Chapter 30
Luka
Sophie falls asleep, and I release a relieved breath. She seemed on edge, which I hate to see.
It’s understandable, but I still hate it.
From what I know about her, she’s a fighter.
But it sucks she has to fight so much. I stretch my arms above my head, trying to relieve some of the pain in my back.
Once you hit thirty, a wrong chair can be a trigger for your demise, and this small, ratty chair is certainly not doing me any favors. The stretch does nothing to help.
I guess I’ll join her sooner rather than later.
My arms work on autopilot as I brush my teeth and slip my boots off.
The floor is cold under my feet when I turn the main lights off and make my way to the bed.
It’s huge, made to fit an orgy, but it still feels intimate, sleeping next to her.
Drawing the comforter up, I slip under the cover, careful not to disturb her.
I barely suppress a groan when my back hits the surprisingly good mattress.
The relief in my spine is instant. I relax in a second and my lids grow heavy.
And just as I feel myself drifting off to sleep, a sudden noise jolts me awake.
I jerk my eyes open, trying to get a grip on my surroundings, only to realize it’s Sophie.
“No! Please, no!” escapes her on a cry.
Another nightmare. I will my heart to calm down, knowing that there’s no real danger present. Still, my heart doesn’t budge, unsettled by Sophie’s frightened sobs. Her nails dig into her other hand, leaving angry red marks. I exhale a shaky breath before putting a hand on her shoulder.
“Sophie,” I whisper, gently rocking her. I’m so out of my depth. I don’t do gentle.
“Please.” She releases a pleading whisper, one that hits me right in the sternum, clogging my throat.
“Sophie,” I say louder, but she continues crying.
“Shit,” I mutter to myself. I hate doing this again. I place both of my hands on her upper arms, holding her tightly. “Sophie!”
She gasps, her eyelids fluttering open. The bathroom light casts a warm glow over her. Her cheeks are wet with tears, her eyes glossy and wide as saucers. It’s obvious she’s scared. Soon, her features relax as she releases a long breath.
“You were having a nightmare,” I explain.
She does a small nod.
“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice low.
She shakes her head. Her sleeve has rolled up, revealing more raw red streaks from where her own hands hurt her.
“Is there… is there anything I can do?” I groan internally at my stupid suggestion.
“It’s just… it just hurts.” Her voice breaks, and so does my heart.
“I know.” I don’t even know what’s haunting her, but I know the feeling.
She swallows audibly. “And when I’m in pain…” She drops her gaze to her chafed skin, and sighs loudly. “When the emotional pain gets too much, physical pain is the one thing that helps.”
“Oh.” Her legs. She tried to relieve her emotional pain by hurting herself. That explains the scars on her thighs. My chest squeezes.
Then her eyes flicker to mine, and there’s something else other than sadness sparkling within them. Hope. “Please,” she whispers.
My heart does a little leap, and I know then that I’d do anything she asked of me. No matter the consequences. “What do you need?”
“Make me forget.”
My gaze drops to her lips, and I close the distance between us, pressing my lips to hers.
She tastes like salt and tears, and I hate it.
I want to lick every single tear off her face, swallowing her grief alongside them.
I slip my tongue into her mouth, and she releases a whimper.
Her hands wrap themselves in my shirt and I snake my hands into her hair.
I kiss her with everything I’ve got. With all the anger and sadness I carry.
With all the guilt I feel for doing this to her.
And all the passion my body feels for her.
I kiss her like this is the last kiss of my life.
In a way, it is. Because nothing will be the same after this.
Once was a fever dream. Two times was a mistake.
Three times is a betrayal. A betrayal of my family.
And I can’t bring myself to care. Not when her cries turn from hopeless to passionate while I kiss her.
Not when she needs me to relieve the pain.
“More,” she breathes out. “I need more.”
We’re a mess of limbs as we struggle to take our clothes off. She lifts my t-shirt, and I tug it over my head. I lower her pants, and she helps me drag them down her legs, until we’re both naked.
I make room between her legs and grind my hips into her. My rock-hard dick rubs over her already wet pussy and we both moan in unison.
“Is this what you need?” I ask her, caging her in with my hands.
She bites into her lip before responding, “I need it to hurt before you make it feel better.” Her gaze is pointed and my head snaps back.
She wants me to hurt her. My biceps flex, refusing to take part in it.
But as she stares at me with wide, honest eyes and whispers, “Please,” I can’t do anything but follow.
I swallow, remembering everything I know about impact play. What I picked up from my own experiences and learned in Charles’ club. “Turn over,” I say.
She flips to her belly, and I pull her hips up, exposing her ass to me. I suck in a breath at the sight. Her smooth skin glows under the partial light, her back rising and lowering with rapid breaths.
“I’m only doing this because you asked me to, mila. And I’ll stop as soon as you say so.”
She doesn’t give me a response, so I place both of my hands on her ass, roughly kneading it. She gasps.
“Got it?”
“Yes. Yes. Please.”
I release her flesh, inhaling deeply before a snap crackles in the air and I see the trace of my hand on her skin.
I spanked her. Dread fills me for a second, but she pushes her ass back, pleading, “More.”
So I do it again. Other cheek this time. She lets out a whimper. And I do it again.
It’s not the first time I’ve spanked someone in the throes of passion, but it’s the first time someone begged me to ease her pain. I know it should help, in theory, but I’m still apprehensive about pushing her further than she’s ready.
Sophie cries out after a particularly rough smack, and I pause. Red marks adorn her ass, making me wonder if I took it too far.
The wait feels like eternity, but then she whispers, “More, please.” Her voice sounds broken, but her words are clear.
This time, as my palm connects with her skin, she lets out a feral moan. One that can’t be confused with pain. The sound shoots straight to my dick. He’s now at full mast, obviously unbothered by the uncertainty crawling through my head.
Another smack, another moan. My hands itch, and my cock pulses, as the doubts clear from my head, her crimson flesh acting like red to a bull.
And as the bathroom lights hits her pussy just at the right angle for me to see she’s fucking dripping, my will power breaks, any remnants of gentleness evaporating.