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I grunted. I heard that. I grunted because my pussy was trying to take control of my vocal cords by contracting when he said my name in that husky whisper. Three. He just brought me to orgasm three fucking times and he thought I could focus. At one point, I thought he had two cocks before they merged back into one. That's when I realized I was probably on the cusp of a panic attack or something. His head tilted back, and he stroked and stroked and I watched with rapt fascination until he moved faster, seemed to grip a bit harder and said, "Look at me, Holly. Look. At." He breathed more than said me as he released and that liquid heat came streaming up and across my knee and thigh. It was warm, wet. Somehow, I had movement. I touched it. Sticky.
"Oh, fuck." He puffed out a breath, sucked another one in. He placed a hand on the counter next to me and leaned in closer. "Sorry. I know you didn't... I just..." I turned my head to look at him and he seemed unsure of what to say. Then he said, "I'll clean it up. You. I'll take care of this. Okay?"
I had air in my lungs, but it would not help me speak to this particular man. I was still scared of him. He was still doing things to me and making my body do things I didn't know how to control. I... wasn’t going to become another OBD tale. Pass on the legacy of having a degree and only using it as a conversation piece as I chatted about what my cook made for dinner because that is what the women in my family had done for generations. Nothing. Not a damn thing. They looked pretty. That was it. I was more than a pretty face. I... holy shit. Where did that mantra come from? Why was it playing like a record in my head right now?
I might be crazy. I admitted as much to myself. It explained why my dad spent so many sessions with me... wait... were those sessions? I contemplated the foggy memories trying to merge or create themselves in my brain as Stormy removed my wet clothes from the shower and put them in the sink. He turned that shower on, tested the water, and then came back to where I was on the counter. He reached for my hand and tugged. I slid, ungracefully, to my feet and my legs wobbled. I reached out and my hand landed on his chest. His really firm chest. That seemed to make him happy for some reason and I definitely did not want him mad. I remembered how Apollo handled Harpy from all that teasing.
Right now, this giant was being gentle. I... did not want him rough. The thought sent a roll through my stomach, turned it. No. Sex was... wait, what? Why?
He led me into his shower, totally unaware of my psychotic state of being, and said, "Stand here."
He then proceeded to bathe me. If I thought I didn't know what to say when he was holding TED talks with my vagina, revolutionizing my life and everything I thought I knew about myself, I was even less prepared to say or do something now. Stormy had plenty on his mind though, so I just listened as he talked a little about football and a lot about my hair. I was a bit blissed out because he spent some time shampooing my hair with his 2-in-1 product and while he did that, he told me how much he liked it. I reflected on why I hated it. The hair, not the massage. That, I enjoyed immensely. "Let me know if this is too rough." He was talking about the wash cloth. I felt a smile on my lips and I looked at him with a whole new appreciation when he rinsed me off. Harpy was right. He... wouldn't hurt me intentionally. "Wait here." I did. I wanted to badly to say something. Anything. Apparently, my orgasm haze only got me high enough to move. And I was not running away from him.
"Bend, Holly." I bent and he wrapped my long, red hair into that towel as he said, "You gotta help a little, babe."
The twists slowed as I stood upright, and he tucked that under. I watched a series of emotions cross his handsome face, but now he was the silent one. He wrapped the other towel around me, and I stepped out. I was at least getting better at moving. That realization sent the thought of my hand in his hair, my hips lifting to meet his tongue, setting a rhythm. I was sure glad I was still dripping with water because Stormy did not turn that faucet inside me off. If anything, it was set to a constant drip. Fuck you, bitter taste in my mouth! That was awesome and I... like it. Okay, crazy brain? I liked it! What now?
I squeezed my thighs together. He left me there and returned, mostly dry and with shorts on. He dried me off, put a t-shirt that could be a nightgown over my head, put a football hoodie with his name on it, over that. Then considered the gigantic sweatpants as he asked, "You don't have to stop anywhere between here and the sorority house, right?"
I shook my head no. He nodded. "Okay. Because I don't think you can let them go."
No. I could not and expect them to remain on my body. I was not a wispy girl, but he was huge...everywhere compared to me.
