Hurt Like Me

by P. A. Brokenshire

  "Say please."

  "Please, Sir." She made the words sound like a desperate prayer.

  Sir...she remembered. A simple word, an admission of submission. My fist tightened in her hair, a rush of euphoria touching every nerve in my body. I had to stop myself from finishing right then and there. I loosened my hold on her hair and she leaned forward, her tongue reaching out to swipe along the tip of me.

  "God, this tastes amazing."

  My head swam at her praise. She placed her lips around me and eased me into her mouth. Hot breath, soft tongue, wet flesh. I began to guide her along slowly. Slowly so that I would have time to compose myself, so I could drown myself in the sensation, in her. It wasn't enough for Avery. Her hands came up to my thighs and she squeezed, her nails pressing into my flesh.

  "Jesus fucking Christ!" I shouted out, unable to contain myself as one of her hands slid up to grip me at the base.

  All at once I lost my grip on reality, on calm. I thrust into her mouth, brushing her head in my hands as she stroked and sucked and twirled her devious fucking tongue.

  "You like this, don't you?" I said, tears welling in my eyes at the tightness building in my balls. Her thrum of approval against my cock made me shake. "You have no idea how many times I thought about this, about burying my dick in your throat."

  Again, I pulled her back by her hair, letting her spit string out between us so she could catch her breath, so I could enjoy this a little longer. I wanted to extend this time into oblivion. Avery wasn't having it.

  "I'm not done with you," she snarled, reaching behind me to cup my ass. She stabbed in with her nails, and pulled me back into her mouth, deep into her mouth, until I felt her lips touch the skin at my base. It was like she wanted to devour me and by god, I was at her fucking mercy, but I wouldn't let her know that.

  "Do you want me to cum? Are you that much of a desperate little slut that you can't wait?"

  My balls tightened at the way she hummed, at the deep satisfaction that I could hear in that sound. I was pretty sure she was drawing blood. The agony was my ecstasy and all at once it was too much. I wasn't going to last. Pain and sex, sex and pain. Pain, and sex, and Avery...Avery...

  "Avery!" I screamed her name as I exploded into her mouth. She didn't stop, didn't slow. Stroking and swallowing, humming and digging. Her name fell from my lips over and over again until I had to shove her away. She let me, her face beaming with pride as I collapsed to the living room floor, panting for air. I tried desperately to catch my breath and my eyes caught hers.

  She looked radiant and so very pleased with herself. I smiled wide, wanting very much to return the favor, to make Avery feel an ounce of what I was now feeling. The overwhelming sense of lightness I felt was bliss. There was never enough time in these moments when the voices stopped, the memories subsided, and my body felt light. I wanted to stretch it out this time, embrace it, but fate had other plans.

  The doorbell rang and I raced to pull up my sweats, to compose myself. Avery didn't move, but she giggled when I almost tripped over the coffee table. The last person I expected to see on the other side of the door was Heather Lovely in a trench coat. When she saw it was me, she opened it, revealing red lace beneath. She clearly hadn't seen Avery blocked by the couch, but it didn't take long for Avery to see her. Time was a merciless bitch.

  Chapter 22

  Avery- Present

  I looked at him collapsed on the floor, panting heavily from his orgasm and I could swear I saw an entirely different man than the one that had stood in the kitchen 10 minutes ago. All the tension had escaped him and when his eyes met mine he smiled, the smile reaching his eyes and making him practically beam. From one second to another his eyes shifted into hunger. I braced myself for him, fully expecting him to tackle me. He probably would have to, if not for the doorbell.

  He stumbled across the room as he pulled up his pants and I giggled when he almost fell.

  I peered out from behind the couch to see the door open and I saw her coat fall open. My body felt warm. It wasn't from what I had just done either. It was from rage. I shouldn't have expected that Garrett was celibate. I'm not sure why I expected that, but seeing Heather at the door, looking no less beautiful than she had 10 years ago and clearly expecting sex was a shot to the gut. He had to have known that she was coming over. Why would he have done that if Heather was coming over? What, was I some kind of fucking warm up? I felt sick and angry, so fucking angry.

  It barely registered in my mind that she was married, and I was ashamed that I didn't even care. She was the one betraying her husband after all. I cared that she was here to see him, that it was obviously not the first time she had shown up here.

  "Oh, shit," she said, hastily covering herself as I emerged from behind the couch. I held up the remote, pretending that I had lost it.

  "Heather! Long time no see," I said, refusing to show any feeling as I came up to the door to stand beside Garrett, close enough to make him uncomfortable. I hope he felt like shit. I fought back my anger and tears. I wouldn't fall apart, not now. I would save that for when I was safely in my room.

  "I didn't know you were in town," she said with a tremble in her voice, tucking her hair behind her ear.

  "Yeah, I'm staying in town for a few months to help take care of my dad."

  I made no move to let her in the house. I wanted her to leave. Whatever Garrett had planned with her wasn't going to happen. I had every intention of making her feel awkward. She would leave and then I would fall apart. Maybe I would even castrate Garrett, but I wouldn't let her see it.

