Page 173 of Relapse

I didn’t fucking care anymore. I wanted to be punished. I wanted to be used until there was nothing left of me.

“Open your mouth.”

Silas’s voice shocked me, and I knew he could see it on my face. His eyes had darkened, his lips nearly curled. With an inward tilt of his head, he clenched a fist around his cock and pushed it forward, touching it to my lips.

“You want me to shut you up? Okay. Open.”

I obeyed, opening slowly, tongue out, mouth wide, prepared to ease him into me.

With a snarl, Silas fisted his hand in my hair and pulled me forward onto his cock, pressing deep into my mouth until I gagged. He held me there as I choked and sputtered around him, desperate for air. I hadn’t expected that—the brutality of it. But some sick, broken part of me welcomed it.

“Through your nose,” he commanded, keeping me still, the tip of his cock nearing the back of my throat. My reflex worked against me, and I was afraid I might vomit. I clutched his thighs, frantically trying to slow my breathing and calm myself.

“Take in more,” Silas groaned.

My plea came out muffled around his base. I didn’t think it was possible for me to take in more. The corners of my eyes burned and I pressed against his lap in an effort to signal him that I needed to breathe.

“Is this what you wanted, Raven?” Silas growled, roughly pulling me upward before thrusting back into my mouth. I had mere seconds to gasp before I consumed him once again, coughing, spit coating his cock and wetting the inside of his thighs.

“You wanted your mouth filled?” Silas moaned, the sound vibrating through his chest. He thrusted into my mouth, once, twice. “There. Mm—yeah, take it. Fuck—just like that.”

A calmness overcame me. It finally dawned on me that Silas was in pain. Angry. Sex with him was never this rough, unless I explicitly asked him for it. The lack of reciprocation I had given him earlier, the way I’d thrown myself at him, dismissing what he’d confessed, must have been his breaking point.

I made him feel like an idiot for sharing his feelings with me. I had brushed them off completely. And now, he was doing the same to me.

Good, I thought, tears trailing down my face, mixing with the spit. Hurt me. I deserve it.

SILAS

Noah had disregarded me completely. He didn’t want to talk about anything more than sex, so that’s what I was prepared to give him. In one swift move, Noah had proven his point about our experiences with one another—that the foundation of our interactions were driven by sex and void of empathy.

Part of me wanted to make him understand how much that hurt me as I thrusted into his mouth.

But it was only a minute before I realized I needed to stop.

I halted my movements. Noah’s lips were quivering, red and puffy, and his eyes were looking past me, beyond the room—elsewhere.

I saw it then.

I had broken him.

I had become a source of much deeper-rooted pain.

And I hated myself for it.

“I’m…sorry,” I murmured.

“Don’t be,” he shuddered a whisper, fingers still wound tightly in the fabric of my pants—creasing them. “Use me. Just like that. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. It’s what I’m built for.”

Our eyes met briefly, and I knew he was trying to keep himself together.

My voice was quieter than usual. “You really think that’s all I see when I look at you?”

Noah hung his head in defeat, his forehead pressing into my lap. His shoulders started to shake. Silent tears turned into a choked-out sob, and I knew my gut feeling had been correct. Something else had happened. I’d been too blinded by my own emotions to see how bad it really was. I'd been angry, and I'd let that anger morph into something cruel, something he hadn’t deserved from me.

“Oh, Raven.”

I slid to the floor beside him, my hands gently grasping his shoulders. He flinched against my touch.