33. Ariyan
ARIYAN
“Would you stop moving so much?” I hissed, jaw set tight as I held the makeup blender sponge.
“But it’s ticklish,” he answered, his eyes closed, while continuing to bounce his knee.
I huffed, annoyed by this man-child who couldn’t even sit still for five minutes.
“Why do I need to put on makeup to begin with?” he grunted.
“Because—” I dabbed the sponge against his skin. “—we can’t have that handsome face of yours covered with bruises.”
I realized my mistake a little too late, as Mr. Rivas had already blinked his eyes open and was now staring at me in a way that made me uncomfortable.
“My handsome face?” A teasing little smirk tinged on his appetizing lips.
My stomach flipped at the sight, and wanting to distract myself, I dabbed the sponge in the foundation before bringing it to his face.
This time, I applied a bit more force as I patted the bruise under his brow to cover it up.
“Don’t get excited.” My mouth went dry. “Obviously, you’re good-looking. Pretending you’re not would be a waste of time.”
My skin flared as he continued to stare at me with those bright eyes and stupid smile.
“What do you want?” I snarled, annoyed by how much I wanted to run my fingers through his thick hair.
Without a shred of modesty, he reached forward and grabbed my wrist. His fingers softly caressed my skin, and closing my eyes, I let out a low breath.
It had been years, if not more, since someone had touched me this tenderly, and when his other hand moved down to my waist, his hold firm and strong, I couldn’t help but bite my lips with pleasure.
Still sitting on the chair, he pulled me closer, his hands now wrapped around me in a tight embrace that felt so damn possessive.
I loved it. And when he pulled me into his lap, I didn’t resist and instead willingly followed until my arms were wrapped around his thick neck.
Years of hard work had forged his body into a masterpiece.
He was all big muscles, and as I sat in his lap, they pressed against me like solid concrete.
He smelled of sweat and cheap soap, and I liked it.
I always do. My chest tightened with uncontrollable heat, my skin covered with goose bumps as his simple scent enveloped me.
Then, in a moment of pure madness, I leaned down until our lips met in a heated kiss that was a mistake that had been waiting to occur.
And yet, nothing about it felt wrong. His full lips were soft to the touch, like pillows, perfectly aligning with mine.
I savored their shape and taste before he opened his mouth, and I thrust my tongue inside.
He tasted good, like peppermint, leaving me hungry for more.
Staggered, I moaned into the kiss, and in return, he smiled, and I felt his lips curving against my own.
I wanted to smile, too, but knowing it would hurt, I instead focused on sucking on his tongue.
A sudden thrill rushed down my spine as he pulled me closer while deepening the kiss, almost as if he were trying to swallow me whole.
His strong arms, built for bloody battles, now held me with such tenderness it made my mind go blank, and so I allowed him to keep me close while he took his time exploring me with his hands and lips.
His body radiated heat to an immense degree, and his moves were reckless, showing desperation.
With each shift of our bodies, I could feel his erection, and as the friction grew stronger, I continued to grind against him, my cock aching for more.
Still clothed, every brush of fabric made me want to groan with frustration, so when he slipped his hands under my shirt and caressed my back, I couldn’t help the cry of pleasure that ripped through me.
He shut me up with his mouth right before he shoved his tongue past my parted lips.
My senses grew numb under the pleasure he inflicted on me, and all I could do was writhe on top of him.
And as my arousal grew, I moved my hips faster, rutting against him, when he suddenly tore his lips from mine.
An outburst of rage sparked inside me, and I wanted to shout in protest when he pressed his head against my chest and just held still.
“Ha…” He panted, voice heavy. “So you have a heart after all.”
It was then that my eyes snapped open.
Out of breath and with my skin covered with sweat, I stared at my bedroom’s ceiling.
It was still night, considering how dark it was, with only a few strips of moonlight breaking in from between the blinds.
My body was ice-cold, chest heavy as if a weight were placed on top.
For a few moments, I couldn’t move, and as the sound of my breaths filled the void, I continued to stare ahead.
My heart hammered so fast in my chest it hurt, and my throat was as dry as a desert.
A few more seconds passed before I finally got a hold of myself, and once I realized what had just happened, I sat up and pushed the comforter away.
Fury, mixed with a deep sense of disgust, gripped my body at the sight of the stain on my pants.
My stomach coiled, and I gritted my teeth before dashing to the bathroom.
Getting rid of my clothes, I stepped into the shower and turned on the hot water, desperate to melt the frost that had sunk its claws inside me.
It wasn’t enough, and so I increased the heat until my skin stung and steam filled the space, making it harder to breathe.
What are you so ashamed of, huh? You’ve already seen it all. Don’t tell me… You want to fuck Mommy yourself, don’t you?
My bottom lip shuddered, so to make it stop, I bit on it, so hard the familiar taste of blood filled my mouth.
That’s my punishment for giving birth to a boy. As if this shitty world needed another pig. Yeah, that’s what you all are, every one of you. Dirty, stinky, filthy pigs.
Turmoil went through me, and so I turned the handle to the max until the water burned my skin.
Biting my lip, I clenched my fists, nails digging into my flesh as I stood still, the water running the whole time.
At some point, I became oblivious to the pain, but still feeling dirty from the inside out, I reached for the soap and began scrubbing myself.
But I didn’t use the loofah. It wasn’t strong enough; instead, I used my nails.
I scrubbed my skin until it turned into scratches, the whole time their words running through my mind like a broken record.
Just give me a break and fucking die, you piece of shit. But not before I gouge out your eyes and slit your throat, you fucking whore.
More soap.
Now, be a sweet boy and bring Mommy her cigarettes, okay?
More scratching.
You’ll die an ugly, lonely death, just like the rest of us.
More burning.
That’s the thing about strays. No matter how much you bathe them, you can never get rid of the stench. You see… it seeps under their skin, settling deep into their bones.
The sound of my alarm going off cut into those memories, reminding me I had to start getting ready for work.
Opening my eyes, I looked down at the floor to see drops of blood mixing with the water.
I’ll have to clean it before I leave.
I then glanced at my arms.
Long, red lines traveled along them, and the freshly scraped-off skin was just another reminder of what I truly was.
A dirty whore picked up from the street like a stray.
Reaching down, I turned off the tap, then walked out of the shower. Grabbing a towel, I wrapped it around my waist before going to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea that I wouldn’t even drink, one thought keeping my mind busy: what should I have for breakfast?