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I ride the wave of ecstasy. Thrust after thrust. He pushes me closer to the edge. Until I come. I come so hard I lose my breath. And I can feel him getting closer to his release.
He doesn’t stop, and now my body is like a rag doll. His thrusts are causing the bench to knock into the equipment. I should probably be more aware of how easily those weights could fall on us, but I couldn’t care less because it’s already building and fucking exploding in me again.
Jesus fucking Christ.
He fucks like a god.
He comes, and as he does, he leans forward and grips my hair, lifting me up. His tongue, hot and needy, parts my lips, and his kiss promises one thing…
He is not done devouring me.
My hands find their way around his neck before he lifts me fully up while still inside of me. I pull back, breaking our kiss, and he just smirks.
“Who knew you were such a little whore?”
His words hurt. But then angers surges through me; how dare he call me a whore. He doesn’t know a thing about me.
“Whore?” I drop my legs and pull away. His cock is still semi-hard and wet from my release. I can’t get distracted by him…because fuck him. I’m no one’s little whore.
“A good little whore,” he adds, looking down and pulling the condom free. He must have noticed my disapproval of the little nickname he’s given me.
“Fuck you,” I spit out and spin away, but he reaches for me, his hot hands touch my body, turning me around to face him.
“You did that, sweetheart.” He winks, and I pull my arm free from his grasp and reach for my clothes.
“Bunny.”
I ignore him and start dressing.
“Is Bunny being a bad girl?”
“No, she is doing what a good whore does. Leaving.”
“You’re my favorite whore, Bunny!” he calls out after me with a small laugh as I walk out.
I see my shoes near the door, and I reach for them and don’t look back. I go straight back to the party and thankfully see Emma talking to some dude. “I’m going home.”
Emma looks at me, clearly confused, then she turns back to the bushes where I just came from and nods her head before waving bye to the guy and catching up to me.
“Shit, slow down and let me call an Uber.”
I stop and slide on one boot followed by the next.
“You smell like sex,” she comments.
I say nothing and she just smiles. “I’ll get it out of you.”
But she never does.
CHAPTER 4
WHISKEY
ONE YEAR LATER
There she is, in a red dress she should not be wearing to an event like this. It’s her way of rebelling, of that, I am sure. Her father would have made her come—he always does. Somehow, some way, he has something over her.
Very soon, I will to. I watch as men walk up to them. Her mother stands proudly next to her father, holding his elbow, while my little Bunny stands there with a drink in her hand, her eyes looking dead to the world.
