Pushed

by Leah Holt

  He wasn't a monster, he wasn't like the other men around us. Machi had blood running through his veins, but it wasn't thick as tar, it flowed with tragedy from a past he still lived in. He was there because of the pain he held onto, he was there because something had driven him into it.

  I wasn't going to hate or condemn him for choices he had to make. Because he wasn't his choices, he was his words.

  Machi didn't speak, he allowed the air between us to heat on its own. There was nothing he needed to say.

  His fingers dipped under the seam of my bra, pushing it up to expose my breasts. My nipples were hard as diamonds as goosebumps broke over my skin.

  Raking my nails through his hair, Machi circled one breast with his tongue, swirling in closer and closer to the hardened bead.

  Arching my back, I clutched his skull and forced my breast against his mouth, pressing my nipple into his lips and moaning. The tip of his tongue teased his mouth, jetting out in fast laps as he flicked and tasted the tender skin.

  My pussy was pulsing, growing wetter and wetter as I ground against his lower belly. “Fuck me, Machi, please fuck me.” Moaning loudly, I rolled my head to the side and scratched my nails down his chest.

  “Are you sure you want this?” he asked, dragging his tongue up my chest and throat. “I come with danger, Imperial, can you handle that?”

  “Is that a threat?” My hips thrust into his waist, rubbing against the thick bulge in his jeans. “Because I'm not afraid of you.” Tracing his abs with the tips of my fingers, I drew long strokes up and down the hardened stone.

  “You should be. . .” His voice trailed off as his lips found mine, kissing me forcefully. Tugging away, he plucked my lower lip between his teeth with a grin. “You should be.”

  Sweat had beaded up across his forehead, making his skin glisten. I watched a small drop break free, trickling down his temple and curving over his cheekbone.

  That single drop held my gaze, it forced me still as I followed its path around the curve, watching it come to a stop on the edge of his lip. Balancing on the crest, it dangled dangerously, wiggling in fear when it couldn't hold on any longer.

  I'm that drop, I'm that one insignificant drop, teetering on the edge of sanity.

  And I was ready, I was ready to break free and fall into whatever the future had waiting.

  “I'm not, now shut up and fuck me.” Wanton need flashed in my eyes as my lids lowered, brushing lashes to lashes.

  Sweeping his hands around my back, Machi lifted me off the mattress as his fingers worked to tear open the button on his pants. Freeing his cock, he pulled me onto his lap and flicked my panties to the side.

  The tip of his cock pressed my entrance, slipping in with ease. Our eyes stayed on each other, never looking away, never leaving the other alone.

  And that, that sealed me to him. The way his eyes saw me and not just my body, the way they spoke emotion and weren't just lifeless mirrors showing me my own reflection.

  Maybe he plans on buying me for himself.

  The thought was quick, it zipped through my brain and brought comfort and excitement to everything he was hinting at. If he bought me for himself, he could send me home. If he bought me for himself, he could do anything he wanted with me.

  I'd be his and his alone.

  No one could touch me, no one could tell him what to do with me. He would have the power to set me free and there was nothing anyone else could do about it.

  It made sense to me, his small hints and signals about just listening to him. If I was going to be sold, how else could he be sure I'd end up safe?

  Only if he buys me himself.

  Machi's fingers dug into my hips as he lifted his waist slowly. “Fuck,” I moaned, curling my arms around his neck as his cock slid deep inside.

  My skin was hot to the touch, igniting like a fresh fire, breathing in the fuel it ached to have. I didn't think about where I was, I didn't think about what had happened or what was coming my way.

  I gave myself to him.

  Machi had all of me; my body, my heart, my fucking soul. He might have been my captor, but right then, he became my freedom.

  Pushing up on my knees, I dropped back down, forcing his cock to hit my lower belly. Slipping his fingers down my waist, he clutched my ass, giving one hard snap of his hips.

