Page 54 of Best Man on Campus

He pulls my face down and covers my mouth with his, holding my head with one hand as he maneuvers his cock against me with the other, making me squirm, needing to feel that pressure, needing that release, needing to feel his release inside me most of all, to belong to him, to have him belong to me. I take control and, hovering my pussy over his cock, I push my hips down onto him in a hard fast slam. The pain shoots through me and I grit my teeth in shock.

“Fuck, Jazzy. Take it easy,” he says. He holds me and I look into his eyes.

“I was a virgin, but not anymore.” The triumph bursts through the words as I test myself, test him inside me, knowing I’m still whole, that I didn’t disappear or disintegrate, that he is Ben the fucking unicorn and I have him inside me.

He reaches up and with a shaky hand wipes tears from my eyes.

“Jazzy, baby. I… I don’t even know what to say. I want this to be special for you.”

“Then shut up and …” I don’t know what to say.

“I want to make love to you, Jazzy. This isn’t sex anymore.” His words are deep and vibrating and hit me with a shudder all the way through to my core. I move then and he clutches my hips.

“Slow and easy.” He moves a hand up to my breasts, pulling me forward so that he can take the nipple into his warm mouth, licking and scraping with his teeth with the exact bite I need to send a zing of pleasure straight to my pussy, feel it clench with a pre-orgasmic spasm, swollen and wet.

“Oh my God, you feel so good, so perfect and tight. But we should use a condom—”

“You and your fucking condoms.” I don’t laugh, but no way in hell am I letting him out of me until we both explode. “I want to make you forget about condoms,” I say, “forget your name, forget everything but here and now, this minute inside me.” I move, gliding on him now, the tightness feeling right, the sensation of him filling me making me feel like there is nothing I can’t conquer, no demon, nothing in the universe better than this, nothing more important than being whole and sexy.

“There’s a reason for condoms, a damn good one.” He grips my hips and lifts me and I try to hold on, clenching tight with everything in me, clutching his shoulders, clamping my thighs around him. “Shit, Jazzy. Do you want to get pregnant?”

“Does it matter?” I say without thinking because I don’t care about anything beyond this moment. But he’s strong and he pulls me off him and rolls me to the side, then reaches for his bedside table and pulls a foil packet out of the drawer like this is a routine thing. And maybe it is for him.

“Damn you.” He’s ruined the moment, taken me out of that universe where I could be in the present, him inside me, accepting what we have. “You had to think about tomorrow. You had to take it away. The moment…”

“Jazzy, we can have our moment, but there’s no way I want to make you pregnant when neither of us is ready for that. And we both know the possibility is very real.”

“I don’t care about reality, damn you.” On some level, I know I’m being irrational, that he’s right, but the feeling of urgent need is too real and I can’t fight it. “I want a magical moment, to be in the moment, to cherish the here and now as it happens. That’s the only way we can be together. And now…” I sit up and look down. He sits up with me, but it’s too late.

There’s no blood between my legs, not a single drop. I make a sharp sound, then I can’t get enough air, each breath too fast and too shallow.

“Jazzy…” I hear Ben’s voice like he’s talking to me from a tunnel, feel his hands on me as my head spins. Dizziness forces me to close my eyes. Bile rises in my throat and the world tips, then goes black.

* * *

When I wake, I’m in bed alone, the smell of minty cinnamon and leather surrounding me, disoriented at the unfamiliar comfort of the mattress. Then full memory snaps into my head like a spotlight and I bolt upright, looking for Ben, panic that he’s gone striking me.

“Hey, I’m here.” His husky voice turns my head and his hand reaches to caress my face, his fingers going through my hair with a warm possessive stroke. He’s fully dressed and I realize I’m still naked. I’m not a virgin. Was never a virgin? My heart starts pounding in a painful rush as my chest crushes with each breath I take.

He leans in from where he’s sitting in a chair next to the bed and kisses my temple.

“Are you okay, Jazzy.” His words are soft, his look concerned.

“No.” I choke the word. Every detail of my murky dream assaults me as I gulp for air, pushing back at the onslaught. “A dream, It’s all a dream, I swear. It has to be.”

Ben gets in bed next to me and I fight him, but he eventually soothes me, convincing me he’s Ben, hockey boy, my unicorn. Not my Uncle Killian and I’m comforted enough to fall asleep as melancholy settles through me.

* * *

When I fall asleep, even all the release from baring my soul and the protective warmth of Ben’s arms don’t stop my nightmare.

Anger that they haven’t caught Killian’s killer morphs into rage at Killian and in my dream Sarah doesn’t shoot Killian. Instead Killian murders Ben. The resounding sound of the gunshot wakes me in a terrified scream as I sit up in bed. All the comfort from Ben and the light of day doesn’t dispel my irrational urgent need to find Sarah. To ask her what happened and why she did it. To find out if it really did happen because I’m so fucking confused and sick, reality and dream interchanging and making me fear for my sanity that I might lose hold of whatever shit I have left.

Chapter 12

Ben

My blood freezes when I hear Jazzy talking in her sleep. She sobs and pleads, desperate about Killian, begging him to stop, begging Sarah to tell her what happened. I don’t know who she’s talking to as she tells someone she needs to face her demon, to scream and curse at Killian and Sarah and beg them why. Her words vibrate in my chest, feeling like she’s talking to me. Reason tells me she’s talking to herself. I’m afraid to wake her, but I quiet her by holding her restless body, whispering in her ear, staying awake until she settles down.