Twenty-Five Gemma #2
His hands balled into fists as I swayed closer, running my fingers through his long, sweaty hair, letting him know I wasn’t afraid. That I was trying to teach him I would never be cruel. That I was trying to keep myself safe by giving him someone to trust.
He moaned like a dying thing.
His good hand suddenly snatched my wrist, yanking my fingers from his hair. His chest rose and fell, sucking up air and lust. “I said no.”
I swallowed back the pressure in my throat. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
His eyes widened until his eyelashes touched his brows. “What? That’s what you think? That I’m afraid of you?”
I stilled. “Aren’t you? You...you were having a nightmare. I know you weren’t awake when you—”
“Christ!” He laughed coldly, choking on disbelief. With a burst of strength, he shoved me away, making me slide backward on the carpet. “I remember every part. How I forced you. How I thrust my way inside you all while you screamed at me not to.”
“You didn’t see me. Not until the end. You said something about Levin. You moaned about snow and—”
“Get the hell away from me.”
“I don’t understand—”
He swiped at the wetness still oozing from his narrowed eyes, self-hatred blazing in his stare.
“I. Hurt. You!” He pushed backward even more, wedging himself deeper against the wall.
“I. Raped. You.” He shook his head as another twisted cough fell from his lips.
“I deserve whatever pain you want to give me. I’ll sit here while you stab me, burn me, butcher me piece by piece, yet you fucking touch me! You stroke me as if I’m the one who—”
“It’s okay.”
He snarled. “It’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay. And for you to say it is? Fuck!” He looked at the ceiling before pinning me back in his ferocity. “You’re as insane as me. Get away from me, Gemma! Run! You’re just inviting me to hurt you again by being so goddamn na?ve!”
My temper didn’t rise to meet his. I was removed, serene.
I knew what I had to do.
Crawling back toward him, I hesitated just a second before placing my hand on his shoulder.
He jolted as if I’d electrocuted him. “Stop—”
“I forgive you.”
“You forgive—?” He hissed between his teeth. “Goddammit, you...you—” He pointed a shaking finger in my face. “Don’t. Don’t ever forgive me. I don’t deserve it. I—”
“Kas...” I massaged his shoulder.
He shot from his ass to his knees, scooting away from me. “I told you to quit touching me, you idiotic fool!”
“And I told you it’s okay.”
“It’s. Not. Okay!”
“I’m not going to hurt you!” I reached for him again. All I wanted to do was give him a hug. That was it. A simple, stupid hug. Something I doubted he’d ever had. Something that enveloped all his sins and all his insanities and gave him something to cling to.
I needed to do it.
I wouldn’t give up.
If I didn’t make him believe I forgave him, he would suppress yet another shitty memory. He’d chew it up and swallow it down until it riddled him with yet more disease. He’d make me become just another sickness inside him.
No.
Just no.
“Would you have hurt me willingly?” I demanded.
He flinched. “I have in the past. I’ve locked you in the basement. I’ve chased after you. I’ve—”
“But not now. Not today. Today is different than yesterday. I know you better. You know me. I don’t believe you could hurt me willingly now. You didn’t mean to—”
“Yet, I did!”
“And I forgive you for it!”
“And I don’t want your fucking forgiveness!” His cock bounced between his legs as he fell to his ass again, his hands balled. Pre-cum beaded the top of his red erection, seeming to have grown in size, tormenting him from taking me and not finishing.
“Get away, Gemma,” he growled. “Get the hell away from me.”
“Tell me why when all I’m trying to do is be your friend.”
He froze. “My friend?” He sucked in a stuttering breath as he shook his head. Crossing his arms on his knees, he lowered his forehead to the splint bracing his broken bone. “I’ve destroyed you.” He groaned and this time it was even deeper, rougher, like thorn-studded velvet across my skin.
I went to him.
I slinked one arm around his chest and one behind his back and I hugged him, pressing against his side.
And if I thought I’d seen Kassen Sands reach rock bottom before, I’d been mistaken.
He collapsed forward, crying out as if I’d done exactly what he expected and torn him limb from limb all while pouring acid on his bleeding pieces.
