by K. Webster
“I won’t last long, Bay. It’s been so long.”
“Shhh, just come. I want it.”
I’m close but I don’t care about my release. I want him to let go of ten years’ worth of stress and sadness and despair. I want him to pour it all from him and never let it back inside.
“Bay!” he grunts out my name seconds before his heat explodes inside me. He doesn’t quit his thrusting and I’m soon following.
Stars dance before me. Millions of them. I want to count them for him. Tell him exactly how happy he makes me in a numerical form he can understand.
“Oh God,” he murmurs and buries his face into my neck. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come. I want to make you orgasm over and over again just to see the look on your face.”
I run my fingertips along the bare, contoured flesh on his back. I’m not sure how long he’ll let me inside of his heart and head, but I’ll be selfish and enjoy it while I can. After some time, he begins to tense up.
“Baylee, can we…”
“Shower?”
A huff of hair tickles my neck. “Please.”
I nod and smile. “That’s normal you know. So don’t start thinking you’re some weirdo because you want to clean up. Can I sleep in your bed after?”
He lifts up and gives me a look of sadness that overwhelms me nearly to the point of tears. “I want you in my bed every night. I want you in my arms every second of every day. And tonight, I will take you as long as I can have you.”
I let the tears well in my eyes. When one races down my cheek, he swipes it away.
“But forgive me if my mind takes over and makes me its fucking hostage again. Promise me, beautiful.”
As if I’d do anything else.
“I promise. I’m still yours even when you don’t want me.”
His face darkens. “You’re always mine and I’ll never stop wanting you.”
As he sleeps, I stare at his handsome face. The bathroom light is on so his features are shadowed. Even in the dark. In the shadows. He’s still innocent and pure. Warren has led a sheltered life from his own volition. His mother made a choice that ruined her son for life.
My thoughts drift to my own mother. I miss her so much. There have been times I thought about calling Land to ask him to take me home. Not that I plan on staying there but so that I could check on Mom.
But once I was home?
I’d be right in the clutches of Gabe.
What would he do this time?
I shiver at the thoughts of him finding more objects to use on me. More chases through the woods. More pain. More mental head games.
No, I can never go back to that again.
I belong here with War.
A smile plays at my lips and I stroke his hair. His dark lashes jut out over his cheeks and his lids twitch every so often as he dreams. I could get used to staring at him every night while he sleeps.
My heart feels intertwined with his in a way Brandon’s never had a chance to be. War and I’ve made love. Our connection is on a cellular level that I’m afraid can never be severed. Not that I want it to be. I’m afraid I’ll feel lost and alone without him. The idea of leaving him is no longer an option I want to consider. I want to see my parents, sure. I miss Mom and Dad, incredibly so. But with Gabe in the picture, I know I’ll live with that fear always hanging over me.
With War, I’m not afraid.
I feel powerful and cherished.
I feel cared for.
I even feel loved.
Leaning forward, I press a kiss on his cheek. His breath quickens and he frowns in his sleep. I hold in a chuckle and snuggle closer to him. My thoughts drift to earlier in the shower when he’d shown the first signs of coming down from the wine.
His eyes darted back and forth as if he were trying to listen to all the voices in his head at once. He raked his fingers through his wet hair and shuddered before meeting my gaze with an intense one.
“Let me clean you. I need to rid you of that bacteria. If you got a urinary tract infection or vaginal infection, I’d feel horrible.”
My eyes widened as he dropped to his knees and I palmed the cold tile behind me to brace myself. He lathered up a rag with soap and then began an extremely thorough cleansing of my inner thighs, lips of my pussy, and even my ass. It was nothing like the time Gabe cleaned me. This was done out of pure obsession for my health and wellbeing. Instead of taking offense to his actions, I ran my fingers through his hair and massaged his scalp.
Once my skin was rubbed raw but squeaky clean, he rose to his feet.
“My turn,” I told him with a smile.
