Barry got around the car just in time to see her lose the contents of her stomach. Luckily, it wasn't much.
"Oh my God, are you okay?" His hands were on her and she couldn't take it. It was suddenly the worst thing in the world to be touched by him. She realized then the exhaust was in her face, hot. She stood up to get away from it, leaned against the back of the SUV for support. She must have surprised him, because he stumbled backwards. She hadn't put her jacket back on, and it was cold. The heaving was gone but the tears weren't. She kept her face turned away from him, as if she could hide her tears and save a little bit of dignity. As if time would go by and this wouldn't be a story he tells at parties.
Barry, tell him about the breakup vomiter
. No one would believe it. It was too ridiculous.
He reached for her again and this time she recoiled. "Don't touch me."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't ever—" she lost the breath on a sob, had to try it again. "Don't ever touch me again."
"Esme, come on, don't be like this."
As if it was perfectly natural that he would still get to touch her. But why wouldn't he? Wasn't she just something they passed around? Isn't that what she'd let herself become? Why had she told him she loved him? If she could take any of it back, it would be that. That was the most humiliating part of all. And maybe when she got in the car she would have taken last night back, would have never gone downstairs, never been in a position to be alone with Ben. That, she had thought, would keep her and Barry safe. If she hadn't done that. But now she knew better, because apparently her history with Ben was all he could think about. That she didn't even get her own place in his thoughts, that she was tied to every girlish mistake she had ever made.
But hadn't she made that worry valid? Ben's voice replaced hers inside her head.
"He had his fun and he got what he wanted, I found out, and he proved he could take you from me. He won. The game is over and you won't be fun for him anymore."
The feel of Ben's lips on hers, her response to it. How could she hold it against Barry, blame him for the failure, when she made every one of his fears come true?
Barry shut off the radio.
"Esme, please just look at me."
"Did you like that? Did you like having cum from two guys in you at once?"
"I hate you for this." She wasn't even saying it to the right person. She was shivering now, the cold was riding in on the night, steeling that precious warmth that always seems to follow a snowstorm.
"I want to go home," she said, her head turned away from him, her eyes taking in the spruce trees, half of them dead from a beetle infestation. It had passed through awhile ago, the surviving trees, once weak, were becoming dominant. "I need you to drive. Just don't say anything, please."
They sat in silence on the way back. It was easy to ignore his attempts at conversation, her mind was otherwise occupied. She was watching herself lift up her skirt, a peek of black lace panties for an ex-boyfriend. To teach him a lesson. It had been a mistake. He had taught her a lesson instead, and after, her back turned to him while she swiped a paper towel between her legs, trying to clean herself, she knew it. There was a lot of it, and the paper towel wasn't absorbing it. She ended up just spreading it around. Her thighs were wet. She had kissed Ben back while Barry waited for her upstairs. She felt ill. And now what? Now she was mad at him? What right did she have to be mad at him?
"You're so tight."
Ben had tasted like beer. How many times had she kissed him? How many years did she think he was all she wanted? That if she could just have him, it would be okay. She would be okay. She just wasn't the type of girl to be okay, though.
"I don't recommend you going to him with my cum leaking out of your cunt--not again, I mean."
"I'm sorry," Barry said. She ignored it.
The silence in the car reminded of the silence this afternoon, after Barry came back from pulling the dismantled tree off of the driveway. He'd obviously been thinking, didn't want to talk, except to tell her to pack. She did so, without words. She felt his eyes on her as she moved from the drawers to her suitcase, not bothering to fold anything. She was bent over the bottom drawer when she felt him behind her, he hands coming to her hips, pulling her backwards. She let herself be pulled, please to feel his stiffening cock pressed against her.
"Let me tie you up, baby."
She nodded, let her head fall back against him as his hand cupped a breast through her shirt. There was something so provocative about being felt up through her clothes, the urgency of it--the need so strong it couldn't wait for clothes to come off. His other hand gripped her throat for a moment Barry pushed her away from him, toward the bed, and she caught sight of him in one of the mirrors. He took her breath away. He always took her breath away. His dark eyes met hers as she watched him peel his shirt off, saw biceps and abs and, yes, the beginnings of some bruises, a reminder that he'd fought his best friend just hours before. For her.
