Wanting Winter(51)

“You taste so good, even though I can taste that asshole’s come inside you.” His nails dig into my thighs, and I scream out in pain.

He continues licking and sucking but I don’t get wet; I am dry as anything. My body knows that this isn’t pleasurable—my body is in pain and begging for some kind of relief.

“I can’t wait to be inside you.” He stands, bringing down his jeans and boxers, his erection pressing against his stomach. “I am going to mark you, Winter—fill you up with my come. I hope you are ready.” He hovers above me.

“Patrick, please don’t do this,” I cry.

He strokes my hair before he grabs hold of my wrists pinning them above my head. “You will like it.” He smirks before entering me in one quick motion. With no lubrication, it hurts so much. He thrusts out and back in just as hard.

I cry out.

This can’t be happening to me.

He continues fucking me even though nothing about this is pleasing me. I remain dry, but it doesn’t stop him, he keeps going, panting in my ear. I just lay there crying.

I cry with each thrust.

I cry with each nasty word he says to me.

I sob when he comes inside me.

He stands up getting dressed with a pleased look on his face. I pray he leaves and just lets me lay here in my own personal hell.

It's wishful thinking.

I watch him go to a bag he left at the door and he pulls out a cloth and a bottle of something. “You are coming with me, Winter.” I see him put the liquid from the bottle onto the cloth and it doesn’t take a genius to guess what it is. I have seen enough movies.

I try to crawl away, but it’s useless. He comes my way and puts the cloth over my mouth. I try and fight the darkness that’s taking over, but soon my eyes close and I’m taken away from this world for a little while.





Eighteen





Trent





I wake up the next day, grabbing my phone and notice I have a message from Winter. Opening it up, I feel a little disappointed at her words, but I understand.

Winter: I had to leave for a few days to clear my head. I’m going to head to my mom’s. Don’t try and contact me as I need this time to think about what I want.

Me: Take all the time you need. If you need me, I’m just a phone call away

I put my phone away, and, heading to the living room, I see Drake sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee in his hands, deep in thought. I know what he is thinking about.

Not what. Who.

“Hey man,” I say heading to the kitchen making myself a coffee. When ready, I sit opposite him and he is looking at me.

“Did you get a message?” he asks.

I nod. “I did.”

He knows I went down to talk to Winter. When he told me that he’d slept with her, it hurt, but when he admitted that he wished he hadn’t, that surprised me. He enjoyed it, who wouldn’t, but he hated how it happened. He wished it hadn’t been outside on top of his car. He’d wanted it to be more special. He’s a romantic at heart, but now that he’s done it, he sees her differently. He got what he wanted, but sometimes, when you get something you’ve wanted for so long, the fun in wanting is gone.

This I know.

I told him that Candice and I were over, and he was relieved to hear that but not happy when I told him that I still wanted Winter. I told him that I was going to tell her how I felt, that she deserved to know, and that it would then be up to her what she did with that piece of information.

I guess being around us all is too much.

“She is going to take you back isn’t she?” he says, slumping back.

I hate that he is upset about this. He is the last person I want to hurt but I think I love her and I can’t live the rest of my life wondering what if. However, I saw tears in her eyes. She was crying over him. “I don’t know. I messed her up—hurt her so bad. I don’t think she can ever get past that. Not really.”

“This is fucked up.”

“I know. I slept with her best friend and now she has slept with mine. The question now is, do you still want her?”





Winter


I open my heavy eyes feeling dizzy, and look around the small space. The place is full of darkness apart from a small window on the far side. I try and move but I cry out in pain, my body hurting.

Last night’s events come rushing back and tears fall down my cheeks. I move myself so I am sitting up, hugging my sides and look around, wondering where I am. Then, I realize that I’m still in the building but in the basement. He brought me to the basement.

I can’t believe Patrick did this to me.

I was raped.

My head falls into my hands as I sob.

You hear it happening all the time, but you never think it will happen to you. I try and stand but my body is too sore to move from where I am. I need to heal; I need my strength.

I am sure someone will realize I’m missing soon.

Once I am out of here, I hope they lock Patrick up and throw away the key.

I am looking at my surroundings, trying to find something I can eventually use as a weapon when the door opens, and Patrick stands there with a bottle of water and a sandwich.

“Finally awake,” he says, coming in. He bends down, stroking my hair away from my face, but I turn my away, not wanting his touch. He punishes me with a backhand across my face making me fall to my side. “That wasn’t really very smart.” He stands up, taking the drink and food with him.