Too Hard: Chapter 24

A KNOCK ON MY DOOR makes me jump off the stool, crossing the room faster than I usually move at this hour. It’s barely past six, but I’m nursing my second coffee, already showered and dressed.

I haven’t slept much. I’ve been replaying everything Cody said last night, the sincerity in his voice, the soothing delicacy of his touch. He really believes I deserve another chance.

He’s got a heart as big as Mia’s.

I almost let it slip that, in a moment of unexplainable courage, I visited Nico’s house three days after the graduation party, when they’d returned from Europe, and apologized to Mia.

I can thank Cody for that courage, but I don’t want him to know what I did. He might take it the wrong way… he might think I did it because I want more from him than we agreed.

I do, but that’s not why I faced the man made of pure wrath—Mia’s fiancé.

It was what Cody told me the day after the graduation party that ignited my new sense of courage and helped me knock on Nico’s door.

“You’re letting your mistakes define you, B. Use them to guide you.”

I did.

Nico let me in, Mia listened, and even though her huge heart allowed her to move past my cruelty, the weight didn’t drop off my shoulders. Knowing Mia had the strength to forgive me made me feel worse because she’s so pure. She didn’t deserve what she got from me, and the regret and guilt amplified.

I pull the tie out of my hair, combing the braid out with my fingers as I expect it’s my father standing outside with another round of demands, much harsher today thanks to last night.

But instead of Dad, Cody’s there in his boxer shorts, the expanse of his chest stealing my breath.

“You’re not leaving my bed twice without a word,” he grumbles, running a hand down his face like he’s trying to rub off the sleepiness.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m sorry I—”

“No,” he clips. “No bullshit, B. I thought we were past that now. You can’t crawl into my bed in tears, expect me to hold you, then disappear without a word.”

I step back instead of forward. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I promise.”

With an exasperated huff, he grabs my waist, slings me over his shoulder, and carries me into his apartment. He lays me on the bed, pulling the comforter to my chin.

“I’m not saying I don’t want you coming over when you need me. I’m not pissed off because you came. I’m pissed off because you left. You’re obviously going through some shit, and I…” He grips his neck, squeezing hard. “I want to help, okay?”

He crawls in and draws me against his chest. “Tell me what happened last night. Where were you?”

“Thank you for caring, but there are things I don’t want to talk about. I know what you thought when you saw me last night, but it wasn’t that, okay? I’m fine.” I fling one hand over his torso, snuggling into his side. “You’re crossing more lines, Cody.”

He presses his cheek to my head, and I feel his jaw clamp tight, an internal battle stealing his attention from the determination he exuded moments ago. Using that to my advantage, I distract him further, sliding my hand down his chest until my fingers find the outline of his big, hard cock.

“You can’t keep evading,” he growls, arching his hips into my touch as I jack him off slowly. “Talk to me. I’ll listen.”

“So will my therapist,” I counter, and dip my head, planting open-mouthed kisses on his neck.

“You’re in therapy?”

I nod, tracing my lips along to his ear. “I thought she could fix me, but… it’s been a year, and I’m still broken.”

“You’re starting to piss me off,” he grumbles, his fingers ghosting my back, the touch possessive, firm but affectionate. “You’re not broken, B.”

“Careful there,” I say, arching back enough that we’re at eye level. “You sound like you’re forgetting you hate me, Cody.”

“What if I don’t want to hate you?”

“Then I don’t want to fuck you.” I kiss his jaw, inching toward his lips, then sit up, yanking my top over my head.

Cody’s on me in a flash, his big hands palming my small breasts. He circles his warm mouth around my nipple and sucks before tending to the other the same way.

“Show me how much you hate me,” I whisper.

He sucks harder. The sharp sting travels straight down between my legs when his tongue joins the fun, soothing the ache.

“You’re cheating,” I say, wrapping my arms around him as he kisses his way up between the valley of my breasts, pinning me to the mattress with his body. “No kiss—”

His lips come down on mine, restless, hot, demanding. “Lose that attitude, shut the fuck up, and take what I give you,” he murmurs, spreading my thighs to make room for himself. “You’ll talk, B.” He nips my lip before stealing another long, hot kiss. “You’ll tell me what happened last night.”

“No. I… I…” I swallow a harsh breath when he pushes my panties aside, quickly dipping two fingers inside. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair? You don’t play fair, so don’t expect it from me.” He dips his head again, the kiss as feral as our first. “Scream, kick, fight me all you want. I. Don’t. Care. You’ll talk.”

“God, I hate you.” I don’t mean it. And the words don’t ring true. It sounds like I mean a different four-letter word.

He flips me onto my belly, tears my panties off, and falls on top of me, his boxers long gone. His cock slides between my soaked lips, teasing, promising an orgasm.

“That’s good. Hate me more.” His chest is flush with my back as he moves inside me, supporting his weight on both elbows to not squish me into the mattress. “Where were you last night?”

“Out…” I moan, grasping the pillow with both hands.

He slams into me harder, gripping my hair in one hand to lift my head off the pillow. His lips hover over mine just long enough to sink his cock deep into me while his tongue plunders my mouth.

“So sweet,” he whispers, biting my lip, the pace of his thrusts enough to send me hurtling toward the edge but not enough to summon the orgasm to the surface. “Where were you last night?”

“I told you. Out.”

He lets go of my hair and sits back on his calves, driving into me hard until I’m shaking, almost coming, but then he eases off, before pulling out completely.

“Out where?”

“This is blackmail! Very cruel, horrible, awful—” I swallow the rest of the sentence when he curls one arm under my waist and hauls me up, settling me over his cock, my knees digging into the mattress either side of his hips.

“Choose a safe word, B.”

“What?”

