It Takes Two
Alaina
My entire body is sore as I stretch out, and almost immediately, I feel the effects of what he did.
Holy god, how can one man cum this much? I feel bloated with it, and it makes me wonder how many times he bred me. I woke up twice, but this feels like more than that.
A lot more.
Rolling over to face him, I see the little shit sleeping like a baby. My first thoughtis that it must be nice to be invited into someone else’s hotel room, fuck them repeatedly, and sleep until noon — but then... I really see the peace on his face.
Through the concerts, interviews, and our encounters, I’ve never seen him look so relaxed. He needed this, even if I don’t understand it.
As carefully as I can, I sneak out of bed to go wash up and then slide another one of his shirts on. By the time I come back, he’s awake, and I’m noticing for the first time that the dresser is now in front of the door.
“Uh... Bash? What’s that about?”
“Hmm?” His voice is still laced with sleep as he sits up and looks at where I’m pointing. “Oh, I thought you might try to sneak out.”
At least he’s being honest.
He kisses my forehead without another word before disappearing into the bathroom, and as he showers, he sings his very own metal version ofGhostby Justin Bieber so loud the front desk calls me to ask if everything is okay. They also let me know our room service will be up soon, so when he comes back out in nothing but sweatpants and deliciously wet hair, I haveto stay focused and make him move the dresser back to where it belongs.
He’s a little sheepish as we eat our food, but I feel his questioning eyes on me the entire time. “How did you sleep?”
Smirking, I stall by taking four full bites before answering. “Pretty good, actually. Though I have to say, I feel like I got fucked a few times. Would you know anything about that?”
The satisfied smile on his face makes my toes curl. “Mmhm. I might know a little something about that. Was it dripping when you woke up?”
“Dripping, bloating, you name it,” I admit, stomach squirming with how good it feels to be desired that much. Bash is an ass and I need to be careful, but I can’t deny that I like how this feels. I also love knowing it’s him. “I do think I need a break though.”
“Are you a little sore, baby girl? Was six times too much?”
If this were a year down the road, no. Six times would be perfect. But at some point, he has to prove he can be more than just a fuck doll if he actually wants to stick around. I can’t do this to myself.
“I’m a little sore, yeah.”
Nodding, he leans back against the headboard watching me closely. “Am I allowed to still touch you not sexually while on this break?”
No, because I don’t think you’re capable of it. “Of course.”
“Okay. But first, you have to admit you missed me.”
He’s flirting, but I don’t understand why. What does he think I missed? His disbelief? The way he clearly only saw me as someone to fuck? “I miss my parents sometimes too,” I say quietly. “Doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”
Dropping his gaze, Bash stares down at his tattooed hands with a frown. “Yeah, I guess I know what you mean. When did you find out they were... what they were?”
“When they were arrested.” Fidgeting, I sit on the edge of the bed. “A little after, actually. I was fifteen. Too old, but they kept me so sheltered I didn’t know any better. I didn’t even know what a church was until you told me. Do you... still talk to your parents at all?”
“Not really. They call on my birthday and Christmas and act like they miss me, but they always end up calling me a sinner before we hang up. It’s a cycle I keeptrying to get out of, but guilt pulls me right back.” That’s not something he tells the tabloids. His fans believe he hasn’t spoken to them in years, so hearing him say he answers the phone is a little jarring. He seems to realize he just rambled on, because he quickly tries to change the subject. “Do your parents ever reach out to you? Are they even allowed to?”
“They’re allowed, but the last time I talked to them, it was on a recorded line in a police station. Funnily enough they went no contact with me once they figured it out.” Not that I want to talk to them, I just think it’s funny. “Maybe our parents will meet in Hell one day.”
“Maybe,” he replies with a soft chuckle. “How much of that first time we met do you remember?”
“All of it. For a long, long time, those days in the treehouse were the only happy memories I had.”
For a second, he looks so sad I have to fight the urge to reach out. “As I got older I forgot some of the details, but I remember you telling me I looked like Halloween, and I remember they hurt you pretty bad. I don’t understand why I didn’t tell anyone. I’m sorry I didn’t help you,Alaina. I didn’t do anything to make sure you were okay, I just left you snacks and thought that made me a good person.”
