North Woods University

by Beck, J. L.

  What happened? What did he tell Clark?

  I’m missing pieces to a puzzle that seems to get larger and larger every single day. I stare in horror at the red handprint on his cheek.

  Clark tilts his head to the side. “Nothing you say to me will ever make me forgive you for hurting him. We might have been friends for half a second, but you mean shit to me now.”

  His words cut through me like a knife and I can’t stop myself from turning around and running back the way I came. This was a mistake. A huge mistake. Coming here. Thinking I could earn my mother’s love. Thinking that I would fit in. I know without even talking to Vance that he doesn’t believe me. His father probably told him that it was a lie. Cold tears fall from my eyes as I run down the sidewalk, nearly taking out a group of people along the way.

  My chest heaves, up and down, up and down, but it doesn’t feel like I’m breathing. He doesn’t believe me. He doesn’t... I don’t know why it hurts so bad. Why it feels like my heart is breaking. He means nothing, he doesn’t even care about me. It was just sex. Sex, that’s all it was.

  I’m going to be late for my next class, but I don’t care. Maybe I won’t go at all. Rounding the corner near the English building, I finally stop running and slow to a walk, my knees wobbly. As soon as I stop walking altogether, I lean against the wall. Pressing my back against the cold brick, I close my eyes and try to get my erratic breathing under control.

  Happy thoughts…I need to think about a happier time, a time when things made sense, when the people around me loved and trusted me. It’s been so long since I was just happy, and everything changed on that night five years ago.

  “I love you.” My mother’s breathless voice filters through the door. Pushing the door open, I expect to find my dad home from work. Instead, I find my mom…naked…with… a man, a man that isn’t my father…

  Henry.

  I’m frozen in place, every muscle paralyzed by shock and confusion.

  “I love you, Henry…” My mother moans right before she turns her head and finds me standing there staring with my mouth gaping open.

  Thinking about that night has my stomach doing somersaults. Why did I open that door? I should have just turned around and walked away. I try to push the memory away, but it has a hold on me that I can’t shake no matter how hard I try.

  “You don’t know what you saw.” Henry, Vance’s father, raises his voice. My mother’s crying, big tears fall from her eyes. Why is she crying? Why is Henry telling me I don’t know what I saw. I know my mom shouldn’t have been doing what she was with Henry. My dad loves her, and she loves him, or at least I thought she did.

  “Henry, stop. She’s just a kid, she doesn’t understand.” My mother pulls her robe tighter around her small frame, her body shaking.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. She doesn’t know what she saw. Do you Ava?” His dark gaze swings from my mother and back to me. It feels like he’s trying to bully me, threaten me into agreeing with him.

  Which angers me.

  Lifting my chin, I look him right in the eyes. “I’m telling my father, no matter what you say.”

  The sound of approaching footsteps pulls me from the memory, but I’m not ready to open my eyes and face reality yet. Let whoever is walking by think what they want to think. With my eyes shut, I drown out the world around me, that is until two hands wrap around my upper arms, fingers digging into my skin. I’m pulled away from the wall.

  My eyes fly open and my arms flail around wildly trying to fight off my assailant. Sucking in a sharp breath is all I can do. The scream becoming lodged in my throat beneath the shock. Not that I’d want to scream once I realize who is holding onto me.

  “Vance,” I gasp, catching a small glimpse of his face, having wished I didn’t.

  He drags me along with him down the sidewalk and around the corner. He pulls open the door and tugs me inside the building. I try and dig my feet into the floor, but there’s no point. I’m half his size and don’t even stand a chance.

  “Where are we going?” I whimper, his hold on my wrist tightening.

  Ignoring my question, he says, “You think you can lie to me, use your fake fucking tears, and pussy to change my mind about you? Did you think I wouldn’t ask my father about it? I hope you liked fucking me because I’m about to use you like you used me.” The tone of his voice rains down on me like an angry thunderstorm.

