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“How long have I been sleeping?”
“A while. How do you feel?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” mumbles out of me. I don’t. I’m not happy, I know that much. I’m suspended. Stalled in the hours, days, whatever they are, and not caring for any path that presents itself to me.
I turn and creep my body until I’m looking up at him rather than the room, my body eventually stretching out. “How do you feel?” I murmur.
He chuckles and runs his fingers through my hair again, tilting his head as if the question is immaterial to anything. I suppose it might be to him, but it isn’t to me. I want to know, need to in the pit of my stomach. His hand moves slowly from my head down my neck, fingers gentle over my skin until he pushes the robe off my shoulder to expose my chest. I keep watching his face rather than acknowledge the move, interested in his motives for avoiding the question.
“Touching me must cause some feelings. You said you couldn’t.”
Fingers trails to the peaked bud on my breast, pinching softly and rolling it around the flat of his palm before he spreads his touch over my ribs and stomach. Heavy. So heavy on me. I wince slightly under the pressure, feeling the pain from whatever I was hit with, but it doesn’t stop him pushing harder and then easing off again to smooth the plains of my skin.
“You should shower,” he muses, trailing his hand further down towards my panties. “Clean up. Sleep again.” The lace moves on my hips, one side of it being pulled until his fingers are edging over the sensitive ridge of my hip bone. Small strokes, easy and tender on my skin.
I smile and look at him again, lost in the feel of something caressing me for a few moments, and then frown and swing myself off his lap to get up. Caressing isn’t real here. Caressing means niceties I don’t want even if they are tempting. Here isn’t for that. It’s for distraction, as he said. Nothing more. And now my head’s clear, focused on things again, I’d rather play the games with Malachi than teeter on the edge of dishonesty.
“Are my bags here?” I ask.
He nods and stands with me, righting his suit. “In the guest room you were in earlier. I’ll take you up.”
Good. And then more pills again.
Chapter 6
Gray
I’m melancholy, as I lead the way back through the halls. Mixed up with feelings as old as they are new. It felt good to hold her while she slept, pacifying, but now I’m in turmoil and wondering what the fuck I’ve done or am still thinking about doing.
Temptation has become the devil of all torments. It’s reeling through my veins to go further, play more, indulge the basic need inside me to fuck and endure my own discharge inside someone. Soft skin. Warm flesh under me. Real and alive to devour and edge across.
So many thoughts now, all of them laced with no care to memories passed or times to come. I can be free here. Live and enjoy the time we have.
As Faith said, it’s just one little fuck.
I open the door to the room and watch her stride through towards one of the end doors, sighing for some reason. She opens one and finds a walk-in with her bag inside, and then disappears through the other one. The lock clicks firmly, as if I’m nothing but a servant to be locked out while she bathes and brightens herself for the next round of pleasure-seeking. I’m not a servant, though. And I don’t want her brighter either. I like her maudlin and languid in that state she holds so well, like her edging on insanity and falling over it. Amusing.
And tempting.
The thought makes me sneer and think back on that blowjob, feet backing away from inevitability. Her mouth around me as I shot my load inside her. Her nails in my leg, digging and clawing at me as I pushed her throat further down on my dick. Her saliva and my come dripped from her lips as I pushed her away from me.
My toy - that’s all I could think as she gagged and sucked and I looked over the reddening stripes on her skin. My thing to break and play with, fuck for as long as I want. My head shook at the same time, trying to dismiss the notion so I didn’t fall into Malachi’s fun. But then she laughed from the floor. Laughed and crawled, dismissing me.
My toy.
I walk over, my fingers gripped into the side of the door frame. No right. Not even after that fuck up in the formal dining room we’ve engaged in. I shouldn’t have, but she fought me as I tried to get her to this room to sleep it off. Kissing her was the last option I had to calm her down. It worked, and then my dick took over as she panted and moaned in my lap because of that kiss. Just like it is doing now because this goddamned door is in the way of something I want.
My shoulder barges at the damned thing separating us, and I watch as the splinters fly and the wood slams back against the tiles. She barely reacts other than to look back at me in the mirror, a small arch to her brow as she fiddles with her hair.
“Did you want something?” she eventually asks, pushing her panties to the floor and flicking them into a corner.
“Don’t lock a fucking door on me.”
She turns to look at me and then walks for the shower, switching it on rather than reacting to the order. Steam starts building around the small space, heat building at the same time as the screen fogs up. I don’t need any more fucking heat. I’m hot enough as it is because of her naked frame waiting for me to play with it.
“Are you joining me?” she asks, with a sigh. “Too many clothes, Gray.”
Her fingers wander across her stomach, pads trickling over the skin I touched earlier. I growl at the tease and try to dampen down the vibration all over me to fuck her and not care, but it’s building like this steam is, aggravating me beyond sensible process.
