The Eccedentesiast

Chapter Twenty-one

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Chapter Twenty-one
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Nothing. Not a single drop of sadness coursed through her veins. Not an ounce of regret invaded her thoughtless thoughts. But at the same time, it was torture.

It was a problem. And of course, she was satisfied. But sometimes a boy just wasn't enough, sometimes a boy didn't do enough. She had dark fantasies and a lot of them involved men—Okay, all of them. And it's not like she could moan out 'Daddy' with each sudden and sped-up thrust of Tyler's hips.

Emma wanted someone gentle and rough—someone who can be both; use those to his advantage. Edge, play, torture, and break.

She wanted someone who would dominate her. She wanted to look like a slut—be called one, treated as one. In her head, knowing this was messed up, there were so many things against her. Not to mention how young she was to be yearning for this touch she couldn't have—at least she thought she was.

Tyler's moans got louder by the second as his thrusts got sloppy. And once his body fell on her, she followed suit. She used her strength to push him off of her and to the side as she got up without uttering a word and began to dress.

First, her black jeans, which she wiggled into. Then, her black shirt over her red bra.

She ignored his stare as she tied her shoes, sitting on a charge in the corner by the front door.

And this room . . . It was dark and she liked the little light that allowed her to examine it. There were video game posters on the walls, a vase with dead roses next to the closed window on a small table. And the carpeted flood nearly flooded with clothes and shoes and crap she couldn't even stand to look at.

She grabbed her belongings. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut short by the door opening and Emma closing it behind her.

She ran down the stairs, stumbling and almost tumbling down. There were frames up, but none caught her attention as she kept her gaze down at the hardwood. She concentrated, stared, and wondered just how long and how fast she's been going on these short-looking stairs.

But not even a second later she was outside, confused but relieved as she closed the door behind her and ran to her gray car.

And once inside, she hit the steering wheel a few times before turning the key in the ignition. She didn't want to waste any time, but she went I've it, thought about the situation, and completely crumbled around it.

She drove with her two hands on the steering wheel, going over the speeding limit. She didn't care if a cop pulled her over, not now, she just wanted to get home as soon as possible.

Emma stepped harder on the gas—only two minutes away from home. Her mom and dad wouldn't be there as they were both working all day today. It was Friday.

She let herself in through the gates and parked her car in the garage this time, instead of leaving it out front with easy access.

She didn't want to go out this weekend. She missed the days where she laid in bed all day, either watching Netflix or reading something on Wattpad. Those were the only two things she had to do to entertain herself without the help of her idiotic friends.

She strides to the kitchen and opened the fridge, looking through it before taking out a cold water bottle and bringing it along with her as she exited the kitchen and went for the staircase.