Used Ch. 07 and Epilogue

They ended up having to spend a few more hours together, until a neighbor with a chainsaw could be found. Barry went out to drag the pieces of the tree out of the road, and Esme sat in the living room, reading a book.

No one was speaking. It makes it difficult to pretend everything is normal when no one is speaking.

Esme and Barry were the first to leave. She noticed a tension in his body, he didn't try to speak to Ben or Audrey, but she could tell it bothered him that they didn't try. He suggested to her they go upstairs and pack, and after depositing a load into her mouth, he didn't really try to speak to her, either. The first ten minutes in the car were terrible, but it was only going to get worse.

"I ca—" his voice cracked a little and he paused, his elbow on the window, his hand covering his mouth. She noticed again how big he was, how much space his shoulders took up. Not huge, he wasn't a giant, but he was a man. Esme's hands tightened on the steering wheel as she negotiated the SUV through the back roads. They would reach the highway soon. The cabin wasn't more than half of an hour from the highway, though they'd driven during the day before, and in much better conditions. They were definitely the first car to go through, their tracks were the first in the white powder. The road cut through the woods, which was good, because if not for the trees lining the road she might not be able to see the path.

They had fucked, before they left. It had been wordless and if not exactly violent then at least the opposite of gentle. Barry cleared his throat. "I changed my mind," he said.

He changed his mind, Esme thought. It was less thinking than trying to process. What did those words mean? She had to put them together individually, still they didn't make sense. Changed his mind about what?

"I don't think I can do this." He doesn't think he can do this. Why was she doing that? Once wasn't bad enough, she had to repeat them in her head? Her stomach suddenly felt tight, and it was hard to breathe.

He had a hand on her throat when he'd fucked her. It wasn't gentle. She wasn't going to cry, she wasn't sad, couldn't process that far yet. That would come later, over weeks and months until finally one day she would wake up in a new apartment with the light shining down on her from a wall of windows and it would feel like she had it, everything she needed. She didn't feel any of that yet. Now she was just—broken.

"Ben is right."

Ben is a piece of shit. And that was true, wasn't it? He is a piece of shit.

"What about holidays? Are we going to sit across from them and make small talk over Thanksgiving dinner? What the fuck are we supposed to say?"

Like it was her fault. Like she knew. Like his holidays weren't ruined already.

Her phone's shuffle mix had finally made it around to her favorite song. It was ten minutes long. It took awhile to get to the best part. Esme re-focused, glanced at him with the slightest movement of her chin. He wouldn't have noticed the stolen glance, he was staring out the window. Maybe that's it. Maybe that's all I get. I told him I love him but he's worried about awkward dinner conversation. Is he done talking?

"It isn't fair to her."

Not done talking.

"She had him first."

I had him first. Where had that come from? And what was he talking about. She wasn't trying to take him.

"It's not like this happened simultaneously. They were together when we—"Fucked on Ben's kitchen counter in Ben's apartment while Ben was at work? It hit her then-- a kitchen counter. It was like a punch to the gut. She was horrid. "Got together."

Bile was rising in her throat. She swallowed it down. Still no tears, but they were close. Lingering, waiting to spill.

"And how is it going to be? Am I going to think about his hands on you every time we're in the same room? Am I going to have to know he was inside of you forever?"

Just stop.

"And I don't mean just 'know'. I mean know. With every cell in my body on hyper-alert just-- knowing."

Please, stop.

"Em, please say something."

But what was there to say? What could she say? That it's okay because it wouldn't have lasted? Because sooner or later he would have found out about her encounter with Ben? That by the way Ben was just inside of her. Should she accuse him of fucking her when he knew he wanted to end it? Hadn't he known? Hadn't it been all over his face when he looked at her just before going inside, letting the door slam behind him as Ben lay bleeding on the ground? He'd changed his mind. What else is there to say? Her fingers were aching from her grip on the wheel. She loosened it, flexing her fingers. What could she possible say?

"Say something."

"Fuck you." Well, there's always that.

He recoiled slightly, as if bitten. Was he surprised? Was she not supposed to say anything? When had her life gotten like this? What was wrong with her brain that she kept doing this to herself, over and over? It was like she was Taylor Swift. Except dirty.

