by Geri Glenn
I let out a shuddered breath as I shake my head.
“Because I wanted to see if you could take it, Alex. I wanted to see if you could handle the way I wanted to fuck you.”
“I think I proved that I can,” I say, running my fingers through his thick, dark hair.
He pulls his head away and stares into my eyes. “Almost.” He smirks. “Turn around, Alex.”
My heart skips a beat as I take in the look on his face. Gone is the lightness of the man that walked into my house a victor in some sort of hostile takeover. Gone is the grin he had given me just a few moments before. Reese is serious and heated, and I suddenly feel less like his lover and more like his prey.
He takes me by the hips and spins me himself, facing me toward the kitchen counter. His hand presses into my back, lowering me, my breasts crushing against the cool marble. He steps back, his hands running down my back, caressing my ass. “Has anyone ever taken you here?” he asks, his finger sliding to rub against the tight ring of muscle there.
I squirm away from him, but my body is still trapped between his hips and the counter. “No, and I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet.”
He leans forward, his chest against my back as he kisses and nibbles at my ear. “We’ll get you ready.”
I hear the jingle of his belt and the rustle of fabric as he removes his clothes. “You look so fucking incredible spread out for me like that,” he groans, his breath fanning across my skin. I start to lift my body from the counter, but he holds me down with a gentle hand on my back. “Stay still.”
I hear the crinkle of the condom wrapper, then silence. When his lips hit my pussy, I yelp in surprise, but quickly spread my legs wider, giving him better access. I tilt my hips, thrusting my ass out, allowing his mouth to cover my center, and feel his tongue plunge inside me. He fucks me with his mouth, wringing moans and pants from me while his hands massage my ass.
“You like my mouth, don’t you, bitch?” he asks as he pulls his lips away from my clit with a pop. “You like it when I taste that greedy little pussy of yours.”
I moan, because he’s right. I do like it. I like it so much that I want to reach back and press his face into my heat, forcing him to never stop, but I don’t. I stay put, like he’d ordered, spread out on the counter like Christmas dinner.
When his cock plunges inside me, I grip the marble edge below me and hold on tightly as he thrusts in and out, his hips slapping into mine. I’m so close to coming, I barely notice when his thumb finds its way to my ass.
“No,” I cry out, but he’s already thrust it inside, as far as it will go.
“Yes,” he pants, his hips still moving. “You’ll like it. Relax, Alex.”
Tears prick at my eyes as he thrusts his thumb in tandem with his cock, and the discomfort distracts me from whatever pleasure I had been feeling. “I don’t like that, Max. Stop.”
He pulls his thumb from my body, growling in frustration, and then I lose his cock too. “You like the way I fuck you, Alex?”
His question catches me off guard. I suck in a breath before answering. “Yes, but—”
“Then you need to fucking trust me, okay. Now bend the fuck over.”
I frown. I can handle a lot of things, once I get used to them—the spanking, the way he calls me bitch, and even the way he orders me around in that cold voice he sometimes has—but I won’t be forced to do something I don’t want to do. “No. I—”
“Jesus Christ,” he snarls. Reese’s fingers tangle through my hair and he forces my head back down to the counter. Once there, I can’t move. He holds me there, his body pressing down on mine, his hand crushing my face into the marble. “I want your ass, Alex. I want what nobody else has ever fucking had.”
When I feel his cock at my virgin opening, a place that I have never allowed a man, my eyes widen and I start to fight. “No!” I scream. “No!”
With only the lube of the latex condom, and what he’d gotten from my pussy just moments before, Reese pushes his dick into my ass in a thrust that feels like he’s ripping me in two. I hear him groan with pleasure over my own silent scream. I can’t breathe. This hurts so fucking bad.
Again, I try to squirm away, but with every movement of my body, the pain only gets worse. “Stop!” I cry, tears making their way down my cheeks. “Please.”
“Fuck, baby,” he groans, his hips thrusting harder, the sound of his skin slapping against mine mingling with his panting and my sobs.
