by Lucian Bane
“Can you wait in here, Beautiful?” Solomon asked.
She forced her headshake into a nod. She wanted to go with him everywhere, but that wasn’t right. It was the selfishness and she’d have to be smart about catching it.
Chaos listened to their voices outside. They were discussing the girls in the car and what to do about them. “We can’t bring them to the hospital.” She recognized the voice of Mr. Kratch.
“What if we go to Kentucky—“
“Hell no,” Mr. Kratch said. “Too much of the same nonsense in those parts.”
“Ohio then. We go to the first hospital, leave them parked in a car outside the emergency room, call them up and they take it from there.” That was Solomon. Chaos smiled at how smart he was. And so kind. So caring. She remembered how he kept covering the women with the sheet, always thinking of protecting. Such an angel.
There was more talking but they lowered their voices now. Pain stabbed Chaos. They were probably talking about his Chantilly and how they needed to find her. Not wanting Chaos to hear about it to upset her. She wasn’t a child. She could take the truth. She didn’t like secrets from her, they felt too close to lies and tricks.
They finally came back to the car and drove off. Chaos didn’t look over her shoulder at Solomon this time, she didn’t want to see his face when he was thinking of Chantilly. Ever since Chantilly came up, he started acting like two people. One was her old Solomon who loved her, the other was the Solomon who loved Chantilly.
As much as she loved him and wanted him to have his beautiful heart’s desire, seeing him when he was loving Chantilly wasn’t something she could do. Not without falling apart. And her falling apart had no place in his happiness. He didn’t need a stupid whore with mental issues to worry about on top of everything else.
As they drove in silence, Chaos fought to find that place inside herself that allowed her not to feel. Solomon had made no attempt to check on her like he normally did. She didn’t want it to hurt her but she couldn’t seem to make it stop. Like an accidental cut that refused to stop bleeding no matter how much she pressed it, squished it down or tried to shut it. She needed to hide her stupid wounded parts away in that place inside of her. But that place was out of her reach. It took a special key to get there, and Master was the only one she knew who could put her there. He had many times. She didn’t know the way to get in it, only Master, it seemed.
She would just have to learn to hide the bleeding somehow. She remembered the opposite game. Master had played that a lot, saying one thing and doing the opposite. She didn’t like the game, but she knew it. She could use its dirty tricks to be whole while broken. Happy while sad. Clean while dirty, and smart while stupid.
For Solomon.
****
Solomon stared out the window as they drove to the first hospital they came to in Ohio. He checked on the women, pressing his fingers into their pulses, one after another. At each pulse, dread told him there would be none. It made sense that there would be none, it made no sense whatsoever that there should be a pulse. Two of the pulses, he had to really feel around for till he finally caught the faintest beat. The pulse-checking was a compulsive torture. Because each time he did it, he lived their death and miraculous resurrection in the span of ten seconds.
“This is it,” his uncle said, pulling the vehicle into a parking spot near the emergency room. They looked all around, making sure the coast was clear.
“We leave the women and take the boy?” Solomon double checked.
“And call from a payphone,” his uncle said. “Then we wait a few and pass back to make sure they took them.”
Solomon’s dad knocked on his uncle’s window and Uncle Joe opened his door and got out.
“Let’s hurry,” he muttered.
Solomon agreed, and went around to Chaos’s side and led her and the boy to his dad’s car. He passed a casual glance around and guided them to the back seat. Finally, he’d be next to Chaos.
He ran back to Uncle Joe’s car and had one last look at the ladies, all lifeless in the back. He resisted the urge to check their pulses again. “Let’s hurry, they need a doctor last week.”
Not another word was spoken as they shut the doors and hurried to his dad’s car. Two minutes later, his dad was at a payphone, making the phone call that Solomon had wanted to make. He couldn’t find a just reason to insist, so he let him. He wanted to make sure they understood how serious it was.
The plan was, wait fifteen minutes and ride back by the hospital. Then they’d drive a state over and watch the news from a hotel room for updates on them.
“Done,” his dad said, getting back in the car. “Now we wait.” His dad looked at his wristwatch, making Solomon feel better but he still wanted to ask what he’d told them.
It was so strange being around him. He had aged a lot. And his dad had never been a man to give affection, but when they’d met on the road, he’d hugged Solomon so hard it had stolen his breath. It was like every hug he should’ve given him all those years came through in that one. And that hard wall around Solomon’s heart shattered, putting him back to being desperate for the man’s love again.
Solomon’s heart raced as he recalled the words he’d said. Solomon forced himself not to think about them or he’d go crazy. I have information about Chantilly too.
They weren’t able to talk there, so Solomon was left to wonder. Wonder what news he had about his missing fiancée of two years.
There was so much he wanted to talk to him about now, so many secrets that needed airing.
“Here we go,” his dad announced, starting the car and heading to the hospital. They drove by from the opposite side and Solomon gasped several times at seeing the car surrounded with paramedics. “They found them!” Solomon whispered, tears clouding his vision as a tidal wave of relief hit him so hard. “They got them,” he said as they rushed the women into the hospital on stretchers, the dozen paramedics running after them. “They’ll take care of them.”
