Chapter 25 Sophie
Sophie
Against all odds, I slept better than I did in the last few days. I slept so well I don’t even remember my nightmares, but I know I felt safe. And warm.
Turning to the side, I recall asking Luka to sleep next to me. My eyes snap open, expecting to see him there, but the other side of the bed is empty. I rise from the bed, only to find Marko on the chair where we typically play chess.
My pulse picks up, being locked in a room with another man I don’t fully trust. Trying to focus on my surroundings, I notice the couch is gone.
The couch where everything happened last night. The scratched marks on the hardwood floor signal it used to be there. I hadn’t imagined it. But it’s gone.
Tears form in my eyes, but I push them back. Marko hasn’t even noticed I’m awake, but I’m still on edge, looking around to see what could be used to defend myself. I know Marko. He’s not Zvone. But my survival instincts obviously know better than to relax.
I can’t even get up from the bed, because I’m still just in my underwear. And my sweats are nowhere to be found. I try to calm my now racing breath and the door opens.
Luka.
My hands relax instantly, letting go of the grip I had on the sheets. My heart skips a beat, but my breath evens out, slowing my pulse.
His gaze lifts to mine, and he looks to the side, as if ashamed. Still, he walks up to the bed, carrying a bag of food, as well as some clothes.
“You can go,” he says to Marko, and he hums in response before leaving, barely sparing a glance at me. “Here’s your food. And some clothes. They’re mine, but hopefully they’ll work until I get your sweats clean.”
“Where did you go?” My voice is breathless.
“I had to take care of some things.” He glances at the place where the couch used to be. “And take a shower.”
“I need a shower,” I say, just remembering.
“Sure.”
I enter the bathroom feeling fine, but my anxiety quickly gets the best of me. My throat constricts, reminding me of when I couldn’t be alone after mom’s death.
I couldn’t be alone and the only person available to me was the person responsible for it. It was when I first started self-harming. Physical pain was the only thing that could relieve my emotional pain. But it’s different now. Luka makes me feel safe.
I wash my hands and brush my teeth quickly, making a decision.
“Could you keep me company while I shower?” I ask, opening the door. His eyes widen so I clarify. “Being alone in the bathroom induces my anxiety.”
He gulps before dipping his chin. Following me inside, we both stop when we realize the very real problem we have.
They used the shower curtain to wrap Zvone’s body. There’s no way not to be exposed.
He turns to leave, but I stop him, grabbing his arm. “It’s okay. I can shower in this.”
I’m still wearing panties and a tank top from last night. His teeth grind, making his discomfort obvious, but he doesn’t leave.
I tie my hair in a messy bun, because it doesn’t need to be washed and get inside the bathtub.
My clothes get drenched with warm water as soon as I step underneath the spray.
They stick to my skin, but the sensation isn’t uncomfortable.
I feel the soft cotton on the peaks of my breasts, as well as the apex of my thighs.
Luka is facing the door, to give me some privacy, but a tiny spot in my core wishes he’d turn around.
I remember the way he made me feel last night.
The way he made me forget about the trauma I just went through and made my body hum with pleasure.
The way he made me feel alive. The pour of the water slowly turns caressing, making my nipples tighten and my core clench.
I try to focus on showering as best as possible, but every touch of my hand leaves me aching for more.
I’m emotional, I know. Yesterday was a lot. But finally, anxiety has taken a back seat in my head, allowing my desires to take over.
A quiet moan escapes me as my hand connects to my pussy in a purely utilitarian way. Luka’s shoulders stiffen, but he doesn’t turn around.
I wish he did.
Suddenly, just like last night, the thought overtakes my mind. Similar to a panic attack, I’m overwhelmed by the desperate need for him to see me. Touch me.
Turning off the faucet, I place the shower head onto its stand and raise my leg to exit the bathtub. Water drips from my soaked clothes straight to the floor, but I couldn’t care less.
I need him to see me.
With both of my feet firmly planted outside of the tub, I gently clear my throat.
“Luka?”
“Yeah?” His voice is hoarse, like he just smoked a cigar.
“Could you help me out a little more?”
He inhales an audible breath. “Wh-what do you need help with?”