As he continues to fuck me—hell, he’s not fucking me, he’s raping me—I feel myself disconnect from my body. It’s like I kind of just drift away, watching the scene in front of me in horror as the man I was slowly becoming very fond of rapes me in my own kitchen.
“Oh, Jesus,” he moans, and his body goes stiff as his hips shudder into mine. “Oh, fuck.” I lay there, still and defeated as he spills his pleasure into me, a little more of my pride dying with each passing second.
As Reese pulls out, he gives me a little smack on the ass, but I still don’t move. “See, baby?” I hear him rip off the condom and throw it into the trash. “I told you you’d like it.”
Gathering what little strength I can find in my shaken soul, I slowly push myself up to a standing position, and turn to face him. “Get out,” I whisper.
Reese’s grin fades. “What?”
“Get out!” I shriek.
Reese blinks. “Jesus Christ, Alex. What’s your fucking problem?”
My body shakes as I kneel and pick up my wrinkled dress. I’d chosen it because it made me feel beautiful. Now it barely conceals me as I hold it in front of me to cover my breasts. A sob rips through me, my chest aching as I look into his eyes. “Leave.”
Reese stares at me for a moment, then shakes his head in disbelief. “Fine,” he says, angrily tugging on his pants and driving his arms through the sleeves of his shirt. “I don’t need this shit.”
When I hear his car tear out of my driveway, I stop pretending I’m strong and drop to my knees, crying.
***
I’d showered until the water ran cold, but I still feel dirty. So fucking dirty. I pop Advil and sit on an icepack, hoping it will take the pain from my bottom, but so far, nothing has worked. As much as my poor ass hurts, that’s nothing compared to what my mind feels right now.
I feel used and violated, confused and outraged, even murderous. I just need someone to come along and tell me it’s okay. But nobody’s coming. Since I left home, I’ve kept to myself, making few friends, and focusing on getting my degree. There was no time for socializing.
I debate on calling the police, but I know it’s useless. I don’t even really know if what just happened can even be called rape. I’d wanted him to fuck me. I’d taken my clothes off for him. I’d spread myself out on the counter for him. I knew Reese liked it rough, but I’d wanted him anyway. So he took it a little further. Does that mean it’s rape? What police officer is going to believe a porn star was raped by a sexy billionaire?
When I crawl into bed, I keep on all of my clothes. No more sleeping naked. It leaves me vulnerable, and right now, I can’t handle that. I cry for hours, long after the sun starts to rise. When sleep finally does take me, the tears continue to fall.
***
I’m sitting in my living room, watching a movie I’m not even interested in, when the doorbell rings. Gingerly, I climb to my feet, keeping the thick, puffy blanket wrapped around my shoulders. Slowly, I walk toward the door, not caring what a mess I look like.
When I tug it open, Reese stands on the front step, a grin on his face, and a gift-wrapped package in his outstretched hand. I feel nothing. Numb. I stare at his face, then at his gift before taking a step back to close the door.
His foot jams in the crack, just before I can close it all the way. “You’re still mad,” he says, like he figures I should be over it by now. “Come on, babe. Don’t be that way. It was sex. Good fucking sex. What are you so pissed off about?”
That clears away some of
the numbness. Rage burns deep in my belly, bubbling and boiling, and threatening to incinerate me from the inside out if I don’t release it. “Are you kidding me?” I say, my voice sounding distant and controlled. “Sex? You think that was sex? Reese, you raped me. You fucking raped me, and you want to know why I’m so pissed off?” I shake my head. “You need help.”
Reese’s head flies back at the word “rape,” and he backs up a step. I use the movement to my advantage and slam the door closed between us, locking first the knob, then throwing the deadbolt.
“You think I raped you?” he yells through the door. “Me? You can’t rape a fucking porn star, Alex. You get paid to fuck people. It’s your goddamn job!”
