Underestimated (15 page)

coming down from my long awaited high.

When I opened my eyes to look at him, he was

wearing that stupid smirk, and I knew that he was glad that

I messed up.

“You didn’t listen, Morgan,” he spoke.

“I tried,” I pleaded my case.

“I don’t think that you did. I think that you wanted

me to spank you.”

I shook my head back and forth, but if I was being

honest with myself my clit had already started to throb

again at the thought of being bent over his lap.

“Bend over in front of me,” he demanded.

I slid down the front of the sofa and bent in front of

him. He rubbed my bottom and then spread me further

open with his hands. He slapped my right butt cheek and

then rubbed away the sting. He did this several times, all

while keeping my cheeks as open as he could with one

hand. His feet went between my legs moving them further

away from each other.

“Bring your hands back and open yourself for me,”

he requested.

What the hell?

I did as I was told and spread my ass cheeks with

my hands. He ran his fingers up my wet folds and to my

anus. I wanted to moan, but didn’t dare. I didn’t know if I

was allowed to do that.

“You want my finger in here, don’t you?” he asked

as he traced my entrance.

Fuck no…

“Yes,” I answered with the answer that I knew he

wanted.

I heard him laugh a little. “Tell me what you

want.”

Oh God.

“I want you to put your finger in my ass,” I replied,

with my eyes already tightly closed, waiting for the

intrusion.

“Relax your muscles,” he demanded as I felt his

finger trying to gain access.

How the hell am I supposed to do that? You have

your stupid finger in there.

I lay there totally exposed and under Drew’s

control, thrusting his finger in and out of my rectum. It

wasn’t bad after a bit, and I was just waiting for it to be

over. He moved his erect penis to my clit and began

pushing and circling, causing a building deep in my core to

initiate. I moaned and pressed myself back toward him,

wanting more compression on my swollen essence.

“Don’t come,” he whispered to my hair.

What the fuck?

Thank God he had other plans for me, and eased

up.

“Are you ready to have your pussy fucked?”

Do I have a choice?

“Yes,” I again said what I knew I was supposed to

say.

“Tell me.”

Really dude? Your hang-ups are starting to give

me whiplash.

“I want you to fuck my pussy, Drew.”

“Go to your bed and spread your legs.”

I couldn’t help but moan a little when he withdrew

his finger from my anus. I did what I was told and lay

across my bed, spread eagle as I watched him undress. My

heart had started to pound out of my chest at the

anticipation. I was trying to talk myself calm, reminding

myself that it couldn’t hurt any worse than the imposition

on my butt.

He walked toward me and grabbed both my legs,

pulling me closer to the edge.

“You ready for my dick to be in your pussy?” he

asked, not looking at me, but only my wide-open sex.

“Yes,” I answered in a deep breath.

I screamed and backed up at least a foot when he

wasn’t gentle at all. I felt the give and the pain that came

with the forced diffusion that was almost excruciating. He

didn’t care and pulled my legs back toward him. He didn’t

have to tell me not to come. I didn’t want to come. I just

wanted him to hurry up and spew out so that he would get

off of me and leave my room. He took no compassion

whatsoever as he pounded in and out of me. Finally, when

I could tell that he was getting close I started to relax. He

pulled me up and to the floor, and I knew that I was

expected to take him in my mouth.

I didn’t try to keep my mouth shut. I didn’t turn

away, and I didn’t try to take him in the back of my throat.

I knew what I was supposed to do and I parted my lips,

awaiting his flow. He must have lost the drive because he

didn’t come right away, and pushed me back to the bed.

He entered me again, thrusting frantically in and out of me

and did the same thing when he was ready. I dropped to

my knees and took his essence into my mouth as he rubbed

it around my lips and tongue with the head of his dick.

“Go clean up,” he demanded.

I went to the bathroom and dropped to the floor

and cried. I knew he would see it on camera the next day,

but I couldn’t help it. I felt so violated and used. Once I

had regained my composure and cleaned up the blood I

went back to my bed, ready to sleep and be rid of him until

the next time.

He was in my bed, and I stopped dead in my

tracks. I didn’t want him there. He patted the other side of

the bed, and I got in. I stayed on the far side of the king

size bed, and he never touched me. We slept in the same

bed, worlds apart. He did wake me early before leaving

for work and made me have sex with him again. He again

did the same thing, as he seemed to always do. As soon as

he was close, he pulled himself to his knees and released

in my mouth. Once again, I wasn’t allowed to come.

Chapter 6

“Riley!”

I didn’t realize that Dawson was not on the bed

with me anymore. Nor did I comprehend that I was

touching myself or crying.

I sat up in one frantic motion. He sat on the edge of

the bed and stared at me with an expression of revulsion.

“Are you okay?”

“What did I say?” I asked, but wasn’t sure I

wanted to know. I was more humiliated than I may have

been in my life.

“It doesn’t matter,” he tried.

“It does matter, Dawson. Please tell me what I

said.”

He ran his fingers through his short hair, and I had

to coax him again to tell me.

“You wanted me to spank you. You wanted me to

stick my finger in your ass, and you said you needed me to

fuck your pussy,” he told me the things that I would say to

Drew, unable to look at me while he did.

