“Never.”
“That way I can show you I won’t leave on my own.”
“I’d rather unlock the side door,” he growled, stomping over to me. He ducked, standing back up with me thrown over his shoulder. Unlike every other time, I didn’t fight him. Hadn’t that been the point? To stop fighting? He marched me into his bedroom, and dropped me on the bed. As I acclimated, he managed to get on the bed as well. He reached for my hip.
“No.” I swatted at him, but it was no use. He crushed my back to his chest, and held on so tightly I couldn’t breathe.
“We’ll do everything together now.”
I harrumphed, rolling my eyes at his wall when I contemplated what exactly that meant. “We are not doing everything together to make you feel better.”
“We will do every single thing together.” His lips pressed to my ear. “Everything. You can’t leave me.”
He didn’t want me on my side of the kingdom anymore. Its purpose had somehow evaporated without me knowing it. I hadn’t done anything differently before he’d lost his mind. Other than demanding he tell me that his fight was also mine, but Dash hadn’t needed me to agree before. He’d done everything with only himself to confide in.
His lips kissed below my ear. His grip was encroaching unbearable. His body suffocated my every breath. “Why coffee?”
A faint memory of something good filtered threateningly through my thoughts. Of a little me, with tangled blonde hair and big light blue eyes, who was so hungry she would despise those with full bellies. “It kept me full.”
“What do you mean?”
“My mom and dad were mentally ill.” I squeezed my eyes shut in mortification. “They were both bipolar addicts who cared little for anyone else. They didn’t buy a lot of food. So sometimes the old lady in the trailer next to us would ‘accidentally’ leave coffee and a banana raisin muffin on the backdoor step. I would live for it, Dash. I’d wait and watch, even if my belly wasn’t growling, I’d wait for it. In retrospect, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to give a five-year-old coffee, but we had little in the trailer park, and she was just doing her best. The moment the coffee touched my tongue, everything was suddenly all better. I’d sit on the stoop and eat my muffin, and smile at the dented metal across from me. Coffee made everything better.”
He was quiet for a long time. His lips kissed my shoulder, leaving warmth behind. His arms released their stronghold, but only marginally. Everything about his hold screamed fear. “Is that why you wanted to be a therapist? To save the children that weren’t so lucky to have a neighbor who left them coffee and muffins?” I didn’t have to answer. He knew it. “I will always buy you coffee, my queen. You will never hunger for anything. Anything,” he promised, grasping my chin and turning it close to his mouth. His lips were fervent and tender against mine, a soft harsh promise to a woman who had only herself to offer.
And for the first time in my entire life, I wondered what that was.
22.
Nothing In Me But Lust
I had to pee.
Around me, Dash snored.
I tried to slide out of his grip, but his legs entangled with mine. Spotting my pillow a few inches above me, I grabbed it down and positioned it to align with my body. Then I systematically unwound myself from his arms. Sweat smeared our skin where it touched, and the scent of my panic was so thick in the air I feared he’d wake up and grab a pair of cuffs. When my head was near his groin, I placed a kiss to the mound there and then slowly eased my pillow where I had been, sliding out of the bed with a soundless thud.
His grip tightened into a stronghold around the pillow.
The moment I was free, I felt that way. Free of this tower.
I tiptoed out of his room and then ran across the living room, slipping into my own. From Dash’s perspective, where wouldn’t he think I look? “You’d never look at yourself the way I did long enough to find it.” What did that mean? There was nothing in my room to look at myself. But there was in the bathroom.
My heartbeat increased as I ran to my bathroom. I stood in front of the sinks and stared at myself. I avoided my eyes, and instead looked at the mirror the way I would anything else. The mirror over the sink looked to be one huge stretching plate of glass that bled into the rest. I leaned onto the counter and touched my fingers to it, finding it cool and unblemished. Feeling disappointed, I sat on the bathroom counter and looked at my dream bathroom through unsuspicious eyes. I forced myself to see it as just a bathroom. Walls, a shower, a tub, and towels. Nothing special. No surprises. There were no dreams in here.
