Born To Be Your's

Chapter 22

They lay tangled on the rough carpet, their bodies slick with sweat, their chests heaving in unison. The lingering terror of the Fentanyl mixed with the blissful, expansive euphoria of the ecstasy, elevating the entire experience into a hyper-reality. Blake and Liv were still high, but Liv, having only taken one drop, was reaching the intense, emotional peak of the drug’s effect, while Blake, having taken a controlled dose of MDMA earlier, was just entering his plateau.

Liv wasn't done. The drug had stripped away all caution, all shame, and replaced it with a desperate need for connection and physical intensity. She flipped over, climbing onto Blake’s chest.

She crashed her lips onto his, igniting the fire instantly. The kiss was ravenous, demanding. She moved her hips, a slow, intoxicating grind against the heavy, slack weight of his body, refusing to allow him to rest. She felt the deep, familiar hardening beneath her, his big c**k surging instantly to life, responding to her need.

She settled herself over him, gripping his chest. Blake groaned, arching his back under her. He reached up, his big hands trailing up her smooth sides, finding her bare breasts, cupping and gently squeezing the weight of them.

He looked up at her, watching her face—the flush across her cheeks, the beautiful, haunted eyes half-lidded and glossy with desire and the drug. She was coming undone on top of him, her body moving with a fluid, intoxicating grace that spoke of pure need. In that moment, watching her, Blake felt it all: the passion, the fear, and the profound, terrifying realization that he was deeply, impossibly in love with this chaotic, damaged girl.

He sat up suddenly, he pulled her forward, burying his face in her breasts. His mouth taking possession of her n*****s, kissing and licking them with a frantic energy. Liv screamed, throwing her head back, her hips bucking as she pushed herself closer to his mouth.

Blake then grabbed her, his hands finding purchase on her bare hips. He stood, lifting her easily, maintaining connection as he stood up, his hard c**k sliding seamlessly back inside her wet heat. He carried her to the bed, gently laying her down on the mattress.

He drove into her again, hard and fast, the drug making every thrust feel like an explosion. They moved through the hours, pushing each other to their limits, their desire insatiable.

Liv flipped onto her stomach, begging him to take her from behind. He mounted her, his hands gripping her waist, driving into her with a savage, rhythmic precision that made her cry out his name again and again.

They moved to the edges of the bed, finding the dizzying, intense angle of the missionary position, her legs wrapped high around his waist, their sweat-slicked bodies fusing into one unit. Blake was relentless, driven by the chemical high and the raw emotional need to possess her. He watched her face, his gaze focused on the pleasure and pain that washed across her features.

They moved to standing, finding a brief, urgent moment against the wall, Liv wrapping her legs tightly around his hips as he lifted her, f*****g her with a dizzying speed that left them both breathless.

As the pre-dawn light began to filter through the curtains, they collapsed back onto the bed, their bodies bruised, exhausted, and satiated. They had explored every angle, pushed every boundary, their moans and gasps filling the small room until the sounds of their spent pleasure were the only things remaining.

Blake pulled Liv tightly against his chest, their legs tangled in the sheets, their hearts beating a slow, ragged rhythm against each other. The drugs were finally receding, leaving behind an intense exhaustion and a profound, intimate knowledge of each other. They were too tired, too spent, and too emotionally exposed to do anything but hold on.

They closed their eyes and fell into a deep, desperate sleep, the aftermath of their drug-fueled, chaotic lovemaking leaving them vulnerable and utterly committed to the disaster they had just initiated.

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Blake stirred slowly, dragged back from the intense, velvet dark of sleep by a persistent, high-pitched buzzing sound. He didn't open his eyes, groaning at the slight, dull throbbing pain starting behind his forehead—the cold, inevitable payment for the powerful cocktail of drugs he'd inhaled.

He was in the middle of a vivid, consuming dream, a loop of savage, drug-fueled s*x with Liv that was both shocking and impossibly perfect. He could feel her body beneath his, the scent of her skin, the precise pressure of her hips.

