Suddenly, he was pulling out of me and spinning me over. “Up,” he commanded roughly, tugging at my hips. When I raised my hips in the air, he slid a pile of pillows beneath me, then lowered me back down. “This will feel good, and it’ll be more comfortable for your first time.” He placed a kiss to my shoulder, and unexpected butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Even though he’d said he would probably get rough with me, he was looking out for me.
The gentleness didn’t last for long. He thrust back inside me, pounding into me, one arm on the bed and the other gripping my throat. As his fingers tightened, I gasped for breath, and he released his grip, bringing his hand round to tug on my hair and pulling my head backwards as he kept up his relentless pace. My hips were being pounded into the pillows, the friction against my clit so good, yet not quite enough, keeping me teetering on a knife edge.
“Fuckfuckfuck,” he groaned, his movements becoming less controlled. Releasing his tight grip on my hair, he slid his hand under me, his fingers against my clit. It only took him a few, short movements, and then I was coming, pulsing around his hardness, gripping onto the sheets as I fell over the edge. My orgasm triggered his, and I felt his cock jerking inside me, spilling his release into the condom.
He collapsed on top of me, his bulk crushing me, our bodies sticking together. I couldn’t catch my breath. Thankfully, he rolled off me almost straight away, making me wince as he pulled out of me.
“Are you okay?” He turned me to face him, brushing my hair out of my eyes. The concern I saw in his eyes was unexpected, but it warmed me from the inside.
A huge smile spread across my face as I nodded. “I…I’m sore, but I feel good. Really good.”
“You don’t regret it, do you?” His hand continued to stroke through my hair.
“No. I’m glad it was you,” I told him honestly. Throwing my arm over my face, I added, “I didn’t think I would come, since it was my first time.”
He let out a soft laugh at my mumbled confession, before he leaned over and kissed my forehead. “I knew you would.”
Now it was my turn to laugh at his confident statement. Lowering my arm, I watched as he left the bed to dispose of the condom in the bathroom. When he returned, he had a damp washcloth that he used to carefully clean me up. “There’s a bit of blood on your sheet.”
“I’ll change the sheets in a minute.” As I stretched out, I sighed before smiling up at him. I was sore and tired, but happy. So happy.
He stood at the side of the bed, an unreadable expression on his face. “Okay. I guess I’ll see you at school, then?”
My face fell. He was just going to leave? After he’d slept with me for the first time? Was I just a conquest to him?
“Stop overthinking.” A frown appeared on his face, and he bit his lip. “I’ll stay for a bit, if you want me to.”
“Only if you want to.” I stared at him from under my lashes, pathetically hoping he’d say yes.
He looked torn for a moment, warring with himself, before his eyes cleared. “Yeah. I want to.” His voice was quiet but firm, as he repeated his words. “I want to. Come on, I’ll help you change these sheets first.”
Once we’d done that, we climbed back into my bed. He didn’t attempt to hold me or anything, but he lay on his side facing me, every now and then running his hand through my hair or down my arm as we talked. We were exchanging inconsequential information, but the fact he was staying and talking to me filled me with hope. Hope that maybe there could be something more between us, something real.
When I could no longer keep my eyes open, I felt a soft kiss on my head, and then he slipped away.
Hope was a dangerous thing, as I soon found out.
Everything had changed, but nothing had changed.
26
Monday morning, I woke at 5:30 a.m., after a restless sleep plagued by nightmares where I was being chased through the halls of Alstone High by a masked figure, who turned into a clown when it caught me. Eventually I gave up on sleep and made my way downstairs, where I downed a huge mug of coffee, hoping it would at least wake me enough to allow my brain to function properly. By the time Lena picked me up, my caffeine high had faded and I was yawning again.
At school we split up so she could head to her locker, and I made my way to mine in a daze, not realising that the hall had gone silent until I was standing in front of my locker.
I suddenly became aware of people’s stares prickling the back of my neck. Reaching up to the fingerprint sensor on my locker, I paused, my eyes flying upwards. I sucked in a shocked breath, staggering back against the wall, trying to take in the scene in front of me. Painted in savage black slashes, the word “slut” had been sprayed in capitals across my locker door. And taped right at the bottom was a printout of a photo. Slightly grainy, but clear.
Me, reclining backwards on the desk at the warehouse, covered in paint with my top ripped in half, exposing my bra, and Carter, with his head between my legs. Above the image someone had written in black marker pen “Football team slut scores again.”
No.
My hands shaking, I ripped the photo down from my locker, crumpling it in my hand, and made a run for it. Straight into the library, where I hid myself in the furthest alcove and