His entire body became an earthquake as he hunched away from me. “Stop,” he whimpered.
I didn’t stop.
I dropped my forehead to the crook of his neck and squeezed him as if the only thing keeping him alive was this contact between us.
And maybe that was true. Could a hug have the power of resuscitation? Could I force goodness into him? Light? Love? Just from the blanket of a hug?
“It’s okay,” I murmured, inching even closer to him, wrapping him up as much as I could in my arms.
He snarled under his breath, trembling harder. “It’s not. It will never be.”
“Just let go, Kas. You’re with me. Only me.”
For a split second, he did what I said and relaxed against me. His tension slipped away. His chest inhaled with a haggard breath. He dropped his cheek against my hair and gave in.
But then it was over and he became stiff as a board again, his hands came up, trying to unbind my arms from around him. “Let me go.”
“It’s just a hug.” I burrowed deeper into him, shivering as the ice from his skin coated mine. I’d hoped my heat would warm him, cure him. However, the opposite had happened. He’d infected me with his coldness, the perpetual blackness in which he resided.
“Gemma—” He pushed me away with a grunt, his jaw gritted and eyes wild. “Stop.”
I sat back on my knees, studying the anger in his stare and the suffering in his body.
He looked as if two creatures lived inside him.
An animal who’d been mistreated for so long it no longer knew how to act and a boy who still desperately wanted to believe in second chances.
A mischievous malice blended with dangerous bitterness.
I should’ve been the one accepting comfort after what he’d done.
I was fully within my right to scream at him and plunge the knife into his heart.
Yet, there I was, feeling guilty for not being able to soothe his pain.
For feeling wrong by trying to force a hug on him, when really, I should respect his space, seeing as no one else ever had.
I didn’t have a clue how to act or what to do in order to grant him peace.
Dropping my gaze down his body, I sucked in a breath as I caught sight of his erection. It hadn’t deflated. If anything, it seemed to have grown even harder. A rock-hard weapon that currently did its best to drive him mad.
He groaned under his breath, catching me staring.
Angling himself away, he went to cup his length, to grant some privacy, but the moment his palm landed on his cock, he hissed and ripped his hand away.
A wash of white flashed over his face, followed by glittering sweat on his forehead as if just the barest brush of his own hand made him fight the urge to be sick.
How would that feel, not being able to trust yourself? To have your own body stolen from you so you couldn’t grant a smidgen of comfort or care? What sort of monsters had taken a boy and groomed him so badly that a simple graze of his palm made him rather choose suicide over masturbation?
My shattered heart cracked all over again, fragments on top of fragments, splinters within splinters.
With his head bowed, he brought his knees up higher, trying to hide his twisted arousal.
“You need to leave,” he growled. And God, the pain in his voice.
The profound desolation, the stinging lust and yearning desire.
Whatever nightmare had triggered his need, he wouldn’t be free of it unless he came. His body had gone too far to be denied.
In any other ordinary man, he could grant relief on his own. I could give him some time alone, he could stroke and fondle and be rid of the desperate hunger in his blood.
But he wasn’t an ordinary man and this wasn’t an ordinary house, and frankly, I wasn’t an ordinary girl.
Not when it came to him.
Not here on the floor after everything that’d transpired between us.
Bracing myself, I once again placed my hand on his knee.
His head shot up, his eyes narrowed and threatening. “You just don’t get it, do you?”
“I get that you’re in pain.”
“And you aren’t?” He scoffed. “After what I did to you?”
“You didn’t hurt me physically.”
He bared his teeth. “But I scarred you emotionally. You’ll always know what that feels like now. To be taken against your will—”
“Just like you were so many times in your past.”
He choked. “Don’t. Don’t make this about me. I’m not the victim here.”
“But you are. You were. I understand.” I shook my head. “I forgive you.”
“Stop saying that. You should never forgive someone who—”
“Who’s strangled me so many times I’ve stopped counting? Who’s slept with me on a clifftop in a storm? Who’s chained me to live with them for God knows—?”