  We pass one room where a class is in session, voices carrying through the closed door as we pass it. He tugs me farther down the hall and when we get to the last room, all chatter has ceased and I realize we’re pretty far away from anyone.

  I try to swallow my fear down. I don’t think he would hurt me, but I didn’t think Clark would say the things he did to me either. Vance drags me along a few more steps and then opens a door on the right side of the hall. He pulls me into the empty classroom, dread trickling into my belly. Then he releases me.

  Turning his back to me, I can hear the sound of a lock being turned into place. My gaze swings around the room, looking for another exit. When he spins around to face me, his expression makes a shiver run down my spine. I’ve never seen him so angry, I’ve never seen anyone so angry.

  “My dad told me everything,” he spits. “I can’t believe I let you wrap me around your finger. I can’t believe I listened to your sob story, or that I fucked you. That I felt even a sliver of sorrow for you.”

  The darkness in his voice is startling and he takes a step toward me, which makes me instinctively take one back. I don’t know exactly what Henry told him, but I know for sure that it wasn't the truth.

  “Vance, I swear…” I hold up my hands to fight him off, but he cuts me off, waving a hand in front of me.

  “Shut. Up. No more lies. No more words. No. More. Fucking. Talking. You used me, you used my body, my emotions, and now I’m going to use you.” He takes another step forward, and I take one back, my back hitting the table behind me, leaving me nowhere else to go. Trapped. I’m trapped.

  He closes the distance between us with one large stride. The air grows thick with tension, with arousal. Part of me is terrified of having him so close, ironically, another part of me takes comfort in his body being so near.

  I’m equally scared and excited when he leans in, his chest pressing against mine while grinding his groin into my center, making it impossible for me to miss how turned on he is. His face is so close to mine, his minty breath fans out against my cheek as he leans in and whispers directly into my ear. “Turn around.” His voice is deep and gravelly, the sound vibrating through me, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

  My mouth goes dry, and I lick my lips instead of kissing him like I want to. I can feel the slickness of my folds wetting my panties. And when our gazes meet for a fraction of a second, it feels like we’re seconds away from exploding into each other. The lust and carnal need in his eyes leave me breathless. He hates me, but he also wants me, and right now, I’ll take that. If that is the only way I can be close to him, then that’s enough for me.

  My body moves on its own, following his order as if it was always made to. I start to turn slowly, but apparently too slow for Vance because he grabs my hips and spins me around in one swift move, then dips his fingers into the waistband of my leggings, his fingers make contact with my skin and a small zing of pleasure ripples across my skin. He shoves my leggings and panties down swiftly, leaving them at my ankles.

  Cool air caresses my heated skin as I listen to Vance undo his pants behind me.

  “Hands on the table,” he orders gruffly, and all I can do is follow his command. I place my palms flat on the tabletop.

  My nipples harden uncomfortably inside my bra. A soft groan meets my ears, and I can’t comprehend if that came for me or Vance. The lines between hate and want are so muddled right now it’s almost like we’re trying everything we can to not hate each other. Vance places a hand to my lower back to hold me in place and then I feel the smooth head of his cock at my pussy. He
drags himself up and down through my folds, growling when he realizes how wet I am for him, how much I crave his touch, even if he is not gentle and loving like he was two nights ago.

  “Tell me you want this...tell me you want me to fuck you.”

  “Yes,” I whimper, just as I feel him tease over my entrance. I want him. I want him so badly. Without any warning, he slams into me, stretching me as he buries his length inside of my channel, stopping only once his heavy balls slap against my ass. There’s a slight sting of pain, and I cry out with the mixture of both pain and pleasure at the intrusion.

  “Vance…” I whimper, gripping onto the table for leverage, knowing that he’s about to make me feel every ounce of anger, and hate he has for me. I might not deserve it, but I’ll take it for him. I’ll harbor the weight of his father’s betrayal.

  He doesn’t stop to give me time to adjust, he takes me hard and fast, plowing into me like an animal. I can feel his rage with each thrust mounting, his fingers digging into my hips as he pulls me back every time he thrusts inside.