  "Oh god, of course. I heard about that. I hope he's doing better."

  It was nice of her to care. I'm not sure what the world had done to Heather Lovely to make her cheat on her husband, to make her agree to show up tonight. Fate had clearly served her a hard blow. Actually, maybe it was fate's cruel joke on me instead. The universe was laughing at me for being so incredibly stupid, again.

  "Yeah, he is, thanks for asking," I said, feeling almost as bad for her as I did for me. This wasn't about us. It never had been. She took me home from the party, she never treated me badly. Granted, she didn't stop the others who did, but we were kids. Life had caught up with her. Maybe she was coming here for comfort. Maybe her husband wasn't as loving as he seemed to be in the pictures she posted on the Internet.

  "So, I was just getting ready to go to bed. I think maybe you should go," Garrett said, recovering from whatever form of shock he had been in. His voice was low.

  "Yeah, I should."

  "You don't have to," I said, but I didn't make any effort to move. "I'm going to be doing some paperwork for my dad so Heather you're more than welcome to stay. I'd hate to interrupt your guys plans."

  "No, I really should go," she said uneasy, backing up from the door.

  "Okay. Have a good night."

  I pressed on the door, ignoring Garrett's hand still gripping the handle. He didn't fight the movement. In fact, it seemed that he was closing it too. The door shut and the first unwanted tear fell. I ignored it.

  "I'm going to bed," I said, dejected. I wouldn't look in his direction. He grabbed my hand and my traitorous skin warmed at his touch.

  "I didn't invite her over here," he said.

  It didn't matter anymore. Whether he did or didn't. He was good with pain- administering it, amplifying it. It came so easily to him. His hurt bled into everyone like poison. As good as his body felt, his soul was rotten. He'd corrupted Heather, he'd corrupted me. At what point does he stop seeping into people's lives like a disease? I was starting to think those nightmares of his were the universe's way of making up for the pain he caused.

  "I don't care." I said, removing his hand from mine.

  I grabbed Dad's laptop from the table and carried it to my room, shutting and locking the door behind me. I blasted my music as loud as I could tolerate, entirely different from the soft, melodic music I normally played to ease his screams. Lots of googling and crying later, I fi
nished payroll. With my eyes dry, unable to make another tear, I shut the music off. It's then that I was able to recognize the screams that again echoed through the house. There had been screams over the past two weeks. Ones that I had drowned in sleep music to stop. These screams though, the things he said....

  "Don't! Don't leave me here! Please, don't let them hurt me!

  My heart lurched at the words. I could hear the tears in his eyes, the panic in his voice. I realized then that the nightmares were something more. I'd never asked their cause. I'd always assumed they were normal, but now I was sure that something haunted the shadow that was Garrett Hathaway.

  "Let go of me!"

  I quickly changed the music and cranked it loud until I was sure he would wake up. I didn't sleep, not until I had crept over to his room and ensured he was sleeping peacefully again.

  ***

  I left the house early in the morning. Usually, I would take Garrett with me to see Dad on Saturday, but I didn't want him around. I was still mad at him for the events in the living room, still disgusted with myself that I had let him take advantage of my need for his body, and still so confused by his nightmares. Regardless, if he really wanted to see Dad then he could walk to the rehab facility or order a ride.

  The nurse at the front desk greeted me by name as I walked into the door. I gave her a smile and a wave, although it felt forced. Dad had his own room at the end of a long hallway and when I entered, I smelled the distinct scent of sunflowers. There was a bouquet of them on the table in the corner. My eyes narrowed in confusion. Who would have given Dad flowers?

  "Come on, John. You can do better than that. One more bite."

  Dad's nurse, Ferrah, was helping him eat his breakfast. I assumed he was being stubborn; he always was when it came to meals. She let out a frustrated breath of air and crossed her ebony arms. Ferrah was beautiful. Probably only 10 years older than me with a head of wild black curls. She was thick, curvy, and took zero lip. I loved her the moment I had met her.

  "Are you going to eat it or just stare at it in your hand?"

  Dad's hand shook, as did the spoon in his hand. He gave her a look that I had never seen. His eyes sparkled with something akin to amusement as he turned the spoon and dropped the oatmeal on his lap with a sharp laugh.

  "You did that on purpose!" She wasn't angry, quite the opposite, she laughed and shook her head.

  "Who?...Me?..." He said the words so slowly, but it warmed my heart to hear them. I was so proud of his progress.

  He caught sight of me at the same time as Ferrah. Her eyes lit up. Such a beautiful honey color.

  "Fin! You're just in time for me to throw away your father. I think I'll leave him next to the dumpster out back, thoughts?"

  She called me by my nickname since Dad always referred to me by it. It didn't feel wrong when she said it.

  "I'll help you wheel him out," I replied, setting my purse on the table before walking to Dad and kissing him on the forehead. "You had a good run, old man."

  "Ha...ha..." Dad said mockingly. I picked up the empty bowl from his bed table and set it on the tray, catching sight of the flowers again.

  "Who sent the flowers?"

