Rivers end boxset volume.., p.21
River's End Boxset Volume 3, page 21
Chanting, “Damn it, Quinn… damn it. Do it harder. Make me come. Make me come… now.” She was crying. She was folded over the table edge and her taunts and jeers seemed to be having their desired effect as he filled her up over and over, pressing so hard that her body almost went off the table. Finally… he was going to make it work. It was going to happen. It would finally fix it. But… NO!
She almost screamed her protest as he slumped over her and came.
And she was still just as dry, raw and uncomfortable, but nothing. No lubrication. No lust. No desire. No orgasm. None. Nothing.
She was still broken.
She wilted on the table, falling flat and crying.
Quinn pulled out and moved away from her. As he should. She was gross. Disgusting. Perverted.
She came for a rapist. Not for herself. Or her boyfriend. Only a rapist.
Arms wrapped around her and Quinn pulled Iris up towards him. He wanted to hold her. Care for her. Do all the things she used to want from him. Things Quinn didn’t know how to do and couldn’t have done before this. But she was still broken. Ruined. Gross. A dirty, little whore who liked rape. But couldn’t even come with the man she loved. The man she dated. Her boyfriend.
She scooted back and flipped free of his hold. “You didn’t get me off.” She whipped around, tugging the shirt down. Tears streamed down her face. He stared open-mouthed at her. He was still half naked, his shirt hanging on his body as hers was.
She turned with a cry of frustration and started towards the bathroom.
“No. NO. Goddamn it, Iris Rydell, you’re going to talk to me. You’re not going to stomp away mad after that. Whatever the fuck that was. The farthest thing from having sex with you that I’ve ever experienced. What was that about?”
“It was supposed to be hot fucking… but you couldn’t do it. You should have done it harder. I told you to. Goddamn it. I told you.” She smacked the wall, frustrated as the tears filled up her eyes. She whirled around but he followed her again and grabbed her arm, flinging her towards him.
“Whatever that,” he gestured at the table, “was supposed to be, it felt like a battle and it’s never fucking happening again. I won’t be your goddamned weapon against yourself. Tell me what the hell this is about. Now, Iris. Talk.” He grabbed her arm and stuck her tattoo in her face. “And explain that.” He waited for her reply.
She had no words. No way to define it or move past it or stop it. She slapped his hand away and Quinn let her go. He stared at her with hard, glittering eyes that were also confused. He probably wondered what he did wrong.
She couldn’t accept what she’d done and said to him or wanted from him. “God. If you can’t get me there, I’ll find someone who can and will.”
She hurled the nauseating battle cry at him.
He stared, utterly stunned at her. She glared back, her mouth open in shock that she said it. His shoulders dropped. He turned to the side and swept his hand away. “Fine. Fine, why don’t you do that? Do whatever insane thing you need to do, because this? This isn’t me. This isn’t ever happening again.”
She did it. She backed her way into a corner. She had no choice now but to follow through. Go. Leave. Be the little whore she was. Quinn didn’t understand her; if she could just have sex and come again, she would feel less tarnished. It would fix what was broken inside her. She grabbed her pants and jammed her legs into them and her feet into her shoes.
“You’re right. I should find some guy who can fuck me like I want. Like what you’re pretty, little billionaire dick can’t figure out. Look at us. Me to you? I’m the fucking tough one, I’m the one who can—”
“Shut up, Iris.” Deadly calm, lethal, his tone cut through her as knife through butter.
She did. She shut up. She ruined it all. But she never meant to. Not really.
She grabbed her backpack and quickly strode out of the penthouse and Quinn’s building, to go down the sidewalk towards the dive bar that Quinn teased her for liking so much.
She ducked into the bar. Destroyed. Primed. She’d just do it. Find anyone who would fuck her in the bathroom and solve her problem. She had to get it over with. She should have just done it from the start. She needed an exorcist to cleanse her, and extricate the demons from her, so of course, it couldn’t be Quinn. She hung her head, sorry at the thought of someone else touching her. But also almost itching for it.