Chaos hugged him and it was like the hours of hell they’d all just been through choked him. To feel her there in his arms, safe, his mind decided it was time to have a good cry. And he didn’t even try to stop it, he couldn’t. He wept like a boy over the realness of the nightmare they’d lived. These women had lived. This boy had lived. The woman sitting next to him, hugging him and rocking him, had lived.
The drive to the hotel in the next state was long and quiet. Solomon stretched his tired body out on the seat as best he could, and lay his head back. He reached for Chaos’s hand and she laced her fingers in his, her movements almost nervous and fidgety.
He looked at her in the dark, reaching to touch her face. When she didn’t turn, he nudged it toward him. He leaned in and brushed his lips softly on hers, testing to see where her mind was.
He got more of that twitchy uncertainty in her response. Stroking his thumb on her cheek, he put his forehead against hers and closed his eyes for a few seconds. She was reading him like a book again. His emotions were everywhere with his father around and his body was back to lockdown at the mention of news about Chantilly.
It was like his muscles refused to engage with Chaos until they buried Chantilly properly. Then there was that part of him that said, what if she’s alive? What if she still loves you? Needs you? Wants you? How will you feel if you see her?
Once he found out, he’d be free. Free to be what he needed for Chaos. He wanted to explain it all to her but there hadn’t been a moment when they weren’t running for their lives to do it.
Maybe at the hotel. Maybe they could get two rooms and he’d have a chance to assure her the way she needed.
Chapter Seventeen
Solomon had thought the moment would never come as he shut the hotel room door and locked it. Looking out the window, he inspected their surroundings before shutting the curtains extra tight.
Then he turned and faced Chaos. A frightened Chaos sitting on the bed, looking like a virgin with a self-esteem massacr
ed by the devil himself.
“Would you… like to take a shower?”
She stood, but her gaze didn’t quite make it to his face, it stopped at his chest. “You first. Please.”
He walked to her and pulled her in his arms, hating how tense she was. He squeezed her tight and whispered, “Okay, Beautiful.” He stood there with his eyes closed, just holding her, stroking her back softly. Then finally, he headed to the bathroom.
After he undressed, he stared at the shower curtain. God, to take an actual shower. What would that feel like? Seemed like years since he’d had one. He turned the water on, and set it to warm to start, then climbed in. He didn’t want to take too long, leave her alone with her negative thoughts. He washed the sharp spikes he now had for hair, going slowly over his healing wounds as he did. He filled the washcloth with soap and wiped his body down just as carefully since the scabs from his burns were thoroughly pissed over getting a shower.
He finally finished and turned the water off. Grabbing a towel off the bar, he wrapped it around his waist, not bothering to dry off. He was worried about Chaos.
Opening the door, he rounded the corner, startling her. She sat in the same spot as before, rocking a little, picking at spots on her arms with her nails. Upon seeing him, she quickly looked down. What was going through her head?
He made his way to her and held out his hand, realizing he’d have to play the doctor and insist she get back on the right path with him. “I want to shower you, Beautiful.”
She looked at his hand then her eyes slowly moved up his naked torso. The burn of her raw gaze up his chest got him hard.
Her lips had parted by the time she placed her hand in his, but God, she behaved like she were a prisoner.
He reminded himself that she was. A prisoner of her own nightmare past. He needed to not forget that, be patient with her. Go slow.
He also remembered the pleasure she’d had so little of. Yes, that. That would help break whatever held her.
****
Chaos fought to breathe and think at the same time. Her brain had literally exploded when he’d walked out of the bathroom in only a towel. His body was still wet and shiny from the water and God, she wanted to run to him, fall on her knees and lick every bit of him.
But her body and mind were at war, not speaking to one another, going their own separate way and doing their own thing! Her body was right there with him, right there, so ready to do whatever he asked. But her mind continued with its misfiring, sending conflicting signals to her body, making her act like a freak.
And now, she was being led by him to the shower and was terrified. Why? Why should she be scared? Like her brain had been waiting for her to ask the question, it quickly handed her that answer. Because it will hurt. It will hurt that much more when he chooses Chantilly and throws you away.
Once in the bathroom, Chaos gasped after he shut the door. She stood frozen to the spot, facing the shower. He didn’t speak as he slid her hair aside and began unbuttoning her dress. Oh God. It felt like she was preparing for burial. This is what you deserve. To be ripped apart. She had to remember that. If she focused on that, it would be easier.
His fingers softly stroked, as he slid the dress off of her shoulders. The material pooled at her feet while the warm air of the bathroom caressed her naked skin, pinching at her nipples.
“Sit,” he said to her.
She closed her eyes then glanced to her right at the toilet seat. She carefully sat, keeping her gaze straight ahead, not looking up, still too afraid to.
He lowered to the floor and took hold of her right foot, unlaced the boot, and removed it. He did the same to the other and set them both aside.
He stood, and again her body malfunctioned when she tried to look up at him. He removed his towel and her gasp shot out, loud and shameful as she stared right at his beautiful cock. He turned to the shower and opened the curtain while her gaze followed the source of her desire. Turning the water on, he held his hand out to her again.
