“Babe, start talking; I’m already pissed, so it’d be nothing for me to slip into your tight pussy and fuck you into talking.” And as if reading my mind, he added, “Unless that’s what you want.” His hand traveled higher until he reached the apex of my thighs, lightly fingering the edges of my panties. He grabbed both my hands in his other hand and pinned them above my head, leaning in to whisper against my ear.
“You want me to fuck you while I’m pissed,” he stated, his fingers running over my dampened underwear. If he didn’t know I was aroused by the way I was moving against him, he knew when he lifted his fingers from between my thighs and sniffed my arousal on them. I wanted that not to be hot, but it was so fucking hot.
“Why…” I cleared my throat, trying again. “Why would I want that?” I asked in a steady tone, determined not to let my voice betray me. The more unaffected he thought I was, the quicker he would snap.
He nuzzled my neck, and I cried out when he unexpectedly bit into my flesh then soothed it with his tongue before lifting those eyes to mine, “Sex is always better angry,” he stated as he took my mouth, slowly at first then punishingly. His mouth melded against mine, and I opened for him as his fingers went back down, shoved my panties to the side, and plunged two fingers in, hard. This was the Deklan I met all those weeks ago, his fingers twisted and pulled inside me in a rhythm that made me forget…everything; he made me forget everything.
“Still going to the couch?” he teased, his thumb pressed down on my clit, causing me to arch up into his hand before he slowly eased his fingers out then plunged them back in. It was torture, yet I never wanted him to stop.
But I wanted more.
“Deklan, please,” I pleaded, hoping he knew what I was begging for. He had to be in tune with my body to know what I was begging for, what I sought as he slowly finger fucked me.
“Tell me.” His breathing was calm, not giving away shit, but I knew he was aroused. I didn’t even have to look down to know that, I could feel every inch of his arousal pressed into me. I wanted his resistance to crumble, to rip my panties off, and shove deep inside of me— hard, taking me with such carnal force that I would still feel him long after the sex was over.
“I won’t ask again, Harley,” he promised as his movements became faster and faster, the smell of sex was heavy in the air, and all I could focus on was the wet slapping sound his fingers made as they plunged deeper, harder, and faster. My hips moved in time with his fingers, my breath coming out in small pants, signaling I was close. So close. Then he withdrew.
“NO!” I screamed and writhed against his hold in frustration, only to have him look at me in expectation. I knew he would continue this slow then fast torture all night if need be, but there was no way I would survive that. He was such an asshole! I gave up, and all but screamed at him. “Because I want you to stop treating me like I’m going to break! I want you to be normal around me, be an asshole, demand things, fuck me like an animal, hurt me!”
He processed what I said for a beat then said one word that had the potential to shatter my already fragile heart.
“No.”
Deklan
Fuck.
Shit.
On the outside I was calm, only my dick giving away anything, but on the inside? I was live. I was pissed at Matty’s bitch ass passed out my couch, and if I hadn’t been afraid he would puke in my car, his ass would have still been in the backseat. And then I had to go and get pissed at Harley for not doing what I fucking told her with the bat. What if I had been some shit dirt bag looking for a quick score? She wouldn’t have stood a chance.
After taking a cold shower, my blood was on a low boil. I knew I was obvious as shit with how I was acting, I just didn’t think I was that obvious. To be honest, I was tired as shit of walking on glass around her, afraid that if I said something too dickheadish, or fucked her too rough or hard, she would take that as something that it wasn’t and do some unnecessary shit.
Like now, for example, she was looking at me after I just told her no, but she had no idea I was referring to hurting her. The last fucking thing I would ever want to do is hurt her. But that’s not what she thinks. She thinks I don’t want to do all the things she said? Be me? Shit. It’s undeniable; I want to fuck her primal and hard. It’s been damn near impossible to restrain myself when we’ve had sex and even then it still hadn’t been enough. Guess I wasn’t the only one lacking. But as much as I want to, I can’t.
“No?” she asked, trying to wiggle her way from underneath me and jarring me from my wandering thoughts in the process.
“Babe, if you don’t stop wiggling those perky tits against me, I will absolutely fuck you, and I will be an asshole about it,” I warned. She had done a very good job at hyping me up. Just seeing her like this, pinned down underneath me, had my dick hard enough to pound nails. Fuck, she was hot; her lips were bow shaped, full, and fucking perfect. I couldn’t wait to see them wrapped around my dick, my hand in her thick hair. Fuck, that was not helping.
“Let me up, Deklan.” She looked at me like I just kicked her and that fucking hurt.
“Just wait a minute…I didn’t…I…Fuck!” She had me stuttering and shit. I don’t stutter.
“Fuck, I told you before I don’t do this shit.” I let her hands go and rolled off her, staring at the ceiling. Feelings, emotions— those were things I had put a stop to a long ass time ago, until she stumbled into my life. Since she came along, I was having all sorts of feelings that I didn’t want to acknowledge to myself, let alone talk about.
“Just tell me.” She sounded as if she already knew how this would go, like I was going to fuck her life up more than it already had been.
