"I couldn't stop myself."
Even as those worse left your lips, you realize the depth of that lie.
No. You could have stopped yourself. You really could have.
You didn't want to.
She is huddled over in the corner, tears staining her cheeks. She continues to wear the glasses, even though you broke them. She's afraid to get up. Afraid to even look in your direction.
And you relish that fear. She had earned that fear when she had let her dirty talk cross the line that caused you to snap.
"Clare would have never let you inside." She moaned into your ear. She tightens her muscles around you and you almost squeak because it's so tight. "She's not as tight as I am."
Why were you having sex with her, anyway? You wondered as she continued to moan sweet nothings into your ear. She wasn't Clare although the way she said those dirty things that only Clare would know; it would be easy enough to mistake the two. Her knowing what Clare felt like and all.
But as you look into her eyes, not bothering to stop even though the anger begins to climb, you begin to realize that this wasn't Clare Edwards. This was someone else. This was someone who had promised you she could help you forget Clare. Help you get over her.
You're looking into the eyes of Imogen Moreno.
And you start to hate yourself more, the anger doubling.
Why were you getting so angry? You wonder to yourself now as you sit on the bed, Imogen tucked into the corner of your room. Why did you hate it so much?
After a moment's thought, you understand why.
Because you were actually enjoying it.
You were enjoying having sex with someone who wasn't Clare. The only person you did actually want to have sex with. Even if you had to wait a long time.
That's when you struck her.
She didn't see it coming. Her eyes had been closed and she looked like she was about to reach her orgasm when your fist met her cheek.
But once wasn't enough.
You hit her again.
She pushes you off of her with all of her might and falls onto the floor of your room. Taking the nearest piece of clothing that was hers, she crawls into the corner where she now laid. And stayed there.
You couldn't look at her. Although what you've just done continues to play through your mind, you don't dare look at her. Her breathing becomes ragged as she attempts not to sob.
What could you do now? Leave the room? Hand her her clothes and hope she doesn't press charges? Explain yourself to her and hope she understands?
A lot of foolish hopes. You think to yourself grimly.
What were the proper words? You've forgotten them. There was something people say in situations like this that supposedly helped. What were the words?
"I'm sorry." You say softly. But, again, you realize that those words are lies. You're not sorry. You're not sorry that you hit her. You're not sorry you caused her to cry. You're not sorry that she might never speak to you again.
You're not even sorry if she goes to the police and you're arrested.
Most of all, you're not sorry for having sex with her in the first place.
You scowl as your own thoughts begin to even make you sick.
It's her voice that shocks you back to reality.
"I... I knew what I was getting into when this started." She explains from the corner of the room. You hear ruffling and soft footsteps as she approaches. "You like it a little rough, Eli... I'm okay with that."
You finally manage to look at her. You see her touch the bruise that was slowly emerging from under the skin. She had discarded the item of clothing that she had picked up as she crawled away.
You start to feel aroused again.
"I know you like it, Eli." She says, the gap finally closed. She strokes the top of your hand gently. "I know that you hate yourself for liking it. Don't try to deny it."
She pushes you back onto the bed with almost as much force as she did to push you off of her.
"Do you know what I like?" She says and you figure that it's a rhetorical question.
She leans over your naked body, her lips almost grazing yours. Her voice is low and husky as she answers; "I like seeing you hate that you like it. I love knowing what I'm doing to you."
She retreats and you close your eyes, almost sighing in relief.
But your eyes snap open as you feel tightness around your balls. You glare down at Imogen, who's features have grown darker, her eyes filled with shadows.
"Don't you ever lay a hand on me again." She says and when you don't reply right away, she squeezes harder.
You flinch. "Okay... okay.."
"Good boy." She says and releases. You continue to glare at her, even when she opens her mouth and takes all of you inside of her. You want to deny her the pleasure of feeling you orgasm but you couldn't. Not long after starting, you close your eyes and moan as you spill yourself inside of her throat.
You collapse onto your bed without another word. You ignore the shuffling around in your room that was Imogen, gathering her things.
When you no longer hear the rustling, you open one eye and she's standing, fully clothed, at your door. Poised to leave.
"I'll see you at school, baby." She says and winks casually before opening the door and leaving.
What have you gotten yourself into?