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“Exactly,” she says. “I can’t miss a game.”
“You could,” I clarify. “You just don’t want to.”
“You’re right. I don’t.”
We stare at each other a minute.
“Get on the bed,” I say again.
“Rylan…”
“What?” I snap. “I’m your boyfriend. I have rights to your body. I can fuck you whenever and wherever and however I want. Now do it before I raise my voice.”
She glances at the door and swallows, then reluctantly rises from her chair and goes to the bed. “Dawson’s home this weekend, so be quiet,” she says, dropping her little black cheer skirt with the gold trim. My cock stiffens again, and I unzip my black jeans.
“Leave that on,” I order, approaching her.
“But… You might get stuff on it.”
“Then you can wear it to the game with my cum on it,” I say, pulling out my cock and yanking it a few times. “Now bend over and open your legs.”
She pulls up the skirt, leaving her bloomers and panties around her ankles, and bends over the side of the bed. “Condom,” she says, her little round ass peeking out from under her skirt.
She always asks, even though she knows the answer.
“You’re rich,” I say, lining up and thrusting into her cunt. “Get a morning after pill if you’re worried about it.”
“You want to get me pregnant?” she demands, wincing as I draw out.
“I want to cum inside you,” I say, pumping deeper into her tight little hole. “I don’t care what happens to you after that.”
Her fingers curl into the blanket, her eyes squeeze shut, and her jaw clenches, but she doesn’t cry like she did the first time. She likes it. I know, because I’ve climbed through her window and fucked her every day, sometimes more than once, just to remind her I can. She’s mine, and I can do whatever I want to her. She owes me.
After a couple minutes, she always gets wet, so I know she wants it, even if she never cums. I don’t try to make it good for her. This is punishment, after all. It’s a race to finish while she’s small and tight, while there’s friction. It’s not hard. I don’t try to last. I use her the way she used me—with only myself in mind.
I jab into her with quick, shallow thrusts, the ones that feel the best and take the longest to get her wet. When I look down at her cheer skirt pushed up above her tight little ass, her pussy stretched tight around me, the sight undoes me. I fall forward onto my hands, driving to the hilt. My hips jerk in rhythmic spasms as my cock widens and empties my cum into her. She takes it without complaint, like she does everything.
I pump the cum into her a few times, feeling how slick she is with my release. I hope she gets pregnant. She can go to her game and cheer for all those fake-ass football players with my cum dripping out of her. But she’ll be mine for the rest of her life. If she gets pregnant, she’ll never get away. She could try, but no one else will want her then. She’ll be ruined for other men. I can do this every night of our lives, reminding her of what she did to me.
I collapse onto her back, knocking the breath out of her with my weight. Lying there, I bite down on my lip ring to make a dull ache thud into my skull like a fist, so I’ll feel something other than disgust with myself.
It was supposed to be over by now.
I was such a fucking dumbass, thinking I’d come here and fuck her, take her virginity as revenge for all she’s done, and it would be over. Everything would go back to the way it was before.
But it wasn’t enough. The more times I fuck her, the more pissed off I get. Because it’s not over. No amount of fucking her or getting revenge will ever change the fact that she ruined my family. My life. The more I get revenge, the more that realization sinks in, the more I hate her.
I could just stop and walk away, but I can’t admit defeat now, after everything I did to get here. Even if I wanted to, I’m stuck here now. We can’t go back to Savannah. My mom is married to some asshole we barely know—an asshole I set her up with. If I’m honest with myself, I moved our whole lives here for Gloria. And yet, it’s still not enough. It didn’t change anything.
I wanted it to be good again. I wanted her to be shocked and surprised. I wanted her to grovel and beg for me to love her again. I wanted her to be happy that I was here. After she earned my forgiveness, I wanted to love her and for her to love me again.
I wanted to be happy.
But I’m not happy.
My dad’s still dead. My sister’s still mute.
And worst of all, I’m still so fucking angry.
