AN: This chapter is the reason why the story is rated M. Rough sex and incest ahead. If that is not your thing, skip this chapter. You won't be missing much plot anyways.

2018 — Counterparts

Gina was less than happy as she parked her car in front of her childhood home in suburbia. Her parents, perfectly normal, boring workers lived in a house with the stereotypical white-picket fence and 2.5 children and what was she, an aging and alone business woman who found little pleasure in life. She specialized in making money out of money for a greedy, money-grubbing, tax-evading corporate conglomerate, a perfectly useless job that gave her little fulfillment but it paid her well and kept her happily situated among the hypocritical one-percent.

She was the black sheep cast apart from her perfectly average middle-class family, and when she'd broken up with Thomas King, her parents had urged her to go back to him and beg for forgiveness, because why didn't she want to be the good little wife who got married and quit her job and raised her husband's children as if it were still the eighteenth century? And why couldn't Gina be like her older sister, Mary, and get married at twenty-three and start popping out their grand-babies right away? So, when Gina refused to settle down and get married, she was cut off just like that. Mary, of course, sided with her parents, saying she was being selfish in devoting herself to her career over a man she was not worthy of. To add insult to injury, the only contact Gina ever received from her family was Mary's once yearly request for Gina to put a substantial amount into each of her childrens' 529s because she and her husband could not afford to. That was just like her sister, to scorn her for choosing her financially successful career over having a family like she did, and then begging for money when Mary and her husband had more children than they could afford.

As luck would have it, five years ago Gina received one last call from her parents telling her that Mary and her family had died in a car accident on New Years. The other driver was drunk and ran a red light, crashing into them and killing the entire family upon impact. One brief, obligatory visit to the funeral where she even surprised herself by actually crying (but only a little) and Gina thought she would never have to deal with her parents again.

How wrong she was. Sixteen years since she had last even pretended to be close to them, here she was at their house to sort through their belongings and deal with a house she did not want, and all because they were inconsiderate enough to die in a plane crash while returning home from vacation. It was all too inconvenient. Like they had any right to expect her to want to deal with their stuff. Surely they had other friends with their white-picket fences and 2.5 children who were much more inclined to deal with being the sole inheritor of an average house in an average neighborhood with an average inheritance to boot, not that the inheritance would amount to much after she paid taxes on the inheritance at her much higher income bracket. It would barely be enough to make any noticeable difference to her income; the entirety of her parents' remaining life savings was barely enough to cover one full year of her wine habit.

Now alone in her childhood home, completely without any family, Gina felt the ghosts of her dead, mediocre parents heavily. She felt a sudden need to flea, to get away from that damn place. She needed to forget. She needed to get laid. It had been so damn long.

She called to reserve a room in the hotel she normally used for her booty calls and then scrolled through her contacts list. All the men there were either asses or married, which normally she did not mind as long as they were good at the whole Tab A Slot B thing, but as upset as she was she wanted someone who was not a total jerk. Frustrated, she replaced her phone into her purse when she saw the napkin the kid from the bar gave her. Before she could talk herself out of it, she sent him a text: Southwest corner of 7th and 10th.

Without waiting for a reply, Gina headed to the hotel. Hank was waiting for her in the lobby as she got the key and led him up to the room. "What's this about?" Hank asked when he saw her distress.

Gina let them into the room and waited for the door to close before said, "That's none of your damn business. Do you want to fuck or not?" Hank's eyes turned glassy with desire and Gina knew she was going to hell for sleeping with the kid, but damn it she needed to release her stress and he was the only palatable option. He looked eighteen anyways, safely above the age of consent.

Gina did not wait for Hank to say anything. She lunged at him and kissed him. He was inexperienced, that she could tell right away. His technique lacked the refinement of the elder men she was used to, but what he lacked for in talent he made up for in enthusiasm — well, the tried to anyways. Gina walked Hank backwards, fumbling to undo the buttons on his shirt and push it off his shoulders. He was thin and wiry — there were no hidden muscles under his clothes — and did not yet have a mass of chest hair, but he had the right appendage and that was all that mattered.

Gina pushed Hank down onto the bed and quickly shed her clothes before climbing on top of him. She was glad they had not even had time to turn on the lights in the darkened room. She did not want to have to look at him — his youthful appearance would likely prove to be a turn-off. Hank let her straddle him while their kiss became more passionate. However, once she rubbed her heat over his crotch he growled and flipped her onto her back.

Gina struggled to regain control of the situation as Hank used a hand to pin her flailing arms above her head. "You want me to fuck you, bitch, you do what I say," he growled as the brunette resisted him.

Hank bit her neck none too gently, and Gina was sure it would leave a mark. Not that she cared. She just needed to get laid. Gina wiggled beneath Hank in an attempt to extract herself but her efforts were foiled as Hank claimed her lips in a bruising kiss while his hips laid heavily on hers. His body might be lean but it was still heavy, and she was effectively pinned down.

"Fuck you," Gina spat once Hank finally released her lips from their kiss.

He smirked at her, a look she found surprisingly sexy on such a young face from what little of it she could make out in the dark. "Oh, I'm gonna."

