Chapter 10 Willow
WILLOW
A couple of weeks go by, and just like Malice said, I don’t see the three brothers at all during that time.
Even so, there are times when I can’t help but feel like I’m being… watched.
It feels like even though I don’t see them, they can see me.
Surprisingly, my grades have been improving a lot, and it makes me realize how thin I was stretching myself before.
I was always so tired and worn down, and now that I’m not going straight from school to work long hours at Sapphire, I’ve actually had time to study and get a reasonable amount of sleep.
On a Thursday almost a month after my first encounter with the brothers, I show up to school early to do the final bit of prep for the presentation I’ve been working on with April and the rest of our group. By the time I walk into my history class, I feel completely ready to go.
We stand up in front of the class and present our research, and when I have to talk about my part, I’m only a little nervous because I realize I actually do know my stuff for this.
“Well done,” Professor Walsh says when we’re done, and April glances my way with a sour look on her face.
I can tell she’s been counting down the days until I was supposed to get thrown out of school for not being able to pay, but it didn’t happen. So me doing well on the project, not giving her a chance to mock or belittle me, clearly pisses her off.
“I’d say you paid someone to do your part of the project for you, but we all know you don’t have the money,” April hisses as we go back to our seats.
Usually, that would make me feel like shit, but this time I just grin at her, not even bothered. Even her bitchy attitude can’t bring me down when I’m so pleased by how well I’m doing.
We’re dismissed after the final group presents their project, and the last class of the day goes by quickly. I head down to the bus stop, listening to music in my earbuds as it trundles down the streets of Detroit.
I adjust my bag across my shoulders as I step off the bus, but even as I sing along softly to the lyrics of Sunflower, I keep glancing from side to side as I walk toward my apartment.
It’s become a habit I’m not sure I’ll ever shake, an almost compulsive need to keep an eye out for any of the brothers, to catch a glimpse of them.
Those three men feel like ghosts haunting me, always present, just out of my view, and always on my mind because of that. Even when I’m just going about my day, they’re never far from my thoughts. I’m constantly looking over my shoulder, expecting to see one of them lurking somewhere.
“Breathe,” I whisper to myself, switching off my music as I near my apartment. I take the stairs up to the second floor two at a time, eager to be behind the closed—and locked—door.
There’s actually food in my fridge now, so I have more options than mac’n’cheese or rice and beans.
I throw together an improvised dinner of chicken and broccoli, sitting at the scuffed up little kitchen table in the corner to eat it.
When I’m done, I stand up and stretch, a grin spreading across my face as an idea occurs to me.
Despite the chaos that’s invaded my life lately, today was a good day. I’m almost positive we’ll get an A on our presentation, and not only will that improve my overall grade in the class, it’ll also prove to April that I’m not some charity case or deadbeat.
“I deserve to celebrate a little for that,” I murmur, padding toward the bedroom and into the attached bathroom.
I dig around under the sink for a few minutes, pulling out some old candles I bought a while ago. I arrange them around the bathroom and light them all, then turn off the light and twist the tap on the bathtub.
Steam begins to curl up into the air as the tub fills with water, and I shed my clothes, dropping them onto the floor and then kicking them into the corner to deal with later.
When the tub is full, I ease myself into the water, hissing at the rush of heat until my body gets used to the temperature. After a few seconds, I can feel my muscles start to relax, and I slide down into the water and tip my head back against the edge of the tub.
I close my eyes, trailing my fingers absently through the water, letting myself zone out. I haven’t had time to do this in forever, and I’m determined to enjoy it.
A contented little sigh falls from my lips, and without thinking, I start moving my fingertips over my skin, dragging them over my stomach and thighs.
A spark of arousal lights low in my belly.
It’s been a while since I touched myself—in the weeks immediately following my encounter with Nikolai, I wasn’t really in the mood for it.
Whenever I’d slide a hand between my legs as I zoned out before falling asleep, the feel of his calloused hands would pop into my mind, or I’d remember the taste of his dick in my mouth, and I would end up just rolling over onto my side and curling up into a ball instead.
But for the first time in a while, the touch of my own hand feels good, and I can feel my clit throbbing lightly, begging for attention. Spreading my legs, I drop my hand lower and brush my fingers over my clit, sucking in a soft breath at the sensations that spark in my veins in response.
Slowly, I trace a circle around that bundle of nerves. My hips buck forward, sending water sloshing lightly around me.
“Fuck,” I whisper, the sound somewhere between a whimper and a sigh.
My eyes are still closed, but I’m aware of the flickering light of the candles in the dim room, and I try to let my mind wander, building a fantasy as I keep working my clit in slow circles.
With one hand still buried between my legs, I bring my other hand up to tug lightly at my nipples, first one and then the other.
In my head, I imagine it’s someone else doing these things, and I allow myself to get lost in the feeling of being pampered and pleasured.
My fingers move faster on my clit, and I drag my bottom lip through my teeth, making soft noises of approval as my head tilts back even further.
“Feels good,” I breathe, pinching one nipple harder and drawing a hiss from my lips. “God, yes. Fuck.”
In spite of never having had sex—or maybe because of that—I’ve gotten to know my own body pretty well.
I’ve always been able to get myself off easily, and I can already feel pleasure coiling low in my gut.
I pinch my eyes shut more tightly, rocking my hips into the pressure of my hand as I work my clit harder and faster.
My nipples are stiff and peaked now, and as I arch my back more, they poke out from the water.
The feeling of cool air hitting them makes me gasp, my breath coming faster and faster.
In my head, I replay moments from movies I’ve seen or books I’ve read, allowing the fantasies to play out in my mind’s eye. Imagining I’m the one being worshipped.
The hot water jostles around my naked body as I clamp my thighs around my hand, planting my feet on the bottom of the tub.
“Yes,” I murmur again. “Yes, yes… fuck, yes…”
In my imagination, a rough hand palms my breast, and I do it in real life, squeezing hard enough to make myself moan. I slip two fingers into my core, thrusting them shallowly as I grind the heel of my hand against my clit, licking my bottom lip as I imagine being kissed senseless.
Every time I get close to coming, I ease off a little, wanting to draw this out as long as possible. It’s my reward for doing well in class after all, and for surviving the past weeks, ever since…
The motion of my hand stutters as three faces pop into my mind—each one of them similar to the others, but unique too.
Malice, Ransom, and Victor.
My heart, already beating hard from the pleasure coursing through me, kicks into overdrive, slamming against my ribs. My clit throbs beneath my fingertips, and my eyes pop open as I realize I’m not sure if my reaction is from fear or… something else.
“Don’t be crazy,” I whisper to myself, my gaze darting around the bathroom as if one of them might jump out of the shadows in the tiny room at any moment. “Don’t be stupid.”
But there’s no one there. Just the flickering light of the candles and the soft scents of rose and vanilla as steam hovers in the air.
I blow out a breath, resting my hand on my chest for a moment as my pulse finally starts to slow a bit.
My pussy is swollen and achy, my clit sensitive from being pushed right to the edge, and I squirm a little, desperate for the release I was working toward.
Letting out one more long breath, I close my eyes again, letting myself fall back into the rhythm of getting myself off. My hand finds my breast again, my fingers moving between my thighs, and this time, I’m not gentle with myself at all.
This time, I’m pushing myself toward the edge with everything I have.
And as pleasure starts to build inside me like a looming hurricane, I don’t let myself think of the Voronin brothers again.