37. CHAPTER 32
SAYLOR
My bedroom looks exactly how I left it, but it feels foreign now, even though I haven’t been gone for an entire month. It’s fucked up how much can change in a short amount of time. I’d grown used to life with Axl at the Talon mansion.
So far, I have thrown a bunch of shit around and cried into my pillow. At least I’ve managed to avoid seeing my mother, because I don’t think I could handle that without clawing her eyes out for saying something shitty to me.
Justin appears in my room and sets a glass of wine on my nightstand. “Here you go. I’ll bring you more if you want it.”
“Thank you. This is much needed.” I glance over at him to see the sympathy on his face.
“I’m right down the hall if you need me.
” He pulls the door shut behind him. He’s given me my space since we’ve been back at our parents’ house, which I appreciate.
I already know how much he hates Axl, and this just proved him right.
I sit on the edge of my bed and stare at the wine.
I want to scream. I want to break something.
I want to drive back to the mansion and put Axl’s own knife through his chest for making me feel this fucking stupid.
Part of me can’t help but question if that was actually Axl.
I didn’t see his face, but after the shit he did to me, the coward couldn’t even face me like a fucking man.
And if it wasn’t him, why hasn’t he texted me? I haven’t heard a fucking thing from him since this morning.
Wine isn’t going to be enough tonight. I pull open the bottom drawer of my nightstand. The small bag is still there, tucked under an old journal. Kynlee and I always keep an extra stash for when we want to party. I pull a couple pills out of the bag.
I toss my head back and swallow them dry, reaching for the wine to wash them the rest of the way down. My hand catches the base of the glass wrong and it tips, spilling red wine across the nightstand and onto the carpet.
“Shit.” I grab the glass before it rolls off the edge, but most of it is gone. A dark stain spreads across the white carpet, and I know my mother is going to accuse me of being a drunken whore when she has to get this cleaned or replaced.
I set the nearly empty glass aside and grab a towel from the bathroom to wipe down the nightstand. Then I give up and cover the stain with the towel so it can soak up some of the mess.
I pull another pill out of the bag and swallow it. If I can’t drink myself numb, I’ll roll until I can’t feel anything. Or hopefully hallucinate a bloody death for Axl.
I jerk Axl’s hoodie off my body and toss it to the corner of my room. The pills will take about thirty minutes to hit. I close my eyes and wait as I allow more tears to spill down my cheeks.
The pills hit in waves. My skin feels warm, and the sheets are so soft against my bare legs that I press myself into them. The ceiling blurs and sharpens, then blurs again. My body feels like it’s sinking into the mattress and floating above it at the same time.
The tears have dried on my cheeks. I can still see Tracy bent over the bed when I close my eyes, but the edges of it are softening. The anger is still there, but it’s lighter now.
I roll onto my side and pull the pillow against me. My nipples are sensitive against the fabric of my tank top, and the piercings send a dull ache through me every time I shift. Everything feels like too much and not enough at the same time.
I don’t remember falling asleep. But at some point, the room spins and I see Axl’s face when I close my eyes.
Something pulls me back to the surface of whatever I’m dreaming. Not all the way, but just enough.
There are hands on my thighs, pushing them apart. My body responds before my brain does, arching into the touch. Did he come for me? I don’t think I have any panties on.
A mouth presses against my clit. My fingers curl into the sheets, and I think I release a series of moans.
Axl.
Or I’m imagining him. I don’t know if I even care right now if this is a dream.
His tongue works me slowly, and I can’t keep my hips still. I grip the sheets, needing something to ground myself in the fantasy. I don’t want to wake up. There’s just his mouth and the most intense pleasure rolling through me.
I come, moaning Axl’s name. It breaks out of me, and my thighs shake against the sides of his face.
He doesn’t stop right away. He works me through it until I’m trembling and oversensitive, trying to close my legs. “So fucking good.”
I try to place the voice. Something about it sounds off, and it makes my body tense up. Then his hands grip my hips, and he flips me onto my stomach.
My face presses into the pillow. The sheets are cool against my chest, and the piercings ache under my weight. I feel him behind me. His hands push my shirt up my back, and then he’s inside me.
He fucks me hard and slow. His hands press my hips into the mattress. I grip the pillow and moan into it, because every nerve in my body is lit up from the drugs making me feel every inch of his pierced dick.
Something feels different about the way he’s fucking me. Like I’m back in my nightmares. Am I having one again? But the drugs smooth everything into sensation, and I stop trying to think and just let my body take what it needs from Axl.
He picks up his pace. His grip tightens, and I can hear him breathing hard behind me. I press my face deeper into the pillow, and my second orgasm builds slow and heavy until it crashes through me and I’m shaking underneath him.
I think he finishes inside me. His weight drops against my back, and his breath is hot against my neck. The way I’m pinned to the mattress doesn’t feel right. It’s the same as the nightmares.
I lie there trying to decide if I should fight or if Axl will be there to wake me up. That I’ll be back in our bed, and he’ll tie me up and remind me that I’m his.
Or am I dreaming Axl? His face is pressed against my neck, and I can feel his heartbeat against my back. My body is spent, and the drugs are pulling me under again.
I smell something, cologne. It’s not Axl’s. My brain tries to rationalize why I give a shit about cologne. And where I’ve smelled it before. I should know this.
His lips brush my cheek, kissing my skin. And then his mouth is in my ear.
“There’s nothing in this world that tastes better than you.” He kisses my neck. “I like when your body responds to me, but good thing you won’t remember this. We can’t have that.”
The mattress shifts as he climbs off me. Something is placed in my hand, and I think he wipes between my legs. I can’t move. I can’t turn over. I can’t open my eyes. I don’t even know if any of this is real.
I see Axl’s face and realize that I’m crying. Everything about this feels wrong. I just want Axl. “Axl?” I call out for him. Or at least I think I do. No one answers.
I close my eyes and his face is there. Where’s Axl? If he’s not here, why won’t he wake me up from this nightmare?