“I’m calling the police,” I choke out, but I’m not. The police won’t help a woman like me against a man like Reese. I just want him to go away so I can go back to my living room, where I can stare off into space and try to remember why I was ever attracted to this man in the first place.
“Fuck!” he roars, and the door in front of me rocks on its hinges. I don’t’ know if he punched it or kicked it, but this old door can’t take too many more of those blows. Silence follows, and then I hear his voice, close to me, but on the other side of the thick wood. “Alex, don’t do this,” he says softly. “It’s not supposed to be this way.”
Tears escape from between my lashes as I press my forehead to the door, wishing I could rewind to last night and stop it all before he’d had the chance to hurt me. Before he ruined any hope of he and I becoming an ‘us.’
After a few minutes, I start to wonder if he’s left, but then I hear his feet shuffling on the porch. “Alex?” he calls softly. “Baby, I’m gonna go, but this isn’t over. We need to talk about this.”
I cover my mouth with my shaking hand as a sob threatens to burst past my lips. So many emotions are swirling inside me, I feel like I’m about to come out of my own skin. I tremble as I listen to his footsteps recede down the front stairs, and hear the sound of him getting into his car.
It’s not until I can no longer hear the sound of his car leaving the driveway that I allow myself to scream. I scream in anger and pain, and even with rage. When I’m finished, I slowly walk toward the living room, turn off the movie, and go to my bedroom. There, throat raw from screaming, body aching from last night, and my soul feeling like it’s broken in two, I lay in the darkness and try not to think.
***
For the next five days, I don’t leave my house. Reese had called me so many times, my voicemail had no more room for messages, and the sound of its ring was driving me crazy. I’d turned it off completely after the first day.
In that time, I’d received sixteen flower deliveries, each one with a card attached, but I haven’t opened a single one. Instead, I took each card, tossed them in the trash, and jumped into the shower. It took me almost ten minutes to load all those flowers into my car, and another twenty to drive them to a nearby retirement home.
I’ve sulked long enough, grieving the loss of my dignity and potential relationship. It’s time to get back to my life, but I can’t do that with all the flowers serving as a constant memory of what Maxwell Reese had done to me.
The ladies at the retirement home had been excited with my donation, and I’d even helped a couple of them put them in just the right places in their rooms. It made me feel good to bring them joy, but I hated that it took me being raped by a remorseless man to be able to do that.
Finally, house cleared of flowers, garbage full of tear-drenched tissues at the curb, I decide to go for a run. I need to clear my head, and I need to forget that I ever met Maxwell Reese. He may have taken a piece of me that night, but I wasn’t going to let him break me.
***
I almost call Jeff and tell him that I can’t come in today. I’ve been scheduled for this shoot for months, and now that I know the part Reese had played in each of my roles, it turns my stomach to actually go through with it.
In the end, I decide to go. One more film, one more paycheck, and then I’m out. Out of Lush Studios, out of porn, out of the toxic circle Reese manipulates without anybody even knowing.
I can tell Jeff knows that something is wrong with me, just by the way he’s watching me. I don’t know what I’m doing to give it away. My bottom has finally healed up, and I’m trying my best to be friendly. Nevertheless, his eyes follow me off-set, worry clear in his heavy brow.
When filming begins, I feel strange. I go through the motions, making all the right noises and doing all the things I’d seen in the script, but I feel nothing. No excitement at being watched by the rest of the crew. When Ricky touches me, no pleasure washes over me. It’s like part of me is dead inside. Like my body is there, but my mind is asleep, not connecting to the outside world at all.
That connection is forced when I hear a door at the back of the studio slam shut, and the whispers as the crew talk to each other. My mind connects with my vision as my eyes snap toward the sounds and land on Reese. He’s standing beside the camera, his arms folded, his gaze riveted on me.
The feelings of filth return, of being dirty and used up. I rip my eyes away from him, but what I want to do is grab the blanket beneath me and use it to shield my body from his hungry stare before running out of the room, screaming. But I don’t. Ricky is below me as I ride his cock, my hips swaying in time with his grunts.