Dirty, little whore. Goddamn, fucking A if that wasn’t exactly what she was. Her mouth tipped into a small, evil smile. Just as ugly as she felt inside. And as her traitorous body demanded that she be. She sucked in a breath and dropped down to sit beside a halfway repulsive man at a small table. No more damn standards. She took his drink, licking the rim and sucking down a large sip. “What d’ya got?”
Her gaze dragged up and down his face before descending to his dick, which she strained to glimpse. Her tone was clear in what she was asking for. He evaluated her and his gaze, heavy with alcohol, was appreciative. “Whatever you want…”
“Iris,” she whispered. Iris. She’s no longer that Iris, right? She’s a new Iris now, a much worse and much better one. She just needed for this one to be fucked-free of her curse. She had to be. Desperate now, she leaned forward and tried to ask some leading questions to keep him interested in her.
Then she simply got closer to him and set her lips on his. He responded with a big, sloppy tongue, all but dog-lapping her. That couldn’t be what she wanted. But it was what she deserved. Her fists clenched. Her heart dropped and her stomach roiled. Still. Do it.
Just do it.
She gripped his shirt and tugged him towards her, tilting her head so he could have fuller access to her mouth. She tried not to gag out loud while her stomach pitted out. Yes. Yes, this will do it. Right. Something had to do it.
Someone was standing there. She sensed his presence before she saw or acknowledged him. She finally had to get a breath of air and yeah, duh, there he was: Quinn. His gaze raked over her, glaring into her. “Do it and we’re done forever. I’ll never see you again. Decide; it’s now or never, Iris.”
Then he turned and left. He didn’t even wait for her answer. Her shoulders slumped forward. She wilted and tears soaked her eyelids. The drunk before her seemed to miss the gravity of it all and leaned towards her. She all but slammed her hand in his face as she turned and grabbed her backpack before dodging out. Real nice. She’d accomplished a lot. Now or never? Could she commit to a life without Quinn? Her stomach somersaulted and churned in anger at her. No. She couldn’t live without Quinn.
She trudged to his apartment and knocked, realizing the ridiculousness of herself and what she was doing. How long had it been? Half an hour? And here she was, back, all hang-dog and ready to cry. He didn’t say a word but opened the door wider.
Cold. Exhausted. Humiliated. She felt so alone. Horrified at herself, she rubbed her arms. She didn’t speak at first. He backed up and leaned on the very table that he bent her over in painful, humiliating and terrible sex. “What the fuck happened here tonight? Tell me the truth, because that wasn’t normal. None of it. You have more going on than just wanting to cheat on me?”
She bit her lips. Could she tell him? The words escaped her… maybe it would be better and kinder to just walk away. Forever. Be done as he stated. Then she’d never have to say the words. Or ruin him and her by telling him something he’d never forget.
“Iris?” He sounded like a nudge. His patience was gone, as it should be. “You want to fuck someone else? Then just get out. Forever. I’m not doing this.”
She didn’t lift her head. But eventually, she shook her head no.
“Then what are you doing here? Tell me what happened.”
How long could she stand there stupid and silent? A long time. And he didn’t rush her. He didn’t encourage her either. This was it.
“I… I can’t.”
“You can. Use your words and explain why you wanted me to hurt you? Why you were crying under me? What the fuck was that about?” He ran his hand through his hair, clearly upset by it. Looking confused was unusual for Quinn, and he was totally ruffled.
She slowly took her backpack straps off her shoulders and set it down. She stepped closer, but remained far from him. He leaned deceptively casually against the table, but his body was primed to come closer to hers. “If I tell you something, you have to let me tell you my way. You can’t touch me.”
She darted a glance at him and he frowned but nodded. Arms crossing over his chest, he asked, “Can I speak?”
“Not until I’m done.”
“Okay. Tell me the true reason for all that.”
She closed her eyes, sucking in a breath of air. Tears wet her lashes before she could even speak. “I was alone in the shop closing up… a few weeks ago.”
