Read Pretty When She Cries for Free Online Page B

if she complains like a lazy bitch.
    “You want it that way. You want me to force you, because you don’t want to take the responsibility of it, you want me to. You want to be able to blame me, so you don’t have to hate yourself, instead you can hate me. But it’s not meant to be that way. You’re supposed to want it.” He crushed her face in his hand, and made her look at him. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”
    “I don’t want you to hurt me any more!”
    “I’m not hurting you.”
    “You are.”
    “You don’t know the fucking meaning of pain!” He shouted in her face. “I have to take a piss.” He pinched the side of her breast.
    While she was alone, she tugged at the chain, and tried to see if she could slip her wrist out. She stopped trying the instant he returned. He kneeled on the mattress next to her head. She was utterly vulnerable in her nakedness. He was rubbing his half-arousal close to her face, nudging it against her mouth, trying to get her to take it. She kept her lips pressed shut. “Suck it again,” he said.
    “I can’t,” she sobbed.
    “Why?”
    “I don’t love you.” She pressed her face into the filthy mattress, and covered her head with her arms, waiting for him to beat on her. He kept jacking off. She could feel the mattress moving and hear his heavy breathing. After awhile she felt something hot splatter over her back, her waist. He rubbed his damp tip slowly over her, dipping into the mess on her skin. She felt his hand clumsily tangle in her hair, stroking her, then felt him get up. She didn’t move. She waited a moment, and risked peeking to see what he was doing. She was scared of what he was going to do. He switched off the light plunging the room into darkness. She could just make out his shape, and watched him leave. When she finally felt for sure he wasn’t coming back she let herself relax a little. She rubbed her sticky back on the mattress to get his come off her. Then she curled into a ball, sick with shame. After a while, she saw a light come on in the next room and heard him moving about. She couldn’t make sense of any of the sounds or movements. He was in there for about an hour, before the light shut off again. She heard the creaking of steps as he went up them. The whole house seemed dead. She didn’t think she was going to be able to sleep, but she did.
    When she opened her eyes again morning light was creeping in through the curtains. She was still lying curled up on the mattress. She didn’t know how long she had lain here when she heard the stairs creak under his weight, and he came out. She became suddenly wide-awake, watching him. He walked right past, sleepy now and easy with morning-drowsiness. He was completely naked. He slumped into the couch and lit a cigarette. He kicked something on the floor out of his way. He still looked half asleep. Then he looked at her, narrowing his eyes, as he drew on the thing in his mouth. He exhaled a plume of smoke as if blowing a kiss. She felt so angry by the way he looked at her. He was such a smug bastard. In a minute he got up and went over. She bunched herself tighter, trying to cover her exposed body from him. She glanced up at him once as he stood looking down on her heavily.
    “Sit up,” he said. “Sit up!” She did what he said, keeping her head down. “Have a few puffs on this,” he said, tapping her arm.
    “I don’t smoke,” she said.
    He pulled her head back, tilting her face upwards. “Suck on it,” he said, inserting the cigarette between her lips. She hated him so much. She sucked on the cigarette, choking a bit when she swallowed the smoke. He held her hair and made her lay down with him. He was quiet while he shared the cigarette with her. Then leaning towards her, he pushed his tongue against her lips. She was rigid, and clamped shut, from bottom to top. He put the tip of the cigarette on her inner thigh. She gasped, and he latched his mouth onto hers, his tongue plunging in. He