And she loved him. She loved him so much her heart physically ached. Her stomach twisted in knots. The music was playing too softly. She wanted to turn it up. To block the sound of his voice. She didn't want to hear another word.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I hate you so much right now." And that did it. The tears came on fast, sobs wracking her body so violently she had to pull over.

And then there it was again, her stomach protesting. She opened the door and ran to the back of the car. She was going to be sick. And then she was, doubled over she vomiting. Which was maybe even more humiliating than being dumped less than an hour after taking it up the ass. And at the beginning of a two hour car ride? Like the thought of being attached to her for even two more hours was just too much?

Barry got around the car just in time to see her lose the contents of her stomach. Luckily, it wasn't much.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" His hands were on her and she couldn't take it. It was suddenly the worst thing in the world to be touched by him. She realized then the exhaust was in her face, hot. She stood up to get away from it, leaned against the back of the SUV for support. She must have surprised him, because he stumbled backwards. She hadn't put her jacket back on, and it was cold. The heaving was gone but the tears weren't. She kept her face turned away from him, as if she could hide her tears and save a little bit of dignity. As if time would go by and this wouldn't be a story he tells at parties. Barry, tell him about the breakup vomiter. No one would believe it. It was too ridiculous.

He reached for her again and this time she recoiled. "Don't touch me."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't ever—" she lost the breath on a sob, had to try it again. "Don't ever touch me again."

"Esme, come on, don't be like this."

As if it was perfectly natural that he would still get to touch her. But why wouldn't he? Wasn't she just something they passed around? Isn't that what she'd let herself become? Why had she told him she loved him? If she could take any of it back, it would be that. That was the most humiliating part of all. And maybe when she got in the car she would have taken last night back, would have never gone downstairs, never been in a position to be alone with Ben. That, she had thought, would keep her and Barry safe. If she hadn't done that. But now she knew better, because apparently her history with Ben was all he could think about. That she didn't even get her own place in his thoughts, that she was tied to every girlish mistake she had ever made.

But hadn't she made that worry valid? Ben's voice replaced hers inside her head.

"He had his fun and he got what he wanted, I found out, and he proved he could take you from me. He won. The game is over and you won't be fun for him anymore." The feel of Ben's lips on hers, her response to it. How could she hold it against Barry, blame him for the failure, when she made every one of his fears come true?

Barry shut off the radio.

"Esme, please just look at me."

"Did you like that? Did you like having cum from two guys in you at once?"

"I hate you for this." She wasn't even saying it to the right person. She was shivering now, the cold was riding in on the night, steeling that precious warmth that always seems to follow a snowstorm.

"I want to go home," she said, her head turned away from him, her eyes taking in the spruce trees, half of them dead from a beetle infestation. It had passed through awhile ago, the surviving trees, once weak, were becoming dominant. "I need you to drive. Just don't say anything, please."

They sat in silence on the way back. It was easy to ignore his attempts at conversation, her mind was otherwise occupied. She was watching herself lift up her skirt, a peek of black lace panties for an ex-boyfriend. To teach him a lesson. It had been a mistake. He had taught her a lesson instead, and after, her back turned to him while she swiped a paper towel between her legs, trying to clean herself, she knew it. There was a lot of it, and the paper towel wasn't absorbing it. She ended up just spreading it around. Her thighs were wet. She had kissed Ben back while Barry waited for her upstairs. She felt ill. And now what? Now she was mad at him? What right did she have to be mad at him?

"You're so tight."

Ben had tasted like beer. How many times had she kissed him? How many years did she think he was all she wanted? That if she could just have him, it would be okay. She would be okay. She just wasn't the type of girl to be okay, though.

"I don't recommend you going to him with my cum leaking out of your cunt--not again, I mean."

"I'm sorry," Barry said. She ignored it.

The silence in the car reminded of the silence this afternoon, after Barry came back from pulling the dismantled tree off of the driveway. He'd obviously been thinking, didn't want to talk, except to tell her to pack. She did so, without words. She felt his eyes on her as she moved from the drawers to her suitcase, not bothering to fold anything. She was bent over the bottom drawer when she felt him behind her, he hands coming to her hips, pulling her backwards. She let herself be pulled, please to feel his stiffening cock pressed against her.