Hank shifted until his mouth was hovering above her breasts, and despite her continued attempts to free herself, Gina was still trapped by his hands pinning her wrists above her head. She had no more time to concentrate on freeing herself as she felt a searing pain in her right nipple. She cried out, surprised by the harshness of his bite, and then she whimpered as he relinquished the teat and laved circles with his tongue around the stinging area. The pressure, though not as harsh as before, reminded her body of the recent torment and she could not help but gasp from the pain of the prolonged contact as Hank kept it from dulling too quickly.

Satisfied her right nipple was red and bruised, Hank shifted his attention to her left side.

"Please," Gina whimpered, knowing he intended the same treatment for her other side. She was not sure whether she was begging him for more or pleading with him to stop.

The pain returned, more intense than she anticipated, and Gina cried out in shock. It might hurt, but at least it achieved her objective. All thoughts of her deceased family members were firmly washed out of her mind.

"Like that?" Hank asked teasingly, releasing her left nipple with a pop. Gina whimpered as the cool air hit the sensitized bud and she opened her mouth to speak when Hank reclaimed her lips, his hands moving to her breasts and rolling the nipples between his fingers to keep the pain from dulling. He was more distracted during that kiss and Gina wretched her arms free of his constraint.

Her body was on fire. Her nipples burned and her breasts ached from his harsh treatment. She was soaking, more than she could have expected given his lack of experience; she needed him now.

Gina's newly freed hand moved downwards and stroked his firm erection. Hank let out a guttural groan at the contact but he did not allow it to last long. Rolling off of her, Hank commanded, "On your knees."

Doggy style was far from her favorite position, and Gina was in the process of telling him that even as Hank was pulling her up and turning her over, placing her in the position he wanted.

She really should not have tolerated his damn possessive behavior, but god did she need to get laid. "Fuck me," she commanded.

"I give the orders here." Gina heard a loud crack just before she felt the pain of the blow on her ass. She bit her lip to keep from making noise. Damn him but she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing it hurt like hell. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Bitch." Each word was punctuated by a heavy blow and after the third tears welled in Gina's eyes much against her will. Traitorous body.

"Stop," she finally whimpered after the final blow. It was a distraction, but a painful one. She did not mind dominant men, but she did not like pain without pleasure.

"Don't like that do you?" Hank taunted. He massaged her red rear end in his hands, bringing the pain back the the forefront of her mind just as he had her nipples earlier. "Doesn't much matter. Won't be able to sit tomorrow will ya? Won't be able to walk properly, either, once I'm through with you." The cocky assurance in his voice made him sound older than he was, and the dirty words sent a thrill of pleasure through her body.

"Screw you," Gina hissed. She was absolutely soaked. She needed his cock now and damn him and his power play.

It seemed Hank was also at the end of his tether because he was pushing in and Gina let out a moan at being filled. Hank pulled back to just the tip and then he was sliding home again and Gina rocked her body back to meet his.

"Fuck."

"Shit."

They cried out in unison. A sharp pinch over her clit and Gina was trembling. Breaking. Falling. "Oh God! God! Holy Fuck!" Gina cried as she came hard without stopping. It should not be possible. She felt like she was going to combust.

"Not god, slut, just me," Hank grunted as he pounded into her chasing his own release. He was not doing this for her pleasure. Only his. That she got off was a bonus for her, but from the moment he'd seen her in the hotel lobby in all her angry glory he knew he was going to fuck her without concern for her wishes. She wanted it rough and hard. She had the look of a woman who wanted to forget and he was nothing if not gentlemanly when it came to giving women what they wanted. Particularly when they wanted him to be selfish. Particularly when they wanted to be fucked.

"SHIT!" Gina cried. His filthy words had her coming a second time, or was it still the first? She could not tell. Only she was coming hard and fast, her muscles pulsating rapidly and squeezing around his member which felt insanely large in their position.

His thrusts were fast and brutal, and through her panting and cries of pleasure she could hear his occasional grunts and the ever present, rhythmic sound of skin sharply colliding with skin. Of his promise to render her incapable of walking properly after their coupling she was no longer in any doubt. With his selfish pace and lack of consideration for her discomfort, she was sure she would be sore in the morning, a reminder of what he had done to her. And she loved every minute of it.

And then he was coming inside her, still thrusting but at a slower pace as her third consecutive orgasm milked him of his seed. Thoroughly exhausted, Hank pulled out with a squelching sound and rolled down onto the bed. He threw his arm across his forehead as he laid on his back.

Gina collapsed onto her belly, her muscles too weak and jelly filled to manage anything else. She tensed and relaxed her muscles, feeling his seed dripping out of her, but she was too tired to move to clean it. A sudden thought occurred to her, one she should have thought of earlier. With a weak and trembling arm she grabbed her purse from the nightstand and opened it to see the condoms exactly where she had placed them before heading to the hotel.

"You didn't use a condom," she said accusingly, the worry breaking through even the fuzz of her cloudy post-orgasmic brain.

"You're not on the pill?" Hank returned, equally incredulous and with no small amount of worry.

Of one thing in her life Gina was very certain: she was fucking screwed.