“Before your three-week illness and scheduled avoidance of me?”
“Yes. Someone came in. I didn’t know him. He said my dad built a bike for him. Then… when I asked him about it… he suddenly yanked my head and slammed me to the ground before I could speak or even breathe. He was on top of me. I was lying flat out on my belly and unable to fight. I tried. I really did. I couldn’t get him off me. I just couldn’t…”
Quinn lifted off the table and his entire body jolted with her words. His eyes went wide and huge, showing her shock and concern as she shook her head and her mouth dropped half open.
She put a finger up. “No. You can’t touch me.” She was as fragile as glass and would have easily shattered if he came near.
“Iris…” His voice sounded tortured.
She shook her head again. “No. Please… You can’t touch me until I finish what I have to say.”
“I can. I’m going to. You need me.” She kept her eyes shut, but his voice, though barely a whisper, came closer.
“No. I can’t concentrate. I have to explain myself to tell you…”
“Tell me? I already know, sweetheart.” His voice was like a soft, heartbroken caress. “He raped you.” He was right near her ear and his tone was tender.
She nodded, licking her lips as she added, “But it’s worse than that.”
“Iris…”
“I… I can’t explain it if you come nearer. I need to say this.” She felt him backing up and she opened her eyes until he was across the room. She turned, unable to face him.
“Okay. Okay, say it to me. It won’t change, I’m right here.”
Tears started to fall. “It will change everything.”
“Try me,” he whispered.
“I came. While he was violating me. He pinned me to the ground on my fucking stomach, and I could not move or breathe. He held a knife to my neck and threatened to slit my throat. But I don’t understand. I don’t know… my body… it just…” Her voice rose higher and she started crying, collapsing into near hysteria. She rubbed her face.
Silence. A long, chilling silence. He’d order her to leave. He’d finally understand now, and know how gross she truly was. How repulsive. She could leave him then, without the guilt she felt earlier. He’d finally understand why and he’d want her to.
“I didn’t want it,” she added in one last whisper as if that would explain it.
His arms encircled her. She jerked her eyes open and saw Quinn’s face right next to hers. His mouth came to her ear and he very quietly said, “I know. I know you didn’t want it. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault.”
She tilted her head towards the warmth of his breath, basking in the kindness of his words and tone. But she knew he was just saying that. After he thought about it some more, he’d realize he didn’t really mean it. No one could. No one could forgive her or want her. The girl who got off with her rapist.
“I love you,” he whispered and his hands gently held up her shoulders. She kept her eyelids all but glued shut and her head tilted towards his. She couldn’t move or breathe or think. She was afraid to do any of them, fearing she might splinter and disintegrate.
“You can’t.”
“I can. And I do. I will always. It wasn’t your fault.”
Small words. Pretty words. Words she’d have spoken to a rape victim. But her situation was different. Markedly different. It dropped the entire crime on its head. It went from her being blameless, to being fucking sick.
“Did you hear me? I came. I orgasmed. During… during the rape.” Her entire body shuddered.
“I heard you.” His lips touched her forehead. He was gentle, soft and kind. They stayed there, marking her with his love. After growing to know Quinn, he’d become a man very different from the man she’d first met. Little did she realize she had also changed.
She shook her head, helpless to stop the useless tears from falling. “I… must have enjoyed it.” The words ripped something loose in her chest. Perhaps her heart would never recover. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know what was happening. It was so fast. He was hurting me and I was pinned on the floor and the knife kept pricking me and it all happened so fast before he was in me and I tried not to cry because he said he’d kill me, although I could not restrain all the sounds. I remember the pain, but my body betrayed me… something started building and then… it just released inside me as he kept going at it… and calling me a dirty, little whore, which I am. I am one. He’s right, I must have liked it.”
Quinn pulled her against him and said, “You did not like it, Iris. It’s like…” His voice faded as though he was trying to desperately explain it. He wanted to make it sound reasonable. When it wasn’t. “God, I don’t know. It’s just not like you’re saying it. It was something you couldn’t help or want. There is no doubt of that.”
