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Parte 7&8-
Ninth, the humiliation
Jack pulled back from Katie and stood.
For a second nobody spoke.
Katie was still on the bed, bare and breathing hard, dress bunched around her waist, stockings twisted at her thighs. Her face was flushed. Her glasses were gone somewhere in the sheets. One hand lay open beside her head, fingers still twitching from whatever had just gone through her.
Jack crossed the room to his jeans.
He was naked now, or close enough that I had to look away and could not. The contrast was there before I wanted to see it.
His body. His confidence. The casual way he moved around the room like none of this had changed anything.
He crouched by the desk and dug through his pockets.
“Shit.”
Katie turned her head toward him. Jack checked the other pocket, then the back pockets. His jaw tightened.
“Fuck. I don’t have condoms.”
She looked at me.
Her face softened at once. Or changed. I could not tell the difference anymore. Her eyes were heavy and unfocused, but when they found mine, something in them sharpened.
“Babe,” she said. I sat up.
She reached one hand toward me.
“You have yours, right?”
I stared at her.
“In your wallet,” she said. “Please.”
My body moved before my mind did.
I got off the bed, naked and unsteady, and crossed the room to where my jeans were near the door. I could feel both of them watching me. Jack from the desk. Katie from the bed.
I found my wallet in the back pocket. Cheap black leather. The same condom had been in there for three months. I had carried it around like a prayer, like proof that one day I would become the kind of guy who needed it.
Now it was in my hand.
I turned back toward the bed.
Katie had pushed herself up on her elbows. Her eyes dropped to my body, then came back to my face. She looked at me differently now. Not surprised, exactly. She already knew more than I wanted her to know because of the Hannah.
But this was different.
“Oh, baby,” she said softly.
My stomach tightened.
She smiled, small and warm.
“You’re so cute.”
Cute. Cute.
And still, because it was Katie saying it, the word went through me like tenderness.
She held out her hand. “Come here. Let me help.”
I crawled back onto the bed between her legs, condom packet in my hand. My fingers were shaking too badly to open it cleanly. She took it from me without making fun of me. She tore it open, careful and focused, and held the condom between her fingers.
“You’re shaking,” she said.
“I know.”
“It’s okay.”
Her voice had changed again. Sweeter. Almost protective. That made me feel safe and humiliated at the same time.
She reached down and rolled it onto me. The first touch almost finished me by itself.
I made a sound I hated immediately. Katie looked up at my face.
“Hey,” she whispered. “It’s just me.”
Katie finished rolling the condom down and gave me one gentle squeeze.
“There,” she said. “Ready.”
Then, after a small pause, softer, “My sweet boy.”
She lay back and opened her legs for me.
For one second, I felt it.
The thing I had been waiting for. The moment I had built in my head so many times it had stopped feeling possible. Katie under me. Katie looking at me. Katie choosing me.
I moved closer. I guided myself with my hand, trying not to shake.
Katie watched me with parted lips and bright, drunk eyes.
Then, just as I started to press forward, she shifted her hips back.
“Wait,” she whispered.
I froze.
“What?”
“Not yet.”
My heart dropped.
She reached between us and took me in her hand.
“Just feel me first.”
“Katie.”
“Please.”
She pressed me against her, not inside, just against the wet heat of her body. She moved me slowly, guiding me along her, using me for pressure instead of taking me in.
I gasped.
The sensation was too much. Too new. Too close to what I wanted and still not it.
Katie watched my face.
“There,” she whispered. “Feel that?”
I nodded because I could not speak.
“That’s for you,” she said. “That’s how much I want you.”
Then she smiled.
“You’re so cute like this.”
I looked over my shoulder.
Jack was by the desk, still watching. He was putting his jeans back on, slow and careless, but he had not taken his attention off us. When he saw me looking, he raised his eyebrows a little.
Katie moved me again, and I lost the thread of him.
“Oh,” I said, my voice breaking.
“Shh,” she said, stroking my cheek with her free hand. “You’re okay.”
“I need to,” I said. “Katie, please.”
“Not yet. Babe. Keep going” she told me, smiling and biting her lip. Which I took as a way of her telling me that she would be mine if I just did what she said. That she was enjoying this so much.