The buzzing came again, insistent this time, followed by a slight shift of weight beside him.

Blake peeked his eyes open, and the world swam into a blurred, ugly focus. He wasn't in his and Travis’s cramped room. He was in D’s spare bedroom, the walls painted an aggressive, shade of yellow, the air heavy with stale smoke and the metallic tang of s*x.

He slowly turned his head to see what was next to him. Liv was fast asleep, tangled in the sheets, her dark hair a chaotic mess fanned out across the pillow. Her skin was flushed and damp with sweat, her lips swollen from hours of kissing, and her heavy eyeliner was smeared, giving her a beautiful, exhausted, feral look. She was utterly gorgeous.

Then, the floodgates opened. Blake remembered everything. Every gasp, every moan, every cry, every touch, every angle, every kiss, every thrust. It wasn't a dream. It was real, and it was the most amazing, terrifying thing he had ever done.

The buzzing sounded again, right by his ear. He looked down and saw his jeans on the floor. His phone was lying next to them.

He reached down and grabbed the phone. The screen blared the time: 3:27 PM, Sunday. He’d been gone all day Saturday and the entire night.

Then he saw the notifications: six missed calls from Laura, four missed calls from Francis, ten frantic text messages, and three voicemails.

“s**t,” Blake whispered under his breath.

He quickly sent a text to Laura, lying smoothly:

I’m fine. Olivia’s with me. We hung out at a friend’s house and stayed the night and lost track of time. We’ll be home soon.

Blake ran a hand down his face, the exhaustion immediate and absolute. His entire body was slightly sore, a pleasant ache that reminded him of the all-night exertion. He noticed a slight, dark bruise on his own ribcage where Liv had gripped him hard during one of their frantic positions. He smiled, a slow, appreciative expression.

He looked over at Liv and saw matching bruises—dark fingerprints on her smooth skin where he had gripped her hips.

Blake gently touched her face.

Liv stirred, shoving her face deeper into the pillow with a low, miserable groan. “f**k,” she muttered.

Blake chuckled, his voice thick with sleep and dryness. “What’s wrong, Liv? Bad dream?”

Liv took a deep, painful breath and turned her face slightly, her voice raw. “Why does it feel like my p***y was pulverized by a jackhammer, Jesus f*****g Christ.”

Blake laughed, a genuine, warm sound. “Apologies for getting carried away, but that’s what you get for screaming ‘harder’ for eight hours straight.”

Liv blushed, the memory rushing into her eyes. The haze of the drug was replaced by the cold, immediate reality of their situation. Blake gently trailed his fingers down the elegant curve of her spine.

Liv took a deep breath, her eyes locking onto his. “Blake, we can’t continue this. It will only lead to heartbreak… for both of us.”

Blake’s jaw tightened. He knew she was right, but he couldn’t let the raw truth of his heart remain unspoken. “I don’t think I can stop,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Liv swallowed hard, her eyes filled with pain. She looked away, then whispered, “I can’t either.” Her gaze returned to his, tears welling up as she stated the grim truth: “But Francis is almost done paying off her student loan, Blake. And when that’s gone, so am I.”

Blake’s jaw tightened, accepting the ticking clock. He leaned in, his voice rough. “Then let’s make the most of it, then.”

He gently touched her face, pulling her closer.

Liv stared at him, her vulnerability struggling with her need for self-preservation. “Fine,” she conceded, the word a painful, reluctant acceptance. “But nothing intimate. We're not ‘making love.’ Got it? We’re just f*****g around. We’re… f**k, what’s the word? My head is splitting in two.”

Blake chuckled, leaning in to brush his nose against hers. “Friends with benefits.”

Liv’s eyes widened, the term perfect in its detachment. “YES! Exactly. Friends with benefits. Just casual fucking.”

Blake forced a careless smile onto his face, hiding the deep, aching certainty in his heart that this would never be casual. “I can do that.”

Deep down, he knew the desperate, temporary arrangement was better than nothing.