"Get naked," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. She peeled off her top. Slid out of her bra. Shimmied out of her jeans. She could see he was watching her ass, she made sure to bend over while crawling on the bed. "Hold onto the headboard, put your ass in the air."
She was surprised to see him reach into his bag and pull out nylon rope. Immediately her pussy came to life. He had wanted this. Planned it before the trip, and packed for it. Planned to tie her to the bed. But this time he would tie her up with a rope instead of a scarf. Heat spread through her, radiating out from her sex.
"These are going to be tight," he said as he tied her. And it was tight. She would have marks even if she didn't struggle. His cock, stiffening with each second that passed, seemed to be growing before her eyes.
"I've been thinking about this," he whispered, positioning himself behind her. "Is it okay? Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"And you'll say parakeet if it gets too bad?"
Her heart started pounding at the safe word. He already had her tied up, what was he going to do? She couldn't fight back.
"Esme?"
"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I'll say it if I need to." But she wouldn't say it. How could she deny him anything now?
"Are you sure?" He asked quietly, lovingly. She was getting increasingly anxious. Had she agreed to whips? Clamps?
She nodded.
He groaned, a noise filled with longing, and positioned himself behind her. She jumped a little when he touched her, braced herself as he ran his hands up her thighs to her ass, spreading her cheeks and exposing her little puckered hole to the air in the room. She inhaled as he licked her, tongued her ass as he slid a finger inside of her. She pushed back into him, hoping for more. Barry pulled away, stood, and moved to his suitcase again. The ropes dug into her wrists, and when he wasn't attending to her the pain was distracting, but he was back within seconds and the scent of strawberries hit her. She felt a cold, slick slide of fluid.
Flavored lube, she realized, as he applied it liberally to her ass crack and letting the fluid slide down to her pussy. He pressed the lips of her pussy open so it would cover her. Then she felt his tongue as he started licking it off, touching her ass, sliding a finger in while he plunged his thumb inside her, filling both holes at once.
"So wet already," he murmured. And she was, even without the lube. The anticipation was killing her. She had no idea what he planned to do. He positioned behind her and slid his cock between her legs. "You just can't get enough can you?"
She thought it was a rhetorical question. She realized it wasn't when he caught her nipple between his thumb and index finger and squeezed. Hard. She jerked involuntarily. The ropes felt impossibly tight, cutting into her wrists. "Say it."
"I can't get enough."
He slid inside her then, and it was sweet and gentle. And he played with her clit when he did it, and slowly a pressure started building. It would be so easy to come. She didn't want to. She wanted to last for him. He held her hips and slid in and out of her with easy, slow strokes. She pushed back against him, met his rhythm. It wasn't what she was expecting, and pressure soon started building, he clit feeling tighter, her sex warmer. Barry stopped attending to her clit and straightened, his hands moving to her ass, caressing it, pushing the cheeks apart with his thumbs. The cool air tickled her asshole and a shiver ran through her body. She hoped he would push a finger in. She felt empty. But he didn't use a finger.
Esme cried out in pain, unsure what had happened. One moment he'd been massaging her ass cheeks and the next there was a stabbing, burning pain. Tears sprang to her eyes and her head swam, and then she felt him pull out partly, and then again invaded her, pushing and pressing into what she only then realized was her ass. After only a few thrusts she felt his hips crash into her. He had abandoned her pussy and sheathed himself inside her ass in two or three quick strokes. No build up. No gentle introduction, no slow work stretching her hole. It was excruciating, and her body's response was to flee. She pulled her hands back to get control and the ropes cut into her skin. He put a hand around her throat, holding her still with the threat of taking her breath. Wasting no time, he started thrusting, working her ass as she whimpered, tears coming freely now, words caught in her throat. It only turned her on more. Her nipples ached to be touched, pinched, sucked, bitten. Her clit ached for the same.