She kept moving me against her. Slow at first, then a little faster. Her own breath changed. Her hips lifted. Her face tightened with pleasure, and for one second I understood that this was not only for me.
She was using the moment too. Using my body. Using my need. Maybe not cruelly. Maybe not even consciously.
But she was.
“You like it?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I like it.”
Her smile went soft and drunk.
“My boy.”
I almost came right there.
Behind me, Jack’s phone buzzed on the desk.
He picked it up.
“Yeah?”
I should have listened. I barely could.
Katie had wrapped her legs around my hips and trapped me there, moving herself against me now, taking control of the rhythm. I was braced over her on shaking arms, my forehead almost touching hers, my whole body wound tight with the effort not to lose it.
Jack spoke behind me, casual as anything.
“Yeah. Bring them up.”
I heard Mark’s voice on the other end, too faint to understand.
Jack glanced at us.
“No rush,” he said. “Still in the same floor.”
Condoms. Mark was bringing him condoms.
The thought entered me and should have sobered me up. It should have made me stop. It should have made me pull back and ask what the hell we were doing.
Then Katie tilted her hips again, and the thought broke apart.
“Katie,” I said.
Her eyes opened.
“What?”
“I’m close.”
She blinked.
Then her expression changed. Not disappointment. Not surprise either. Something tender and amused and almost maternal.
“Already?”
My face burned.
“I’m sorry.”
“No,” she whispered. “Don’t be sorry.”
“I can’t hold it.”
Her hand went to my face. Her thumb moved over my cheek.
“Then don’t.”
I stared at her.
“Let go,” she said. “I want to feel you lose it.”
“I haven’t even,” I started.
“I know.”
She kissed me once, soft.
“I know, baby.”
It pushed me over the edge.
My whole body locked. I tried, uselessly, to press closer, to find a way inside at the last second, to turn this into what I had imagined. But she held me where she wanted me. Against her. Outside her. Close enough to feel everything and not close enough to have it.
I came.
Fast.
Hard.
Katie reacted like it was beautiful.
“Oh,” she gasped, gripping my shoulders. “There you go. That’s it.”
Her body moved under mine like she was feeling it with me. Her voice rose, soft and breathless.
“That’s it, baby,” she whispered into my ear. “You did so good.”
I collapsed onto her.
She made a small sound under my weight, then laughed against my cheek.
“You’re heavy.”
I tried to move, but my arms were useless.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“Don’t apologize.”
“I didn’t even get inside.”
Katie went still.
Then she put both hands on my face and made me look at her.
Her eyes were soft. Too soft.
“I love you,” she said.
I stopped breathing.
She said it clearly. No laugh. No performance. No looking at Jack.
“I love you, John.”
Then she kissed me.
I kissed her back like I was drowning.
She tasted like everything that had happened in that room. Alcohol. Sweat. Cum. Her. All of it was there, and I took it because she was giving me her mouth and saying she loved me and I did not know how to separate one thing from another anymore.
She pulled back first.
“Okay,” she whispered. “You really are squishing me.”
I rolled off her and onto my back.
The ceiling swam above me. Red light moved over it in slow waves.
Katie turned onto her side facing me. Her hand settled on my chest, right over my heart. I could feel my heartbeat slamming against her palm.
For a few seconds, I thought maybe that was it.
Maybe the night had tilted into something survivable.
Then her other hand moved lower.
I tensed.
She noticed.
“Relax,” she said. “I’m just taking it off.”
She removed the condom carefully. Too carefully. Like she knew exactly how to do it.
She tied it off and dropped it into the trash beside the bed with a soft, final sound.
Katie curled back into my side as if that solved something.
Her leg went over mine. Her head rested on my shoulder. Her skin was hot against me. Her breathing started to slow.
Across the room, Jack was still moving around.
I heard him pick up his beer.
He took a drink.
I closed my eyes.
Katie’s hand moved over my chest in small circles.
“You okay?” she whispered.
I almost laughed.
“Yes.”
She lifted her head.
Her face was close to mine. Blurry without her glasses. Beautiful. Worn out. Still drunk enough to believe whatever she wanted to believe.
“I love you,” she said again.
I looked at her.
“I know.”, said it like I was Han Solo.
That was all I could manage.
