NORMAL (25 page)

"Stop! Please!" I cry, but I'm completely muffled, my body completely enveloped in his.

My eyes are filled with tears now, but Robin doesn't notice. He shoves his free hand into my panties and starts rubbing. I try to cry out for mercy again, but it's just the wordless sound of my panicked voice. He groans again as he pushes one finger inside of me and I scream, but again, most of its punch dies in his mouth. I can't catch my breath, and Robin's practically panting.

I bite him.

"My girl likes it rough," he growls, and he kisses me even harder and releases my wrists but suddenly starts moving so fast and rough that my arms aren't free anyway and I can do nothing but cry and try to buck him off of me.

Robin start to tug down my panties, but I'm squirming from side to side and with a frustrated growl, he tears through the thin cotton and tosses them aside.

His movements are aggressive and beyond forceful and I can barely register them through my sobs. He yanks my legs apart and I realize he's shoved his flannel pajama bottoms down when I feel his erection probing me where his finger had just been.

"Please stop!" I sob pathetically, but Robin is beyond excited, and it's like he can't even hear me. Like he's in his own world.

I'm terrified. I know what's about to happen and I've no idea how to stop it.

He starts to push inside me, but doesn't go anywhere.

"So tight," he grunts.

"No, Robin, please!" I sob again.

He keeps going. With another growl, he increases his pressure and thrusts all the way into me. There's a sharp stinging sensation and I scream as he groans through my unimaginable pain. Robin stills for a moment before he starts thrusting hard, in and out of me, in a burning rhythm.

"So fuckin' tight. So hot. My girl is so fuckin' hot, so tight." His voice rumbles amorously, his hot breath drowning my face, my mouth. He continues this mantra about how tight and hot I am, pausing only to grunt and moan.

I am completely frozen.

I don't know why, but I've just totally stopped fighting.

I try not to think about the searing burn between my legs. I just want it to be over.

Robin has invaded every part of my body, he's just everywhere, in complete control of me. But he can't control my mind.

I think about how Robin was upset that Cam and I say "I love you" to each other. I think how different that love is from what Robin offers me.

I think about when Cam and I were eight years old. His father had passed away suddenly just a few months earlier - when we were both still seven, and I'd spent every waking moment with him since it happened. I'd been sleeping over in his bed with him for months when I finally convinced him to go out to the Memorial Day street fair. We'd walked through the park that starts at the end of our block and Cam was finally having a good day. He was smiling, laughing. We'd just gotten ice cream when a wasp started buzzing around me. I was never afraid of them, being a tomboy and all, I'd subscribed to the notion that it wouldn't bother me if I didn't bother it. But I was holding an ice cream cone, and the wasp had its own agenda.

I got stung. It was the first time I'd ever been stung. It hurt so damn much, but I gritted my teeth and choked back my tears. I was desperate for Cam not to realize what'd happened. I didn't want to ruin the first day he'd seemed to be having any kind of fun since his dad died. It was an hour before Cam started questioning how quiet I was being, how unlike myself. Eventually he noticed one rogue tear fall when I'd thought he wasn't looking, and demanded I tell him what was wrong.

So I did.

Cam was horrified that I'd tried to hide it. He grabbed my non-stung hand and led me back to his house where he immediately retrieved an ice pack and held it to my affected wrist while distracting me with some story he'd made up. He was always making up stories. He still is. He writes them down in his journal, and sometimes he lets me read them. He wants to be a writer, and he will. He'll be a great writer. I tease him about being a football player, tell him he's going to be stuck playing wide receiver for the Dolphins, but while he may ride football through school, I know he'll end up writing the next Great American Novel. I sincerely have no doubt. Cam's story distracted me from my pain that day. And he took care of me, when I'd been the one trying to take care of him. And the truth is, he's been doing it ever since.

I curl my right hand - the hand that was stung by that damned wasp all those years ago - and dig my nails into my palm as hard as I can. I must be drawing blood, but it's all I can think of to do to distract from the scorching pain between my legs.

I don't know how long it's been, I've lost all concept of time and it may have only been a few minutes, though it felt like hours, but eventually Robin stills and his mantra ends. All that is left is his dead weight on top of me and the sound of his panting breath as he starts to calm.

Before I even realize he's moved again, Robin is on his back and is pulling me into his side. He curls an arm around me until I'm lying on his chest. I lie limp and wordless and still can't quite catch my breath. Robin tenderly strokes my back, still oblivious to the endless flow of my tears. I can feel liquid seeping out of me.

Minutes pass. Finally, Robin sighs and kisses my hair.

"That was so good, sweetheart, so damn good," he murmurs.  

I whimper and choke back a sob, finally causing him to look at my face.  

"Oh, darlin', no," he whispers, brushing away my tears with his knuckles.

Robin rolls me onto my back, and part of me worries he might just do it again, but I'm boneless. I have no fight left in me. None.

Supporting himself on one elbow, he settles on his side and looks down at me. He pulls my tee shirt back down to cover me, but I don't lift to help him, and the hem bunches around my hips. I no longer care. I close my eyes as he wipes away more tears. I can't bring myself to meet his gaze.

"I know, sweetheart. I know," he says soothingly, like he's trying to console me.

What the hell is it he knows?

"It's supposed to hurt your first time. I tried to go easy, but you're so hot, darlin', you feel so damn good. You have no idea. So good," he says again. "I got carried away, but it's impossible not to with you, you know?"

I don't reply. I don't make a sound other than my sniffling.

"But it woulda hurt no matter what. Your first time. It'll hurt less next time, I promise. I'll make you feel real good, sweetheart."

He must register my horror at his reference to "next time", because he shakes his head with a chuckle. A fucking
chuckle!

