“Good, I don’t like possessive,” I warn him, lying to myself a tiny bit. There’s something innately hot about being in the eye of the storm.
Would it be cruel to rile him up a little more? How far would I have to push him to get a punishing fuck on his desk?
He could bend me over, a few smacks on my arse before he takes my wrists behind my back with one hand and roughly slams…
“Where’s your head at, darling?” His hands are underneath my shirt and I’ve wrapped my legs around him.
“Where do you stand on a little role play?” I ask, playfully. He chuckles into my neck, sucking at the base before moving along to my collarbone, slipping a few buttons of my shirt free.
“Reilly?” The sweet joyful voice of an unaware teenager sings through the door as it swings open.
Elton steps back, adjusting himself and taking a seat as I hop off the desk trying my best to discreetly button my shirt.
“I found a place in the New Forest with pony rides to the pub.” Neive smiles sweetly at us as she takes a seat in the chair in front of the desk. “Why do you guys look weird?”
She scans me, taking in my dishevelled hair and slightly unbuttoned shirt.
“Oh Jesus!” She slams her hand over her eyes and stands, starting to back out of the room. “Lock the door. Take it upstairs. Wait until I’m OUT of the house.” The horror of what she could have walked in on causes disgust to drip from her voice, as she hurries out of the room.
Elton groans, putting his head in his hands. I can’t suppress the giggles, laughter ripping from me. He bangs his head on the desk three times.
I hug him from behind, running my hands through his hair, trying to coax him from his despair.
“I suck at this parental guardian thing.”
“Everyone sucks at the parental guardian thing.” I pull his head back by the roots and kiss him.
“So pony rides to the pub?” he asks.
“Pony rides to the pub,” I confirm.
TWENTY-FIVE
Elton
The walls rattle as the door slams for the third time today. I keep saying the wrong thing and I don’t know how to fix it. The smallest comments set her off, I just wanted to know why she hasn’t been spending time with friends. I’ve moved her to a new school and if she’s not settled in I need to know.
Is this just standard teenage hormones, or is this a deeper problem? Are there feelings that she can’t name? No one should feel like that. Like a black hole you keep spiralling down with no help in sight.
When I was a boy, late at night under the safety of my covers, the yelling would start. The music would get louder, the sound of doors slamming, feet stamping up and down the stairs filling me with dread as I waited for them to stop outside our room. I would get into MJ’s bed and cradle her, praying I could keep her calm enough to not draw attentionto us. As I rocked her and stroked her hair, I would keep an eye on her breathing to make sure it stayed steady. The only sign she was calm and safe.
Then the world would start to distort around me. The walls would move away, my skin would tingle as if I was shrinking. I felt so small and insignificant. I needed to protect MJ and I couldn’t. I wasn’t strong enough to beat away the world. I was incapable.
She can’t know that place, I have to keep her safe, I won’t let her down like I did MJ. I slide down the wall opposite Neive’s room. She needs to know I’m here when she’s ready to talk.
I text the one person who can fix my brain fog.
Neive is mad at me.
Reilly responds straight away.
Why?
Because I’m a terrible person …
I delete.
I continue to let her down …
