Chapter Seven
Briarlee
He’s back. My heart skips a beat as I go to the door. I am showered and dressed up as if I intend to go out, but I have no intention of going anywhere. This dress that clings to my curves isn’t for anyone’s eyes but his.
He’s wearing new clothes. A black leather jacket that makes him look broader than ever. Dark slacks. Heavy black boots. It’s the uniform of a man whose purpose is to slay my pussy.
This is how I think now, in filthy phrases. I wake up wet. I touch myself when he is not here, and I think of all the things he has done to me, and all the things I hope he will do. He has made me every bit as depraved as him, if not more.
“Hi,” I smile invitingly.
He walks in as if he owns the place. “Close the door.”
I close it, because I was going to anyway. Can’t have a neighbor coming by and seeing me in the state he puts me in. They’d call the cops for sure.
He walks in, turns around, and fixes me with that gaze that makes me freeze. Sheer silent command.
“I have something to tell you.”
“Oh?”
Usually by now my dress would be halfway off. My tits would be hanging down beneath me as he bends me over, holds my hands behind my back, and shoves himself into me by way of a hello.
“My name is Daniel Knight.”
“Fuck off.”
The words escape my mouth before I can stop them. They’re a reaction I can’t help, the same way my lower leg would kick out if you tapped the lower part of my knee with one of those little rubber reflex hammers.
He doesn’t chastise me for swearing. He stands there, letting it sink in. Looking at me, taking in my every reaction.
“You’re not Daniel.”
“Of course I am. You know who I am. You’ve known all along. You knew the minute you saw me in that club.”
“I didn’t!” I gasp. “Daniel, you don’t look like Daniel. You don’t act like Daniel. You’re not Daniel.”
“But I am,” he says calmly. “And you can see it, if you look close enough with your eyes, instead of acting with your cunt.”
He says the crude words without any real derision. There’s no judgement in the way he knows I am around him. Our lust is an intoxicant I am fast becoming addicted to.
“Daniel… how?”
“I told you I’d been working on a treatment. Well. I found one. It has a few side effects. As in, it makes me need to wear your pussy and ass out.”
His words make me flush hot. These aren’t the sort of things Daniel says. Daniel is a gentleman. Daniel would never hold me down and fuck me. Daniel would never talk to me so crudely. Daniel is a nice boy…
Except, it occurs to me, Daniel isn’t a boy anymore. He’s a man with an advanced degree in biochemistry and more determination in his little finger than anyone I’ve ever met.
“Tell me something.”
“What?”
“Tell me something only Daniel would know.”
“You like The Bachelor more than The Bachelorette.”
I cock my head and shake it. “Good guess, but not exactly convincing. Tell me something you’re sure only you could know.”
He looks deep into my eyes. Takes a breath.
“You held my hand after we crashed. We were both trapped in the car, but I was hurt worse than you. You cried. You told me that you were so sorry. I told you I thought I was dying.” He reaches out, takes me by the hand, and those eyes lock with mine. “You squeezed my hand so tight. You told me I wasn’t allowed to die. That you wouldn’t let me. You made me promise I wouldn’t. And I didn’t.”
Tears start to fill my eyes, as his words take me back to a moment buried in history and trauma and pain. Two teenagers, covered in blood, at the very door of death, demanding life.
It’s him. It’s really him.
And now I don’t know whether to hug him, or punch him so damn hard he feels it forever.
“You should have told me,” I say, my voice cracking as I try to reconcile all the emotions running through me.
“I didn’t know until last night. There was a side effect I had to address, a disassociation. I didn’t know what I was doing when the dose was at its height.”
“Oh, so then you realized you’d been fucking my brains out every night this week?”
We both realize at the same time that my tone has changed. Before I knew who he was, I stammered and I was shy and I let him do things to me without question. But right now, I’m talking to him like I would have talked to Daniel. There’s a sneer on my face. There’s a sneer in my tone. Both freeze as he glowers at me.
“That’s right.” He crosses the room, takes me by the arms and draws me up, first to my tiptoes, and then off my feet entirely. “You’ve been spreading your legs for me all week—and your ass. You’ve been giving me that sweet little cunt, and you’ve loved every minute of it. And if you take that tone with me again, I’m going to take this belt off and whip you with it before I fuck you.”