I could tell he wanted to do it—to get every microbe off his body but he clenched his jaw and conceded by handing me the rag. With vigor, I soaped down the rag and then knelt down like he’d done moments before.
Taking my time, I scrubbed his cock and balls like he’d done for me. His hand stroked along the side of my wet hair and he groaned. The soft cock in my hands was growing harder by the second.
“Maybe you cleaning me was a bad idea.”
I looked up at him and grinned. “Or a good idea. Depends on who you ask.”
He tugged me to my feet and then pushed me against the tiled wall. “I’m all clean but I want to make love to you again,” he murmurs against my lips, “before all this slips away from me. I can feel it slipping, Bay.”
I linked my fingers around the back of his neck and let him lift me. A moment later, he was deep inside of me. The burn from his obsessive cleansing was overshadowed by the intense bliss at having him stretch me with his thickness.
Our leap into oblivion was quick and after another careful cleansing, we turned off the shower and got out. I wasn’t in any hurry to let his demons come rushing back in to steal him away from me which is why I took the eighteen-minute shower with him. I knew this because he timed us.
When we’d finished, I was worried he would push me away and want to sleep alone. Instead, he made no moves to send me away. I stood beside the bed and watched as his muscled frame flexed and tightened with each towel he picked up. Then, he discarded them in a hamper and climbed into his bed.
“I need to feel you,” he murmured as he pulled back the covers and motioned to the bed beside him.
With a huge grin on my face, I scrambled into the bed and molded my body against his hot one. His fingers found my hair as he gazed at me with an emotion that nearly brought me to tears. War has eyes that sometimes let you glimpse into his soul. And right now, I had full access.
“Did you know you have between 120,000 and 150,000 hairs on your head?” he questioned and twisted a wet lock around his finger.
I smiled at him. “You told me a time or two.”
He continued to regale me, despite having told me before, on how many hairs an average human loses all the while playing with mine. Even though I’d heard it before, it was still fascinating and necessary for him to share that information with me.
“Up to a hundred strands a day in rare cases,” I said, remembering a conversation before. “That’s a lot.”
He groaned but flashed me a sweet smile. “Tell me about it. If I let myself think about it, I’d go mad wondering how many you’ve shed since you’ve been here.”
His eyes began their darting and I knew he was calculating. He thrives on details. The forces that normally possess him seemed to be in control when he could explain them to me. I also got a run down on my average breaths, heartbeats, and blinks per minute. But what got me was my smiles.
“Sometimes, your smiles run together,” he said thoughtfully and ran his thumb along my bottom lip. “For someone who likes to count, this is difficult to calculate. When we play chess, you smile once. And it lasts the entire game. I live for that long precious smile.”
I smile again recalling his words as I stare at the handsome sleeping man. His obsessions and compulsions may horrify others, including him. But I like learning about them because they’re a part of who he is. As mu
ch as running is a part of my life, his quirks are a part of his.
“Momma,” he mutters in his sleep. “Momma, no.”
Frowning, I inspect his features. He’s upset about something he’s dreaming about. A part of me wants to wake him. But the selfish part worries he’ll be back to his old self when he does wake. I’m worried he’ll have a fit and kick me out of his room where I won’t be able to touch and smell him. Where I won’t be able to pepper kisses all over his face when the mood strikes.
I reach between us and grip his flaccid cock in an attempt to draw him from bad dreams to a pleasant reality. With each stroke, he hardens and soon his hips are bucking against my hand.
“Shhhh,” I whisper as I roll him onto his back. “I’ll take care of you.”
He cracks his eyes open and they widen. I recognize the fear in them—the fear of germs and catastrophes and touch and me. But I don’t let him recoil. Instead, I straddle him and sink my body on his thick cock.
