Addicted to Mr Parks (The Parks Series #2)(109)

I didn’t answer him, so he slapped my behind and pounded into my slick state, balls-deep and hard. “Tell me!” he took hold of my hair and wrapped his wrist around the tresses.

“I love your cock,” I moaned.

“Of course you f*cking do. You have a greedy *.” He snarled. *? He’d never called it a *. I gulped, feeling hurt as he pounded. I could take a good hard f*ck, but the heavier Parks got, the more I seemed to weaken. Pain was my pleasure, but not when I didn’t know the man f*cking me.


“You are all mine. Mine to do with as I please.” He roared out his words, and after a few more pounds, I felt his body tense. His grip tightened on my hair, and I knew he was going to come. Two choices ran around in my mind. To pull away from him because he couldn’t come inside me, not when I wasn’t protected. Or let him come and hope to God I could get my hands on the morning after pill.

Surprisingly, he didn’t control himself and came hard and determined. “Fuckkkk,” he cried out in pleasure but also hating himself as he didn’t have the control to pull out. The warmth of his liquid poured as he emptied every last drop of himself.

When he was done, he released his grip, allowing my lifeless body to collide into the mattress. I was heaving, feeling like I was never going to catch the oxygen I so desperately needed. My eyes closed and begged me not to open up again. Jesus.

Parks climbed from the bed in silence and made his way into the bathroom. Slamming the door and shutting me out. He wanted to shut me out of his private thoughts, and I felt almost jilted because I had let him into mine. Evidently, there was a huge issue with his father. What I witnessed was that he drank too much—maybe an alcoholic?—and put Parks down a lot. The same thing my mother used to do to me. When a parent, someone who is meant to love you unconditionally, a person who you put your wholehearted trust and faith into doesn’t love you or doesn’t think you’re worthy, how the hell are you ever supposed to love yourself?

More than anything, I wanted to go into the bathroom to try and talk to him. Try and take the sledgehammer he used to break down my walls and use it on his. But for some reason, the way he used my body felt personal to me. When I was in a dark place, I had sex to numb my mind. Used the guy as an object because it made me forget. I knew it was what Parks had just done to me. He used me as an object like all the other women he’d f*cked.

I understood why he did it, but I was his girlfriend. Someone he loved. That f*cking hurt. And I wasn’t afraid to tell him.

As I swung my legs out of the bed, I instantly gasped, wincing at how sore I’d become. Ignoring it, though, I swiped up his shirt, pulled it on, and buttoned up the two bottom buttons. I hovered my hand over the bathroom door handle, wondering whether I should go in at all. But I had to.

My gaze scattered around the bathroom until it came into contact with Parks. He was sitting on the toilet lid, elbows on his knees and head bowed down.

He looked mentally tortured by feelings and thoughts. I felt instant sympathy towards him, but I was hurt even more.

“You just used me,” I whispered, my words trembling. I didn’t realise how much I was actually hurting until I tried to speak. “You came inside me; you didn’t stop yourself.”

“I know,” he said in a low voice, not even glancing up to look at me.

Staying where I was, I wrapped my arms around myself. “You used me like you used to f*ck women to numb your pain.”

“I know.”

“You called my sweetness a *.” In his own words, it wasn’t just a * to him. It was his sweetness. That hurt. Damn right it hurt.

“I know.” The tone in his voice made my heart hurt for him.

“You know?” Of course I was starting to feel angry. Tears were falling, and I knew the tears were worth it for him, but how they got there was still f*cked up. “So it’s okay to f*ck me like I’m worthless? But wait, it made you feel better, so why should I moan? Is that it?”

He rubbed his face with his hands roughly before glancing up at me. It was the first time he’d really acknowledged I was in the room. I swiped at my tears as he parted his lips to say something, but his words never formed. Shaking his head on a low sigh, he bowed his head back between his legs, gripping at his hair.

His expression, his poise, his demeanour wasn’t his, and I hated that I felt so far away from him that I couldn’t even go to him and embrace his warmth. He was cold and aloof, and it made me miss the real Parks. I wanted him back.

“Talk to me,” I begged, giving up on my pesky stray tears.

“What do you want me to say?” He looked up, his arms extending out as he spoke fiercely.

“Tell me what’s troubling you.”

“Why?” his were words nasty. “So you can make it better?”

“I thought I did make you feel better.” Sniffling and glancing through wet eyes, I waited for his reply.

“Just go to bed, Evelyn.”

“No,” I barked. “Don’t shut me out. I don’t want you to close the door on me.”

He pushed to his feet and began walking towards me, making me step back until I was standing in the threshold of the doorway. “Then close it yourself.”


Parks left me standing in the doorway, staring at the half-open door while he stepped into the shower alone.