“I mean lying on your back with your eyes closed while I eat you out. I mean coming on my tongue, then spreading wide for me to fuck you before I tuck you in for a good night’s sleep.”
Even in my utter state of exhaustion, that sounds fucking magnificent… even the whole “tucking you in” thing.
“I’ve never… no one’s ever… ummmm…” I yawn widely.
But he’s already lifting me in his arms and carrying me over to his king-sized bed.
He drops me on the large bed, then climbs in beside me. “I’m shattered, too,” he says. “Let’s get some rest for now.”
Even though he tempted me with his words, and the thought of lying back in bed and letting him do whatever he wanted to me is appealing, there’s something massively attractive in just… lying in bed as well. Beside him. And I have a feeling the “for now” part is really just so he can rest up and fuck me again.
Not that I’m complaining.
He ropes an arm around me and hauls me to his chest, and I fit just right. I sigh in contentment. I’ve never spent the night beside a man, and definitely not someone like him.
I fall into a deep and dreamless sleep, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and protection. Something I haven’t felt before… ever. I’m too tired to dwell too long on the irony.
I’m walking down a darkened hallway, and my heart beats hard and fast. Something’s brought me here, but I don’t know who or what, only that I’m in danger and the only way out isahead of me. I look to my left and right, trying to determine where I am, but I can only see blackness.
A man’s scream makes me freeze, the sound sadly familiar. Who is that? And what will I do when I get there?
“You did this on purpose.” It’s my father’s voice, that deadly calm that precedes his wrath.
“Did what?” The words fade into a tortured scream, when I realize I recognize that voice.
Mac.
I’m running, my bare feet slapping on the cold tiled floor. We’re somewhere in my house, and my father has Mac. I don’t know how I’ll stop him, but I have to. Mac isn’t going to hurt me.
It’s the other way around.
But the longer I run, the further away I seem to get. Their voices are far in the distance with every moment that passes. I pause, trying to get my bearings. Where am I? Where are they? I have to find him; I have to rescue him.
I can still hear the words though they’re beginning to fade.
“You tricked her. You were trying to hurt her from the very beginning. You never had anything but ill intent from the very first moment you laid eyes on her.”
“No! No!” he screams, and nausea rises in my belly. I’m going to be sick. What are they doing to him?
“Leave him alone!” I scream, when suddenly I feel someone shaking me, and a voice breaking through my subconscious. I quickly sit up in bed, wide awake.
Mac’s awake beside me, his arms around me.
“Y’alright?” he asks, his voice all husky and gritty with sleep. I’m panting, a fine sheen of sweat covering my body. My heart still beats frantically from the intensity of the moment, the very real fear that I felt. I've never had a boyfriend, or anyone like this who I actually felt anything toward, and the thought of my father hurting Mac…
I’ve seen him do such wicked, terrible things. I can't imagine anything he's incapable of. He'll stop at nothing when it comes to violence, and I can't imagine what he has planned for Mac. For one brief moment, with Mac’s arms all around me, in that quiet space between night and morning, I actually entertain the thought of telling him. Everything. Confiding in him. I don't know why, but I feel like I can trust him, and then if I tell him why I'm really with him maybe he'll forgive me.
Would I ever be able to forgive myself?
But no. No, I can’t do that. Not only do I risk a home to myself, but I can't bear the thought of being rejected by Mac. I mean, I'm right here where his family is. All of them. They could do anything they want to me, and I have no recourse. My bodyguard isn't here, and of course I'm totally outnumbered.
Why do things have to be this way?
So I only shake my head. “I’m fine,” I lie, because I don’t know what else to say or how else to reassure him. If he could read my mind… “I’m fine,” I repeat with a sigh.
I settle back down against the bedclothes to prove my point, feign a wide yawn, and pull the blankets back up over me. I roll away from him, pretending I’m exhausted and trying to get back to sleep. He doesn’t ask questions, just slings a heavy armaround me, holds me to his chest, and in a short while, his breathing’s slowed and I can tell he’s fallen back to sleep.
I don’t sleep, though. I stare into the darkness for long minutes that become hours. Mulling over my options. Fearing every single result. I’m deeply embedded in a game of life or death to which there are no winners.