Negative. I had to show her I wasn’t backing out; I just needed time. She was right, and I was different with her. What she’d done fucked me up, and I wasn’t ready to deal with that shit just yet. She didn’t protest when I reached for her, bringing her thighs over my waist to straddle me. Even though she was mad at me, she still responded to me. I could feel her heat through my boxers, and I fucking loved it. Her pussy inches from my dick caused it to perk up, and my balls to swell.
I had to say something, so I went with aversion.
“Don’t do that shit,” I warned. “Don’t twist this. My brother’s on the couch, and I don’t want him to hear you scream my name when I lick you here.” I cupped her sex, and massaged her still wet opening, which made her grind her ass on my erection. “Or when I fuck you here.” I rubbed the pad of my thumb over her bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. I doubt she knew how insane she was making me, how her not knowing how sexy she was made her even sexier. I was well aware of her aversion to letting me fuck her mouth. I asked once, and she shut that shit down quick; it didn’t mean I wasn’t gonna try every chance I got.
“No one gets to hear that shit but me.” Yup, I was very fucking aware of how I sounded like a possessive dick, but I didn’t give a shit. I wanted to ruin her for everyone else, so that she would only ever be able to fit here, with me.
“Matt?” she asked wide-eyed, either from the promise of my words, or from shock.
“Do I have another brother?” I cupped the back of her neck, bringing her to me and nipped her lower lip, unable to not fucking touch her. Still aware I was being a dickhead, but I was hyped up, and it wasn’t helping that she was still grinding her ass on me, moaning slightly and shit. It was like me being an asshole got her wetter. Fuck.
“Har...” I started, placing my hand on her hip to still her movements.
“Deklan, please,” she moaned and placed her hand on mine and moved it between her legs and pushed it down hard on her clit. I couldn’t fuck her, not like I really wanted to, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t give her what I knew she needed.
I removed my hand, gripped her panties and quickly ripped them off, grabbed her hips and pushed her down slightly so that the lips of her pussy sandwiched my dick over my boxers and moved her slowly, back and forth. She bucked against me as I
massaged her clit with my thumb, teasing her as my dick swelled with the friction. She was so fucking soaked; it plastered my boxers to my dick, the friction caused the head to slip through the slit. She moaned louder at the small contact her pussy had with my dick and moved faster. My dick jumped when it hit her hot opening, and I fought like hell to not slip all the way in.
“Babe,” I cautioned. I was true as shit; no one got to hear her come apart but me. But her trying to be quite almost made me say fuck it. I loved the fact that she couldn’t be quite, like she had to scream how good it was. How good we were together. That was a fucking ego booster if there ever was one.
“I can’t help it,” she said on a breath as I rubbed her clit harder. Her on top of me, jacking off my dick with her pussy was the best fucking sight I’ve ever seen. She arched her back and placed her hands on my chest and started to move faster and faster, wiggling when our sexes met, trying to get more of me inside her. I was so hard it was painful. My balls drew up tight, and I knew I was close to exploding.
Her face contorted in bliss, and her body suddenly went still. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whisper-chanted, her come soaking me. I took that opportunity to dip the head of my dick in her heat and pushed her further over the edge, and I was right fucking behind her. I pulled out with seconds to spare and watched with her as I blasted on my stomach. Shiiiiiiiit, I wanted more of her; I wanted to own her, and if I didn’t get my shit together soon so that I could, I was going to go fucking crazy.
Harley
I love you.
I think it all the time, I chant it, become obsessed with it, but I never actually say it. But I want to. While Deklan chased away all the panic and fear last night that threatened to consume me, I fell harder, deeper in love with him. In the books and movies, it’s so simple. People fall in love with each other at the same time, overcome hardships, and it’s all... good. But real life isn’t so simple and moms are monsters, girls are broken, and guys don’t love you back.
People think that once you say ‘I love you’ to someone things magically happen. Like birds chirping, sun shining brighter type things, and while the word may hold some special meaning, nothing changes. You’re still the same person you were before you said it, so why the whole emphasis on saying three little words if they changed nothing?
And what if the other person doesn’t say it back or does, but doesn’t mean it? What then? Where are the books about that? Logically, I know those stories don’t sell. People who love romance, people like me, read to fill a void of some sort. Neglectful significant others, demanding jobs, fucked up life; whatever the reason may be, they read to escape their reality. They want the happy, shiny ‘the end’ that is fake and never happens.
Not the fucked up ‘and she was never the same again’ ending. That’s the kind of ending I was predestined for, and I was learning to accept that. So I kept my mouth shut on blurting that ‘L’ word and studied Deklan as he slept next to me. Last night? I don’t know what the hell happened. I was tired of him treating me like some delicate thing you put on a shelf so no one touches. I wanted him to touch me, take me, and keep me because I didn’t know who I was without him. I sounded a little obsessive, and I’m rational enough to know that I am being obsessive, but I can’t help it.
It was kind of like hero-worshiping to the extreme. You know when someone saves you, even from yourself, you hero-worship them. You do it so hard they become your everything, their wants turn into your needs, their needs into your obsession, their obsession into your life, until finally, you come to a point where this worshipping, this obsession, will either heal you or hurt you.
