He must take my noise as approval or pleasure because he bites harder.

I shove him off with a push on his abs. But he grabs my wrist and brings my hand back to his dick. He guides my face into his shoulder, as though consoling me, but not really because his other hand travels to my backside.

“Have you taken it in the ass before?” he asks with a heavy grunt. He moves my hand lower on his dick.

“Once,” I tell him. My boob throbs. I should end this. But maybe it’ll be better if I just wait a little longer. Maybe I dislike sex because I don’t try hard enough or I don’t give enough effort. I convince myself to wait it out.

He grabs my ass, and then his finger slips into a hole that has never been penetrated by a finger before. I go rigid, my eyes wide and horrified. Okay, I don’t like this at all. Is this normal? For once, I feel my age, and I’m more aware that I’m in bed with a twenty-five-year-old.

A guy as old as Ryke.

Everything about this feels weird. Physically, emotionally, mentally—I shift and find a way to adjust so he can’t touch me there anymore. I don’t even finish him off. I slide down to his ankles, crouching. “I’m pretty tired,” I lie. “Maybe we can do this another night.”

He gives me a long once-over. “Is it your first time? I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ll be more careful.”

“I’m not a virgin,” I say. “I told you, I—”

“You don’t have to lie. I don’t mind that you haven’t been with anyone before. In fact, it’s kind of sexy.” He grins. “I’ll go easy, I promise.” He clasps my hand and pulls me back on his lap.

He’s still hard, and he touches my panties, about to move them aside and then lift me up on his dick. I don’t want to be on top. I don’t want to have sex with him anymore.

“I’m dry,” I tell him. “You’ll hurt me.” My first time, that’s what happened. It was short and really, really painful.

“You’ll get wet once I’m inside of you.” He combs my hair out of my face.

A long time ago, Ryke once said, “What kind of asshole enters a girl on her first time without getting her aroused first?” This asshole.

Ryke’s advice: “You should stay away from any guy who doesn’t make you come at least twice before he fucks you. Keep that in mind.”

Two and a half years later, I have kept it in mind, but I haven’t followed it through. Not all guys are willing to take the time to get me off before the big show.

And maybe that’s what he was saying back then. I shouldn’t be with a guy who focuses on himself first and a woman last.

“I can’t,” I tell Ian. I climb off his lap quickly before he can grab me, and then I collect my sweater, tugging it over my head. When I look back, Ian still lies on the mattress, as though I’ll return any second and straddle him. “I think you should go.”

He licks his lips and then hides his erection in his briefs. He pulls his jeans back over his hips and slides off the bed. “I get it,” he says. “You’re not ready. Maybe tomorrow night?”

“I don’t think I’ll be ready by then. I’m sorry,” I say, meeting his blue eyes.

He nears me a little more, and I try to appear more confident, like Rose. I pull back my shoulders and stand taller. I also paint on a face that I use when I have to look angry during photo shoots. Narrowed eyes. Tightened lips. A dark scowl.

He’s not intimidated by me in the least. “You don’t even want to finish?” he asks.

“I have a boyfriend,” I immediately blurt, hoping that’ll push him out. Maybe if he has morals…

He lets out a short laugh. “If you had a boyfriend, it’d be all over the news, especially if you were caught cheating on him.”

“We’re taking a break,” I say. What are you doing, Daisy? “I just don’t feel comfortable sleeping with someone so quickly.”

“I can take a hint,” he says, grabbing his little plastic baggy off the dresser. “If you change your mind, you have my number. Maybe I’ll see you around.” With this, I escort him to the door. He glances back at me and kisses me lightly on the cheek.

I give him a small smile.

And then he departs without another word.

< 14 >

DAISY CALLOWAY


Lock. Lock. Lock. Lock. I speed through the room, checking behind the shower curtain in the bathroom, and then I prop a chair underneath that doorknob. When I finish securing the sliding balcony door, I head to the mirror and inspect my breast that keeps throbbing

I lift my sweater up. I’m bleeding. He bit me so hard that my nipple is not only red and raw, but it’s trickling with blood. Why, why do things like this happen to me? He also sucked so hard that a yellowish tint of a bruise forms on the outside of my breast.