"You're so tight," he said, his voice filled with gentle wonder. It was the only gentleness in the room. She felt ripped open, but worse, because he kept at it, over and over again. She whimpered and twisted as he fucked her ass with no less urgency or force than he fucked her cunt. But soon the sharp pain decreased, and it was just the discomfort, the odd pressure. It allowed for the beginnings of pleasure to take hold. He released his grip on her neck and she started breathing normally again. Her tears slowed. It didn't get much gentler, he obviously wanted it to feel like a violation, and it did. It turned her on, because it was Barry, turned her on to be taken this way.
Barry groaned, her ass gripped him as he thrust, holding his cock with delicious tightness. He felt her relax and knew she was relaxing, succumbing to his invasion. It was gorgeous, the look of his cock sliding in and out of her ass, watching her take him in, watching the tight little hole stretched out. She had stopped struggling, stopped bracing herself, and had her head and chest resting on the bed. She was exhausted and he could feel the slightest movement of her hips with each trust, as she started to meet him. With her head turned to the side he could see cheeks were streaked with tears, her nose running.
Barry slid his hand between them, found her clit, and her eyelids fluttered, her mouth opened as she gasped a little, pressing back against him. Barry didn't know what he wanted anymore, what to do about Ben, about his sister. The only thing he was sure he wanted was this moment, inside of her, her relenting, submitting.
"Tell me again," he pleaded. Needing to hear it, needing reassurance. He folded himself over her, laying his chest along her back, still buried inside her. He'd never felt anything like this for anyone.
She sniffed, collecting herself, said, "I can't get enough."
"No, baby, no. Tell me you love me." He loved her so much it scared him. It grew inside him, consuming everything else. His judgment, his rationality, his love ate at all of it, making room for itself to grow. It was a vicious kind of love that, for the first time, pained him. It was terrifying, but and today it made his gut ache.
"I love you." She said, breathing in, then out. "I love you, Barry."
He resumed his movements inside of her. Resumed his ministrations on her clit. She started to coo, to push into him, meeting his thrusts. They kept on like this, rocking together, until she came and nearly tore the orgasm out of him. The force of her orgasm made her body react, and she pulled her arms in, forgetting about the restraints, and she winced as the ropes cut into her hands. She cried out but only seemed to come harder. Her tight little ass spasmed around him, milking him, he pulled out before he could come.
She relaxed into the bed when he pulled out of her her, leaving her empty and breathing hard.
Barry crawled up on the bed and buried a hand in her dark curls, roughly pulled her head toward him. She gasped again, he lips falling open, and he grabbed his cock and started jerking off. Sensing what he wanted, she opened her mouth wider, and he jerked faster, inches away from her face. Pressure build inside of him, he wanted to cum everywhere at once, her hot little cunt, her tight ass, her willing mouth. Any hole she had was open to him, like she was a whore whose only job was to please him.
"It's good," he whispered. His whore. His wanton little slut who spread her legs for him, who sucked on him, who rode him, all to give him pleasure. Her body gave him so much pleasure. "That's so good. You're so fucking good." It was a contest between her mouth and her face. He wanted both, but he wanted her mouth more. He didn't want to lose any of the load in her mouth by painting her face with his cum. Thinking about her on her knees in front of him, jerking him off onto her face, brought him to the edge. He pulled her hair harder, jerked faster. Then he came.
Thick ropes of cum burst out, landing first on her chin until he repositioned, and shot into her mouth. His whole body shook as he came, as he emptied himself into her waiting mouth. When he was done he said, "Hold it". She did as she was told, closing her mouth, holding still. He imagined the slickness on her tongue, the concentration it must have taken not to swallow. "Swish," he whispered. She did, moving his cum around in her mouth, coating the insides of her cheeks, and her teeth, under her tongue. His taste between her teeth, on her gums. He made her hold it so long she had to breathe through her nose, couldn't have kept holding her breath.