I slipped onto my feet and walked over to the windows. Snow still blanketed the city. It was thick and white, left over from the storm. The light outside was so gray, that the windows in the tower looked like mirrors. I studied the reflection, catching the three full body mirrors right behind me. In the middle panel, there was a tiny shred of light in the reflection just where the seams met. I rubbed at the glass, thinking the difference was a spot on the window. But it didn’t seem to be on the window itself. “You lie right to your own face.”
“No way,” I whispered, the bottom falling out of me.
I approached the long standing mirrors numbly. I touched them, ignoring the sight of me, but not nearly as dreading it as I had been. The mirrors were so long, so huge, showcasing every flaw, inside and out, and my eyes seemed to be magnified, so blue that any truths I’d hid would seep right out. I’d seen these mirrors every time I came in here. But they were so condescending I ignored them.
I pushed down right where the light had shown through.
The mirror depressed, and then swung away slowly toward me. I sank to my knees. On the other side of the mirror door was a long dark hallway. But there was a crack in the mechanism, and the light from the windows had shown right in. The startling realization of what this meant rained down on me.
I’d known where the exit was the entire time.
Dash had never trapped me.
My head filled with horror. My heart too.
He had never locked me inside, but used my lies against me. He knew I’d do it, knew I’d lie. And that I’d lie the hardest to myself.
I’d never stand in front of this mirror and look hard enough to notice that the mirrors didn’t quite meet like all the rest. There was too much truth in my eyes, and I’d rather run away.
“Kinley!” Dash roared from inside of the tower. Heartache and loss coated his words.
I shot to my feet and closed the mirror door. I tore my clothes off and hopped into the shower, struggling with the faucet. I’d just stepped beneath the spray when Dash came barreling into my bathroom, red-faced, soul leaking through his eyes.
When he saw me, his knees crumpled.
And what shocked me, what ripped me apart, was that I’d lied my entire life. What was there to claim about the truth? It was so crude and mean. It was parents who didn’t love me, men who felt the same. I knew how to lie. But in the moment I had to, I no longer wanted to. I’d never lied to Dash, because he hadn’t believed them. I had to keep this from him. Not because I would leave. But if he knew I knew, he’d lock us in here to rot.
“What’s wrong?” I hoped the running water hid my shaking voice.
“Why are you showering?” He tried so hard not to look at the door. I wondered if he had been doing it all this time and I’d simply missed it.
“I woke up all hot and bothered.” I gave him a forced smile.
His eyes bored into mine. “From what?”
Give me a break! “You’re sweaty when you sleep.”
He approached me, abs rippling. “Why didn’t you shower in my bathroom?”
“Dash,” I snapped, pushing my wet hair out of my eyes. “Ease up. Please,” I begged, pressing my face to the glass.
His eyes softened slightly, but they remained panicked on the edge. “May I join you?”
Feeling the moment pass, I let out a small relieved breath, and replaced the harrowing panic inside of me wit
h images of Dash wet and naked. I shoved the shower door open in response. He stripped out of his pajama pants, and stepped inside, pale muscled body all I could focus on suddenly. His penis was flaccid, and instead of doing anything to change it, he wrapped me in his arms. I let him have me. His grip was tight and consuming, but there was a way out, and it didn’t feel nearly as suffocating.
“We have to love each other.” He picked me up; my feet dangled in the air. “Without you, there is no one.”
I held him just as tightly. There was a sucking whirlpool behind me. Finding the way out felt like opening the way in as well. “Please relax.”
Instead, he collapsed on to the bathroom floor with me entrapped in his arms. The water pounded on us. I threaded my fingers in his wet hair, and held on. I saw no other choice. He wasn’t waiting for me to convince him of anything. No woman had before me, and anything I said at this point would only make the struggle inside of him harder. Eventually his arms slowly released me. He said nothing to me as he urged my hips away from his body. I looked down to find his penis waiting for me, and gasped as his fingers prodded my core. He kissed my chest as he massaged my clitoris, doing his best to prepare me for his girth. I didn’t want him to prepare me. I urged his hand from between my thighs, and instead gripped his cock. I guided him where I wanted him, letting him sink slowly and deeply inside of me.