  My arms give out and I let my upper body rest on the table, turning my head to the side, I press my cheek against the flat wooden surface and continue to hold onto the edge as he continues fucking me, his strokes more furious than the next.

  A tingle starts to spread from my center and outward, working its way through my limbs. My legs start to shake, letting me know I’m close, my pussy quivering. I push up onto my tiptoes, trying to get him to hit that spot that I know will drive me over the edge. So close, so fucking close. I bite into my bottom lip feeling the pleasure build. I’m almost there when he slows down, nearly pulling all the way out of me.

  “Don’t you dare come. This is not for you. This is for me.”

  His hand pushes me back down on the table so I can’t move my hips at the angle that I want to. Then he enters me again, his strokes are deep, so deep I can feel him inside my belly, but they’re also annoyingly slow. And the pleasure I was feeling before is long gone now. There’s no way I can come at the pace he’s going, and I guess that’s the point. He’s punishing me, showing me that he has all the power.

  He thrusts into me a few more times, only picking up speed the last two strokes for his own release. Grunting, I feel his cock growing, and seconds later, he comes inside of me, coating my inner walls with his cum as his fingers dig into my flesh with bruising force.

  “Fuck,” he grunts. “Fuck…”

  A moment later, he pulls out of me and steps away. The loss of his body leaves me cold and empty all over, only the cum dripping out between my folds is left of him. I want him to touch me again. I want him to make me come. But most of all, I just want him to hold me, to tell me that he believes me and that everything will be okay.

  Instead, I hear the sound of jeans rustling and a zipper zipping. I don’t move. Heavy footsteps followed by the clicking noise of the door unlocking, meets my ear, but I still don’t move. I’m spent, between my interaction with Clark and Vance just now I feel… hopeless, lost in a vast ocean of emotions.

  It takes me a long time to get the strength to push myself up and off the table but when I do, I pull my panties and leggings up, righting my clothing. I feel dirty and used. My muscles ache, and my eyes hurt from the crying I had done earlier. All I want to do is go home and curl up in my bed, forgetting everything around me, but if I go home, I have to face Henry, my mom, and worst of all, Vance. I have nowhere else to go. I have no friends. I have nothing.

  41

  Vance

  I haven’t seen her in twenty-four hours and I feel like a drug addict coming off a trip, unable to get more of his favorite drug. Somehow she has managed to avoid me after I fucked her bent over the table in the empty classroom. I walk down the stairs and knock on my father’s office door. He looks up from some paperwork and waves me in.

  “Hey son,” he greets, pushing the folders of paperwork away from him.

  “Hey, did you talk to Ava yet?” I really don’t care if he did or not. I just want to know where she is, and I would rather not let on to him how obsessed I am with her.

  “No, I’m not sure where she is. I have a feeling she’s been avoiding me. My guess is she knows that she’s been caught lying and doesn’t want to face the consequences. I wish her father had put more effort into disciplining her.”

  “Okay, she must have come home sometime, it’s not like she has anywhere else to go.” I’m thinking out loud again. Shit.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie. Fine, yeah, no. I’m not fine at all. I’m on edge, angry, and confused. Confused about the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts that I can’t get in order over Ava. I can’t suppress my need for her, no matter how hard I try.

  “Is she bothering you again?” he asks. Half of me says to tell him she is, hell, make her disappear, hopefully forever, while the other half wants to torment her myself, keep her right where I want her.

  “Nah, she’s behaving,” I murmur, slipping out of his office before he can ask me another question. The thing about this house is when it’s quiet, you can hear everything. As I enter the hall, I hear the front door opening quietly, followed by light footsteps racing up the stairs. By the time I come around the corner, I’ve only caught a glimpse of her at the top of the stairs before she disappears again.

  My lips curve into a predatory smile. I'm about to get my fix, my first hit in what seems like forever. The blood in my veins tingle and saliva fills my mouth. As badly as we don’t want to admit we want each other, maybe we even need each other. The hate I have for her melts away, giving way to a different emotion all together when I’m inside her. But as soon as I pull out, that feeling fades away, and I’m reminded that she’s a liar, a master-fucking-manipulator.