  "Oh! Lovely girl named Heather dropped them off this morning." Ferrah said, wiping up the dropped oatmeal.

  I felt like an arrow stabbed me clear through the chest.

  "There's a card with it."

  She handed me the card. It was sweet. Just a normal get well soon card. Nothing salacious. I didn't know what to think. She really was a good person despite everything and I was so very confused by that. It was hard to hate Heather Lovely. I had heard that she smacked Garrett after the party and she had used all her fake money on my stupid blanket for economics. I wasn't sure when she had fallen into his grasp, but I could understand how it could happen. I'd done the same fucking thing. I remembered the taste of his lips, his skin, and my thighs tightened, my heart ached.

  A giggle broke me away from my thoughts. Dad had said something and I had missed it. Ferrah playfully swatted him. The two were a couple of kids. They couldn't be left alone for five minutes. I was beginning to suspect that my father had a crush on his nurse and that confused me almost as much as the damn card. He had never dated, never even looked at a woman since mom. Maybe his near-death experience had done something to spike his will to live.

  My world was turning upside down around me and I didn't know what to hold on to- my hate and avoidance were getting harder to grasp. Everything used to be so black and white. Now there was just a lot of gray. Footsteps drew my eyes to the door. Garrett stood in the doorway, looking worn out and tired. All the life I'd seen in his eyes as I'd devoured him the night before had disappeared. He was the shadow again. I plastered a smile on my face as he greeted my Dad.

  Chapter 23

  Garrett- Present

  Avery was still mad. I hadn't seen her for three days. Not since Saturday at the nursing facility. She never left her room while I was home. She wanted nothing to do with me, that much was obvious. The problem is that now that the monster had gotten a taste of Avery, he wanted her constantly. My dick was hard 24/7 and no matter how much I jerked off it didn't seem to help. My body didn't want my hand, didn't crave my hand, it wanted her. I'd rather be bruised and aching and sore. The pain might have been easier to deal with than this new constant ache for her touch.

  "Quit your sniveling. At least your fucking good for something now."

  I could practically see her in front of me, counting the money. As she gazed at the new bruises on my body her eyes sparkled, looking so much like mine.

  My palm bled from the contact with my nails. Deep breaths, counting, pain. Time was a constant blend of vices, exercises to ease the anxiety and fear. It was getting worse. I heard her all the time. It's like her ghost was taking advantage of my weakened, desperate state. The ache for Avery's body drained me physically as the memories tore through my mind. Avery still played that obnoxious music at night, but during the day...it was starting to get just as bad. I couldn't even shave anymore because all I saw were her eyes staring back at me. Yesterday I smashed my hand with a hammer at work to shut it off for a minute, to get a few precious moments of peace. A bruise had formed there, black and ominous. I bet that's what my soul looked like, black and blue becoming a sickly dark green. The darkness was causing me to rot.

  There was a way to remove it, at least temporarily. Now that I was aware of it, I would do whatever I had to do to get it back.

  I embraced the ache in my hand as I plated food for dinner. Roasted chicken in a cream sauce with mashed potatoes and sweet carrots. I even made a peach cobbler with ice cream for dessert. I'd made that exact meal for Avery the second day she was home and she'd moaned through practically the whole meal. I'd been hoping the smell would make her step out of her room. I was starting to think I wasn't that lucky though. I'd have to bring it to her, convince her to eat with me so that I could seduce her. It was horrible of me, I knew that, but I wanted the mental silence that only she could offer. She wouldn't fight me, her body wanted mine too much.

  "I like the ones that fight."

  The smell of sweat hit me like a truck. The plate almost dropped out of my hands. I had to set it on the counter as I curled over, clutching my stomach. Bile rose threateningly in my throat. I grit my teeth hard. I was so absorbed in trying not to vomit that I didn't even notice Avery standing in the kitchen in those damn tiny shorts and tight as fuck tank top, her eyes full of concern and her arm half outstretched to me.

  "Are you okay?"

  Shit! I forced myself to stand and winced, fighting back the queasy feeling in my stomach.

  "Yeah, just an ache in my side." I lied, making myself smile. It was more difficult than I thought it would be. Pretending to be normal was becoming harder by the day, by the hour. I needed absolution, peace. I held up the plate to her. "I made you dinner."

  Her eyes lit up at the sight of the plate, a smile tugging on her lips. My soul softened
ever so slightly. This would work. It had to work. God, I was an asshole for wanting this to work. She took the plate and for the first time in three days she sat down at the table in the same room at the same time as me. The first bite elicited a moan that made the clenching in my stomach shift to warmth. The way she reacted to my food filled me with pride.

  "God, this tastes amazing."

  She realized what she had said at the same moment I did. My whole body rushed with desire, my skin ached. The words were an echo of what she had said right before she'd taken me into her mouth. I visibly swallowed, my hands clenched tightly on my own plate as I made my way to the table. Her cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink. So delicate and warm. Embarrassed. I suppressed a grin, trying to hide my sudden amusement. The last thing I needed right now was for her to run back into her room and disappear.