Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Liam
I strangled the steering wheel, wishing it was that fucker’s neck.
If only the cops hadn’t already been en route for Mary, if I’d had just a few more minutes alone with him, no woman would ever need to worry about where he put his fucking dick ever again.
What kind of sicko prepares to rape a woman by jacking off on a sock and carrying it to work in his pocket, biding his time to get her alone?
And I’d fucking handed Jenna to him on a silver platter. This whole time, he was right under my fucking nose, and I had no clue. Like a useless idiot, I’d left her in his sick clutches.
I’m sorry, Firefly. So fucking sorry.
I’d promised to keep her safe, and I failed spectacularly.
Jenna stared out into the darkness, her hands clenched in her lap, looking so small and vulnerable.
I pried my fingers off the steering wheel and laid my hand between us, relief flooding through me when she grabbed on.
We’d held hands almost the whole time in the hospital, but I knew it would be different now that we were heading home.
I didn’t care if she never wanted to touch sexually again, but I desperately needed to hold her and comfort her. And she needed it too.
Finally home, I parked and rushed around to help Jenna out of the car and into the house.
Thor whined frantically as I unlocked it, like he already knew, and Jenna barely made it a step inside before dropping to the floor.
Thor hooked his paws over her shoulders, and she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck.
A gut-wrenching cry tore out of her, and her shoulders shook as she cried into his fur.
Thor whimpered and scooched closer, looking up at me with sorrowful eyes. What can I do, he seemed to say.
I wish I knew, buddy. I sank down next to them and wrapped my arms around them both. Jenna kept hold of Thor, but she leaned into me.
Eventually her sobs faded into tired, uneven breaths. “Come on up, Firefly.” I helped her stand, keeping my arms wrapped around her.
It was late, and she was exhausted, but she needed to eat and shower.
The doctor had wanted her to stay overnight for observation, but she’d looked at me with wide, panicked eyes, shaking her head frantically.
When she said there were too many people and she’d feel safer at home, I’d helped plead her case, and he’d agreed to release her with strong antibiotics, an appointment to recheck her lungs in two days, and a promise to return at the first sign of any respiratory symptoms. Now it was up to me to take care of her, and I wouldn’t let her down again.
“Do you want to eat or shower first?” I asked.
"Shower.” She shuddered, and I kicked myself for not already knowing how much she needed to wash off.
I walked her to the bathroom and hesitated in the doorway. “Do you want me to stay with you?”
“No.” Her rebuff was quick and firm, although she smiled to try to soften the blow. “Thank you, though.”
“Okay, I’ll make you dinner and be right back.” I offered her every quick comfort food I could think of, and she politely declined them all.
“I can’t eat,” she said, her voice cracking.
“Just a little, please. Your body needs it.”
She finally conceded to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, then gently closed the door.
I listened from right outside the door, not ready to let her out of my sight yet.
She brushed her teeth, and my rage spilled out in tears when she kept brushing for so long, I’d be surprised if her gums weren’t bleeding.
That was even after she already brushed her teeth a few times at the hospital.
Once she was in the shower and I didn’t hear anything else, I raced down to let Thor out and make the best PB&J sandwich I could.
I brought her food and a glass of water to the bedroom, then waited outside the bathroom again, just in case.
Steam billowed behind her when she stepped out, a towel around her body, and a smaller one on her hair, her eyes rid-rimmed, but she managed a small smile for me.
I followed her to the bedroom, hovering as she pulled out pajamas, but she didn’t change, didn’t even loosen her grip on the towel.
“Do you need anything?”
She shook her head.
My stomach twisted even tighter. Was I making her uncomfortable? “Will you be okay while I shower?” I asked.
She nodded.
I showed her the sandwich on the dresser, grabbed a pair of boxers, sweatpants, and a T-shirt, and hurried out to give her privacy.
When I came back, the sandwich was half-eaten, and Jenna was in bed, curled up under the blanket, the towel still wrapped around her hair, and Thor wrapped around her. I lifted the edge of the blanket to join her, but she stopped me. “No.”
Fuck. I froze, my heart shattering on the floor between us.
“You never sleep in pants and a shirt. Take them off.”
Thank God. I still hesitated. “I thought it would be better, for tonight at least.”
