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Again, I panicked, but the orgasm building low in my stomach extinguished the terror, replacing it with a new thing to race toward. Tears of betrayal rushed down the sides of my face, soaking my hairline even as I cried out for more.
My body climbed, clinging to the edge of something so fantastic I found myself begging the man who had destroyed my life. Pleading with him for more and faster. If his fingers were magic, then his tongue was the wand that worked his dark spells.
“Please, Koah, don’t stop. I’m so—oh my God, it’s right there,” I panted.
The truth was, I had no idea whatitwas. I had never been one to pleasure myself. Not after having my innocence ripped away from me—not after my mind and body decided the opposite sex was the enemy. I wasn’t stupid. I understood the logistics of sex and pleasure. I had just found myself on my knees not minutes before giving my first blow job. Only I had never experienced it for myself.
His fingers pleasured me as his tongue did delightful things to my center. The digits on his free hand dug into my neck almost painfully as he held me still for his delicious torture. I battled toward the finish line, ready to win whatever prize Koah was about to give me, and when my body reached the pinnacle and broke, his name exploded from my throat and leaped from my tongue, leaving fire in its wake.
I shook as if Koah expelled a demon from my body, and he didn’t let up, slurping at my orgasm like a starved man. My body grew weak, and I collapsed onto his bed, my arms spread at my sides and my tears drying on my cheeks.
Koah stood, towering over me as he wiped at his glistening lips with the back of his hand, and realization settled over me like a weighted blanket. My father was probably rolling over in his grave, cursing me for sleeping with the enemy. I swallowed a cry of anguish, and it choked me.
Koah and I stared at each other, both unsure of what our next move should be. The fury inside my soul began to simmer, bubbling and churning in my stomach. He was the first one to break. Running his fingers through his messy hair, he sighed with annoyance.
“That shouldn’t have happened.”
Damn right, it shouldn’t have.
I let a liar take advantage of me.
Or had I taken advantage of him?
Either way, rage exploded, and I sat up, reaching for my clothes littered on the floor.
“Take me home now,” I demanded.
“Victoria, listen—”
I held my hand up to stop him as I wiggled my naked bottom back into my jeans. “No. Don’t talk to me. Don’t even look at me. Just take me home.”
He stood there with his hands on his hips, drawing my attention to his cock. He was hard again, taunting me with the memory of what I had just done to him—of what I had allowed him to do to me.
I gagged. “Oh my God. I put your”—I motioned to his dick—“in my mouth. There’s no telling where that thing’s been. I’m going to get a freaking mouth disease.”
He stiffened at my words and turned away from me. With our backs to each other, we got dressed. Once we were covered and had our shoes on, we crept through his house and over drunken bodies until we were in the garage, where he parked his bike.
Neither of us spoke, but I took it when he handed me his helmet. His bike engine echoed throughout the garage, and I was sure he would wake the entire neighborhood. Being seen doing the walk of shame with Koah Saint was the last thing I wanted.
I got onto his bike behind him and held tight as he drove me home. It wasn’t until I was halfway up the stairs to my apartment and the roar of his engine disappeared that I paused to think about it. Koah hadn’t asked me where I lived, yet he’d taken me home without any issue.
What else did he know about me?
Was he the person who had brought me home that drunken night? And if so, why? He hated me, and I hated him. It was the right way. It was the only way.
13
Saint
“There’snotellingwherethat thing’s been. I’m going to get a freaking mouth disease.”
Tori’s words echoed through my mind as I drove back to my house. That was what she thought of me. Not that I could blame her. I played the part of a sexed-up playboy well enough, but my feelings were hurt. No one could hurt me, yet I knew the heaviness in my heart was emotional pain. She thought I slept around. Hell, it was what everyone thought. It was what I strived for, yet all I wanted to do was turn around and tell Tori the truth.
She was my first real anything.
The cold morning air cut through my thin T-shirt. My bike sliced through the fog hovering over the back streets to our place, and the sound of my engine bounced off each tree or house I passed. I was sober and tired as fuck, but I went the long way to give myself more time. The fact was, I wasn’t ready to step foot in my bedroom. I wasn’t prepared for her scent on my bedsheets or the echo of her presence in my space.
Everything that happened between us played on repeat in my mind. The sweet, warm tug of her mouth and the sounds she made as I tongue fucked her. Everything about Tori was perfect to me. It always had been, yet she was my enemy in many ways. My stomach went queasy with one crucial fact. The second person to ever touch my cock was the daughter of the man who molested me.