  Pump after pump we lost ourselves in each other, not paying attention to anything else. There was no time, no schedule, nothing.

  It was just us and the all seeing eyes of the room that didn't have a voice. Another story that would get lost in the walls and paint the room in more than just pain.

  My nipples scraped his chest as I lifted up on my knees and fell down hard, driving him inside as far as he could go.

  Heavy grunts spilled out from the back of his throat as he fucked me. Grinding into him, his muscles tensed, arms stiffening as his lids slammed shut. Moaning loudly, Machi's pace quickened, thrusting harder and harder.

  Tingles swept through my body, buzzing over my skin and hitting my stomach. In one final pump, I felt his cock throb, filling my pussy with his life blood. Beat after beat, his cock twitched against my walls as he bit down on his lip and groaned.

  My body electrified, exploding with sensations that traveled from head to toe. Curling my toes, the orgasm rose until I finally fell off the peak, tumbling down the other side.

  Dropping my head against his shoulder, my heart raced inside my chest. I couldn't feel anything else right then except us. Our lungs were heaving together, our muscles were shivering together, and in that moment, I finally felt safe.

  His fingers tickled across my back, following my spine and circling my shoulders. “You know what this means, Imperial, right?”

  “What?” I asked, taking in long, slow breaths of air. “What does this mean?”

  Raking his fingers through my hair, he teased the ends, pulling them and twisting them around his hand. “Either we live or we die, there is no in between now.”

  Sitting up straight, I had to see his face. I had already known that death was sitting by just waiting for the right moment. All I could do was wish for the end or the chance to live. . .

  What else was there?

  How could there ever be an in between?

  “I don't understand, isn't death or staying alive the only options anyway?”

  Drawing his lips in tight, he gently placed his palm against my cheek. “The in between is where you feel everything you want to run from, it's where you beg for hell to gobble you up or you wish for the heavens to swoop down and save you. It's the worst place to be in and it's how I've lived for the past few years. Every last second needs to count and it's what we do with it that will make the difference.”

  “Machi,” I said, laying my hand over his. “I've been counting the seconds since I got here.”

  He wanted to think that choices needed to be made now, but he was wrong.

  He started making choices the moment he took me.

  And I had been counting down the time since.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Machi

  Dreams are all I have. They bring me back to her, to the good times, the happy times. I can see her face and hear the sound of her voice. I get to talk to her all over again and it's amazing, making me wish that my eyes would never open again.

  But sometimes the dreams are nightmares.

  They remind me of why I had become this man; the man who could kill without a second thought, regardless if I was doing it for a good reason.

  I'd see their faces, I'd feel their life expel from their body and hit the ceiling. It was a rush, to have that much power and actually use it.

  I should be ashamed of how the darkness had consumed me and the power turned me wicked. But I wasn't. That feeling. . . It was the fuel to help me keep going.

  Because the deeper I got, the closer I felt to her and what she had lived through before it was all swept away.

  The nightmares, those weren't dreams, they were memories th
at had decided to eat me alive.

  And this one, it just wouldn't leave me alone.

  * * *

  “Where are you?” I asked, pressing the phone to my ear so I could hear her better. Wherever my sister was, she wasn't at work like she had told our mom.

  Huffing under her breath, I could hear her roll her eyes at me through the phone. “Fuck, Machi, what are you now, my father? I don't need you doing fucking checks on me all the time.”

  Turning off the engine, I sat back in my seat and rocked my jaw back and forth. “Someone has to keep an eye on you, you're not going to do it yourself.”

  Megan hadn't exactly been the picture perfect daughter or sister since our father passed a few years back. She took it hard, but so did the rest of us.

  Why can't she just see that? She's not the only one who's hurting.

  “I'm eighteen now, Machi, you don't need to treat me like I'm a fucking kid anymore. I don't have to report to you or anyone else.”

  Sighing, I held the phone away for a second, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I'm coming to get you, where are you?”

  “It's none of your damn business, I'll be home later.”

