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Tapping the shining brass rounds out of the pistol into his giant hand and pocketing them along with the gun, Ezekiel stride’s back in the same way he strode out. Back towards the shattered panes that I know would be worth more than the house we used to live in.
Not even flinching at what’s just happened. And only shifting his expression once he sees my hand as he effortlessly climbs back inside.
The room spins sideways for a moment, and feeling those same strong hands under my butt and around my waist. I feel mine clawing at the frozen, snow soaked lapel of his coat. Snuggling into his warmth as if it’s him not Ike and mama being married that’s gonna save me in this life.
The low tone of satisfaction once he scoops me up and has me in his grip is like a soothing balm all over me. The excited tones of everyone else sounding like they’re speaking underwater. All far away now as Ezekiel moves past them and out of the library, heading straight for the bathroom.
“You’re hurt.” He says, suddenly sounding disappointed. Annoyed even. Making me feel like this is all somehow my own fault. I should’ve been keeping a lid on my twin brothers like mama told me to.
But I don’t think he’s angry with me.
Not if the way he’s holding me is anything to go by.
There’s something rubbing and jabbing into me from behind, which I try to tell myself is either the gun in his coat pocket, or just the bunches of thick wool of the coat itself.
Whatever it is, it’s making that tingling itch inside me feel like its being dialed up to eleven. And I cling to him harder once he flicks the switch in the bathroom, closing the heavy oak door when he leans his weight against it.
My breathing is rapid and I’m trembling all over. I can’t even feel the warm red that's running from my hand, ruining his coat. And as he holds me way longer than either of us know he should, and in a way I know nobody would approve of, I can’t help but mew a little sound.
Pressing myself back against that thick stiffness under me. Wriggling until I gasp before I catch myself.
“You- You can set me down now…” I announce, trying to sound lady like but flushing red with a mix of shame and a whole lot more of that itch. Thinking the things my body’s feeling by instinct.
Reminding myself that this is my step brother now. An older man to boot. As well as someone just trying to help me.
Keeping a strong arm holding me up by my rear end, Ezekiel grips my hand gently, bringing it close enough to his face to examine the cut. I feel his taught body shudder a moment and he wets his lips with his tongue.
It’s wrong. It’s sick almost… But I actually want him to lick my cut. To taste me. He could be my blood brother… But good grief, if that doesn’t sound like somethin’ Ronnie and Ricky would get up to. And we’re supposed to be acting ‘civilized’ now.
His jaw clenches and he growls before I feel my shivering breath turn into a huffing pout once he sets me down. Standing me up like a rag doll and ignoring my searching eyes, he sets to work.
Making me squeal when those thick hands of his yank at my new dress, tearing off a long streamer of white cotton which he expertly fixes over my wound.
The sensation of having him tear clothes from me is too much, and my hands, including the bloodied one I snatch away from him, return to his bulging pectoral muscles, clawing at them through his coat.
“Don't do that.” He orders me firmly, avoiding my eyes again. Making me feel hurt for the first time since I met him. Making the throbbing, sharp pain in my palm feel like nothing compared to the ache he's just gone and made in my heart.
“Why?” I protest, not even trying to keep my voice down.
There’s a steady thud and holler of feet and voices rushing past the door behind him. All the hired help racing to lend hands and to reverse the calamity my stupid brothers have just caused.
“Because- Just because…” He rasps. Finally looking into my eyes.
“You’ll open that cut up again is why.” He reassures me, crimping his mouth.
Those thick, warm hands of his over mine. Tenderly and gently easing them off him as he favors my injured paw.
Despite the pain, I wince when I squeeze his hands.
Wanting more of that feeling he was giving me when he carried me. The same as when he kissed the same hand not too long ago.
But now it’s like he's trying to avoid even looking at me.
I don’t know enough about anything to know what to say to make him want to touch me again, so my body’s just doing what it has to, I guess.
“Once the bleeding stops I’ll clean that cut up properly…” He says firmly. Making my breath catch all over again.
The thought of Ezekiel promising to touch me again later as well as being this close to him right now is enough to make me lose all my wits and I only wish I knew what to do. How tobearound him. So he’d see me maybe the same way I see him.
