Twelve of Roses - Natalie Bennett Page 0,14

long ago. My uncle had taken care of that my second week in his house.

He came into my room and invited himself to get in the shower with me. I couldn’t do anything about it. I wasn’t strong enough to fight him off.

He made me bend over, breaking my nose against the tiled wall in the process and later telling my aunt I fell. He didn’t bother using a condom, just shoved his dirty, pedophile dick inside me and siphoned away every last drop of innocence I had.

Night after night, he came into my room and took what he wanted, threatening to have me locked away in a juvenile center if I told a soul.

He was the best damn prosecutor around, so I stupidly believed him. It wasn’t until after his death that the Sheriff told me about the arsenal of recordings he’d made of us together.

I was a vile, disgusting creature for learning to enjoy it, for learning to come for a sick pervert.

“You’re such a good girl, Rose.” I could still hear his voice in my ear, smell his alcoholic breath burning my nose hairs, and feel his skinny cock thrusting inside me. My stomach turned over at the vivid imagery.

I couldn’t tell Con any of that. I had never told a single soul.

“Since when?” he bit out, snapping me out of my memory reel.

Why is he mad about this?

“Does it matter?” I reached up and touched his cheek, grinding my aching pussy against him.

He cursed, and then his mouth was back on mine and our hands were roaming all over each other. He pulled my tank top down, taking the cups of my bra with it. We were like two desperate, needy people who had finally found an elixir for the problems we hid from the world.

His fingers went back between my legs, moving in and out, running up and down my labia as he pushed his sweatpants down.

My heart felt like it was about to catapult out of my chest. I was nervous as hell. Fuck butterflies—this man made me feel the whole damn zoo.

Man.

Shit. I didn’t even know how old he was.

I didn’t know anything about him, and I couldn’t care less about any of that. I’d fantasized about him on top of me a million different times.

“You want this?” he asked, spreading my legs so wide my thighs began to burn.

“Yes,” I groaned.

“Just know—after we do this, I’m going to be your first, and you’ll always be my last.” He dipped a finger in me to the knuckle, pulling it out and then trailing it down to just above my asshole.

His understanding made me want to cry.

I was completely exposed to him, ready for him to do anything he wanted. He stared at me, those gorgeous eyes of his seeing everything I tried so hard to hide.

“Sweet little Rose,” he sighed. “You’re spreading your legs for the monster that wants to defile you.”

His words had a trigger effect, and the sick side of my mind rejoiced at hearing them like a poisonous compulsion.

“Yes, please,” I begged. I would have got on my knees and pleaded by this point.

“You never have to beg me, babe.” He attached his lips to mine, settled between my legs, and pushed inside me on my next breath. My nails scratched down his back, making him let out a soft hiss.

I thought he’d be rough, but his movements were so slow and tender, it hurt.

He pulled all the way out, just to slowly push back in again, burying himself to the hilt.

“Fuck, you’re so damn beautiful, Rose,” Con groaned, digging his fingers into my flesh hard enough to bruise. I couldn’t form a response for that, so I didn’t bother trying.

I loved how he filled me up, his cock stretching me in a way that was painfully blissful. His dick felt so much better than my uncle’s had. Each thrust made my pussy a little wetter.

“Rose?” Vicky’s concerned voice carried down the hall from the bottom of the stairs, breaking through my mirage of horny lust.

Uh oh.

Get the fuck up, you dirty slut! my brain screamed at me.

“Con, we have to stop,” I moaned, starting to push against his chest.

“I don’t think so,” he murmured, pinning my hands above my head with one of his, sliding the other back between my legs as he began thrusting harder.

“This is so wrong.”

“That’s exactly why we’re not going to stop.” When his fingers pinched my clit, it was the equivalent of setting a