  “Megan?” The phone was silent, filling my head with empty air. “Megan?” She was gone. “Fuck!” Slamming my steering wheel with my fist, I threw my phone onto the passenger seat.

  She didn't have to tell me where she was, I already knew.

  It was a repeating cycle with her, the same shit as it had been for the past few years. She got in with the wrong crowd once she hit high school, and dug herself into a fucking ditch she just couldn't seem to climb out of.

  Yanking on the shifter, I threw my car into drive and hit the gas hard. The tires squealed as white smoke billowed out from under the hot rubber.

  I hit every red light, every single one. It was as if something was trying to stop me, like the world was saying just let her go. But she was my sister, I'd go to the end of the earth to make sure she was okay.

  And right then, she was as far from okay as anyone could get.

  Pulling up the street, I turned my lights off and rolled to a stop in front of where she was. The house was painted in graffiti, tagged all over the outside with gang symbols and obscene cock drawings.

  Tasteful. . . Another fucking Monet right there.

  It was the same scene as usual; people blazed out of their skulls were strewn around the front porch, already half dead. Stepping over a guy passed out in the doorway, my foot crunched down on a pipe and shattered it into pieces.

  “Fuck man!” A guy yelled as he twisted in place on the floor. “That was mine, you fucking owe me now!” Reaching for my ankle, he tried to claw himself up my leg to stand.

  Grunting, my fingers curled into my palms as I clenched my teeth. “Don't fucking touch me.” Kicking him off, he flopped onto his back like a limp piece of spaghetti. Clamping my foot down on his throat, I pinned him in place. “Megan—where is she?”

  “You a cop?” His arms popped up, hands fanning open like I was about to trap him with a pair of cuffs. “I. . . I don't know anyone named Megan. And this shit ain't mine, I don't know how it got here.”

  Looking down on his scab-covered skin and open wounds from picking off his own flesh when his stash was dry, I pressed down a little harder on his neck. “I'm not playing games with you, where is she?”

  As my weight cut off his air supply and his eyes snapped open on reflex, he nodded towards the stairs. “She's up there,” he said with the last of the oxygen he had inside his lungs.

  Kicking an empty bottle out of my way, I stormed up the stairs and started throwing open the doors one by one.

  She was here, I just to had to find her.

  This place had taken her one too many times. Today it stopped, today she wasn't saying no anymore. I was done watching her waste her life and disintegrate in front of my eyes.

  I had already lost my father, my mother was barely living as it was; I was not about to lose my sister too.

  Megan needed a fucking wake up call, and I was going to give it to her.

  Our mother couldn't do it, she couldn't handle her anymore than she could handle her own depression. I was done wondering if the phone ringing was the cops calling to say she had been arrested or the coroner calling for someone to come identify her body.

  No more, it ends now.

  Reaching for the handle, I twisted it hard and tossed the door open. The metal slammed against the drywall, leaving a giant hole where it had punctured clear through.

  More people were laying on the ground, the bed, against the wall sitting up, but not one of them was actually functioning like a normal human being. They were all high as shit, clinging to the rush that consumed their entire world.

  That was the hardest part about dealing with an addict. You had to take it day by day because the pull was just too strong. They would do and say anything just to get one more hit, one more line to blow, one more bump off a knuckle.

  Scanning the room, my heart stood still inside my chest. I knew it! I fucking knew it!

  Drawing my hand over my jaw, I scratched the back of my head. Standing by her side, she was so fucking toasted, she didn't even know I was there.

  Megan was on the bed with her arms hanging by her sides, track lines running raw and still bleeding from the needle she had taken.

  Shaking her shoulder, I tapped the side of her face. “Megan, Megan, let's go, wake up, we're leaving.”

  “Mm, grrrr, noooo, Machi.” Mumbling, her head rolled around on her neck like there were no muscles left to control it. “I'm, noo, I'm not—” Trailing off, her eyes kept closing and partially opening.

