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“He used a condom?” He wiped the remainder of my wetness on my cheek.
I wanted to cry until there was nothing left of me but held back.
He was about to find out the truth in a few short moments that I was telling the truth the first three times, so I told him what he wanted to hear.
“Yes.”
“At least you had the decency to do that. I will not be using one, but a morning-after pill will be waiting on your nightstand first thing. See, having children with a leg-spreading whore is low on my to-do list. You will take the pill, no questions asked. Am I understood?”
I closed my eyes, shame dripping down my body like sweat. I was agreeing to this. To all of this. Consenting to his words, his actions, and his cruelty.
I had, after all, gone down on my knees, begging for this moment to happen.
“Understood.”
“I would play with you a little, but you’ve been prepped by another, and I’m not in a generous mood.”
He smirked darkly, and then, with one sudden thrust, he pressed his cock home, slamming into me with such force, my back arched, my chest meeting his, and stars exploded behind my eyelids as pain pierced through me.
He tore past the natural barrier of my body and was buried so deep inside me, it felt like he was ripping me apart. The sting was so profound, I had to bite my lower lip to suppress a scream of sheer agony.
My whole life, Clara and Mom warned me off tampons, bike riding, and I even had to wear thick breeches for my horse rides, to preserve that which was so sacrosanct, so holy.
Only to be met with this.
Motionless, soundless, and tense under his body, the only clue that I was still conscious was the tears that began streaming down my face. I bit my lip hard so as not to make a sound.
I am a rusty barbwire, twisted together, knotted into a ball of fear.
“Tight as a fist,” he groaned, his feral voice meeting my complete silence as he thrust so hard, so fast, and so rough, I thought he was going to slash me apart into miniscule shreds.
My tears slid from my cheeks down to my pillow as he pushed deeper and deeper, and I could feel the walls of my virginity coming down and bleeding out of me.
But I didn’t tell him to stop, and I didn’t confess my virginity.
I lay there and let him have me. He took my innocence with force, but I couldn’t give him any part of my pride. Not even a small piece of it. Not after what occurred in the foyer.
After a few thrusts, I forced myself to open my eyes and blurrily watched his impassive, angry face.
Something seeped between us, covering my thighs, and I knew what it was. I prayed with everything I had in me that he didn’t notice it yet.
But he did.
He noticed.
His eyebrows snapped together, and he registered my face, my tears, my agony for the first time.
“Period?”
I didn’t answer.
He pulled back from me carefully, his gaze dropping between us. There was blood on the inside of my thighs and on my white linen.
I grabbed the collar of his shirt, drawing him back to me. I was desperate for his body to hide mine.
“Finish what you started,” I rustled, exposing my teeth.
I could feel the pulse of his blood against his chest, he was so close.
