She let out a bark of laughter, which caused a fresh wave of tears. A sniffle, a barely choked back sob. She hated that he could make her laugh at a time like this, that he had that much power over her. It felt like he could bend her, warp her emotions into whatever he wanted.
He had all the power, and she had none. It felt like she was falling, or shrinking, or somehow getting lower and smaller than him. He was so much bigger and smarter and better than her.
She wasn’t pretty or sophisticated like Jean. She’d never be able to satisfy him, and she wished she didn’t even want to. Wished she could go and fall for another scrawny boy like Bobby, somebody safe who didn’t make her feel so small, so inadequate.
And worst of all, he could hear every single one of those pathetic thoughts. She tried once more to reclaim her bare hand, and finally, he let it go. “There,” she said, smearing the tears across her cheeks with the back of her hand, trying to keep her bottom lip from trembling. “Y’happy now? Hear all ya wanted?”
He cupped her face in his hand, closed his eyes. “Turn on your skin,” he said. “Make it work the other way.”
Marie turned her head, tried to pull away, but his thighs tightened around her with an almost bruising force, one arm still locked around her back. “No,” she said when his fingers tightened insistently over her cheekbone.
“Goddamnit, Marie, just do it!” he didn’t raise his voice much, not enough to wake anyone, but enough to make her flinch.
Her skin came on. Defense mechanism. He did that on purpose! His memories were loud for once, tearing across her neurons before she could shove them away. Bastard.
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