The moment we were connected, a rush of desire swept me up. I shoved at his chest. He sank onto his back on the shower floor, giving me his body. Once it was mine, I planted my hands on either side of his head, met his deep amber eyes, and did my best to show him I would never leave. Our hips met in a way that made it hard to not give him the power. He’d done so many amazing things with it. He’d shown me the clouds, and I’d loved every single view.
“No more crying.” I circled my hips, letting him stretch me. “I love you, Dash.” I rocked myself back and forth, taking him out and feeling him slide all the way back in. “I won’t leave you.” Our bodies were covered in warm water, and more sprayed on us, dripping between my breasts and off his cheekbones. His damp lashes hid his fear. When he didn’t say anything, I fell across his chest and surrendered. “I’m yours.”
The moment the power was his, his arms slid around my lower back. He planted his feet on the shower floor. I heard his groan the second before his thrusts became rough and desperate. He pounded into me with rough thrusts. But I wanted him to have it, so I let my legs slip on the wet tile, opening myself up for him. The passion was gone. This had nothing to do with love. Every inch he pounded into me was every inch he felt he was losing. I held on to his body as he took mine.
When his body collapsed on mine, he didn’t let me go. He lay on top of me as the water rained onto his back. He eventually lifted his hips from mine and sat with his back against the wall.
I watched him on my back. “Stand up,” I said softly. “So I can wash you.” I got carefully to my feet and gave him my hand. He struggled to his own feet, eyes closed in agony. I grabbed the lemon ginger soap, and took my time washing him. I lathered his shoulders and chest, washed down his arms and then trailed my fingers over his hard muscled abs. I squeezed a handful of the light yellow soap into my palm. I threaded my soapy palm into the thick line of dark hair below his abs; his sobs serenaded me. I washed his penis from base to tip, cleaning him of our love. I rose on my tiptoes and avoided his eyes as I lathered his hair. They were scarlet, destroyed, Dash was disintegrating. He barely registered me as I washed my own body.
I shut the water off and left him there to grab two towels. I quickly wrapped myself in one as I headed back to him. He was a zombie as I toweled him off. That wasn’t depression. That was emptiness. I wondered if it was in my eyes. Could he see that I had found the way out? Were my eyes covered in the truth, or freedom? Why didn’t they feel the same anymore?
“Go get dressed,” I urged, giving his lower back a shove.
He crossed his arms over his chest and watched me defiantly.
Grumbling, I shoved past him and into my closet. I grabbed clothes at random—blue sleeping shorts and a loose black shirt without a bra or panties. I wasn’t going to put up with him as a shadow. Hadn’t he learned that the first time? Forcing himself on me was the reason he was breaking right now. Forcing his hand would only make mine more desperate for that mirror door.
I could hear his feet pounding behind me as I left my room behind. I had to admit it was unsettlingly brilliant. To hide the exit in the one place I detested. If it hadn’t snowed, I probably never would have found it. The low lighting was just enough to catch the dark behind the mirror. To highlight a lie that had never even existed. And that Dash had never truly tapped me, made the walls around me somehow far more fragile. Where did the hallway go? We were so high up, and it had to go down. Which meant it went up too.
“Aren’t you going to get dressed?” I glared at his flaccid penis.
In response, he grabbed my arm and drug me into his room, not letting go until I was where he wanted me. To the right of his bed, there was an opening in the wall. The lights were still on in his bedroom, and they showed just enough for me to see jeans. When I stepped over the pair on the floor, I found a closet a quarter the size of my own. It was clothes shoved into a haphazard heap. He pulled a pair of dark blue jeans free of a pile that balanced precariously on the floor, and hopped into them.
“It’s kind of cold in here.”