“Choose a fucking safe word. Anything you wouldn’t normally say during sex.” He lifts my hips, impaling me on his dick, eyes boring into mine. “Red? Pineapple?”

“Checkmate.”

A smirk curves his lips. “Checkmate it is. Use it when you want me to stop.”

“Stop talking or stop touching me?”

“Both. When you use your safe word, everything stops.”

My smile slips off my face, but I don’t stop moving, his big hands guiding me to slowly rise and fall. Mine wrap tightly around his neck as I cling to him, not wanting to miss a second of having him so close.

“I don’t want to talk, Cody. Please, don’t make me talk. I just want you inside me. Don’t use sex against me. Keep hating me, keep hate-fucking me.”

“I’m afraid you don’t make the rules here, B.” He skates his lips across my collarbones. “I’ll hate-fuck you ten ways to Sunday once you stop acting like a brat. I’m not using sex against you. I’m using it to shut down your firewall.” He grabs my nape, guiding my lips over his for a soft kiss. “I’ll edge you. I’ll make you submit not because I want you to tell me what the fuck happened but because you want to tell me.” He kisses me again, nipping my bottom lip. “You’re just scared.”

“You’re wrong,” I breathe into his mouth, inching away.

He slaps my butt. “I don’t think I am.” Pinning me in place, he takes over the torture as he slowly, oh so slowly, hits my G spot with shallow thrusts. “Where were you last night?”

“I don’t like this.” I hide my face in the crook of his neck, and he immediately wraps his arms around my back, holding me close while we move in sync.

“That’s okay,” he coos. “I don’t like this either.” He flips me onto my back, crawling over me, and the deep, urgent thrust almost sets me off. “But what I don’t like more is seeing you cry. Who did you go out with?”

“None of your business.”

“Same guy that was here when you broke your glassware?” he demands, driving into me faster, the orgasm like a teasing wave at the shore, coming and going, coming and going, never quite reaching far enough to flood the beach. “Same one who yelled at you when we spoke over the phone?”

This isn’t the first time Cody’s denied me the release. I don’t mind that part, but couple it with the questions, with his angry and concerned at the same time tone, and the way he looks at me… my armor starts to crack.

I shut my eyes tight, blocking the oncoming tears, blocking his words, and the memories, but it’s useless.

Everything comes crashing down. The last thing I hear before my mind jams up is Cody’s next barked question.

“Same one who picks you up when you’re wearing red?”

Every suppressed emotion I’ve ever bottled up, hiding behind fake smiles, and a fleeting sense of control, resurfaces, hitting me from all sides at once.

Cody disappears. His bedroom, too.

My head turns into a giant screen. The images flick so fast. My mother losing her mind, hallucinating, my father ramming his fists into her head, the degenerates watching, touching me against my will since I was twelve. How I preyed on Mia, then cried under my bed when Mom screamed that I killed Dad. Blood on my thighs, hands on my hips, filthy words.

Hundreds of broken scenes, a projection of the worst moments in my life. Of my whole life, because there was no happiness in it. Not real happiness. Artificial, manufactured. Fake.

Just like the face I show the world.

Cody rocks me gently in his arms, my head under his chin, his arms around me, my nails clawing his flesh so hard I’ve left long, red lines.

I broke the skin.

A powerful shudder shakes me as reality re-emerges. My face is wet, and I’m naked under the comforter Cody’s tucked around us. I’ve never had a panic attack in front of anyone other than my father. The last one happened when I hurled those glasses across my kitchen at him.

“There you are,” Cody breathes in my hair, his hold tightening around me when I try to move. “It’s okay, calm down. It’s me, baby. I’ve got you.”

“I’m fine,” I rasp, swallowing the tears and prying myself away. “I’m sorry, I… zoned out.”

“Blair,” he utters, taking my chin between his fingers to turn my face his way. “Does it happen often?”

“Nothing happened.”

This has gone too far. Cody’s too perceptive, too clever and he cares enough to dig deeper, to ask questions.

“You had a panic attack, B. That’s not nothing.” He cushions his fingers round my wrist, dragging me back to him. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

Against all reason, I curve myself into him, hiding my face in the crook of his neck. He smells of sex, cologne, smoke, and me. Soothing. Heady.

My negative emotions fade with his every word. It doesn’t matter what he says. It’s his voice that calms me down. He could be reading the phone book for all I care.

“I did,” I answer truthfully. “I hurt me.”

There’s a long pause, his muscles tensing until he’s wound up so tight he might never unwind. “Will you ever answer any of my questions?”

“That’s not part of the deal.”

“Fuck the deal,” he whispers in my hair. “You want me to break someone’s neck? I’ll do it. Tell me who hurt you.”

He shouldn’t care. I’m not worth it. Not worth his attention or the rules he’s breaking.

My lips part. I want to tell him we’re done. Over. No more sex. Not even a hey in passing, but I can’t push the words out.

Cody’s my first taste of calm and safe. My first taste of normal. I don’t pretend when I’m with him. I don’t feel I have to, and that’s scary. Scary and addictive, so instead of closing the gates, I take the cowardly way out, leaving them open.

“Checkmate,” I say, bracing both hands against his chest to push him away.

He doesn’t oppose, lifting his hands so I can move away, every next word sharp as a bullet. “Next time you need a shoulder to cry on—” He pauses, teeth gnashing between his lips, anger dancing in those deep, brown eyes.

I know what’s on the tip of his tongue: don’t come crawling to me, but with a long exhale, his shoulders slump, and something else comes out.

“You made it clear you won’t tell me what’s happening. All you’re after is a good fuck, so fine, we’ll stick to that, but if you need help… if anyone hurts you… I’m here, B. Come to me, okay? I’ll help.”

The hurt in his voice cuts me so deep it briefly steals my breath. He cares and I… I’m pushing him away.

It’s better this way. I don’t have anything good to offer.