Wanting to just get this over with so I can go home, far away from Reese, I squeeze the muscles in my pussy, picking up the pace. My body quivers with my climax, but it’s not real. I fake it, focusing on Ricky and doing whatever I can think of to get him to finish. When he finally pulls out, he spills his cum across my belly and up onto my breasts, his lips sipping at mine.
As soon as Jeff says, “Cut,” I jump off the bed and run down the hall, into the room I’ve used to change my clothes. I see him in the hall when I leave, leaning there, watching me, his hands in his pockets, but I don’t stop. It takes everything in me not to run out of there.
Instead, I keep my head held high, my car keys held in just the right position so that if I need to punch someone, I can take out an eye or two. He doesn’t speak to me, but he does follow me. As I get into my car, Reese stands just outside the door of the studio, watching as I pull away, his face blank, but his fists clenched tight.
***
I’m in my garden, pulling weeds, when the text comes in from Shawn. I’d just turned my phone on that morning for the first time, making sure to block Reese’s number and deleting all the messages without listening to a single one.
Shawn: You still up for dinner tomorrow?
Dinner. In the whirlwind week I’d had with Reese, I’d forgotten all about dinner with Shawn. My finger hovers over the screen as I try to decide on what to say. I really don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave my house, or spend time with anyone right now.
But Shawn had asked me, and he seemed like such a nice guy. Maybe getting out would be good for me. Since everything had happened, I hadn’t talked to anyone, other than the minimal conversations I’d had during my shoot.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I text him back.
Me: For sure! What time?
I watch the three little dots bounce as he types out his reply.
Shawn: 7 work for you?
Me: Absolutely. See you then ☺
I stuff my phone back into the back pocket of my jeans and go back to weeding. When the Bugatti passes by my house, it’s moving slow. I can’t see him inside of it, but I can feel his eyes on me. It seems to take him forever to go by, and I just stand there, frozen, not sure what I’ll do if he gets brave enough to turn into my driveway.
He stops in the middle of the road, the car idling. There’s no traffic. There’s nothing. One of the nicest things about living out here is the seclusion, but right now, that doesn’t seem like a good thing at all.
My heart feels like it’s about to explode as I stand there, unable to breathe. It feels like forever passes as he sits there, but
it’s probably only a minute. Finally, he eases off the brake and the car rolls forward, still slowly, but it’s not until it completely disappears from my sight that I pick up my things and hurry inside.
***
Shawn is nervous when he picks me up. I can tell. It’s funny to me, and maybe even a touch sweet, because the man has been balls deep inside of me, but he is clearly flustered when I open the door. “You look lovely, Alex,” he compliments as I step outside.
I don’t dare invite him in. I had to force myself to keep this date after what Reese had done, and while I’m not afraid of Shawn, I don’t feel comfortable being alone with him in my house. Not so soon after.
“Thank you,” I reply with a smile, poking my arm through his and following him to his car. He is the perfect gentleman as he holds it open for me, closing it behind me once I’m inside. Just like Reese did. As Shawn rounds the car to the driver’s side, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Shawn is not Reese.
“So,” he says, after getting settled into his seat and pulling out of my driveway. “How was your week?”
I feel the burn of tears trying to form behind my eyelids, but I beat them back. “Okay. Nothing too exciting,” I lie. “How about you? You have a good shoot?”
Shawn’s eyes flick to mine, then slide back to the road ahead. “Not exactly. It seems I may have done something to piss someone off at Lush. They recast the role with some other dude, and didn’t even bother to tell me. I spent the rest of the week at my brother’s place, hanging out with him and his wife, and their new baby girl.”
“Recast you?” I wrinkle my nose. “Can they do that? Isn’t that against your contract?”
Shawn shrugs. “Apparently, my contract was up two weeks ago, so they don’t owe me shit.”
“That sucks, Shawn. I’m sorry that happened. Sounds like you had a nice visit with family, though.”