She studied my face like she wanted the answer to be bigger than that. Then she kissed my shoulder and laid her head back down.
I stared at the ceiling
tenth, the moment
The sheet was a damp, twisted shroud around our ankles. Beside me, Katie’s face was a study in contradictions in the pulsing red glow of the lava lamp. Her glasses, usually a barrier, were gone, leaving her wide, brown eyes bare and vulnerable. Freckles spilled across her nose like a constellation I once tried to trace with my tongue. Her long, brown hair, usually a silky curtain, was plastered to her temples with sweat.
The air in the room was thick, a miasma of stale beer, our shared exertion, and the sharp, metallic tang of new things beginning. My own heartbeat hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the suffocating silence.
Her fingers, trembling slightly, traced circles on my chest. “I love you,” she breathed, the words a fragile thing in the charged space.
Before I could answer, a tremor ran through her, a violent shudder that had nothing to do with me. Her breath hitched, a sharp, wet gasp against my cheek. I followed her gaze over my shoulder.
Jack.
He was still there, a dark silhouette at the foot of the bed. His large hands, the size of dinner plates, gripped her thighs, holding them apart. His face was hidden in shadow, but I could feel the intensity of his focus, a palpable force that made the air crackle. His cock, impossibly thick, jutted from a thatch of dark hair, a weapon poised to breach her last defense.
Her virginity. The thing she’d saved. For what? For this?
“Jack,” I choked out, the name tasting like acid. My voice was a stranger’s, thin and reedy.
He didn’t even glance my way. His attention was solely on Katie, on the expanse of pale, freckled flesh splayed out before him. He was a predator admiring his kill.
“She’s still ready,” he murmured, the words a low rumble that vibrated through the mattress.
Katie made a small, wounded sound. Her hand shot out, clawing at the tangled sheets, her knuckles white.
Panic, cold and sharp, lanced through the alcoholic haze. “Katie,” I said, scrambling to sit up. “We have to go. Now.”
She turned back to me, her eyes huge and glassy, a maelstrom of fear and a dark, unsettling thrill. “It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice surprisingly steady. She reached for me, her fingers brushing my cheek, leaving a trail of her own sweat. “It’s okay, babe.” She was soothing me, as if I were the one on the verge of being torn apart.
Jack’s phone buzzed on the desk, a jarring, modern intrusion into this primal scene. He reached back, a fluid, one-handed motion, not breaking his gaze. “Mark,” he said, his voice flat. “He’s on his way up.”
Katie swallowed hard, the bob of her throat a frantic little dance in the dim light.
Jack’s eyes flickered down to her face. “You’re not on anything, are you?”
She shook her head, a small, jerky motion. “No,” she whispered. “I never needed to be.”
Jack let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Then we wait.”
But he didn’t wait. He moved.
His hands tightened on her hips, pulling her toward him, positioning her. Her soft belly, the slight roundness I loved to kiss, tensed into hard muscle. Her thick legs, strong from years of hiking, quivered like reeds in a storm.
“Stop,” I said again, the word a useless puff of air.
He looked at me then, a flash of white in the darkness. “You want her to stop?”
Katie’s head whipped back to me, her face a mask of desperate pleading. Her lips were parted, her chest heaving. She didn’t say yes. She didn’t say no.
“Katie,” I begged, my voice cracking. “Do you want this?”
Her eyes filled with tears, but they didn’t fall. “I don’t know,” she breathed, the words a confession and a surrender.
Before I could process it, before I could act, Jack spoke. “That means ‘yes’.”
He leaned over her, blocking out the red light, plunging her face into shadow. One hand braced next to her head, the other still holding her hip. He was a mountain of muscle and menace.
He didn’t enter her. Not yet.
Instead, he lowered himself, the heat of his body radiating across the small space between them. His immense cock, heavy and rigid, rested against her slick folds. He began to move, a slow, torturous rocking. He wasn’t inside her, but he was claiming every inch of her outer self, dragging the thick, flared head of his shaft through her wetness, up over her clit, then back down, pressing firmly against the taut barrier of her hymen.
Katie’s entire body went rigid. The hand clutching mine spasmed, her nails digging half-moons into my palm. A choked gasp escaped her lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated shock. Her back arched off the mattress, her small breasts thrusting forward, the nipples tight points in the dim light.