“No. Take them off,” she said, her voice so steady it bordered on flat.
“Okay, Firefly.” I took them off and got in bed, rolling to face her, Thor between us. I rubbed my hand up and down her arm, which was draped over Thor, and held her teary gaze. “What can I do for you?”
She shrugged, just a tiny movement, but I could tell even that hurt.
“I’d really like to hold you, if that’s okay with you. And with Thor.” I forced a smile for her.
She tried to smile back. “I’d like that, too.”
We cajoled and pushed Thor down to her feet, and then quickly, before he crawled back up, I lay on my back and she scooted into my side, resting her head on my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, and my heart pieced itself back together a bit.
“I love you so much, Firefly. I’m here for you, whatever you need. ”
“I know. I love you too.”
She quickly fell into an exhausted, restless sleep, but I was up for hours longer, breathing her in, soothing her when she cried out in her sleep, so filled with gratitude to have her in relatively one piece in my arms, but also filled with rage and helplessness.
Jenna stirred, waking me up. I tightened my arms around her, but she gently extricated herself and scooted down the bed, sitting near my hip, looking like an angel with her hair shimmering in the early morning sunshine that filtered through the blinds.
“You good?”
“Yes. Go back to sleep,” she whispered.
I didn’t, of course, but I did close my eyes and lay still.
It wouldn’t do her any good if I freaked out at every little thing.
Or at least not for her to know about it.
Truth was, I was less like a sleeping boyfriend and more like an alert soldier, attuned to her every breath.
And her rapid breaths told me she wasn’t okay.
She gently lifted the blanket off me, and I felt the weight of her eyes on my cock. I froze, every nerve on edge as she shifted my boxers and then reached in and closed her fist around me.
“Firefly?”
“Shh, go back to sleep.”
That would’ve been funny if I wasn’t so worried.
She slid her hand up and down the shaft, and my confused cock ignored the warning bells clanging in my head.
The fool didn’t care why her hand was on him.
She pulled my straining cock out through the opening and tentatively ran her hand up over the head and back down.
One finger traced around the head, then down the ridge.
It felt so damn good. And so wrong. I tried to sound casual. “Whatcha doing, Firefly?”
“It looks different than his. Feels different too.”
Fuck. Which asshole’s cock was she thinking about while she touched mine? None of them were acceptable.
“Not Snake Eyes,” she said like she read my mind. “I didn’t see his. I felt it poking me, though. It was big. Probably would have hurt when he…you know.” Her voice was frighteningly calm. Matter of fact. Like she was describing the weather, not the dick she was nearly raped by last night.
My cock shriveled in her hand, and I sat up, reaching for her.
She shook her head and moved between my legs, her eyes still on my cock. “Lay back down.”
“Jenna, please stop.”
“No. Lay down.”
“Firefly…”
She rubbed up and down my flaccid cock, trying to bring it back to life. “I’m good, promise. I want to do this. Please let me.”
What the fuck was I supposed to do?
“Please, Liam.”
I lay down. “You can stop anytime.”
“I know.” She hesitated and finally looked up to meet my eyes. “Is it okay with you?”
“Yeah, Firefly. If you’re sure you want to.”
“I do.”
I fisted my hands at my sides. I wanted to touch her, but I didn’t want her to feel trapped.
I blew out a heavy breath. Tried to relax.
Willed my cock to cooperate with her crazy request. Go ahead, give our girl what she wants.
And I prayed I wasn’t doing the wrong thing, fucking with her head even more.
I was semi-hard again, and she twisted her hand as she moved it up the shaft then tightened it around the head, squeezing as she slid it down.
Fuck, that felt good. My cock swelled, and I was as hard as I’d ever been.
She repeated that again and again, twisting and squeezing, and my balls were already tightening.
Then she spoke. “Yeah, it's different than Brian’s. I like yours much better.” She smiled like that was supposed to be a nice compliment.
I was pissed. My poor cock was confused. She palmed the dripping head, lubing her hand, and repeated that move, squeezing the head through her fist, teasing the rim and squeezing on the way down, twisting on her way up. Again and again.
“Firefly,” I groaned. I was an asshole for enjoying this so much. But damn, she was good.
My balls drew up against my body, and she grabbed them with her other hand.
“I’m going to come,” I warned.
“Come.”