Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
MIA
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! What the fuck are you doing, woman?
“Mia.” The way he says my name snaps me to attention. “No.”
“Yes. No one knows you’re here. You’re safe until we can figure shit out. Deal with it.”
He chuckles, his shoulders vibrating with the motion, and he shakes his head.
“Stubborn woman.”
“Yeah.” I’m not going to argue with that.
“What a fucked-up pair we make.”
“I don’t think we’re that bad. Trauma bonding at its finest, right?”
“Why do you always do that?”
“What?”
“Make a joke about it. You went through hell, Mia, and nothing about it is funny.”
“If I don’t laugh, I cry. If I joke about it, I own it. If I own it, nobody can hurt me with it.”
He jolts on the bed like I just struck him, his eyes reflecting the pain that is always in mine. He opens his arms to me, a physical touch I only allow a select few to offer, and I willingly settle on his chest while those strong arms wrap around me. Comforting me. Holding me. Keeping me together.
“One day, Mia Alexander, I’m going to get you to tell me your story. More than the jokes. More than the broad brush strokes.”
“Maybe one day I’ll be ready to do just that, but this isn’t that night.”
He knows the basics. What was in the news. He knows someone who was supposed to love me abused me. He knows I finally broke out and got free. Physically, anyway. But part of me also knows that he’s aware I’m still a prisoner mentally.
He kisses the top of my head and holds me tighter, only letting go to pull the covers over both of us. “Sleep, Krasotka . I’ll watch over you tonight and make sure the bogeyman stays away.”
His strong heartbeat and even breathing lulls me into a deep sleep. One free of screams and memories.
I’m not sure how long the sun has been up, but it’s way too bright when I open my eyes, and I realize I forgot to close the blinds last night. Demitri is still curled around me and I wonder if he has to be at work today. If he does, he’s late, I know that much. But I guess that’s what happens when you’re up until almost dawn, unleashing all the pain in your soul. This beautiful, damaged man has been through so much, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t know if I’m capable of helping him.
He’s right, I have my own trauma. And the only place I talk about it is with my therapist and the group of women I’ve surrounded myself with who all experienced some version of the same thing I did—with the same fucked-up asshole. He’s also right that one day, I need to tell him all about it. He deserves to know—he’s earned it. But I’m afraid. I’m afraid if he knows, he’ll walk away. And for as much as I keep him at arm’s length because I have to, the thought of him walking away forever crumbles my already shattered pieces. He’s the first man I’ve allowed myself to be with more than once since, well, since the fucked-up asshole.
I feel his arm tighten around me, and I’d be an idiot to not feel the erection along my ass. Demitri’s awake.
“Your entire body is primed to flee,” he mumbles.
“It’s getting late, I think. Don’t you need to go to work?”
I try to pull away, but his arm is a vise grip around my waist. I check in with my body to see if I mind the closeness, and find I don’t. Huh.
“I texted them last night after you fell asleep. No rush today. You needed the sleep.”
“We can’t just stay in bed all day. I have shit to do.”
“You know, you can only bullshit a bullshitter so many times, Mia. I know you’re running. I’m pushing my luck right now because I don’t want to move away from your body. But I’ve learned your limits, Krasotka .”
I open my mouth to argue, but I don’t want to. I’m tired of arguing. Of fighting.
“I don’t know what you want,” I finally tell him.
“What I want and what I need and what I’ll take are all different things. What I should do is get up and walk out of this house and never come back.”
I jolt at his words but feel him shaking his head on my shoulder. He’s not done.
“What I want to do is roll you over and touch you, but I know you can’t let me. What I need is for you to realize that this thing? The thing between us? It’s more than fucking, and it always has been. What I’ll take is whatever parts of you that you can give me.”
“I think it’s too early for this conversation, Dem.”
He chuckles, his body lighting mine up where he moves against it. If only he knew he was the only man to make me want .
“I know. But we’re still going to have it. And you need to know the only reason I’d walk away is to keep you safe.”
“What if walking away broke me more than any physical harm could?”
He finally removes his hand from my waist, but only to lift it to my face and tilt my chin until I’m looking at him. The vulnerability I see in his eyes reflects my own, and I know whatever happens this morning is going to change things.
“I’d never willingly walk away from you, Mia. Please know that.”
“But you might have to,” I whisper.
“If this shit starts to go sideways, yeah, I’ll have to walk away. For a while, anyway.”
“Like last time.”
“Just like last time. I came back, came back to you . As soon as I knew it was safe.” He takes a deep breath and continues. “I couldn’t stay away.”
“Demitri,” I breathe out his name. It’s a prayer, a request.
“We aren’t getting out of bed today, are we?” He kisses my shoulder, his finger running along my jawline.
“Not until we have to,” I confirm.
“Good.”
I close my eyes as he continues to explore my body. His fingers, rough and worn with hard work, still feel like silk gliding over my skin. I let them wander until I can’t take it anymore.
