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I’ve been failed over and over and all I know now is that I’m the only person I can rely on, no one will ever be there for me, no one ever has been, and I have to stop hoping otherwise.
While the hot water beats down on me, there’s a knock on my bathroom door. My first impulse it to tell whoever it is to fuck off, but I figure it’s Evie wanting to show me her photos from the party. When I hollercome in, it’s Kir’s head that pokes around the corner.
Just what I need.
“Hey,” I call over the shower noise.
Through the glass, I watch him approach, his gaze locked on mine. He kicks off his shoes and opens his jeans, letting them fall to the floor, along with the rest of his clothes until he’s standing there stark naked and hot as fucking shit.
Oh damn. I am so not in the mood to be nice.
And yet.
He pulls the elastic at the back of his head and his hair tumbles to his shoulders. With his thick cock hanging heavy between his legs, he pulls open the shower door and joins me.
“Damn, this water’s hot.”
I watch the stream bounce off his hard muscles into little beads that become airborne before they fill the air with a thick, steamy mist. He fills his palm with shampoo, turns me to face away, and starts to massage it into my scalp.
Plain and simple, his fingers are like magic and I instantly turn to putty under them, his deep pressure releasing all manner of toxic thoughts until I have to hold onto the shower wall just to stay upright.
“Amazing, Kir, amazing,” I mutter, not even caring whether he can hear me over the sound of the water.
But apparently, he can. “I used to do this for Clara,” he says easily.
Holy shit. I’ve never heard him speak so casually about her.
He rinses the shampoo with my help and I turn to face him. “You’ve never really talked about her.” I study his face, trying to see what’s changed.
He nods, and then starts soaping my body, paying special attention to my breasts, of course. “Yeah. I know. But it feels good to. It makes me feel like she’s… I don’t know, watching over me or something.” Embarrassed, he laughs and shrugs his shoulders.
At this point, his cock is hard and when I move closer to him, it presses against my stomach, sending tingles through my core. I haven’t forgotten my traumatic experience of the day, but his touch is soothing. I fall into his arms, and we kiss for what seems like hours.
Eventually, I turn around, bending forward, and he enters me from behind like he can read my mind and he knows what I want and need, which I guess is at least partially true. He did after all, know to come get in the shower with me when I was at my pretty damn lowest.
He puts his hands on my shoulders for purchase as he pumps in and out of my hungry pussy, the water still beating down on us. His perfectly rhythmic fucking has put me into a trance, eyes closed, mouth slack, head bobbing reflexively every time he bottoms out and I think maybe life isn’t so bad and that my mother is watching over me.
Although I wouldn’t want her watching this.
* * *
CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE
Niko
I have an iron grip on Charleigh’s arm, but I’m afraid even that won’t keep her in her seat.
Anger, hate, resentment, and dishonesty are par for the course in my day-to-day life. They’re just part of my world. There’s no escaping it. In fact, on the days where I don’t come across it, I actually notice it missing, that’s how much it is the norm. I grew up around it, and now I live in it.
Not that anyone sees that on my face. I’m observant enough to keep my own expression neutral, something a lot of people around me could benefit from trying themselves. Papa used to say it was one of my best qualities, my quiet watchfulness. I’m not sure it’s what I would have picked as a strength, given the choice, but I can’t deny it’s served me well.
I think there was a time when Charleigh could smile brightly, masking any real emotion she might be feeling. She was brought up to be polite that way, to never hurt anyone’s feelings or offend anyone. She wanted to belikedand in doing so always made her own feelings secondary to others’.
But she sure as hell is not on board with doing that today. Her lips are drawn into a thin grimace, and even though the room is cool, with my clear view of her profile, I can see tiny droplets of perspiration wetting the wispy hairs on her temples. Her eyes are heavy-lidded to further emphasize the sneer she’s wearing, which I am guessing is completely unconscious.
But the thing about her that gives her away the most, that really reveals how tightly wound she is, is her jittering leg, which hasn’t stopped vibrating since we sat down.
I have no doubt that if she had a firearm on her, dead bodies would be littering the floor before our meeting with thePakhaneven gets underway.
