Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Beckett
T hree months. Ninety days. Two thousand, one hundred and sixty hours.
That’s how long it took me to gather the courage to step into the darkness with her.
I’d followed Mila to the club every Wednesday night like clockwork, always keeping a respectful distance. I wanted our first encounter to be on my terms, possibly even let her know of my plans to join her in this world.
But tonight, something changed. The pull to be near and comfort her was too strong.
I joined the club weeks ago, so they had already done the necessary background checks on me. On the days when she wasn’t there, I made myself comfortable with the building. Even though I had prepared for this mentally, I couldn’t help the way my heart pounded, and my body warred with itself in terms of just simple breathing.
I waited until she disappeared into the anonymous encounter room from the opposing entrance. Without hesitation, I stripped my clothes off and put them in the locker in the adjoining room before placing my hand on the handle. I look back at the mirror that is leaning against the black-painted wall beside the locker and take in the burn marks on my upper arms and chest courtesy of my father. I only allow myself a minute to feel self-conscious because my physique is muscular and chiseled, even though my skin is marred with a broken childhood.
The lights in the room I’m in automatically shut off as I turn the handle into the anonymous encounter room and make my way inside.
I stand silently, my eyes adjusting to the pitch-black room. I can sense her presence, so I reach out and wait until I feel the wall beside me.
Her movements are hesitant at first, but soon, she’s approaching me, and I let her. I let her come to me so she feels what I want her to feel—that she has control here, not me.
Because she does.
She reaches out, her touch gentle and searching. I stifle the urge to speak and tell her it’s me.
When her hand finds my arm, she pauses, and for a moment, I think she might recognize me, which is ridiculous because I can’t see an inch in front of me and know she can’t either. But then, with a soft sigh, she continued, her touch tracing the contours of my body.
I allow her to explore me for several minutes. Once her fingers began to tremble, she led me over to another part of the room, and I felt her ass push against my hard cock. I gently try to turn her around to face me again, but she bends over and grabs onto something in front of her to push her backside into me again. This time, it’s more forceful, as if to say, ‘Let’s get this over with.’
This is what I was afraid of. That she was using her body as a way to escape but not allowing herself the thing that she truly needed.
I pull her close, my arms wrapping around her protectively. I knew what she craved—the ache to be held and soothed. She reluctantly lets me hold her, and my heart breaks just a little as I feel her body relax into mine.
She whispers demands, urging me to be rough, to hurt her.
“You’re supposed to fuck in here,” she whispers as she gets impatient when I don’t listen. “You’re wasting time.”
But I couldn’t give her what she asked for. What she thought she wanted. Instead, I hold her tighter until I can feel her breasts and her heartbeat against my chest, my lips brushing her hair as I move my hands soothingly over her back.
I start kissing her. A deep, lingering kiss that has us both pressing our bodies into one another in hopes that it never ends. She tastes better than my thoughts conjured up these last months, and I love the noises she makes when I cup her jaw. When her tongue seeks mine out, I am more than happy to oblige and slant my mouth over hers over and over again. My fingers are trying to map her skin as we move together, and all I can think about is how soft she is. How perfect and warm. I run my fingers through her long hair after I find the hair tie keeping her hair up in a messy bun. She always had her hair up when she came here as if there was some sort of barrier between her and the things she was doing.
But I won’t let her hide in here. Not with me.
I find the couch in front of her and gently sit her down as I kneel between her legs. Her breathing gets shallow, and I feel her tense up as my mouth sucks along the flesh of her throat while my hands lightly rub up and down along her arms. I can feel the goosebumps on her skin, and it’s too warm here to be from anything other than what I’m doing to her.
Good.
Her hands grip my hair as I kiss down to her chest before taking a nipple into my mouth. She goes rigid, and I stop immediately, my mouth hovering over her breast.
A silent question hangs in the air.
Do you want me to stop?
Her surprised gasp is heart wrenching because even though I haven’t spoken aloud, her reaction tells me she doesn’t get this courtesy.
Her back arches off the furniture until her breast presses against my mouth, and I latch back on, lavishing it with the adoration it deserves.
When she’s panting and trying to bring me back up by fisting my hair, I kiss down her body, instead inhaling her scent as I go. Her skin is like liquid velvet and supple, and the air smells of her arousal and a mix of butterscotch and roses. It is the most intoxicating thing that has ever entered my senses, and I’m drunk on it before I even reach her inner thighs.
She tenses again but doesn’t try to push me away. Her grip hasn’t left my hair, and she scratches my scalp with her nails as she lets out a long breath.