A pleased groan rips through him and his hands find my hips. His eyes have slammed shut and I smile, realizing I’ve won over his mind, even if for a short while. I’ve never been on top before with him so I’m unsure what to do at first. He seems pretty content to simply have me there. But soon, his fingers dig into my hips and he urges me to move. It takes a minute to get the hang of it, adjusting to his thickness, but I eventually start bouncing on him with vigor.
From this position, he’s deep inside of me and reaching me in places that make me crazy. My breasts bounce and the slapping sound of my skin against his only serves to make me wetter for him. His hands slide up and begin kneading my breasts. When he pinches my nipples, my vision goes black with pleasure and I lose myself to an orgasm.
“Oh God!” I shriek and spasm around him.
It must send him over the edge because he hisses and throbs out his release inside of me.
“My Baylee. My sweet, sweet Baylee.”
I don’t climb off of him but instead rest on his chest and bury my face in his neck. His palms stroke my back. He doesn’t urge me to get off of him. I’m relaxed and sated.
Warren is my whole world.
And I think I’m his too.
For now.
“WHEN WE GET married, I want to move to New York,” Lilah mused as she took a hit of her joint. She attempted to pass it to me but I waved her off. It’s something we didn’t agree on, but I didn’t press her to quit despite her many attempts to talk me into trying it.
“Our family is here in San Diego,” I said with a frown. “Mom is pregnant. I can’t leave my little sister or brother to move to New York on a whim, Li.”
She pouted and I instantly felt guilty. “Warren, I can’t stand my family. You know that. If we marry and move there, it won’t matter about my age anymore. We can be free to make love all day and do whatever the fuck we want.”
What I wanted was to get a degree in computer engineering and go into business with Dad like we’d talked about on numerous occasions. He had a business plan and everything. All he needed was my techy brain to learn more and we’d be in business. His plan was solid for where he wanted to take his company. And I was supposed to be a part of that. Running off to New York with Lilah was not a part of that plan.
“We can make love all day here,” I said, my voice faltering.
She narrowed her eyes at me, understanding my hesitation, and slid off the bed to sit on the floor in front of me. Her glare stayed on me as she began unzipping my jeans and pulled my dick out. This was her thing. The girl would give me blow-jobs all day long as long as it meant she got her way.
As soon as her mouth wrapped around my dick, I snapped my eyes closed in pleasure. I hated that she could control me so easily with her mouth. While she bobbed her head up and down, taking me deep in her throat, I wondered if Dad would be okay with us leaving. I’d need his support for a move like that and—
My phone started beeping over and over again with texts, to the point I couldn’t ignore it, despite needing to come so desperately. Lilah didn’t quit as I read Dad’s text.
Dad: GET HOME NOW! MOM LOST THE BABY! I’M ON THE PHONE WITH HER NOW—CAN’T TALK!
I shoved Lilah off my cock and was already yanking my pants up as I ran for the door, texting him back that I was on my way.
“What the fuck, War?!”
Ignoring her, I zipped my jeans up and snatched my keys. “I have to go. Love you,” I blurted out as I ran for the door.
She cussed me out and called me a pussy. Her words stung but I didn’t have time for explanations. I needed to get to Mom. The drive was a blur and all I could feel was the sticky saliva that had now dried on my dick. If I had the time, I’d have washed her off of me. Lilah was fucking insane. There was no way I could ever leave Mom and Dad. Especially now. Lilah would get over it and we’d stay in San Diego.
Slamming my car into park, I jumped out and bolted into the house. I could hear wails upstairs in her bedroom so I took the steps two at a time in an effort to get to her quicker.
“Mom!”
Her back was to me, but all I could focus on was the blood. So much fucking blood. And she was sitting right in the middle of a darkening, growing pool of it.
“I love you, Warren,” she sobbed. “Please forgive me.”
I peered over her shoulder and my jaw dropped to see the tiniest baby in her grasp. So bloody. So innocent. Not breathing. My heart lurched into my throat and I swayed with dizziness when I saw Mom bring the handgun up to her mouth. I didn’t have time to stop her when a blast roared through the bathroom.
