But I don’t know what else to do.
***
Home doesn’t feel any better than school. Everywhere I go, I’m bombarded by my shame and guilt, confronted by images that refuse to leave me alone. Despondency swarms my body as I step into the shower to wash away everything that happened today.
But what’s the point? It’s going to cling to me no matter what I try to do. I’m like a fucking dog that wants attention. It doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad—though lately it’s all been bad. Still, any attention works for me. Just like any kind of stimulation will get me off.
Parker is right about that. And I hate that he pointed it out.
The hot water does nothing to break through the icy chill in my veins. I need something to numb me, a drug or a drink that will take away the pain I feel. A physical release will block the ache of losing my father while numbing the bullshit happening to me right now.
Turning off the water reveals the amount of steam crowding the bathroom. The suffocating clouds billow around me as I step onto the tile, dragging myself to the sink for a towel. I peer down at my pussy, my clit swollen and plump for no good reason other than the fact that pain seems to get me in the mood.
To test my limitations, I think about Tabitha twisting my nipples. Nothing happens. I recall landing a fist in her face. I think of yanking her hair, slapping her tits, and slamming her into the lockers.
Nothing.
My lips part on a shuddering gasp as I lightly trace my clit, recalling how Parker looked when he witnessed us fighting. And how his cock was locked in his grip.
A sting ripples through my core.
His fingers around my throat. My pussy throbs. His thumb in my mouth while he watched Tabitha lick me clean. My channel clenches. His cock in my mouth while he stared at my lips. Whimpers surface from my center as I sink a finger between my slit. Arousal slicks the digit, causing my hips to rock forward with the motion.
I grab a towel from the counter before I sink to the ground, curling forward to hide what I’m doing. After shoving the towel into my mouth, I focus on the heat coiling in my gut, the shameful tide preparing to crash over my shoulders in the form of sweet release. My eyes roll back while I imagine Parker fucking my mouth, an orgasm tearing through me harder than his fingers did in that yacht.
Muffled groans caught by the towel meet my ears, embarrassing me as I rapidly slide my fingers over my clit. It isn’t enough. I want his fingers in my pussy, not my own. Even having Tabitha get me off in front of him doesn’t do the trick. The desire for him remains, a confusing medley of hatred and lust.
Panting, I wonder when the hell it’s going to end.