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He groaned as he explored her. She tried to be okay with it, but anxiety bound through her senses.
It only amplified into panic when he leaned back onto his knees and started to drag her underwear down her legs.
“Patrick, I don’t—”
“Shh. It’s okay. It’s time, Elena. We’ve been skirting this for months.”
He undid his buckle, and she squeezed her eyes closed as he wedged himself back between her thighs.
“Patrick…I—”
He kissed her to stop her words, and she tried to run her hands down his back, to calm herself, to be okay with this, but she realized she was clawing her nails into his shoulders.
She wanted to scream. To shout ‘no’.
But no words would come.
She welcomed the tears of pain when he pushed inside her.
She deserved it, to hurt.
“You feel so good.” He kissed her and kissed her, completely oblivious to the fact that she was stock-still beneath him.
Oblivious that with each thrust, she winced.
Oblivious to the tears that seeped from the edges of her eyes and into her hair.
He groaned her name when he came, laughing under his breath as he pulled out and sat up. “Fuck, that was good.”
Elena wanted to throw up, and her hands shook as she fumbled back into her underwear.
Patrick scraped a hand through his hair. “Wow, Elena, way to make a guy feel good about his performance.”
She swept the back of her hand over her face to try to dry up her tears. “It’s not…I just…”
“It’s just what?”
She turned away on a sob.
She could feel Patrick’s frustration emanating from the side.
“I’m sorry,” she rasped. “I just…I don’t want this.”
Flustered, she stood. “I want you to take me home.”
Patrick flew to his feet, and she was shocked by the anger that pelted off his tongue. “And what? That’s it? We have sex, then you’re going to break up with me?”
“I—”
“You what?” he seethed.
“I like you, Patrick, but I don’t think this is going to work out.”
“Are you actually breaking up with me right now?”
“I’m sorry,” she choked.
Patrick suddenly darted forward, getting in her face. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