  Taking my time, I walk up the stairs, one step at a time, feeling myself being pulled closer and closer to her without thought. I don’t want to burst into her room as soon as she gets here. I want her to think she’s safe and secure, then I’ll come in and pull the rug out from underneath her, keeping her on her tiny little toes. Then she’ll never know when to expect me...she’ll merely have to watch her back at all times, wondering what and where I am.

  I come to a stop right in front of her door. My lips form into a line, and before I pull on that tight mask that covers my real emotions, I stand there taking comfort in knowing she is only a few feet away from me. Even with the door between us, my need for her is soothed. I want her close, but far away at the same time. She leaves my brain in disarray, scrambling it like a plate of scrambled eggs.

  I can hear her on the other side of the door, smell her unique floral scent, and almost feel her heat. Almost. After about ten minutes, my patience has worn out. As quietly as I can, I feel for the key laying on the top of the doorframe, knowing without a doubt that she’s locked her door. Or at least I hope she has, if she’s smart, she would.

  Her trust in me is confusing. I thought she would push me away yesterday, fight me, maybe even scream, but instead, she shocked me by letting me fuck her like I wanted to. She let me use her for my own pleasure without so much as a peep. I can still remember the feeling of her quivering pussy around my cock. I wanted to let her come so badly, but that wouldn’t have made it a punishment for her, and I wanted to punish her, break her so badly it was all I could feel, up until I slid inside her. Maybe letting me use her body was her way of saying sorry. As if that would be enough, it would never be enough.

  She didn’t have to let me touch her. If she had told me to stop, I would’ve even though I didn’t want to, but she didn’t because deep down she wanted me to use her, she wanted me to touch her, to fuck her, and I hold onto that knowledge with an iron fist, knowing I’ll use it against her over and over again. Inserting the key, I turn it, listening to the small click when the door unlocks. Turning the knob, I push the door open, bracing myself for her to yell at me, maybe even push me out.

  Instead, I find her room empty.

  I can hear the
shower running in the bathroom and my dick turns incredibly hard. So much bare smooth skin is hiding on the other side of that door. I lick my lips in anticipation and walk toward the bathroom. I test the doorknob, turning it gently, smiling when I realize it’s not locked. I kind of expected her to be paranoid enough to lock the bathroom door as well. Hot steam hits my face as I push the door open.

  Her perfect silhouette hiding behind the see-through frosted glass of the shower enclosure is the first thing I see when I step inside. I close the door behind me, the noise alerting her to my presence.

  “Get out, Vance,” she yells over the roar of the shower, much less surprised of me being here than I thought she would be, taking a little of the wind out of my sails.

  Tilting my head to the side, I ask, “Why? I thought you would be happy to give me another show.”

  “Just go away, please. You’ve hurt me enough, and I don’t have it in me to fight with you right now,” she says in a much lower, almost defeated tone.

  She sounds tired, hurt, maybe even broken. Just as I told her she would be. I ignore the feelings her sadness gives me. I don’t have room inside me to feel sorry for her. Anger and resentment taking up too much space already.

  “I bet your nipples are hard right now, your pussy dripping for me,” I taunt. “I’m ready to use you again. So wash nice and good between your legs. I’m not sure where or who you’ve been with last night, but I don’t want to catch anything.”

  The thought of her being with someone else has my blood boiling. She better not have been with anyone else. Not unless she wants me to go to jail for murder. Though knowing her, she’d probably tell me she did just to spite me.

  “Leave, I don’t want to have sex with you again.”

  “I didn’t ask you what you want. I said I’m ready to use you again. Finish up your shower so you can get me off. Unless you want me to come into the shower to do it. Maybe I’ll throat fuck you today. I’m getting tired of your mouth running, like you have a fucking choice in anything I do to you. It’ll be a lot harder for you to talk with my cock in your mouth.”