Time stopped. My eyes clamp closed. The bang echoed over and over and over again as I tried to find the nerve to reopen my eyes. It wasn’t until I felt something trickle down past my nose and over my lips that my senses forced me to face my fears.
Popping my eyes back open, I stared in horror at the scene. Blood was everywhere. It coated the entire front of my body. Chunks of flesh were stuck to my throat and cheek. I scraped them off quickly. Dark hair hung from part of the fleshy pieces and I gagged at the sight.
This was my mother.
This was my mother.
Holy fucking shit I had to get her to a hospital!
Without hesitation, I began gathering all of the larger pieces of her skull and brain and collected them in a towel. I could have sworn I heard my dad calling for me but it had to be a hallucination. He was in LA. I was the man of the house while he was gone and it was my job to fix this. To save my mother. When I went to take the baby from her lap, I realized I had a sister. Her umbilical cord was still attached inside Mom. I’d seen on TV how they could save the baby sometimes as long as it was still connected.
With newfound determination, I scooped Mom, my sister, and the towel full of pieces the doctors would need into my arms. I slipped in her blood but managed not to drop her. The trip down the stairs and out of the house would later become complete black memories. I didn’t recall how I got to the car, yet there I was, buckling my mother in, so she would be safe.
I climbed into the driver’s seat and tore out of the driveway. Miles and miles, I drove at full speed trying to get to the hospital in time. I could save her. I could save my mother and sister. She’d become one of those famous stories the whole world found out about. A medical miracle. And I would be her hero. There was no reason for her to ask for forgiveness for anything. Everything was going to be fine.
“Momma,” I choked out, “hang in there. Please. I need you. The baby needs you.”
She was quiet and wouldn’t respond. I risked a glance at her and my world ripped apart.
This was a fucking nightmare.
A replay of some horror story I watched as a kid.
The gore isn’t real.
The blood is fake.
I would wake up soon.
My stomach heaved as I realize the half blown out skull belonged to my mother. It wasn’t a small wound. Half her head was gone. There was no way anyone could survive such a blast. She was dead
. My sister was dead too.
What the fuck!
My skin began burning and itching where her blood and brain matter clung to me. I started to panic trying to wipe it away.
“Get it off of me!” I screeched and released the steering wheel to scratch at my flesh.
But in a matter of seconds, we hit a bump. The car jerked. I tried to grasp the steering wheel. But for the second time that evening, I was too late. We were airborne. A half-second later, we crashed head first off the side of the road.
The car was flipping one, two, three, four, five, six times.
Or twenty.
Or once.
Everything was a dizzy, painful blur.
When we finally came to a stop, all that could be heard was the hissing of the engine and my ragged breaths. And as I began to black out, I counted them.
One.
Two.
Three…
“War!”
I blink my eyes open and find that I am staring into the prettiest blue ones I’ve ever seen. I plead with my mind to allow me to stay there. With her. With an angel.
But I have to get this shit off of me.
“Get away from me!” I bellow. “I have to get it off me!”
Shoving her away from me, I stumble out of the bed and toward my shower. With shaking hands, I turn on the shower as hot as it will go. I need the soap and the water and the rag. I need to get this fucking shit off my skin.
Oh God.
Is it in my mouth?
I start scraping my fingernails on my tongue until I’m gagging. From behind me, I hear crying and I can’t tell if it belongs to me or my sister or an angel.
“T-T-The water is too hot, War!”
A slender arm reaches past me to change the temperature. I reflexively slap the hand away. “Don’t touch it!”
A shriek followed by sobs is all I hear as I start to step into the scalding rain. I need it gone. I need the blood down the drain and away from my orifices.
“Warren, please!”
Hands clutch on to my bicep and I go black with crazed rage. Spinning to face my attacker, I shove as hard as I can until they are out of the bathroom. My trembling hands slam and lock the door.