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“I thought you were in bed.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
He clears his throat and continues washing something … but what?
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He sighs. “Nothing.”
I sniff something in the air. A funny metallic scent, and it isn’t the soap. I’m sure.
“In the middle of the night?”
“Just … go back to bed.”
I frown and then grasp the thing away from him, quickly smelling it before he snags it back.
“Don’t. Touch. It.” Every word comes out like it’s poison.
As if he’s trying to scare me away.
But we already played this game, and he’s not gonna win twice.
“What is it?” I ask.
“None of your business,” he snaps, tucking it underneath the sink again.
“You woke me up, so now it is.”
“Go to bed,” he says with a stern voice.
“No. I can’t sleep when you’re up and about. You’re washing something … clothes, maybe? And in the middle of the night even. Which begs the question …” I step closer to him. “What are you trying to hide?”
I grasp the cloth again and hold it close to my nose.
It’s blood. Definitely blood.
Suddenly, he grabs my arms and shoves me against the wall. His breath mere inches away from my mouth. “I told you not to fucking touch it!”
“You’re washing out blood,” I reply, unshaken by his rage.
“Don’t …” His voice is so low, it makes my whole body quake. But I refuse to fear him.
“Were you … hurt?” I ask.
He sucks in a breath.
His pause feels like an eternity.
Then he whispers into my ear. “Is that what you want?”
I hold my breath as his tongue dips out to lick the rim of my ear.
“No,” I reply, my voice shaky.
“I don’t believe you. I know you hate me,” he whispers, planting one hand above me on the wall. The other snakes up my arm. “You don’t have to fear me. I won’t hurt you.”
I don’t know if I can believe him.
If he’s really washing out blood, whose is it? Did he get into a fight with someone? Or is he lying to me?
A soft moan leaves his mouth, and he whispers, “It’s hard to resist … So hard.”
Hard to resist … what?
Me?
“Keep pushing me,” he adds.
Is it a threat or an invitation? I can’t tell.
Until he opens his mouth. “I like it.”
What kind of person says that?
After being caught doing … this?
“Who … who are you?” I ask. The question just slipped out of me.
But I can’t stop wondering why he’s cleaning in the middle of the night. Who does that?
I can hear him smile. His hand moves up my neck … all the way to my cheek, where he caresses me. His fingers leave a slick trail on my skin.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to,” he says. I can hear him smile. “As I said, it’s none of your business. Trust me when I say you’re better off not knowing.”
My lips begin to tremble.
His fingers brush down my chin and then let go.
I feel like he just slid his tongue down my throat.
Like he just groped me.
Tongued me.
And I let him.
Even though none of that really happened.
It just played out in my mind.
And it’s so fucked up that the moment he lifts his hand off the wall, I bolt.
Accompanying Song: “Animal” by Missio
Chase
After washing the bloodied poncho, I dump it in the bleach and cleanse my whole bathroom. I shouldn’t have brought it home with me, but tonight was an unplanned thing, and I didn’t exactly have anything prepared. Guess I should’ve known she’d wake up from all the ruckus.
Fuck.
I slam the wall in the shower and stare down at my feet as the water pools.
How could have I been so stupid? I’m normally never this careless.
It’s just that … the moment I stepped into my car again and everything was taken care of, I immediately thought of her.
Yes, right after, when adrenaline was still surging through my body, I was thinking of her.
And not in the gentlest of ways.
I wanted to grab her by the throat and kiss her so hard it’d steal her breath.
I wanted to fuck her brains out while she screamed out my name.
I wanted to tie her up, spank her, choke her, make her wet.
Images of sex jumbled up my brain even though I’d just committed cold-blooded murder.
This has never happened before.
Never.
And it scared the living shit out of me so much that I instantly drove back home without thinking twice.
Why? I was actually scared she already escaped, which is insane, because I locked all the doors and windows tight. There’s no way out. Yet the fear was real.
Just as much as my hard-on is right now.
Fuck.
I can’t stop thinking about how pretty she looked with those watery eyes, cowering between my hands, her lips plump and ripe for the taking. And how I ruined it all.
