Landon #2
“No, you don’t,” I insist, tucking myself away as I stand. “You’re just worked up.”
I’m desperate for him to agree. To say he doesn’t think I’m all of those horrible things. That, after all of the times he’s touched me, he’s felt who I truly am. That he understands me and sees me.
Just as I felt he did before.
Nate spasms roughly, his eyes rolling back as he groans low in his throat behind clenched teeth and falls back against the chair.
I think he’s just experienced a dry orgasm.
Once his eyes open again, the vein in his throat pulsing as he takes more of those vibrations, he grits out, “I am worked up. And want to know what is driving me so insane? It’s not these, ugh, vibrations. It’s how much I can’t stand you.”
Spit is flying from his mouth as he speaks, and I’ve never seen a man resemble a rabid animal so closely before, not until now.
As I stand stock still before him, he continues, adding, “You piss me off so bad. I want to strangle you. I want to kick your ass! I fucking hate you, Landon. I—”
“Jesus fuck, Nathaniel!” I scream, marching over to him and ripping the cock sleeve from his shaft. He groans, slumping in exhaustion. “You could have slapped the chair! Hell, you could have ripped this thing off!”
“No, I—”
“No, nothing,” I snap. “I didn’t coerce you; I didn’t force you. I told you to take it and tell me if you couldn’t. You chose to take it. You chose to sit here like this, making me feel…feel…”
I tremble, staring down at his empty eyes.
I feel horrible; that’s what this is. I feel rejected and full of that dark, murky liquid that always attempts to drown me.
“Landon,” Nate starts slowly, sitting up in the chair as he eyes me.
“No. We’re done here. I shouldn’t have come.” Throwing the cock sleeve onto the ground, I turn back to my bag and zip it closed, desperate to be out of his sight. Out of this fucking house.
“And where will you go?” he pushes, sounding tired and exasperated.
“Anywhere but here,” I snap back. “I’d rather shack up with Julian and Atlas while they fuck than be here, letting you make me feel…”
But I can’t say it. I can’t admit to him what effect he has on me. That would be surrender in the purest form, and I’m simply not ready for that.
“Feel what?” Nate asks.
“I don’t owe you an answer!” I screech, gripping the handle of my carry-on as I head toward the bedroom door. “I don’t owe you anything. Fucking prick.”
As I reach for the door handle, his strong hand wraps around my bicep. And for a long moment, I struggle against him, dropping my bag as I try to get out of his reach.
“Let fucking go of me!” I scream, but Nate just wraps his big arms around my chest and keeps my back firmly pressed to his heaving chest as I squirm.
“Landon,” he whispers, soft and reverent. “Calm down.”
“No! You’re horrible, Nathaniel. So fucking—”
“I thought you liked it. I thought you wanted the anger and the fighting. Isn’t that why you got payback? Why you’re so bratty? Because you want someone to care enough about you that they’d put you in your place?”
All of the fight drains out of me, and I sag in his arms, my whole body thumping with anger and fear. Is that what this is? Do I want him to care about me? I don’t even like him!
So why…
“What’s happening here?” Nate asks, his voice just as quiet as it’s been since I tried to leave.
It’s calming me, bringing me down to his level.
“I don’t know.” I don’t let my words show him what I’m feeling now, keeping them angry and demanding even as I’m giving him this truth. I really, honestly do not know what’s happening.
Suddenly, the room gets brighter, and as I turn my head toward the window, I see those beautiful little stars of his taking up the air above our heads.
“Shh,” Nate murmurs, “just watch the stars. It’ll be okay. Everything’s alright.”
I melt further into him, feeling his big hands rub circles over my chest as my heart rate slows and my breathing evens out. The stars are twinkling, dancing and singing for me. He’s giving me this comfort, this light.
“I just… I just wanted to punish you too,” I tell him, and it sounds scarily close to a whimper as I crumble in his arms.
Nate nods, his chin bumping into the top of my head. “I hear you. You did well, sweet Lanny. You got me. I never would have expected it.”
“I did well? But you said you hate me. That I’m horrible and undeserving.”
Nate sighs, turning me in his arms to give me a hard, unwavering look. “I was just overwhelmed. That’s all.”
“So you don’t hate me?” I ask, and I’m honestly not sure what response I want.
He thinks long and hard, his eyes searching mine before he finally says, “I don’t know.”
And that’s enough. For some reason, I can stomach that. As the stars twinkle above us, with his hard, spent body pressed to mine, I think I can live with this.
“Come to bed,” he tells me, guiding me gently toward the mattress. “Let’s just sleep.”
But I don’t want to sleep. I’m battling my desire to hear so many nice things leave his mouth and my need to get into a violent fist fight, right here.
Everything inside of me is so twisted, so mixed up that I can’t tell up from down as I stare into his honey eyes. I just wanted the darkness to go away. I wanted a nice, satisfying struggle to guide me through the hard times and distract me from going home.
“This isn’t what was supposed to happen,” I admit, backing away from the bed and him. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
“Then what did you want?” Nate presses. “Did you want me to cry and beg for forgiveness?”
“No,” I blurt, meeting his gaze as confusion takes hold of me. “Not that.”
“Did you want to fight? Do you want me to try to hit you, to bring you to the ground?”
“I… I don’t know,” I force out, and panic begins to climb up my throat again while taking in his matching desperation for this situation to be fixed. “I just… I needed to… Nate?”
I’m floundering. My skin feels hot and achy, and my heart won’t stop pounding. I’m suddenly overwhelmed by how deeply I can feel each joint in my body, how my own movements are far too controlled and mine.
“What’s wrong with you?” Nate demands, taking a step closer to me. “Why are you… fuck, are you panicking?”
I am, and his freaking out over it is making it worse.
“I’m drowning,” I gasp out, and I don’t think I’ve ever been this vulnerable with someone before. I’m experiencing firsthand the effects of his forcing me into submission. I’m opening up to him. “I can’t breathe.”
Nate takes another step, eyeing me like one would a wounded animal.
“Stay away,” I demand, my back hitting the wall by his headboard. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
“Landon,” he says gently, “I’m going to help you, okay?”
“Why would you?” I snap. “You don’t even like me. You just like breaking me.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is! No one truly likes me. No one truly knows me, so how could they? Just… just stay away.”
Nate really doesn’t listen to anything I say because he crowds me against the wall anyway.
“You’re an insufferable brat with a violent streak,” he tells me, and I divert my gaze, unable to look at him anymore. “But that doesn’t mean you deserve to suffer. Just let me soothe you, alright? Let me fix it.”
“Everything is too crowded. This room is too small, and you’re too big,” I rush out, panic clawing at me. “I just need space. I need to be alone. I need—”