I’ll have to cover it with makeup. Hopefully no one will notice tomorrow. Hopefully the clothes are modest, not too revealing or else the designer may be upset.

Good job, Daisy.

My room is quiet. No one talks. No one makes a sound. I am alone. I replace my sweater with a baggy night-shirt, and I climb onto bed, wearing boy-short panties. I don’t want to take Ambien and experience another nightmare. So I lie awake, flinching at the whoosh of wind blowing into the window, as the ceiling creaks, as voices escalate in the hallway. Every little thing snaps my eyes open the moment they drowsily begin to close.

Okay. New plan. I snatch my laptop out of my rucksack, and I lean against the headboard. No, I will not open social media. But maybe…maybe porn will help. Maybe I haven’t tried masturbating enough to find a climax. Surely I can do this right.

And the task is taking my mind off the possibilities of an intruder. That’s the most important thing.

I pop open my computer…but I have no idea where to even begin. I check the clock. 3 a.m. in Paris. 9 a.m. in Princeton, New Jersey. She’ll be up. I find my cell and make a quick call, putting it on speaker so I can search the internet too.

“Hey,” Lily says with a yawn. “How’s Paris…” Her voice softens, and I hear her whisper to someone in the background, “It’s Daisy.” Lo must be with her.

“Paris is pretty. So I have a question.”

“For me?” she says in a little bit of surprise but also excitement. Rose is the knower-of-all-things, so I usually go to her with questions, but Lily is easier to talk to. When she has time to talk to me, that is.

“Yeah,” I say easily. “So what’s a good porn site that won’t crash my computer?”

There’s a long pause over the phone. She hesitates. “I don’t know if…”

“Please.” I hear the desperation in my voice. I glance at the clock, at each entrance to my room, and my heart accelerates. “I won’t tell anyone that you told me.” I think she just doesn’t want me to turn out like her, especially since the media keeps saying I’m a little mini-Lily, with no other proof than dissecting my brief relationships with guys. I am young and more promiscuous than the average eighteen-year-old, but I don’t enjoy sex like Lily. I’ve slept with a lot of guys because I’m trying to figure out how to do it right and to find the right one to do it with.

Now that doesn’t seem as important in my life. Well, it wasn’t until Ryke said we both needed to date more. I honestly just want a good night’s sleep.

 “I’ll text it to you,” she whispers a little dramatically. I can imagine her glancing back at Lo and reddening. I instantly smile.

“Thanks. Talk to you later?”

“Yeah. I’ll try to call more, but the time difference…”

“I know, it sucks.”

“Love you, bye,” she tells me quickly before hanging up, probably distracted by Lo’s presence. In only a second, a text pings on my phone.

Kinkyme.net – Lily

I log into the porn site, and I click on the most popular video. It takes a couple seconds to load. The screen is black at first, only heavy breathing, both male and female. I click the “play” button, hoping an image will reveal itself soon because this isn’t doing anything for me.

Finally a picture surfaces.

Oh my God. A girl with silky brown hair is tied to a headboard by her wrists, her head tilted back in pleasure while a guy dominates her from the top.

But it’s not the position that’s freaking me out or the fact that it’s porn.

I know this girl. I know this guy.

It’s Rose and Connor.

Oh my God. Click out. Click out!! I try to press escape and leave these images behind, but it won’t disappear. A popup keeps flashing SUBSCRIBE! I don’t want to subscribe to my sister’s kinky sex videos with her husband!

They never even meant for these to hit the internet, so I highly doubt they’d be comfortable with what’s happening right now. Last year, they were screwed over by a producer who filmed their intimate bedroom sessions without their knowledge and put their videos online. Legal issues ensued, and what it boils down to is this: the videos are here to stay.

And now I have accidentally stumbled upon one of them.

I try not to look at the screen. I shut my eyes, close the computer, open it, and the video is still playing, the breathing is still heavy. I can hear and see everything. I fill in the subscription box, which seems to be the only solution right now.

As I type in a fake name and email address, I catch Connor slipping his fingers beneath Rose’s diamond studded collar. He lifts her head to meet his lips, and she lets out a sharp cry as he keeps thrusting between her legs with rough force. Then she comes. He pulls out to switch positions.