She stared at it, knowing it was the final step before the all-consuming flames. Reaching out, she gave it, gave him her life. Her entire soul. She was sure he had no idea. And that was okay. Her suffering was not for him to bear. Not ever. Not ever again would she allow it.
She climbed in the shower and faced the stream of water, closing her eyes, waiting. The heat in the small space made her dizzy, melting whatever resistance remained.
He turned her around, putting her back to the water and helped to wet her hair. His every touch was like small flames, licking on her.
His fingers slowed along her hair and traveled to her temples… then along her face. They moved to her mouth. Her lips parted with sharp breaths as he stroked his fingers over them.
His touch left her, and she nearly cried out from the sudden painful disconnect. He was pouring soap in his hands. Starting at her feet and working up, he washed her. But to her body, it was pure worship. He glided his hands slowly along every inch of her, tracing, teasing, tormenting. All but her privates.
Next he washed her upper body. Pulling her against him, he held her and washed, his face next to hers, watching his hands as they stroked over her stomach, pressing her into his hard cock as he did. She fought for sufficient air when his erection throbbed and jerked against her butt and his heavy breaths heated her cheek.
With one hand, he held her womb, pressing her more against his cock while his other washed her breasts.
“Oh God,” she finally gasped, lost in the fire, the fire of his fingers teasing slowly over the very tips of each nipple. Her privates throbbed with such a violence, it hurt. As though he knew this, the hand on her womb snaked down to the juncture of her thighs. He pressed on either side of that throbbing spot, forcing it out as he rolled his hips.
Chaos fought to get his cock between her butt, wanting it in her however or wherever she could get it. He was making these sounds, deep sounds in his chest and throat that made her crazier for it.
He finally touched her clit and she cried out. She felt the soap on his fingers, sliding perfectly all over her. Ready to collapse, she reached and latched her hand around his neck, so ready to feel all of him, no longer caring about death, only about this. About the fire, making the fire hot. So hot.
She was under the shower again and he rinsed her. She stood trembling as he stroked her hair and moved her so that the water ran all over her body. Then she felt him coming, felt him like a huge wall of fire, standing before her again. The tips of his fingers gripped either side of her face and held her, his thumbs pressing into her chin as he descended.
He tortured her with only the heat of his breath on her lips for many seconds before he began to consume her literally. With his tongue first, he licked softly, sensually along her lower lip then along her top. Chaos grabbed hold of his wrists to keep from falling, her knees were trying to give way. She could do nothing but whimper frantically and ride the power he wielded through her body.
“Beautiful,” he croaked just before plunging his tongue deep and licking. His full lips sucked and kissed her soul right out of her.
“Solomon!” she cried weakly, drowning in it, drowning in him.
The world spun a moment and then her back pressed against the shower wall. He demolished her with his lips and tongue on her neck then both breasts. She raked her fingers through the short velvet on his scalp, begging him to finish her for good, only it came out as, do it. Do it good.
He growled and made those sounds that drove her crazy. She raked her nails everywhere they touched now. And then he left her breasts and kissed lower. Lower. When he continued even lower, she gasped and looked down.
“Oh God,” she cried as he knelt before her.
He placed a strong hand against her stomach, and lifted her leg, placing her foot on the tub. “Solomon!” she panted, wanting him to do that so bad. “Are you… you’re…”
He leaned in and placed a kiss on her privates then looked up at her. “I am,” he whispered, plac
ing another kiss on it. Then angling his head and placing another, his lips open and full on hers as he did. Every kiss made her cry out, every time he kissed just near her clit.
“I want it,” she cried, bracing her hands on the walls, holding the bar in the tub.
He made a long deep sound in his throat that said he wanted her to want it just that much. “You want me to kiss it?” he asked, placing small teasing kisses on it while looking up at her.
“Oh God, I…yes. Can you?” she begged, not caring if she said the right things.
“I can.” He continued tormenting her with those light pecks. She squirmed and moved her hips, tilting them to reach more.
He pressed his hand harder into her stomach and she was grateful since her legs were getting weaker. Then he placed his first kiss on that spot. Right on it, making her whole body tremble and her moans flood out. At first his lips were gentle as he pressed them right on it. Oh God, then he pressed his open lips against her body, not pulling up this time but staying pressed into that spot. Then she felt it, the hot silk of his tongue, flicking right on her clit!
“Oh my God!” she cried. “Solomon,” she whimpered, frantic for that.
His breaths were heavy as he eyed her.
“Lick it, suck me,” she begged in desperation.
His brows drew together and she didn’t even care that he might be angry, she only cared that he did it again with his lips and tongue just the same, exactly the same without stopping.
He placed his hand under her leg and lifted it high and then opened it wide, exposing her entirely.
He made deep moaning noises as he looked at her privates, angling his head and tormenting her with those kisses all around again.
She cried out in shock when his tongue plunged into her opening then slid slowly up to that perfect spot. “Please, please. I’m begging you.”
“God you are,” he whispered. “Such a sweet angel.”
The fire burning inside her made it true, made everything true. She was whatever he said she was.