K. Bromberg - Bend

I’m ashamed to admit it, but instead of embarrassing me, his words hurt.

“I’m not interested in the babies, Harper. I just take what I want. And you were right to demand to know me before you let me fuck you. Because you reminded me of what I am. Why I’m here.” He yanks his arm from my grip and turns again.

My leg reaches forward and tangles with his, making him stumble, and then I grab his arm and twist. He reacts faster than I can plan the next move, and two seconds later he’s got me pinned to the concrete. Straddling my waist, hands holding me down, hunched over and leaning into my face. “You want me to stay?”

I can’t answer because I’m not sure.

He rises up on his knees a little bit, and then his hands release mine and begin to unbuckle his belt.

I lie absolutely still.

Once the buckle is out of the way, he makes quick work of the button, then the zipper on his pants.

I swallow hard.

“You will take my cock in your mouth.”

I lick my lips and the killer dimples appear in both cheeks.

“I’m gonna take your throat first, Harper. Then your pussy, then your ass.”

I’m not even sure what all that means, other than I’m gonna have sex.

He takes out his dick and pumps it a few times, pulling it up towards his stomach, exposing the long vein, pulsing with blood as it fills and becomes hard and thick. “Put your hand around it, Harper.”

I reach up and gently place my hand around his thickness. Immediately the wetness between my legs is back. I look up at his face for more directions, unsure of what I’m supposed to do. “Stroke me,” he says in a softer voice. “Harder,” he demands when I am timid. I squeeze harder and stroke up and down. Finding a rhythm like our heartbeats out on the beach.

Is this the same man?

I pump faster, and that makes his eyes close to half-mast. “Your little hands on my big cock, Harper. I love it. Now open your mouth.”

I freeze. Staring at him. Deciding.

“Open,” he says again.

I obey.

“Wider,” he whispers as he places his hands on either side of my head and crawls up my body. The tip of his dick touches my lips. “Should I tell you how I like it, Harp?”

I swallow and then force out a small laugh. “If you want it to feel good, you probably should.”

He smiles and I relax a little. I’m not sure if I like him. James or Tet, whatever he wants to be called. He’s unstable. He’s a killer. He killed his own brother. But he and I are not that different. That’s the nature of this life we’ve been born into. I’m not even sure I want to do this, but I’m craving that intimacy he showed me earlier. I need the touch. So, so bad. And maybe he’s a sick fuck… but so am I. Really… we’re perfect for each other.

Being force-fed his dick on the floor in front of the laundry room is not my dream first blowjob. But being left in this hallway, alone again—I can’t take it. I need a connection, even if it’s based on control and psychological manipulation.

He eases forward. “Open wider.” I do, and he flicks his dick against my lips. I instinctively close my eyes and my mouth. “Open, Harper. And don’t close again until we’re done.”

I nod and open my mouth but not my eyes. His tip is warm and smooth.

“Lick it,” he commands.

I twirl my tongue around a little, and then he pulls back and thrusts forward, hitting the back of my throat. I gag and he withdraws again. “Get on your knees for me.” His voice has changed now. Lower, rougher. And for a moment I’m scared, but then his hand finds mine, and he pulls me up to a sitting position as he himself stands. “Knees, Harper.”

I scramble to my knees and before I even have a chance to settle he’s back in my mouth. Both of his hands go behind my head and he pushes himself inside me again. I gag and my hands grab his dick and push him away.

“Hands on your thighs, Harper,” he commands.

I obey and he stuffs himself in farther, his dick pleading with my throat to go deeper. I cough a little and this makes the killer moan with pleasure. I swallow and get the same reaction, only it’s too much all of a sudden and I begin to choke.

“Breathe through your nose,” James says, petting my hair.

I take deep inhaling breaths through my nose.

“Now, flatten out your tongue in the back of your mouth.”

I gag again, but his tip is still seeking out my throat. It pushes forward, then withdraws slightly. Saliva is pooling in my mouth to the point of overflowing, and the next thrust sends it dripping down my chin.

The next time I gag his hands grab my hair and pull my head back so he can go deeper.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” he groans, and then I feel the warm rush of release slide down my throat.

“Swallow,” he whispers.

I gulp until the warm salty liquid is gone and the pulsations in his cock subside.

He withdraws and my head falls forward. I sit back on my butt, wiping the spit off my face. I’ve never felt more humiliated in my life.

His zipper goes back up and then there is nothing but silence.

The drier buzzes again. A signal that someone should be coming for the clothes very soon. James taps me on the shoulder but I don’t look up or acknowledge him. All I see is a long, sticky strand of saliva that is dripping down the front of my tank top. He taps again. “You can go away now,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry for keeping you.”

He bends down and grabs my hand, then urges me to stand.

I do. But I keep my head bowed in shame. I can’t believe I just gave my first blowjob to a stranger in a hallway. I’ve never had any illusions about my life. I’ve never bought into that whole knight thing you read about in girl magazines. I’m not the wannabe princess. But this?

I snatch my hand from his and turn away. I stare at my feet the whole way back to my door. His hands grip my shoulders before I can actually enter the apartment, and then he twirls me around. “Just go,” I say, ready to cry. “I’m over it. Thanks for the good time.”

His fingers dip under my chin and try to force me to look at him. But I’m done. I’m in shut-down mode. That pliable girl who opened for his dick is gone. I’m pissed.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

I nod, but keep my eyes on his shoes.

“I hope you have a nice life, Harper. I won’t tell them I found you.”

My head shoots up at that admission. “You are here to kill me!”

“No,” he says back, his green eyes betraying a lost and desperate person inside. That person who hides behind this beautiful face and god-like body. Behind the man who walked hand in hand with me to the beach and pretended to like me so he could get oral sex from an amateur or whatever the hell it was he wanted.

I stare up at him and he moves a little so that the light from the hallway above his head turns him into nothing more than a dark hovering shape. The symbolism is so appropriate. “Is that what we are?” I ask him. “Just dark shapes with no features? Is that all I’ll ever be?”

He says nothing and I have my answer.

“When you were little did you have a dream?”

“No,” he says, turning his head so the light comes and goes. He’s human one moment, the dark amorphous killer the next. Then human again as he steps back and shifts his body, no longer facing me.

“Well, I had one. We had one.” He turns back when I say we and it hurts me so bad that he knows what that means. “We were gonna escape in the tender boat and say fuck them all. And we were going to live a new life.” I wait for some kind of acknowledgment. Or maybe an apology. For what? I’m not sure. He’s not responsible for what happened to us.