I take her thighs in my hands and gently widen them, pushing her knees up to her chest where I can have her wholly bared to me.
I wish that I could see her in this moment–see her stretched out for me and the way her cunt looks drenched in the light.
I must take too long with my thoughts because she starts to try and bring her legs back down. That simply won’t do, so I immediately lean down to devour her.
“You don’t have to do anything like that,” comes out as a moan when my mouth meets her center, my tongue tracing a strip along her slick. “It’s okay.”
I growl, deep in my throat, as my lips wrap around her clit and suck. Hard.
I hope she knows that means that I need to do this.
When her hands grip my shoulders and pull me closer to her until I’m practically drowning in her juices, I take it as a yes.
Alternating between stealing air, sucking at her tender flesh, and licking her with quick flicks of my tongue is enough to send her over the edge in minutes. She’s still trembling when I pick her up and position her on my lap while I take her place on the couch. I guide her entrance to meet my cock with my hands on her hips, but I don’t pull her down. I simply drag her back and forth over the tip, coating myself in the aftermath of her orgasm.
She keeps making the sexiest noises, and it takes everything in me to not bury myself in her immediately. Luckily, she seems to feel the same way because her hands slam down on my chest for leverage as she lines herself up and sinks down.
If there was any doubt that I shouldn’t have pursued this, it’s gone forever as of this union.
It’s the perfect fit, and when she starts moving on top of me, I can’t remember any moment in my life being so exquisite.
She moves with confidence, chasing another precipice, and I allow my hands to roam over her curves. Eventually, she leans forward on top of me, breathing heavily against my ear as I feel her tighten around me. I cradle her face and kiss her tenderly, telling her without words that she’s cared for and safe.
Our kiss deepens as her movements falter, and I know she’s close because I barely hold on myself. My hands find her hips again, and I take over the rhythm, except I’m tilting her so her clit grinds against my pelvis as I thrust inside of her. It’s just enough friction to have her nails scratching my chest and her moans breaking the silence throughout the room.
When I feel her walls spasm and she’s coming on my cock until it’s soaking the space where our bodies are joined, I allow myself to let go and join her.
The background checks make sure that we are tested and clean several times a month, and women must show proof of contraceptive use to participate. I get to spill myself in Mila, and it doesn’t matter that we’re in the darkness because the pleasure I feel would have blinded me regardless.
She collapses on my chest for a few minutes, and I gently stroke the skin of her back and leave kisses on the top of her head.
I wasn’t surprised when the tears came, wet against my skin. I knew why—the weight of her pain was something I understood all too well. So I held her, sheltering her from the storm within her memories.
After that, she pulled away abruptly and stood up, her breathing ragged. The loss I felt when I slipped out of her was like a punch to the gut. I wanted to speak to her but remained silent because I didn’t want to ruin the moment I had tried so hard to give her.
I love this woman. I want to heal her. And I’ll wait as long as it takes for her to let me in. I’ll be her light in the darkness, even if she doesn’t know it yet.
Mila rushed to the door on her side. The light turned on and filled the room before me, but not enough to light the area where I stood. She paused at the threshold and experienced some sort of panic attack.
I recognized the signs almost immediately.
She scratched at her arms, digging her nails into her skin as if trying to erase the past encounters that haunted her. The club lights were too harsh, reminding her of those men who’d taken what they wanted without a second thought. I resist the urge to pull her back into the darkness with me.
Rage burned in my chest as I watched her--this beautiful, broken woman. I want to smash something, to put a stop to the pain I saw reflected in her eyes. I knew it was the past playing tricks on her, those bastards who’d left their mark, and her ex-husband—that son of a bitch who’d made her feel unworthy of love.
I made a vow then and there. I’ll find those men, every last of them, and make them pay. They’d taken her innocence, her trust, and they’d pay with their lives. Especially that ex-husband of hers—he’d ruined her chance she had at a peaceful life, at happiness. He’d taken her trust and twisted it, even after she believed in him despite how she had been brought up and used. He took her for granted, and for that, he’d suffer.
Mila was strong; I already knew that. But seeing her like this, so raw and vulnerable, broke something inside me. I want to protect her, shield her from the world and its cruelties. I want to be her light in the darkness, to show her that not all men are like those who’d hurt her.
I am not the same.
But for now, I’ll keep my distance, respecting the boundaries she’d unknowingly set between us. I’ll bide my time, waiting for the right moment to show her that not all touches have to hurt, that not all memories have to be painful.
Because I love her, and in time, I know she’ll let me in.
I will help her move on—one body bag at a time.
I just need access to her files first.