I didn’t know if it had to just be one or the other, but I wanted him to hurt me as well as heal me. When he told me no, I thought the worst. It hadn’t escaped my knowledge that he gave me a blanket reply when I’d asked, and it also hadn’t escaped my knowledge that he gave me what I wanted, to a degree. He’d used sex as a means of distraction, and I’d let him.
It was a great distraction; for a minute he let out the Deklan who had fucked me hard against a motel wall, taking the virginity I had desperately wanted to give him.
My body and my heart couldn’t say no to him, and when he touched me, I turned to a very moldable jelly. How could I not? He was beautiful, and though I’d never tell him while he was awake, he too was slightly cracked. I knew he was the way he was because of his father; it would seem that we both lucked out in the parents loving us department, which is why we shared something more than fucked up parentage.
Our scars.
I had scars on my chest from my mother’s rage, which I didn’t like to talk about, and while Deklan was adamant his past didn’t hinder him, I knew it did. But I couldn’t help him see that until I helped myself. I let my trauma define me and cloud my future, and while I’m smart enough to know this I still couldn’t change it. Being smart doesn’t mean you have all the answers and solutions in life, it just means that you’re too well informed about what could go wrong so you remain apathetic. Stagnant and never changing. But I wanted to change, be different, better.
Rolling out from under Deklan’s heavy arm, I crept to the door, careful not to wake him. I needed coffee, and I wanted to have a pot already brewed for him when he woke. He worked nights, but he was not a sleep until four type person; he was usually up by eleven thirty, which would give me enough time to throw a light breakfast of fruit and toast together. I made my way down the short hall, turned into the kitchen, and smacked right into someone’s chest.
Someone’s naked chest.
Matt’s naked chest. Shit.
I suddenly remembered the first part of our conversation before Deklan had orgasmed me into exhaustion. Great, Matt was not a Harley cheerleader, despite the fact that he was dating my not sure what we are anymore friend Ember.
“Matt,” I gasped, backing up quickly. The only problem I had with Matt was he thought I was a big fat slut, which, in his defense, I was. At least on paper, it was the protective persona I donned because being the real me was not an option before Deklan. So I didn’t really have a reason to dislike Matt, but I did. Like someone has no real reason for disliking Brussels sprouts, they just did.
“You still around? I thought Dek would have gotten tired of you by now,” he drawled.
There. That right there was the reason I didn’t like his ass. He looked down on me, and it had nothing to do with me being or not being a whore; it had everything to do with the fact that he and Deklan were Kanes and Kanes were respected and revered and therefore needed to be with someone of the same caliber, not toilet paper stuck to your shoe. That’s what he thought, and I refused to let him think that about me.
“Good morning to you too,” I grumbled, moving past him into the small kitchen. I was bad at small talk so I didn’t even try. I went about fulfilling my original task all the while stealing glances at him leaned against the doorjamb only to see him watching me. Not in a creepy creeper kind of way, just a curious way like one would study a question they didn’t understand.
“I don’t get what my brother sees in you,” he finally said as I pressed start on the coffee maker, turning my back.
“What?” Surely he couldn’t be that much of a dickhead to say that, right?
“I mean, you’re okay looking and probably suck a mean dick, but look at you.” His eyes roamed over me in a bored way, making me curse the fact that I only had on one of Deklan’s shirts and his boxer briefs.
“Deklan has girls like you hanging off his dick every night; you're nothing special, so why are you still around?” He continued as if he hadn’t voiced one of my biggest fears. It was true; I wasn’t anything special, but I was someone special to Deklan. At least, I hoped I was.
Willing myself not to turn around because I read somewhere that if you turn your back on the thing that you fear, it takes away its power. I grounded out a ‘fuck you’ loud enough to carry over the noise of the percolating coffee pot. I’m not a violent person, which is surprising,
all things considered, but I wanted to stab him in the balls with a rusty fork.
“What, one brother isn’t enough? Judging by your moans, my brother already tapped that, and I don’t do sloppy seconds.” My back was to him, but I knew he was smirking by his shitty ass tone. I really disliked him, but I couldn’t not focus on his words and wonder if they were true. He’s his brother right? He would know Deklan better than anyone, so what he’s saying had to be true.
I refused to let him see this doubt in me and turned to tell him to fuck off when Deklan stormed into the kitchen and straight up face punched him.
“Now get the fuck out,” he growled as Matt grabbed his bleeding nose and lunged for his brother.
Harley
(P!nk “Fucking Perfect”)
I watched in stunned silence as Matt flew at Deklan’s middle and tackled him to the floor, but Deklan flipped at the last minute and locked him a chokehold before I thought to react. Normally, if people started fighting, even someone as slight as me would try to break it up.
Not me. Fighting, violence catapulted me back to those nights when my mother’s rage knew no bounds. All I could think was please don’t hit me, please don’t hit me and you would think that being with someone like Deklan, as visceral as he was, I would have been okay with this show of dominance. But seeing him beat the shit out of his brother had me thinking he could easily do it to me.
Hurt Me: A 'Me' Novel Page 4