“Thermostat’s in my bathroom. The controls in your bedroom have one as well. I prefer the cold. Heat makes me tired.” The suspicious glint in his eyes cast on me. “But if you’re too cold, we can turn it on.”
Somehow already knowing where the exit was, made me more inclined to say no. “I can deal.”
We stood where we were. His eyes bored into me. I wanted to look anywhere but. If he found out I knew, he’d make it so we rotted in this place. The MK Gang wouldn’t be a threat, because this trap would become permanent.
“I’m tired, Kinley.” He blinked, releasing me from his probing.
“You’re down,” I whispered, watching his shoulders sag and his body slouch. I didn’t mention that if he had his pills his fall wouldn’t feel so hard. Or maybe it would. Sometimes the fall hurt regardless of whether you jumped on your own or not. I racked my brain for anything that would pull him from the dark shadows swirling around him. “Maybe you should work out?”
He shook his head and took a step toward me. “I only want you.”
“Food maybe?”
“Only you.” Another step.
“We can talk…?”
“You.” One more step.
I swallowed hard at the look in his eyes. That was a man who wouldn’t let what he wanted go. He had done so many times before; all of those times made this one that much more threatening. “Only me?”
“You.” His arms came around my waist. He walked us back to his bed. “You never came.”
I looked away from his eyes just as we both fell back on the bed. His body weight fell on top of me, and I gasped, trying to pull in a breath around him. Without warning, his lips met mine, and any breath I desired was replaced with another. His lips, where they had been rough and demanding in the shower, were now soft and wanting. I got the impression he was apologizing to me. I basked in his apology, moaning at the sweet rich taste of his tongue.
“I have a few more toys,” he whispered, sucking on my bottom lip. “You will always come.”
“It’s okay,” I mumbled senselessly, only wanting his mouth on mine. The weight of him, the taste of him—he was turning my bones to mush.
He kissed me for a moment longer, and then he pushed onto his elbows and gazed down at me. Wild, untamed, depressed, terrified, lustful, wanting—Dash’s emotions were swirling like a storm. All I wanted was to open my mouth to the clouds and taste his rain.
“Take your shorts off while I go and get them.” He left me on his bed, legs open, eyes lust-laden, and mouth dry.
I pulled my shorts down my
thighs and dropped them on the floor, laying back down with my legs open for him. I could feel my excitement coating me. My vagina knew what was in store. And she was waiting like a loyal slobbering pet.
Dash returned from his closet with a bundle. He set it on the floor where my feet hung off the bed. He shot my pussy a heated look and licked his lips, his searing gaze shooting to mine. “Good girl. Touch yourself.”
I had nothing in me but lust. It burned my blood and heart, pumping through my system so quickly I could only think about the throbbing wanting ache between my legs. I slid my hand down my stomach and found my wetness. “Like this?”
“Rub your clitoris slowly.” When I did, he grunted, dropping to his knees. “Slower, Kinley.” I slowed my fingers, rubbing my clit the way he wanted me to. My moans were low building and quiet, not wanting to disrupt the erotic bubble we were in. “Don’t stop.” He kissed my inner thigh softly just as something cool and orbed toyed my opening. He rubbed the orbed object in my excitement. “Slower,” he ordered.
I tossed my head back in frustration. Feeling him so close, toying with me, made it harder to go slow. But the fire in his eyes was the same fire in my own, and the king usually got what he wanted. “Yes, my king.”
With a low satisfied groan, he slipped the cool orbed object inside of me. “I want you to come.”
“You read my mind.”
He chuckled. “Four times,” he added.
I sat up and spotted four more glass balls near his hand. They were the size of large marbles, and the color of smooth gleaming onyx. As I rubbed my clit, I felt my inner muscles tighten around the intrusion. Son of bitch. He’d turned me into a kinky bastard too. I rubbed my clit slowly for him, feeling the fire burn as I erupted from the look in his eyes. I wanted him on top of me, but knew that his kink was all I’d get. My orgasm built around the ball and I squeezed, falling apart.
A Beautiful Nightmare: A Novel Page 21