AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He looks up at me again, this time with a deep hint of sadness. I’m starting to think he’s not going to answer, but I’m surprised when he says, “Yes.” He gives nothing more, nothing less.
“Why?” My hands are itching to reach out to him, but I also don’t want to ruin this moment between us. I tell myself it’s to get more information out of him, but even I can’t lie to myself. I see the hurt inside of him, and it’s tugging at my heart.
“Didn’t realize I agreed to play twenty questions.” His tone is light, but it lacks any humor.
“Just trying to understand you.” I shrug before looking down at my lap.
He lifts my chin, refusing to let me look away. “My mom’s boyfriend used to take his anger out on me. I was his personal punching bag. He was a drunk fucker, but he knew how to land a hard blow,” he grunts out, getting angrier the more he continues. “He used to say, the moment I could taste blood he’d stop, but never before then. He held true to that. Blood meant peace. Still does. It’s the only thing that helps calm the demons inside me.” He looks like he’s in agony while explaining this, and I can’t really blame him. That’s awful. Telling a child you’ll stop beating them when they can taste blood? Who the hell does that?
“Blais…” My voice is barely a whisper. I’m trying to hold myself back, but it’s getting harder the longer we sit here. It’s like I’m aware of everything now. His gorgeous tattooed body, the tiny little tick in his jaw, the vein that pulses in his neck. I see it all.
“After he was done, I’d always retreat to my room. Every time, my mom would come in, trying to comfort me. Always telling me how sorry she was, but never actually doing anything to stop it. She never left him, always taking his side. Her attempt at a comforting touch hurt worse than the punches or kicks.” His Adam's apple bobs as he looks at me nervously.
“I’m... I’m sorry.” I don’t even fucking know what to say. It’s awful that he went through that, but it explains a lot honestly. He’s been beaten down his entire life, so blood is a coping mechanism. The touching brings up his past trauma.
I know how Blais feels. Tommy’s sweet and caring demeanor after beating me was always worse than the actual hits.
“It’s over now.” He shrugs, avoiding eye contact. He focuses on the task at hand, picking up the gauze and antiseptic. His fingers brush over the cut on my forehead. I’m surprised he’s not licking up the dry blood, but maybe it’s not the same to him.
He finishes dressing up the cut, but his hand lingers there.
“Can I touch you?” My voice is so soft I can barely hear it. His hand stops moving, stiffening on my face, but he remains quiet. Blais drops it to his side, and I already miss his warmth.
“Please,” I whisper, leaning forward so my face is inches from his. So close I could almost kiss his plump, soft pink lips.
He doesn’t say yes, but he’s not saying no either. Deciding to take his silence as a yes, I cautiously raise my hand and rest it on his cheek, just like he did to mine when we got in here. He doesn’t take his eyes off mine, but I see the fear and panic inside.
I gently move my hand to his forehead, brushing back the soft pale pink strands of his hair.
“Zamira,” he grunts out, while his hand latches around my forearm. I stop my movement as he squeezes harder.
“Please let me. I’m not going to hurt you, Blais.” My tone is gentle, wanting this for him. He’s clearly got some issues, so maybe this could help him.
Why do you even care?
My entire body is at war with itself. Something about Blais draws me toward him, holding on to every one of his next moves, but the other part of me knows that I’m their captive. Hell, it’s probably the Stockholm Syndrome talking and I’m pretending like it’s normal. Every part of this is fucked up, but the longer I’m here, the more I’m drawn to him. To each of them.
He releases his grasp on my arm, and I continue my exploration of his body. This time, my hand lands in the crook of his neck and shoulder, his skin blazing beneath my touch. He growls loudly, uncomfortable with the contact, but he hasn’t tried to stop me again. His breathing quickens, and he clenches his eyes shut. “Stop.”
Lowering my hand down his chest, I feel his toned muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. His pecs are firm and his abs are so fucking defined. His muscles tighten with each inch I go down, until I’m at the hem of his shirt.
Just as I go to slip my hand under, he stops me. “That’s enough.”
Sadness aches in my chest, knowing I didn’t get to explore more.
I can see his body relaxing now from the loss of contact.
“My turn.” He gives me a playful grin, completely opposite from the agony he was just in while I was touching him. Before I know it, he’s pushing me back on the bed, holding my hands over my head as he straddles my hips.
“Mmmm. You have no idea how jealous I was knowing that Ace got to be inside of your tight little pussy.” Lust quickly surrounds us, changing the air in the room.
“Blais, I... We…” I don’t even know why I’m trying to explain myself. None of this means anything.
Mhmm, sure.
“You both smelled like sex, and you looked thoroughly fucked with your messy hair and flushed cheeks. It was hot as hell.” He licks up my neck, gently biting at the skin under my jaw. “Plus, his dried cum is stuck to the inside of your thighs, darling.”
“You don’t care?” I ask honestly.