"Let me tie you up, baby."

She nodded, let her head fall back against him as his hand cupped a breast through her shirt. There was something so provocative about being felt up through her clothes, the urgency of it--the need so strong it couldn't wait for clothes to come off. His other hand gripped her throat for a moment Barry pushed her away from him, toward the bed, and she caught sight of him in one of the mirrors. He took her breath away. He always took her breath away. His dark eyes met hers as she watched him peel his shirt off, saw biceps and abs and, yes, the beginnings of some bruises, a reminder that he'd fought his best friend just hours before. For her.

"Get naked," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. She peeled off her top. Slid out of her bra. Shimmied out of her jeans. She could see he was watching her ass, she made sure to bend over while crawling on the bed. "Hold onto the headboard, put your ass in the air."

She was surprised to see him reach into his bag and pull out nylon rope. Immediately her pussy came to life. He had wanted this. Planned it before the trip, and packed for it. Planned to tie her to the bed. But this time he would tie her up with a rope instead of a scarf. Heat spread through her, radiating out from her sex.

"These are going to be tight," he said as he tied her. And it was tight. She would have marks even if she didn't struggle. His cock, stiffening with each second that passed, seemed to be growing before her eyes.

"I've been thinking about this," he whispered, positioning himself behind her. "Is it okay? Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"And you'll say parakeet if it gets too bad?"

Her heart started pounding at the safe word. He already had her tied up, what was he going to do? She couldn't fight back.

"Esme?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I'll say it if I need to." But she wouldn't say it. How could she deny him anything now?

"Are you sure?" He asked quietly, lovingly. She was getting increasingly anxious. Had she agreed to whips? Clamps?

She nodded.

He groaned, a noise filled with longing, and positioned himself behind her. She jumped a little when he touched her, braced herself as he ran his hands up her thighs to her ass, spreading her cheeks and exposing her little puckered hole to the air in the room. She inhaled as he licked her, tongued her ass as he slid a finger inside of her. She pushed back into him, hoping for more. Barry pulled away, stood, and moved to his suitcase again. The ropes dug into her wrists, and when he wasn't attending to her the pain was distracting, but he was back within seconds and the scent of strawberries hit her. She felt a cold, slick slide of fluid.

Flavored lube, she realized, as he applied it liberally to her ass crack and letting the fluid slide down to her pussy. He pressed the lips of her pussy open so it would cover her. Then she felt his tongue as he started licking it off, touching her ass, sliding a finger in while he plunged his thumb inside her, filling both holes at once.

"So wet already," he murmured. And she was, even without the lube. The anticipation was killing her. She had no idea what he planned to do. He positioned behind her and slid his cock between her legs. "You just can't get enough can you?"

She thought it was a rhetorical question. She realized it wasn't when he caught her nipple between his thumb and index finger and squeezed. Hard. She jerked involuntarily. The ropes felt impossibly tight, cutting into her wrists. "Say it."

"I can't get enough."

He slid inside her then, and it was sweet and gentle. And he played with her clit when he did it, and slowly a pressure started building. It would be so easy to come. She didn't want to. She wanted to last for him. He held her hips and slid in and out of her with easy, slow strokes. She pushed back against him, met his rhythm. It wasn't what she was expecting, and pressure soon started building, he clit feeling tighter, her sex warmer. Barry stopped attending to her clit and straightened, his hands moving to her ass, caressing it, pushing the cheeks apart with his thumbs. The cool air tickled her asshole and a shiver ran through her body. She hoped he would push a finger in. She felt empty. But he didn't use a finger.

Esme cried out in pain, unsure what had happened. One moment he'd been massaging her ass cheeks and the next there was a stabbing, burning pain. Tears sprang to her eyes and her head swam, and then she felt him pull out partly, and then again invaded her, pushing and pressing into what she only then realized was her ass. After only a few thrusts she felt his hips crash into her. He had abandoned her pussy and sheathed himself inside her ass in two or three quick strokes. No build up. No gentle introduction, no slow work stretching her hole. It was excruciating, and her body's response was to flee. She pulled her hands back to get control and the ropes cut into her skin. He put a hand around her throat, holding her still with the threat of taking her breath. Wasting no time, he started thrusting, working her ass as she whimpered, tears coming freely now, words caught in her throat. It only turned her on more. Her nipples ached to be touched, pinched, sucked, bitten. Her clit ached for the same.

