Breaking the Bully

by Jessa Kane

My feelings for him are extremely confusing…but I know asking him to back off was the right move. Even if I’ll secretly miss his presence everywhere I turn. In my world of unpredictability, there was something comforting about knowing he would always be there. Watching me. Hating me. Wanting me. That last part was never in doubt. He’s made that clear many times. That if I gave him the green light, he would “put me on my back and do me dirty” or “give me a nice long hate-fuck in the back of his trailer.” And he’d always say, “No one has to know, baby,” in that winded, guttural tone that keeps me up at night. Makes me shove my fingers down the front of my panties and struggle to breathe, sweating through my bedclothes to an orgasm. I’m thinking about those particularly sexual taunts when he looks over at me and I don’t quite manage to hide the conflicted lust. His movements slow, a dark eyebrow arching as he peruses my mouth, my breasts. I’m a certified hot mess right now. Beaten and bloody, but there’s no denying he’s still attracted, regardless. It’s always there in the hurried rise and fall of his chest, the shifting of his throat muscles. The tenting of his jeans.