Were those moments in the library quick, stolen and full of frustration? Yes.
Did I want it because everyone else wanted them? That I wanted a moment to bewanted, to feel as if I was worth having? Maybe.
But I was empty after each time.
Rubbing my arms, I push off the door, turning to my suite, mood soured further by the hitter.
The sky-blue canopy covering the king size bed sits in the center of the cream carpet with wooden panels covering thewalls. It’s grand, fit for a queen, but very little ofme. Small hints of my personality shine through, sure—the pile of stuffed animals from my stay in the hospital, the towel-covered mirror, organized pens and highlighters on my desk that never deviate from their places. But very little else.
My trophies are in the living room, as pieces of proof of my father’s control, and I have no photos other than a grainy one of my sisters and my brother Briar, from when we were small. The room is lush but empty.
Kicking off my shoes, I strip, leaving a trail of clothing on my floor. With everything piling on only a scalding shower is going to help.
The shower head comes to life, as steam immediately fogs up the blue tile. I don’t think, just submerge my head into the hot water. The prick of pain cuts into my cold flesh, pounding my muscles with a sharp ache that dulls all other senses.
I needed this.Only a hot shower has ever centered my mind when things become too much.
I was thirteen when I had my first panic attack. My science project had fallen apart when I brought it into my school’s theatre and everyone had watched. The judging eyes, and burning embarrassment creeped up my throat until my lungs halted and I started to choke. I thought I was having an allergic reaction—maybe from the fumes of glue and chemicals. Later, I was told choking was a sign of an attack.
Hayes had been there that day. Somehow, he calmed me, fixed my project and picked on me to stop my tears. I became too focused on fighting with him, that the panic subsided and I could breathe again.
Slapping the wall in frustration, I growl. The fuckingassholewas nice one time and it endeared him to me. Because he gave me my breath back. And he was right.
I had to make a plan. Focus. Relax. There was no telling what Maeve would do if I pushed too hard. My best option was to give her another solution.
But could I find something better than using me in an offering of peace with her literal enemy? I’m not so sure.
I tried taking Sloane’s spot with Alessio, but I couldn’t give him an heir and that was specifically written into the contract.I’m useless.
Looking down at my red body, I take notice of my jagged sharp edges and stick-like legs. There’s a freckle under my left breast but my chest is too small to be considered decent.
My bottom lip trembles and disgust wars with my melancholy.Great. Just one more thing to add to my shit today.
There was a time when I didn’t hate my body. When I embraced my lean frame and smiled more. But when my mother curled her lip at me, I chose to hide in drab clothes to avoid anymore of her wrath.
Unfortunately, I developed a rare brain tumor and cancer ravaged my body at ten. It took a drastic toll on my mind. The ugly voices grew louder and after my lessons with Pops? Recovery was nonexistent.
Blinking back tears, I grip the shower knob and run from the shower. A place that usually calmed me was only making this all so much worse.
Focus. I towel dry my body and hair but remain naked to cool down. I have to figure this out.
But nothing isworking. Looking to the ceiling, I exhale harshly.
Roman was one thing, but Hayes too? We usually bickered—it was in our nature. But tonight, he was determined to figure everything out. Why couldn’t he back off?
And why did I want him to push further, dig deeper? Why did I crave his brutality, if he only annoyed me?
I glance to my bedside table, fingers twitching. I need something to take the edge off.
The bastard had that much right. No matter how conflicting everything was, if I found out he was in my room without my permission, I’d kill him.
Pushing the stuffed animals off, I slide on to the bed with my dolphin shaped toy, in my hand.
Leaning back, I spread my legs, using the tip to draw along the edges, teasing my senses as my mind slowly unravels. Soon, it’s not the toy playing with me, but the tease of Justin, my latest conquest in the library.
With a six pack and big green eyes, he’s handsome. I wished for more from him but that’s what this toy is for. Imagining his cock stretching me, the tip of the dildo enters me and a pinprick of pain tightens my opening at the intrusion.
“Breathe, viper.” I hear in my mind and I tense.That’s not Justin’s voice.In my mind, the country club boy with the smooth hands and voice morphs into Hayes. With calloused palms and a sly smile, he moves above me, pinning my legs down.