“Dem, I…I can’t.” I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing I’m hurting him, too.
“I know, Krasotka . Thank you for allowing me what you did.”
I roll over, facing him. “Why?”
That question. So many whys to ask. Why does he let me treat him this way? Why does he keep coming back? Why does he put up with me and my…hangups? Why does he look at me like I’m the only woman in the world? Why does he make me feel like maybe one day everything will be alright?
“Wrong question,” he replies. No anger or disappointment in his voice. “Maybe you should be asking why we still have so many clothes on.”
I huff out a laugh and shake my head. “What am I going to do with you?”
“I have ideas. Should I assume the position?”
And what does that say about me that he asks that knowing there is only one position? Without a single word, Demitri rolls onto his back, shimmies his pajama pants off, and sits up enough to remove his shirt. He’s gloriously naked in front of me. I unconsciously lick my lips before leaning over and kissing his chest right over his heart.
“Thank you,” I whisper. It’s a phrase of gratitude and praise all in one.
I stand from the bed, remove my shirt, and slide my panties down my legs. I hear his intake of breath, but I can’t look at him when I’m naked. I know what he sees, what I try to hide, and while he’s never said anything, I know he knows. I’m damaged. Broken. That I have scars on the inside and outside. Forever touched by evil.
“Come here,” he rasps. “Are you good?”
I nod and walk to the edge of the bed on his side. “I’m ready.”
Without asking, he raises his arms over his head and grabs the headboard. He gives me an expectant look, silently asking where the ties are. I shake my head.
“Not this time. Just…”
“I’ll keep my hands right here, Mia. I promise.”
Stretched out on the bed, hands above his head, creating his own restraint, willingly giving me control over everything is what turns me on. It’s the only thing that turns me on. Without it, I can’t have sex. Demitri knows this, yet he keeps coming back. Again, why?
“Are you ready?” I ask, crawling onto the bed and straddling his thighs. His cock stands hard, twitching, like it’s trying to reach for me.
“Yes.”
I motion to the bedside table and Demitri reaches into the drawer, pulling out a small bottle. Opening the lid, he drops some of the lube on his cock, fisting it and pumping twice. He smirks at me, raising a brow. “Need to make sure.”
The unspoken words are because he can’t make sure I’m primed and ready for himself.
I nod, giving him that one, and raise up on my knees. His fist grips himself, nudging the head at my entrance, and I slide down, the brush of his hand on my pussy almost making me pull back, but I resist. I want him to touch me. But I can’t let him. I feel everything too much. He feels so good until it’s more than I can handle.
But I want to make him feel good. The look on his face as I ride his cock. The way his muscles flex as he tries to thrust up from beneath me—the very little I let him. The way his chest heaves when I place my hands on it to give myself better leverage.
“ Krasotka . You feel so good.”
I feel a small smile as I adjust my body over his again, rising up and down on my knees, my pussy squeezing his cock in quick, shallow dips. I circle my waist, fluctuating my movements to allow him the most friction.
I watch his hands grip the bed frame and then flex out. I know he wants to touch me. I know he wants nothing more than to take over. To grab my hips and guide me exactly where he wants me. But he holds back. For me.
His body tenses under mine, and I know he’s close. I increase my speed and allow my dips to take more of him inside of me. My eyes water watching the mixture of pleasure and pain on his face, knowing this is all I can give him. My pleasure comes from watching him come undone under me.
“I’m almost there,” he growls. “Yes. Like that.”
I grind down on his cock, rocking back and forth, and when I’ve almost had enough, I feel him unleash his orgasm. His body shudders, and his hands relax. He lowers his eyes to my body, stopping to admire my tits, heaving with my own exertion.
“Are you alright?” he asks, an expectant look on his face.
What he really wants to know is if I got off or if I’m in pain.
“I’m great.” I smile, knowing that neither of us believe it.
I swing my leg over his body and stand up. As much as he’s trying to hide it, I see the disappointment in his eyes, and it hurts. Not the way he fears I do, but in my soul. When I get to the bathroom door, I turn around and look at him.
“I need you to know that if I could be different, I would. For you. But also for myself.”
“Mia, I don’t want you to do anything for me. I only wish that you could see the barrier and break through it. If I could help you, I would, but this is a battle I can’t be a part of.”
A tear breaks free as I nod. I silently step into the bathroom and close the door behind me. After starting the shower and letting the water warm up, I step under the stream and let the tears flow. I’m not crying because I had sex, I’m crying because I want to have better sex. I want to be able to let go in a way that allows the intimate moments ‘normal’ people have. I want to be able to orgasm without fear of losing myself. I want to love and be loved in return. But I can’t. That was taken away from me, and it doesn’t seem to matter how much time has passed, I haven’t been able to take it back.
This is my life. It’s the only way I know how to live it.