I haven’t gotten around to what happened yet. There’s not an ounce of courage in my bones. She’s been patiently waiting, knowing that I’m holding something back. Something terrible and shameful. And something I can’t stop fucking thinking about.
“You fucked him, didn’t you?” she asks calmly.
My eyes bulge, and I unglue my hands from my face so I can pin her with a glare.
“No, I did not fuck him,” I snarl, as if she’s suggesting something insane and I didn’t come really damn close to it. I can feel the blood rising in my cheeks and my left eye twitches.
Fuck. Daya knows that’s my tell.
“You did!” she bursts, standing up from her chair and looking down at me with shock.
“I didn’t! I promise,” I rush out, grabbing her hand. “But… something did happen.”
She puffs out a breath and settles back down in her chair, scooting back into the island in my kitchen and grabbing her margarita. She sucks down two huge gulps, trepidation on her face.
“You sucked his dick?” she guesses, lifting a hand to fiddle with her nose ring.
The images those words just put in my head have my blood pressure rising to dangerous levels. I bite my lip and shake my head slowly, the guilty look still present on my face.
“He sucked you?”
When I just stare, the guilt in my eyes burning brighter, her mouth pops open and her eyes round.
“Bitch, what the fuck!” she shouts. She leans in closer, an unreadable emotion flaring in her eyes. “Was it consensual?”
And this is where I get tripped up. Because it wasn’t. But had he kept going, had he stripped his clothes from his body and fucked me—I can’t say with absolute certainty that I would’ve stopped him. Or that I would’ve wanted to.
Still, I shake my head no.
Fury flares in her sage eyes, and her lips twist into a snarl. I lean back, honestly a little afraid of her.
I put my hand on hers. “Daya… I-well, it wasn’t consensual… at first?” I say the last part like a question, embarrassed that I’m even admitting something like that.
She blinks. "At first," she echoes. "Meaning what? He was that good that he changed your mind?"
My hands cover my face, but she forces them away, nearly bumping her nose into mine as she intently waits for an answer.
“You have such pretty eyes,” I tell her.
She snarls at me. “Spill, slut.”
I close my eyes with a resigned sigh. “That man ate the soul out of my body, and I don’t think I’ve gotten it back yet.”
She jerks back, surprise in her pale green irises.
“I know, you can judge me. I’m judging me too,” I say pitifully. I slide her margarita over to me and finish it off. Mine’s been gone since I first told her he broke in.
“Baby girl, I am not judging you. But let me get this straight. You egged him on in a text because you felt like a bad bitch. And then he broke in to make good on his promise, tied your ass up, and you freaked out at first, but then ended up riding his face?” she summarizes slowly.
Several emotions swirl in her eyes. Confusion, shock, maybe even intrigue. But not judgment. And that’s only because I didn’t confess to her about the gun incident. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to talk about that one.
I roll my lips. “Pretty much.”
Without taking her eyes off me, she leans over and grabs the bottle of tequila we used to make the margaritas. She pours a shot into both of our empty cups and then hands one to me.
We take the shot, cringing at the taste, and then stare at each other in silence.
“I’m just not even sure what to say.”
I groan. “Daya, I don’t know what to do. He didn’t hurt me, but he did. He definitely forced himself on me. But I would’ve let him go farther had he tried. I’m so fucking confused. And I feel dirty and wrong, but when it was happening, it felt…”
I trail off with another groan, and this time I just bang my head against the granite countertop.
“Really good?” she fills in. "Amazing? Out of this world?"
"All of the above," I confess. "I have never come so hard in my entire life.”
“Damn,” she breathes, a note of awe in her voice. “Has he contacted you since then?” she asks gently, running her fingers through my hair in a comforting gesture.
I lift my head, a frown on my face. “Yes. He just… he said he didn’t want me to fall in love with something fake. He pretty much said he’s showing me who he really is, instead of lying to me about it. The fact that he thinks he can make me fall in love with him in the first place goes to show how deranged he is.”