The socks were my favorite though. I wiggled my toes in those enormous warm socks and smiled. He smiled back at me and said, "Yeah?"
I nodded. I really needed to practice talking to him. Why couldn't I talk to him?
"You want me to carry you to your car?" he asked as his dark brow arched.
My lashes fluttered so he took that as a yes. He grabbed my key, which was in my wet shorts pocket, my phone, and then put me up and over his shoulder again. As he left his room, he said, "I don't know. I might get used to this."
That would make one of us.
At my car, he opened the door for me, helped me inside, looked at my busted phone and said, "If you had that fixed you could text me. Tell me you got home. Now." He looked around the parking lot. "I'm half tempted to follow you to be sure."
He wasn't looking at me, so I tried to force the words ‘I'm fine’ out, but it came out as, "Fine."
He snapped his attention back to me and moved to look me eye to eye. "Hey. You spoke. You want me to take you home?"
I shook my head no. He asked, "Follow you?" I shook my head no. I closed my eyes and gripped the wheel. I was freaking out again. He puffed out a breath and said, "Okay, but." He picked up my busted phone and took a long time to do whatever he was doing then said as he put it in my lap. "Text me to let me know you got there." Then he added. "Please. Because I don't want to call Essie and ask, but I will."
Essie. I gritted my teeth and looked at him. He must have felt the emotions because he stepped back and shut the door. Of course, he could just ask his cousin, Essie. Everyone knew the cheerleading captain, house authority, I'm so perfect how about you? brunette that represented everything I did not want to be. She was everything I hated even if I was not a hundred percent sure why because I had been a cheerleader in middle school.
Thought... wait, what? Why didn't I want to do that in high school? I couldn't remember.
When I got to the sorority house and had to hold up his sweatpants on my body, I was sure he could tell I was home because those bitches probably posted it on social media. They did a whole round of cat calling and comments as I walked past the house meeting. His precious Essie asked in a tone that surprised everyone, including her by the look on her face, "Where the fuck did you get that?"
I looked at her and said, "Stormy."
She took a staggering step backward. She seemed speechless, which in a wild turn of events, activated all the courage I never seemed to have other than in my head. I said, "Well, I couldn't come home naked, right? And he did keep my clothes. They were a mess. All of them... soaked."
He had my favorite flip-flops, too, but I would retrieve...no, I would request them. Like, once I had my phone. Oh, yes! Once I had my phone fixed, I could text him. Okay, this might work out after all.
I adjusted his oversize pants and held my head high as I moved to the stairs and up to my room. Essie thought she had put me in a third-floor room, but the girl that was in this room wanted to room with her bestie and this one was too small for more than one sister, so I got my own room. Peace and quiet. Well, until it also came with an unexpected lover, and a contract I needed to read. I looked at my meticulously organized space and remembered what Harpy said. I had to work him out one way or another. Either fuck him or... oh. I had a plan. Maybe if I could find a way to talk to him... I could possibly find a way to fuck him, too. I might have to do more research, though. I didn't take all the sex ed in high school. I hadn't been interested until... now. I frowned and wondered why exactly I didn't take those classes if no one at home was going to talk to me about it. Something... was not right, but I had a doctor appointment with a psychiatrist not in my father's practice and I begged them to request my records through the school or my mother. I didn't want him to know I was seeing someone else.
Damn. Those were sessions! What the fuck? I couldn't deal with my Dad problem right now. Couldn't talk to him about it anyway since he was on tour with his new book on raising girls to be future leaders. He believed that despite being married to a very smart, but very unambitious woman, himself—No. I was his poster child. His only child. I sometimes wished I had been a boy. Maybe he wouldn't have had to do so much research on how to make me perfect.
I did attempt to text Stormy, but the best I could do was send an emoji. Since I didn't text anyone other than my mom these days, I had one of spaghetti in the frequently used so...that is what I sent. Spaghetti was a food I used to love but as I got older, it no longer loved me. I had two things I forced myself to consume in order to not be a total weirdo around other young adults. I had a soda and a candy bar every day. After a while, they were the only things in the junk food category that started to taste good again. I could not let them go.