"Not now, darlin'. Don't worry, I know you need some recovery time. You'll feel sore, but don't worry, that's normal," he explains.  

Normal
.

None of what just happened feels normal. I'm so confused. What Robin just did was awful, so why is he acting like it's all okay? Like we're a normal couple who just had sex for the first time? Are we?

Robin kisses me softly on my lips. I just stare at him. He smiles.

"Let me get you cleaned up," he says, before hopping out of bed grinning like he's just won the lottery and practically skipping into the en-suite bathroom. He's pulled his pajama pants back up, and I realize he'd never fully removed them at all.

I hear him run the sink, and before I can gather even a single rational thought, he's back with a warm, wet, washcloth and he's running it gently between my thighs. And I let him.

"There, all better," he murmurs and kisses me again before going back into the bathroom to dispose of the washcloth.  

All better?
I think, incredulous. Robin rejoins me on the bed and gathers me back in his arms from behind.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he asks. Somehow, with my back to him, avoiding his eyes, I am able to find words.

"It... hurt," I breathe. Robin kisses my shoulder.

"I know, sweetheart, it's supposed to your first time," he repeats. I take a deep breath. It doesn't help.

"I... I wasn't ready," I whisper as tears resume streaming down my cheeks.

"Oh, darlin'. You were never gonna feel like you were ready. We've been seein' each other almost six months. I love you, Rory, you know that. You just gotta trust me to know what's right for us. It was time. I know it hurt, but when it stops hurtin', you're gonna like it. Trust me, alright?" he murmurs into my ear.

It
has
been six months, I know that. But I wasn't ready. Maybe he's right, maybe I would never feel ready. But I never thought he would just go ahead and do it anyway. I tried to make him stop, I tried to fight him off, damn it!

I sniffle.

"I love you, sweetheart, you know that, right?" he whispers.

I nod.

"You love me too?"

I nod again, automatically. Right now I just feel confused and numb.

"I'm gonna sleep here as long as I can.
God
, I wanna stay with you forever, sweetheart. But I gotta sneak back downstairs before my parents get up, okay?"

I nod again. I don't want him to sleep here. I want him to go so I can think. But he doesn't, he just spoons me and whispers pretty things and plants butterfly kisses on my shoulder until he dozes off.

I don't sleep. I can't.

I can't believe that just happened. I figured I would lose my virginity to Robin, but not like that. I just don't understand why he didn't stop. He's warned me that when guys get worked up past a certain point, they
can't
stop
.
He certainly seemed like he wasn't in control. Is his attraction to me that strong? I don't get it, I just don't. And I know it was supposed to hurt my first time, but this was too much. Even with my lack of experience, I know that this was too much. It's not just that I'm sore, though I am, so damn sore. But, my wrists are a little swollen, my thighs hurt, and my muscles ache with exertion from the struggle before he forced his way inside me and I just gave up.

And that's what's bothering me most of all.
Why did I give up?

Is this whole thing my fault? If I hadn't frozen, if I'd kept saying no until he heard me...

God
, I messed up. I was kissing him and letting him touch me and I let him get too worked up. I know I asked him to stop, and I know I said no, but then I stopped fighting. I just let him do it. I wasn't even thinking about him, I was thinking about Cam
.
God
,
I can't imagine how he'd react if he knew that. He'd probably kill both me and Cam.

I feel guilty beyond comprehension. I'm supposed to love Robin. He loves me. He says so all the time.

When Robin starts stirring behind me, I glance at the clock and see it's nearly five in the morning. I pretend to be asleep. He presses a soft kiss to my cheek. "I gotta go, Sleepin' Beauty, I'll see you at breakfast," he whispers. I don't move a muscle. "I love you so damn much, sweetheart," he adds, his voice tight with emotion. And with one last kiss to my cheek, he climbs out from behind me and I hear the door quietly open and close.

With him gone, I finally fall asleep, but it's a wretched sleep, filled with nightmares of being held down, of being hurt, and of being completely at the mercy of some faceless someone who, for some reason, can't hear my desperate pleading.

****

It's already past ten when I awaken, and I wash up and get dressed, but can't bring myself to leave the room. My wrists are wrought with light bruising, as are my inner thighs, and there are small red marks on my palm where my fingernails cut into my skin. But the soreness between my legs is so fierce that everything else pales in comparison. Except for my heart. I've had so many conflicting emotions in the past eight hours that I have no idea where I've landed.

I'm sitting in the old wicker rocking chair in the corner of the room when I hear a light knock on the door. I realize I should have been down for breakfast with the family over an hour ago.

Before I can respond, Lacey walks in. "Hey Rory," she greets me warmly.

"Hey."

"You okay?" she asks.

I nod, but don't say anything. I'm not sure I can manage the words "I'm okay". They'd be my biggest lie.

Lacey sits on the foot of the bed, facing me, and sighs. "Everyone's waitin' in the dining room," she explains.

"Sorry. I'm just not feelin' too well," I murmur, not quite meeting her gaze. Lacey nods, like she expected this.

"Look, Rob wanted me to come check on you," she admits.

"I'll be down soon, I'm just not feelin' well," I repeat.

She nods again. "Yeah, you said." Finally I meet her eyes. "Look he... he told me," she says.

I glare at her.
He told her?
He told her
what?
Surely not that he... made me have sex with him.

"He told me you guys... you know, slept together for the first time last night. Don't feel weird about it, Rory. You know, I lost my virginity to some guy I met in the Bahamas when I was on vacation with my family. I'd only known him a week. You slept with your boyfriend of six months who you love. There's nothin' to be embarrassed about."
Oh
.