“I need you to get me out of these wet clothes.”
“Fuck,” he groans, his head dropping to his chest.
“Please,” I add, making him hiss.
Like in slow-motion, he turns toward me, his jaw set in stone. He approaches me as if I’m a wild animal waiting to jump him. Maybe I am. These feelings of mine are certainly not something I’m used to.
I raise both of my arms above my head, and he follows my lead, grabbing the bottom of my soaked top.
Painfully slow, he lifts the cotton, revealing my stomach before reaching my breasts.
He pauses for a second, glancing at me, and I nod for him to keep going.
He curls his lips and strips my top. His breath hitches as his gaze freezes on my fully hard nipples.
It’s electrifying. Heat courses through me even though the drops of water have cooled down on my skin. I hated my body for a long, long time, but as he stares at me with fire swirling in his eyes, it’s hard to remember why.
I see him swallow, but once again I nod to urge him forward. Bending his knees, he hooks his finger to the waistband of my panties and starts peeling them off me.
My heart pumps wildly, but unlike the discomfort I typically feel, this feels good. Way too good. He lowers them all the way down to my feet and I step out of them, holding onto his shoulder. His head is in line with my pussy, my whole body screaming for him to touch me.
I take a deep breath. “Touch me,” I whisper.
He starts shaking his head.
“Touch me, please,” I repeat.
“You’re stressed and emotional, and I can’t fucking do this to you. Not again. Yesterday was a crazy mistake.”
He’s wrong. His hands were the ones who saved me. And his hands were the one who gave me pleasure. “I don’t give a fuck if it was a mistake. It helped me quiet my mind. It helped me be less afraid.” My voice grows louder. “I need you to touch me.”
On a growl, he picks me up by the backs of my thighs and leads me out of the bathroom, only to drop me onto the bed.
I gasp, but it’s short-lived because his lips are on mine, soft and demanding. He doesn’t kiss me like I’m fragile. No, he devours my mouth before slipping his tongue inside, my tongue already waiting for him.
My mind’s a mess but being unable to control my thoughts has never felt so good. We split for a second, just long enough for him to take his t-shirt off.
The sight of his muscular, tattooed torso leaves me breathless. My fingers raise to follow his ink, almost entranced, but he removes my hand to place his lips back on mine. His hips lower, and the hard ridge of his cock comes in contact with my clit.
“Fuck,” I pant out because the friction is mind-blowing.
But then his calloused fingers brush a soft circle around my nipple, and I short-circuit. He does it again and again, as I grind my pussy on his still-covered cock.
He lowers his mouth down to my throat, licking and nipping it. My head moves from side to side, practically delirious with lust.
“Harder,” I whisper.
He twists a nipple roughly, enough to hurt, while biting into my neck. The pain turns to pleasure, and I break. I moan out my orgasm, my pussy pulsing as it clenches over nothing.
“Shit,” he mutters. His breath tickles me, but as soon as he rises, I drag him back down.
I need more.
Channeling a person I’ve only imagined before, I snake my hands over his hard abs, down to his pants.
They’re drenched with my release but now is not the time to be ashamed about that.
Awkwardly, I fumble with the button on his pants.
Expecting another layer beneath, I gasp as my hand touches the warm skin of his cock.
I gently wrap my hand around his length, taking it out of his pants, and stifle another gasp. He’s huge. I’m not really an expert on penis sizes, but I’m pretty sure the girth of my water bottle isn’t typical. He hisses, pumping into my touch.
I’d love to play with him more, but I desperately want him inside of me.
Raising my hips, I try to position us so that he can enter me, but once again, he draws back.
“I need you, Luka. I need you inside me.”
His eyes darken as he bites into his bottom lip and slowly, but surely, fills me with his cock.
Breath escapes me as I fight to let him. His thumb brushes my cheek. “Are you okay?” he whispers.
“Don’t stop, please. I need it harder,” I plead, and he respects my wishes.
With a sharp thrust, he buries himself to the hilt. It hurts, but it hurts so good.
There’s no fear, no grief in my mind. With a single thrust, he pushed it all out, leaving only the need for more.