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“Guess she really doesn’t want to come with us. College girls...” she scoffs, before barking, “Come on now, Hank you big wuss. It’s just a jammed finger.”
Relieved once they’re finally gone, I lock the door and Giggs clasps my chin.
“Some neighbors you got. Can’t wait to get you out of here. I fucking hate it when anyone puts their disgusting hands on you.”
“It’s over,” I softly remind him and I cup his neck. “It’s just you and me. It’ll always be just us. But we need to leave. It’s dangerous the longer we stay.” I turn pensive. “Where will we go?” I ask and he frowns, so I tug a little at his shirt. “I was thinking the mountains.”
He grins. “Mountains it is.”
That would be everything I’ve wanted. As long as Giggs’s free it won’t really matter where we are. “We should go pack,” I murmur and he nods.
We pass the living room and I throw an automatic glance at the TV, gasping when I see a face I’ve worked hard on erasing.
“You don’t need to be watching that,” Giggs snarls, grabbing the remote but I take it from him, squirming and slithering when he tries snatching it back and I hold it close to my chest, increasing the volume. They’re talking about my perpetrator. The one who has been in the hospital lying in a stupor for years. Someone entered his room and...
He’s dead now.
My lower lip trembles as I look at Giggs and his fists are clenched so hard, the veins on his arms bulge. “You did it, didn’t you?” I whisper. “You killed him.”
Giggs gives a curt nod. There’s no remorse, just pure deadliness. I thought his rage had subsided but apparently he hadn’t forgotten. He shared my memories all these years and now he’s put an end to the first and last man who tried hurting me.
“When did you do it?”
Jerking his face, he rasps, “As soon as I got out.”
“I thought the first thing you’d do was come look for me,” I whisper.
“I wouldn’t deserve being with you if I didn’t finish him first.”
“You’re so incredibly ruthless,” I moan and he strokes my cheek with fists that are gentle.
“Ruthless, reckless....I’m all the bad things for you but you still make me feel like I’m good. Only you have the ability to do that. It’s why I need you.”
I need him! If I needed him anymore I’d probably be on my knees all the time.
“When you were coming home from the picnic, I read the documents you’ve written about me,” he adds and I feel myself turn hot. He softly chuckles. “Fuck, honeychild. The way you talk about me...whoever reads it will think I got angel wings sprouting out my back.”
“It’s how I see you, Giggs. It’s just my honest observations.” He cups my face, his eyes burning so much it looks like there’s a fire inside of him, a torch in his dark. Am I that torch? “Let’s go to my bedroom...,” when his eyes flare with possession that almost scorches me, I add, “to p...pack my things.”
He smirks, stroking the rapid pulse on my throat with his knuckles. “If you invite me into your bedroom, that won’t be all we’ll do.”
9.
Giggs
There’s something about being in her room that satisfies a feral part of me. This is where I imagined her whenever I thought of her in my cell. I’d close my eyes, picturing I was in her room while she’d be spread like a pretty offering on her bed, her body positioned the exact way I wanted it and her mouth open in invitation.
I look at her things and she keeps the letters I’ve written to her in a music box on the shelf. She grabs the letters and puts them down in her luggage without saying a word. When she catches me looking, she murmurs,
“They mean a lot to me.” A fast smile crosses her face. “The edges are all frayed because I’d read them every night before falling asleep. Even memorized the words...”
“Same,” I rasp and when she looks at me with a hint of doubt, I prove it to her by reciting what I remember and she shudders. “Read mine so often the ink faded from my fingerprints.”
Her face shimmers, her whole being radiating with warmth and beauty and I can barely remember the past. All that matters is now and the future.Ourfuture and hell we’ll share everything. Our hearts, our bodies, she’s going to give everything to me, satisfy me until I’m pleased enough to give her a small break but then I’ll be needing her again.
My appetite for her sometimes even makes me knocked for six, makes me see everything in a haze as if everything is softly focused and she’s the only thing that’s clear enough. I’ve latched onto her, put everything I have into her, drop by drop but I’ve never poured into her. Never showered her with my sexuality, my testosterone and the urge is great enough for me to want to toss my head back and roar out my urges that have been forced to lay dormant.
Now she’s going to experience all of it. A better male would have pitied her, felt remorse for pillaging something as divine as her but the carnal part of my nature won’t hear it. It craves to pull her in close, let that shine of hers marinate until she’s fully immersed.
