“I’m going to fuck you. Then I’m going to leave this room and pretend it didn't happen, and you’ll do the same.” He reaches over, grabbing a condom from his nightstand, but I grip his hand.
Not replying to his hurtful words. “No condom. I’m clean. I want to feel you with nothing between us.” My eyes plead with his, a silent prayer that he doesn't deny me this one thing.
His hand drops the condom, and he lines himself up with my wet center in seconds, but stopping before he says, "I’m not going to fuck you nice and slow. In fact, by the time you’re begging me to let you come, it’ll feel like agony." He doesn’t wait for a response before plunging deep.
Every moan and cry I make only spurs him on. Seb fucks me harder, his palm reaching up to cradle my head so it doesn’t smash against the wall from the force of his thrusts.
He’s just as desperate for me as I am for him, which is why he doesn’t pull back when his cock hits deeper than I thought was possible.
"Fuck, Seb." I grip the sheets for dear life, feeling like at any second I'm going to shatter.
“You wanted me, Little Rebel. So, fucking take me,” Seb’s words coming out as a breathy moan. He keeps fucking me, urged on by the pleas leaving my mouth. I beg him not to stop, despite the tears streaming down my cheeks, because right here and now, I’ve never understood him more.
The walls of my pussy start contracting, but he stops as soon as he notices the finish line coming into view. I whine from the loss of him and the orgasm that was seconds away from shattering me. Glaring at Seb as he looks down at me with a knowing smirk, it only makes my frustration swell.
"I warned you I’d push you to your breaking point. You'll hate me by the end of this." Every time he pulls out and slams back in makes me feel like I’m exploding.
“Please, Seb, I need to come.” My voice is drenched in desperation, but he keeps my release just out of reach. This is the moment I realize he was telling the truth.
As I reach down to finish myself, his fingers grip my hips, flipping me over.
“Put your ass up in the air, Mary.” His deep, husky voice makes me whimper, and I obey, feeling him enter me from behind. This new position hits places I’ve never felt before.
“Do you hate me yet, Rebel?” I can hear the smirk on his face. A muttered string of incomprehensible words escapes me as his hand wraps tightly around my blonde hair before he pulls my body up to meet his chest.
“Answer me,” he grits out. The evidence of my frustrations pouring from my eyes seems to turn him on even more.
“No.”
He slams into me, making me grunt from the force.
“You fucking should.”
The second Seb’s hand snakes around, circling my clit with the perfect amount of pressure, it’s almost painful.
“Come for me, Mary,” he whispers in my ear, fucking me even deeper. My orgasm hits out of nowhere, building so quickly it blurs my vision. I scream out his name as the wave of pleasure never seems to end. Seb follows me over the edge soon after I catch my breath.
When his eyes connect with mine, I see the hurt cross his face before he masks it with something unreadable.
Grabbing my discarded clothing off the floor, he tosses them at me. “Get dressed and get out of my room.” His words hit me hard. I knew this was coming, but his words are only followed by the hollow ache of something breaking the way it always does.
I watch as Seb disappears through the bathroom, closing the door with the same ease he dismissed me.
Chapter 17
Mary
Sebwasn’tlyingwhenhe said he was going to fuck me and pretend it didn’t happen. He kept his promise—not by denying what we did, but by pretending I don't exist. I can deal with the hate; I can’t handle him acting as if I’m invisible.
I thought being with him tonight might stitch something back together. For a second, his fingers, the scrape of his thumb across my bottom lip, I believed it could. But between the shit he's said and done for the past six months, seeing Tyler and Anthony, and the panic attack on the lawn...
It's all too much.
Seb treated me like trash. Used, tossed, and somehow dirtier after. I should've seen it coming. I did. Hindsight is a cheap, brutal teacher.
I scan the room for Maddie and Tate because I need witnesses for my survival, if not my dignity. I'd rather they know I'm breathing as I battle whether I should leave or not.
I spot Seb across the room, catching his gaze—the joint bobbing between my fingers. I bring the lighter up and touch the paper; the embers steady me like a heartbeat.