“I warned you. I told you I was fucked up,” I knew

that he was seconds away from storming out of my house

and my life, which was fine by me. I should have known a

normal relationship wasn’t plausible for me.

“Why, Ry?”

I rolled over and lay back down, facing away from

him. “You’re off the hook, Dawson. You can go.”

I was surprised when I felt him snuggle up to me

and wrap me in his arms. He kissed my hair.

“I don’t want to be off the hook. You invited me to

spend the night.”

I smiled, not used to the affection, but relished

being in his arms. He never tried to finish what I had

started and we fell asleep in each other’s arms. I woke at

the beginning of a nightmare, glad that I roused before I

said anything else that would make him think I was crazy,

not that I wasn’t. I slid out of bed and walked out to the

kitchen and onto the deck.

I didn’t hear him walk behind me because I had

left the door open. I am not sure what I was thinking at the

time or even if I was thinking. As soon as he spoke, asking

me if I was okay, I jumped, startled. I turned to look at him

and could only see his black silhouette in the night. I

covered my face with my arm as he stepped closer to me.

“Ry?” he quietly said, stopping in his tracks.

I moved my arm and breathed a sigh of relief when

I realized where I was or who he was.

“I’m sorry, Dawson,” I spoke.

He held me in his arms, and I wanted to cry.

Nobody had ever held me. Nobody had ever cared. I

didn’t know how to be with someone who cared.

“What the hell happened to you?” he asked,

rubbing my back in a comforting fashion.

I couldn’t tell him anything. I couldn’t tell him how

I was raised in the poorest parts of West Virginia by two

parents that should have never had kids. I couldn’t tell him

that my dad had sold me to a rich twisted sex pervert. I

could never tell him anything about my past.

“Let’s go back to bed,” I said, pulling away from

him, taking his hand to follow me.

He pulled me close to him and I lay in his arms. I

felt soothed and calm nestled close to his chest. I had

never laid in Drew’s arms like that. If he did spend the

night in my bed, it was because he was planning on taking

care of his sick needs again before morning. I had never

stayed in his bed at all and only had sex in his bed a

handful of times.

The dream that I had woken from earlier in the

night returned. I was back in the trailer, and it was once

again winter. My mom was working the nightshift at the

truck stop. My dad was, of course, at the bar. I was fifteen

and Justin was three. I told him to sit on the couch and not

move while I went out to get wood. He decided that he

was going to help and opened the wood burner door with

his bare hand. I dropped the armful of wood and ran into

the house toward his terrifying screams. The skin on his

hand was dripping off onto the floor. I didn’t know what to

do. We didn’t have a phone, and the only place I knew to

go was about a half a mile down the road to my Grandma

Joyce’s. I was afraid to go there too. She was sick, and my

dad warned me to leave her alone and not bug her.

I picked him up and ran his little hand under cold

water. He screamed to the top of his lungs. The only kind

of salve that I could find was Vaseline that I had found

beside my parent’s bed. I rubbed the greasy ointment on

his hand and wrapped the burn with a torn white sheet. I

didn’t know much, but I knew enough to know that he

needed to go to the doctor.

I was sitting on the couch when both my parents

came home together, drunk. I was rocking him back and

forth as he slept in my arms sucking in short puffs of air

from all the crying.

“I thought you had to work,” I scolded my mother. I

was there taking care of her kid while she was out getting

drunk.

“What happened to him?” she asked, ignoring my

statement.

“He touched the wood burner,” I said.

“Stupid kid,” my dad said and grabbed the

container of Vaseline from the stand. “We might need

this,” he said, pulling my mom back toward their room,

laughing.

“He needs to go to the doctor,” I yelled.

“I’m sure he’s fine. I’ll look at it tomorrow,” my

mother said without a care one about her son hurting at all.

I carried Justin to bed with me and held his little

body close as he whimpered the entire night.

Dawson sat up in bed. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry,

Justin,” I called over and over.

“Riley,” Dawson said, softly, four times before I

hysterically sat up in bed.

“Shhhh,” he said, pulling me back into his arms.

“You’re okay, you’re right here with me,” he whispered to

my hair. He pulled me tight, wishing I would tell him what

I had lived through, or anything that told him why I was

like I was.

“Who’s Justin?” he asked, kissing the back of my

head.

“My little brother,” I answered, sadly with a heavy

heart.

“Where is he?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“How old is Justin,” Dawson asked, trying to keep

me talking.

“He was only five the last time that I saw him, but

he is twelve now.”

“Why haven’t you been able to see him?”

“Children services took him away,” I replied,

gloomily.

“In West Virginia?”

I sat up and looked at him.

“I didn’t say anything about West Virginia,” I

demanded.

“You said it in your sleep. Come here. I am not

your enemy, Ry.”

I lay back down, and was glad that he stopped with

the questions.

What else did I say?

We dozed off for the third time that night. I was

sound asleep when Dawson woke me by kissing my

sleeping lips. I always slept the best in the morning. My

nights seemed to be full of demons that kept me awake

until the exhaustion took over early in the morning.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said, and I had to

smile. Him calling me beautiful had an entirely different

meaning behind it than when I heard it from Drew. When