"You're so tight," he said, his voice filled with gentle wonder. It was the only gentleness in the room. She felt ripped open, but worse, because he kept at it, over and over again. She whimpered and twisted as he fucked her ass with no less urgency or force than he fucked her cunt. But soon the sharp pain decreased, and it was just the discomfort, the odd pressure. It allowed for the beginnings of pleasure to take hold. He released his grip on her neck and she started breathing normally again. Her tears slowed. It didn't get much gentler, he obviously wanted it to feel like a violation, and it did. It turned her on, because it was Barry, turned her on to be taken this way.

Barry groaned, her ass gripped him as he thrust, holding his cock with delicious tightness. He felt her relax and knew she was relaxing, succumbing to his invasion. It was gorgeous, the look of his cock sliding in and out of her ass, watching her take him in, watching the tight little hole stretched out. She had stopped struggling, stopped bracing herself, and had her head and chest resting on the bed. She was exhausted and he could feel the slightest movement of her hips with each trust, as she started to meet him. With her head turned to the side he could see cheeks were streaked with tears, her nose running.

Barry slid his hand between them, found her clit, and her eyelids fluttered, her mouth opened as she gasped a little, pressing back against him. Barry didn't know what he wanted anymore, what to do about Ben, about his sister. The only thing he was sure he wanted was this moment, inside of her, her relenting, submitting.

"Tell me again," he pleaded. Needing to hear it, needing reassurance. He folded himself over her, laying his chest along her back, still buried inside her. He'd never felt anything like this for anyone.

She sniffed, collecting herself, said, "I can't get enough."

"No, baby, no. Tell me you love me." He loved her so much it scared him. It grew inside him, consuming everything else. His judgment, his rationality, his love ate at all of it, making room for itself to grow. It was a vicious kind of love that, for the first time, pained him. It was terrifying, but and today it made his gut ache.

"I love you." She said, breathing in, then out. "I love you, Barry."

He resumed his movements inside of her. Resumed his ministrations on her clit. She started to coo, to push into him, meeting his thrusts. They kept on like this, rocking together, until she came and nearly tore the orgasm out of him. The force of her orgasm made her body react, and she pulled her arms in, forgetting about the restraints, and she winced as the ropes cut into her hands. She cried out but only seemed to come harder. Her tight little ass spasmed around him, milking him, he pulled out before he could come.

She relaxed into the bed when he pulled out of her her, leaving her empty and breathing hard.

Barry crawled up on the bed and buried a hand in her dark curls, roughly pulled her head toward him. She gasped again, he lips falling open, and he grabbed his cock and started jerking off. Sensing what he wanted, she opened her mouth wider, and he jerked faster, inches away from her face. Pressure build inside of him, he wanted to cum everywhere at once, her hot little cunt, her tight ass, her willing mouth. Any hole she had was open to him, like she was a whore whose only job was to please him.

"It's good," he whispered. His whore. His wanton little slut who spread her legs for him, who sucked on him, who rode him, all to give him pleasure. Her body gave him so much pleasure. "That's so good. You're so fucking good." It was a contest between her mouth and her face. He wanted both, but he wanted her mouth more. He didn't want to lose any of the load in her mouth by painting her face with his cum. Thinking about her on her knees in front of him, jerking him off onto her face, brought him to the edge. He pulled her hair harder, jerked faster. Then he came.

Thick ropes of cum burst out, landing first on her chin until he repositioned, and shot into her mouth. His whole body shook as he came, as he emptied himself into her waiting mouth. When he was done he said, "Hold it". She did as she was told, closing her mouth, holding still. He imagined the slickness on her tongue, the concentration it must have taken not to swallow. "Swish," he whispered. She did, moving his cum around in her mouth, coating the insides of her cheeks, and her teeth, under her tongue. His taste between her teeth, on her gums. He made her hold it so long she had to breathe through her nose, couldn't have kept holding her breath.