“Daniel, you can’t…”
“I can,” he growls. “I have. And I will again.”
Something inside me melts with relief. When he told me his name, when I saw the truth in his eyes, my heart sank. I felt betrayed, but worse than that, I thought it was over. I can let a stranger fuck me like a whore, but can I let Daniel?
He captures my mouth in a kiss, drives the question from my head. Whoever Daniel was, it’s not who he is anymore. He is an entirely different man. One who makes my legs spread out of desire. Even now they are winding around his waist as he holds me aloft without effort, kisses me with all that passion and desire and now, intimacy that was absent before. There is a knowing we now share, and that makes this all the more intense.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he growls, cupping my ass, pulling my pussy against his crotch. That thick cock of his seems to be perpetually erect. I feel it throbbing through the layers of our clothing, wanting me.
No man has ever wanted me like Daniel. I resisted him for so long for so many reasons, but he has taken every single one of those reasons and shredded them.
Now I see it, I don’t know how I didn’t see it in the first place. Of course this is Daniel. Daniel’s eyes burn in this behemoth’s face.
“Give me your pussy.”
I do.
I give him my pussy. I give him everything.
He pulls my panties to the side, pushes his fly down, and his cock finds my cunt in a single rough stroke. Daniel holds me in his arms and takes me the way he’s always wanted to take me. I saw desire all those years. I knew what hid behind those wistful looks and nervous requests for dates. But I couldn’t be with him. I was afraid of what I’d see. I was afraid of how broken I’d left him. Those first few days after the accident, seeing him in the hospital—he wasn’t himself. I could hardly stand to look at him. And I’ve been avoiding looking at him ever since. Truly looking at him. I’ve looked past him. I’ve looked around him. I’ve looked at an illusion of him, a pretend make believe where he sits across a table from me and we act as though everything is fine and normal, knowing that nothing has been fine or normal for years.
Until now.
If this is his revenge, I deserve every bit of it.
* * *
Daniel
She is stunning in the throes of orgasm. She arches and cries out, her pussy clenching my cock with desperate contractions, milking my cum inside her. I give her every bit of it, holding nothing back. Is this how she looked the first times I claimed her? I curse the drug that gave me the experience, but wiped it from my mind.
In the end we are panting with sated lust, our bodies covered in mutual sweat. This is what I dreamed of for such a long time. Perhaps not as wild, but this connection. This togetherness. I kiss her and kiss her again, feel her soft against me as orgasm leaves her limp with satiety.
This is romance as I have craved. This is the physical manifestation of what we’ve always shared. No matter what, she and I have never truly been apart.
“That was incredible,” I say, cupping her face as my cock slides slowly from her sex, leaving my cum to slide from that tight little slit.
Her face crumples, and she bursts into tears.
I don’t know what to do. No part of my transformation has enabled me to deal with an upset woman.
“Why are you crying?”
She’s never cried before. Does she regret it, now she knows who I am? Is she ashamed that I have seen this desperate wanton side of her? Or have I gone too far? Hurt her in a way she did not enjoy?
She curls up and sobs, great wailing sounds that make me feel confused pity.
“What is it, Briarlee? What is it? Tell me,” I cajole her gently. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” she cries. “Noooooooo.” It’s drawn out in a long, pained wail and I’m not sure I believe her, or understand what’s going on. I start to check her over, make sure I didn’t inadvertently harm her in my passionate lust. Her pussy is puffy and swollen, covered in a sheen of my cum and her juices, but there’s nothing that should be causing her to cry like this. No bruising, no tears.
She keeps crying as I look her over, sobbing to herself in the most heart-wrenching way. Her breasts are fine. Her bottom is fine. Her legs, her knees, I even check her toes, which makes her giggle in her tears and then return to crying even harder.
“What is it, Briar? Tell me…”
It is impossible to get sense out of an incoherent woman. It takes her what feels like a horribly long time for her to calm down enough to scream in my face.
“It’s my fault!”
I’m confused. “What’s your fault?”
“I did this to you. I got you hurt!”
“What do you mean?”
“You were picking me up! Because I was drunk! If I’d called my dad to come and get me like I was supposed to, you never would have been on that road with me. And we’d never have had that accident. So it’s my fault.”