  But she wasn't focusing on me, she couldn't see me or even look up to acknowledge that she was actually registering what I was saying.

  Looking around, I grabbed an empty burger wrapper from the off the floor and plucked the needle from her arm, placing it on the nightstand. It made me hurt so much to her see like that, to know that she had just shoved God knows how much junk into her arm.

  And for what? To feel like she was flying?

  It was fucking bullshit, that's what it was. That shit turned you into a living fucking zombie. You can't function, you're no longer human; you're just a hungry scavenger, destroying everything you touch.

  She doesn't even realize how much I love her. That part, that was the hardest to deal with.

  “Come on, time to go home.”

  Wrapping a hand under her back and one under her legs, I lifted her up and carried her away. Away from the hell that had its grip around her, away from the assholes who convinced her that one more hit wouldn't hurt, away from the place that threatened to take her forever.

  The car idled quietly in the parking lot of the coffee house, Megan was still asleep, going on three hours of pure unconsciousness.

  I watched her for a few moments, remembering the sweet young girl that used to be my little sister. The way she used to get on my nerves when we were growing up, the way she used to flash her sad eyes at our father and get whatever the hell she wanted.

  I wish we could go back in time.

  Poking her arm, I nudged her hard. “Wake up, I got coffee.” Shoving her again, her head bounced against the window, finally rattling her enough to get a response.

  “What? Machi?” Looking around, she groaned and gripped the sides of her head. “How the hell did I get here?”

  “Me,” I said, holding out the hot cup towards her. “Here, take it, it'll help with the pounding in your skull.”

  Reaching for the cup, her fingers shook wildly as she gripped the coffee. “Thanks.” Taking a small sip, she let her head fall back on the seat.

  “You're using again.”

  “Machi, don't.”

  “How long? I thought you were going on a month of being sober, what happened to that?”

  Shutting her eyes, her brows scrunched up tight. “Can we not do this right now?”

  “Megan, you're eighteen, you're barely an
adult, is this what you want for your life?”

  “Since when did you grow up and become the fucking Pope? You're no angel either, we both know that.”

  “I never said I was, but we're also not talking about me, are we?”

  Rolling her eyes, Megan took another slow sip. “Does mom know? Did you run and tell her?”

  Shaking my head no, I tapped my steering wheel. “And I'm not going to.”

  “Seriously?” she asked, her eyes large and bloodshot, looking at me like I was someone she had never met before. “Are you fucking with me?”

  “No, I'm serious. You're going to get help, you're going to go get clean for good. And I'm not going to tell her—because you are.”

  “Oh, no, no, no. I'm not going to rehab, no fucking way.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  Cocking her head in my direction, Megan glared at me. “You can't make me do shit, I'm an adult now, I don't have to do anything I don't want to.”

  “Megan—”

  Cutting me off, she pointed her finger in my face. “I didn't ask you to come save me, I didn't ask you to rescue me like some superhero. I didn't ask you for anything. So don't ask me to do something that I don't want to do. I can get clean on my own, I don't need you or fucking rehab.”

  “Megan, if you keep going like this, you won't make it to twenty. Is that what you want? Do you want to die before you ever had the chance to live?”

  Her eyes began to well up, glossing over as she dipped her head into her chest. “How can you ask me that? We both know that the end result for all of us is death, we all have a death sentence the day we're born. So why shouldn't I do what makes me happy?”

  Jetting my jaw out to the side, my nostrils flared. She was so frustrating, she wasn't listening. I knew exactly where she was going with her lines of bullshit, and I wasn't going to fall for it.

  “Dad has nothing to do with this. He got into an accident, Megan, that doesn't mean you have to choose to live this way.”

  “No? Then what does it mean? Does it mean I do what everyone else tells me I should? Do I wake up every single day and go to work in a place I hate for minimum wage and barely scrape by? Should I be miserable just because you don't approve of what I do with my life?”