“Oh god,” she whimpered, the sound thin and reedy. Her head thrashed on the pillow, her brown hair a wild halo. “Oh god, Jack… please…”
He said nothing, just continued that maddening, rhythmic slide. He was testing her, mapping her response with a detached, clinical curiosity that was more terrifying than any violence. He was teaching her body a new language, one with only one word.
Her breaths came in ragged pants, little sobs of building pressure. Her free hand flew to her own mouth, biting down on her knuckles to stifle the sounds clawing their way up her throat.
Then, the rhythm changed.
He began to grind, slow and deep, the base of his cock mashing against her clit with deliberate, circular motions. The friction was too much. The sensation, overwhelming.
Her control snapped.
A raw, primal scream tore from her throat, loud enough to make the windows rattle. It wasn’t a sound of pain. It was a cry of pure, desperate, animalistic need.
“Jack! Fuck me!” she shrieked, her eyes screwed shut, her face a contortion of ecstasy and agony. “Oh god, Jack, put it in! FUCK ME!”
Her head whipped toward me, her eyes flying open, wild and unfocused. She found my face in the gloom.
“John!” she cried, her voice cracking on my name. “John, I love you! I love you!”
She said my name as she begged another man to defile her. She confessed her love as she demanded her own ruin.
My body betrayed me completely. My own cock, forgotten until that moment, jerked against my thigh, a thick, hot surge of shame and arousal. My shaking hand moved before I could command it to stop, wrapping around myself. My grip was desperate, painful.
Jack heard her. He felt her body surrender beneath him. A low growl rumbled in his chest, a predator finally given the signal to feast. He stopped the torturous grinding.
I watched, frozen, my fist moving in slow, agonizing strokes on my own erection, as he reached down. His big hand wrapped around his monstrous shaft, guiding it with deliberate precision. He positioned the blunt, weeping head at her slick, quivering entrance.
He pushed.
The barrier of her innocence, the thing she had saved for… for what? For this?… for *him*?… offered only a token resistance. There was a sudden, sharp give, a tearing sound that was somehow wet and final, a pop of flesh surrendering.
A high, thin wail was torn from Katie’s lungs, a sound of profound, shattering pain. Her entire body convulsed, a violent seizure that arched her back clean off the bed. Her legs shot straight out, trembling violently. The grip on my hand became viselike, a silent scream transferred through our skin.
He didn’t stop. He didn’t pause to let her adjust. He drove forward, sinking that impossible length into her by slow, inexorable inches. I could see the strain in the muscles of his back, the focused clench of his jaw. He was forcing himself into a space not made to receive him, splitting her open from the inside out.
Katie’s face was a ruin of tears and sweat and shock. Her freckles stood out starkly against her skin, now flushed a deep, blotchy red. Her glasses were gone, and her eyes, so soft and vulnerable before, were now wide with a terror that bordered on awe. Her mouth was open in a silent ‘O’ of shock, her breath caught in her throat.
And I saw it.
Just above the dark junction of their bodies, a single, perfect bead of crimson welled up on the pale skin of her inner thigh. Then another, tracing a delicate path down to join the sweat-soaked sheet.
Her blood.
The proof of her surrender.
My fist moved faster, a frantic, desperate rhythm matching the slow, brutal invasion I was witnessing. My breath hitched, a choked sob. The sight of her blood, the sound of her pain-filled whimpers, the knowledge that this was happening right beside me—that I was holding her hand through it—it coalesced into a single, nauseating, electrifying wave of sensation that burned through my veins.
Her eyes, swimming with tears, found mine again. The pain was still there, a raw, gaping wound. But underneath it, something else was flickering to life. A dark, terrified fascination. A horrifying, undeniable pleasure beginning to bloom in the wreckage of her pain.
“Oh… John…” she gasped, her voice a ragged, broken thing. The words were torn from her by the brutal rhythm of Jack’s body. “John… I love you…”
She said it again. A litany. A prayer. An accusation.
And then, as Jack buried himself to the hilt with a final, brutal grunt, a moan escaped her lips. It was a different sound from the whimpers of pain. Deeper. Richer. A sound of pure, unadulterated surrender. A sound of being completely and utterly filled.