She’s going a long way back into our shared history, reliving what happened all those years ago. I wonder how much she’s thought about it since it happened. I used to think about it almost every day. Since I started treating myself, I’ve hardly thought about it at all. I’ve been too busy lusting for her, having her, using her, enjoying her. Maybe I should have talked to her before now, but we’ve hardly had a chance to talk amid all the fucking.
“You were the one not driving drunk,” I remind her. “That was the other asshole. And I’m fine now, sweetheart. Look at me. I’m better than fine.”
“You’re a sexual maniac. You’re a beast. You’re a monster!”
“So you don’t like what we’ve been doing.”
“I do!” she cries. “That’s what’s so wrong about it. I don’t deserve this! I don’t deserve you! I don’t deserve anything,” she sobs. “I knew… all these years I knew you wanted me and I… I just used you. I never did anything for you. I never…”
Her speech is halting and comes between gasps and it’s only just barely coherent. I have to catch the threads of her thoughts, weave them together.
“It’s my fault,” she gasps. “My. Fault.”
* * *
Briarlee
I know I’m not making any sense. This is fifteen years of guilt pouring out all at once, catharsis by orgasm.
He doesn’t understand it. Sometimes I think he forgets everything he lost that day. Until that accident, he was a track star. He was on the honor roll. He could have been anything. Done anything. And then I had to go out and get drunk with Brandon Storesby and I called Daniel instead of my dad and he came to save me, just like he’d done every time I needed him since we were kids. But that time, he got hurt. Bad. And I’ve never forgiven myself for it. Never will forgive myself for it either. Now, I don’t know if I can forgive him for this.
His rough, lustful lovemaking has knocked the scab off my guilt and my shame and my fear and my remorse. He fucked me so hard I felt almost as though I left my body. He made every part of me sing with pleasure. I am soft and sore and wet and aching and I am so lost. I don’t know what to do.
I take a deep breath and try to compose myself. He looks so worried. The fact that he keeps looking for something physically wrong with me just makes me cry even harder. After everything, turning into this big sexy fuck monster, he still wants to look after me.
“If you don’t want this to happen again, you need to leave town,” he rumbles.
“What?”
“I don’t have control of myself once it takes over. I want you. I want you more than I want oxygen. I will hunt you down and I will find you and I will not be able to stop myself from ravaging you again.”
He speaks the words roughly, as if he wishes they weren’t true.
I reach for him, my hands curling in his hair. It’s thicker than it used to be, longer too. This treatment is making every part of him ultra-masculine. I look into his eyes, blinking my tears away. I can’t let him think I want to leave. He’s branded me. He’s made every previous lover seem weak and flaccid and uninteresting. I can’t begin to imagine being with anyone else. Ever.
“I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want you to leave.”
We look at each other.
“Briarlee…” He draws in a deep breath. “I want to say I can keep you safe, but I’ve started this treatment and I’m going to keep going with it. Our studies suggested it takes thirty days to have full effect. It’s been less than a week. I could become much worse. I could present a real danger to you.”
“You won’t hurt me.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Yes, I can,” I say. “Because you’ve never hurt me, Daniel. Not once. Even when you should have. Even when…” I hold back tears. I don’t want to cry. That would be self-pity, and I don’t deserve pity. “You’ve never hurt me.”
His arms wrap around me. He draws me into the bulk of his body. I feel his strength. His size. I feel him. The Daniel I have always known. He’s in there, behind the cocky swagger and the sexy smirk.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. “But I have to be realistic. The effects were cumulative in the rats. They peaked around the two-week mark. I could become aggressive. Sexually, and otherwise.”
“We’ll deal with it if it happens.”
“I’m not going to be that casual with you. I’m going to make sure you don’t get hurt.”
“I deserve to be hurt.”
“No, you don’t.”
He’s wrong. I deserve everything he’s done to me and worse. I deserve to be beaten. I deserve to be lectured. Shamed. I deserve punishment. But somehow, it’s always evaded me. They say karma catches up with everyone eventually. I don’t think it ever will with me. I don’t think karma has noticed me. I may as well not exist.
“I’m just glad you’ve stopped crying,” he says with a sexy smirk.
“Yeah, well,” I shrug and wipe my eyes on the back of my arm. “Will you stay tonight? Please, don’t leave.”
He kisses me. “I don’t ever want to leave you again.”