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“I just sat there,” I breathed, trying to concentrate through my hazy lust. “Watched the flame move across the hood. It lit the tree on fire. And I…I,” guilt slammed into me the same time his tongue met my clit. Wetness gushed, mixed with my shame. I was going to come in a puddle of remorse.
“The fire,” he murmured against me.
“I watched it. It was….mesmerizing. The orange against the night sky. And the stars…Oh God, Rook!”
A finger slid up inside me, the wet sound of my slick combined with the breeze across my naked body. My nipples pebbled. My chest heaved. It was all too much. My misery and self-loathing brewing to the surface like a thunderstorm.
“Keep going,” he demanded, his finger slowly moving in and out, his thumb on my clit.
"And suddenly, I was across the street. I don't know how. The gravel—it hurt my feet. I must've gotten out and walked across the road. Because I was suddenly there, watching the car burn. And then she….Oh God, Rook, she started screaming. She was alive.”
I let out an anguished moan, everything inside me burning and churning. Tears were sliding down my face, emotions that always seemed to be clogged up inside, now bleeding through me. I bit on my lip, trying to stifle the tears.
“Mmmm,” Rook soothed, pulling me up and into his arms, holding me. Rocking me, kissing me softly.
"I could've pulled her from the car. But because I didn't, she burned alive."
The confession fell from my lips like an anvil and I waited.
Waited for the judgement.
For Rook to tell me to get dressed and to leave his house and never return.
He must've known my mother. Loved her.
Did he hate me for not saving her?
"Is that what you believe?"
His words hit me right in the chest. They were spoken, not with judgement, but with softness.
"Yes.” My words were thick on my tongue.
“After everything you know, everything that’s happened to you, you think that it's your fault that your mom died?"
“Yes, because it's true."
“Is that so?” He sounded upset. “I guess my little bunny still has something to learn."
Then I was suddenly on my back again, and my arms were stretching across the bed. Another silk tie, one for each wrist. Tied to the bed post.
“Remember, bunny punch,” he reminded me, then suddenly my legs were spread out.
Another sharp pain that reverberated through me. Harsher now. Like he was angry.
Over and over. My hips. Inner thighs.
Stinging pain.
It was almost too much. Almost.
Because with the pain, an intense lust filled me. I squeezed my eyes, hips rocking, whimpering for more.
"Tell me, Summer, what really happened that night. Start at the beginning." Smack, smack.
"We went to a ballroom dance. I was all dressed up—it was the first time I'd been allowed to go."
“Keep going."