Iris lifted her head to stare up at him. “How do you know?”
His tone was soft and kind. “It wasn’t your fault. Just because a biological part of you responded as it was designed to, whether you wanted it or not, which you clearly did not, you have to see that and know that you are not responsible.” He leaned his forehead against hers.
She let him as she sucked in a deep breath and a sob escaped her mouth. “I feel so ashamed.”
She couldn’t turn off the guilt and shame immediately. But his kind words bounced around her head. More tears fell and he held her tightly for several minutes. She tried to force her brain to believe what Quinn seemed so convinced of.
She had nothing to do with it. It wasn’t her fault. Even if it felt like it. It was hard for her to grasp. He said she wasn’t at fault and didn’t throw her out in disgust, so maybe there was some truth to that.
“Why the tattoo, sweetheart? Is that what you wanted to say to the creep who did this to you? To remind you that you still have the power over your body, not him?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s not to tell him off. It’s…” Her whisper faded.
“Then why?”
“It was addressed to myself. For getting raped and liking it. For having an orgasm with a violent criminal and not being able to come again. Fuck me. You know?”
He sighed and held her, shaking his head. Then he kissed her forehead. “No. No, Iris Rydell, I really don’t know. That’s just you…” He seemed so shocked by what she thought, and how she twisted it all up in her head that he failed to find the words to answer her. Instead, he just whispered into her ear, “No, I don’t get it. I fucking love you and I will kill the guy who made you feel this way. You didn’t do it. You did nothing wrong. Fuck him, not you. Take your power back. Tell him from your heart, fuck him, not you.”
She glanced up, her lips trembling. “I… I don’t feel that way though.”
“Then work on it until you do, okay?”
She nodded. “And Quinn?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you too. I’m sorry for hurting you. I’ve loved you all this time but I thought I’d lose you after this. You deserve better. But all the while, I loved you.”
He held her. “You can’t doubt me like this again. I will always love you. Remember that, no matter what. Don’t ever forget it again.”
She nodded and he held her gaze. Even though everything was broken.
CHAPTER 13
MAN. STRANGER. FORCED. PINNED down. Raped. Wanted it.
All the words she said and cried and punished herself with were flipping around Quinn’s head. She almost ruined them over this, but worse still, she almost ruined herself.
Sick inside, Quinn was shaking. Anger and rage bubbled up inside him and the need to protect her became almost feral. He wanted to bring her small, strong body next to his. But she still held herself rigid, resting her head against his shoulder, the only relinquishment of her pride.
Her guilt and self-blame were epic enough that he believed it.
It was a long while before she let him near her. He considered that her greatest gift to him, accepting his support and taking strength from him. His gaze landed on the table and he shut his eyes with heavy regret. “Earlier, with us… what were you trying to do, honey? Banish him? Banish what happened?”
She stiffened and tried to free herself. He let her go, knowing it wasn’t the right time to confine her movement. No matter how innocuous it might seem. “I’ve tried and tried to make my body respond.” She pushed back and started pacing, almost hysterically. “You know, I used to be comfortable with myself and I could make my body respond and come whenever I needed to. But now I can’t. I can’t. There’s nothing. I’m all dry and rigid and I find it hateful now. But I came for a goddamned rapist? You see? I have to come with someone else… not just the rape…”
He shut his eyes for a second to weigh her messed up, tragic, heartbreaking reasoning. “And you thought I could do it for you? Or maybe that guy downstairs…”
She shook her head. “I just need someone to help me. I have to change the bad memory with a new, better memory.”
He wanted to grab her and hug her. She really thought that horrible experience could help her? Fix her up? His twisted, screwed-up Iris thought her own actions could always fix things. Crap, she must have been reliving the whole thing when she was under him. He would regret the table and the experience until the day he died. There was no way to love Iris without regretting that he hurt her. Not only the hurt he inflicted on her but also that which she brought on herself, while trying to wring herself free of what she’d suffered.
