursting behind her eyes and she made a bunch of very embarrassing noises and his fingers dug into her neck, and that made it better somehow—shit—and then it was done, his hand hurt, and she moved her hand from her clit to claw at his hand.
Which he removed immediately. “Sorry, sorry,” he gasped. “I didn’t—”
“Don’t apologize,” she whispered. She kissed him.
He broke the kiss. “Wait, did you…?”
She nodded.
“So, then, I can…?”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, grinning at him. Briars, why she feel this burst of sweetness for him now, why did he seem so earnest and adorable and good and hers?
Chemicals, she thought as he buried his face in the crook of her shoulder, as she felt the tremors of his body inside her.
His breath was hot on the side of her face and loud, in and out and in and out—
He yanked himself out of her and threw himself onto his back, lying next to her.
She let out a cry. That was abrupt. She sat up and looked down at him.
He reached up to touch her neck. “You… did I…?”
“Fine,” she said briskly.
He swallowed.
The air smelled like sex.
She lay back down.
Neither of them spoke.
9:00 p.m.
DECKER WAS TRYING to think of some way to start whatever conversation they needed to have. He thought maybe an apology, but then he didn’t know, because she had started this bullshit, anyway, and what in the tangles of time itself?
Who was this woman?
Did he even know her?
Decker had—at one point in time in his life—had what he sort of thought of as a porn problem. It wasn’t so much that he currently thought porn was evil or whatever, it was just… okay, it was kind of like heroin.
He could just imagine the groans of objection to this, but he would assure anyone—if he ever explained this—to hear him out, it was a good analogy.
When you first started doing heroin, you took a small dose, but as you got more and more into it, you developed a tolerance, and then you needed a stronger and stronger dose.
In the same way, when you first started jacking off to porn, it didn’t take much. Briars, when he was a kid, he didn’t need the chick to be entirely naked. Girls in bikinis were fine. Girls in bras and panties—like in his mother’s lingerie catalogue—even better.
Then he’d discovered, you know, the internet.
Anyway, his tolerance got built up pretty quick. First, just seeing people fucking was fine, but then he started wanting it to be more intense in various ways. Various, uh, forceful ways? Various… violent ways?
