Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Lunatic has been in the shower for a while.
I need to clean my hand and grab a clean bandage.
Maybe he won’t notice if I slip in and out really quick.
I twist the knob carefully, finding it unlocked.
I’ll be in and out. No big deal. Except when I walk in, I’m blasted by steam, and what I see steals my breath away.
Lunatic is in the shower, head tipped back, eyes closed, fucking his fist. My first instinct is to run away, but I can’t look away. He’s hotter than hot. Sexy. Rugged. Tempting. Everything any woman could want. I swallow hard and make a decision.
I strip to my underwear, leaving my damp clothes discard on top of his on the floor. He doesn’t realize I’m here until I open the shower door and step inside.
His eyes pop open, dark and hungry in a way that curls my toes.
I replace his fist with my own. “Let me.”
“Daisy,” he breathes out my name like I’m his only prayer.
His forehead drops against mine as I stroke him. He moves in to kiss me, only I turn my head. “I have a strict no-kissing policy,” I tell him. He’s too good for a girl like me. I’m damaged goods. Used and broken. But this I can give him.
His gaze fixates on my hand wrapped around him. His large hands make a necklace around my throat. A delicious ache throbs between my legs when he groans.
“Fuck, Babygirl. I need to touch you.”
“This isn’t about me.” I jerk him fast, then slow, bringing him closer to the edge of his release.
He braces a hand flat on the tile behind my head, lips parted, chest heaving.
His breathing is as wild as his eyes. “Fuck me, beautiful I…” He doesn’t get the rest out before I lean into him, breathing in the musky, clean scent of his body wash and the hot press of steam all around us.
His cock pulses in my grip, thick and so damn alive.
I know how to do this. I know how to please a man.
I learned early. Learned hard and ugly. But with Lunatic, there’s a fluttering in my lower belly that’s more than the pill wearing off or some basic survival instinct.
It feels like an ache for something I can’t name.
A craving for something I’ve truly never tasted.
Something I’ve never been allowed to want for myself.
He doesn’t touch me, not really. His hands linger in the air as if he wants so badly to hold me.
To crush my body to his. To kiss my lips, but he’s fighting himself.
I pump him, feeling the velvety steel against my palm and the way his hips rock, chasing pleasure.
My own body is betraying me. I’m wet between my thighs, the rub of my dripping panties against my needy flesh nearly enough to get me off.
He shudders and lets out a raw, desperate groan.
His hips jerk against my hand, the muscles in his chest seizing as he finishes, thick and hot over my knuckles.
Normally I’d feel shame for what I am. For what I’ve been forced to become, only the way Lunatic trembles from my touch makes me feel something else.
Powerful. Desired. Needed in a way no one has ever wanted me before.
He grabs the back of my head and crashes his forehead into mine, panting as if he’s just run a marathon.
There’s a look in his eyes that nearly undoes me.
He’s searching my gaze, looking at me like I’m something precious, not some favor he’s cashing in.
I break away, rinsing my hand under the stream, the water running pink from where I split open one of my scabs.
Lunatic catches his breath, watching me in silence. I reach for the soap, working it into my skin until I’m sure every trace of him is gone.
He stares at me as I continue to shower, pretending we didn’t just share an intimate moment. Girls like me can’t afford to get attached to anyone. Especially not now, when I’m the closest I have ever been to getting my baby back.
“Don’t you want me to take care of you? I want to.”
I shake my head, biting back my tears. Of course I want him to. I’ve never wanted anything more. But he’s a beautiful distraction that I can’t afford.
“You should go to your party,” I tell him flat and cold, shutting off my emotions. Another thing I’m skilled at. Avoiding attachments and pushing away anyone who dares to get close.
“If that’s what you want.”
“I’d very much like to be alone. I’m tired and need time to myself.”
He nods wordlessly and exits the shower. He grabs a towel and closes the bathroom door with a soft click. His kindness cuts me sharper than any knife ever could.
Once he’s gone, I finish my shower and check for the phone under the sink. It’s still there.
I won’t be expected to check in yet.
I put the phone back in my hiding spot and search high and low for another pill. The one from this morning is wearing off.
I don’t find one.
I have the bottle the doctor gave me, but I’m afraid to take it. I’m not supposed to start them until all other hard drugs are out of my system.
My belly gurgles and my headache returns tenfold. I collapse on the bed wearing nothing but a towel.
I must drift off for a while because the next thing I know the mattress dips next to me and there’s a rough hand on my inner thigh while another covers my mouth.
“Time for your next dose,” Tyrant grits in my ear. “But first, how about we have us a little fun.”
I jerk against him but am too weak to put up much of a fight.
Tyrant holds me down and forces himself inside me. I close my eyes and pretend I’m back in the shower with Lunatic, but it doesn’t help. I can smell and hear the man who is really on top of me. He doesn’t care that I’m not into it. He gets off on my reluctance.
I don’t fight him. I simply float out of my body. I focus on Lunatic’s knife sitting on the nightstand and calculate my chances of succeeding in killing him and walking out of here alive afterward.
I guess I should be grateful that it doesn’t take him long to get off, and that he pulls out first. He slaps his throbbing dick against my belly. Bile shoots up the back of my throat, but I swallow it down. He grunts twice, then shoves two pills between my lips.
“You try telling someone and I’ll make sure you regret it, you dirty fucking cunt.” He spits in my face then leaves.
Because I’m pathetic, I swallow the pills down, then I run to the bathroom and throw them back up.
I’m not sure how long I lay on the cool tile of the bathroom floor, but eventually I pick myself up like I’ve done many, many times and get cleaned up.
He’s not the first man to hurt me, and sadly, I doubt he will be the last. It’s good, though.
I need a reminder of who I am and what I deserve.
I was getting dangerously close to allowing myself to take Lunatic seriously. He probably felt sorry for me.
I curl up on the blankets Lunatic left on the floor, unable to bring myself to crawl back into his bed after what just happened.
“Hey, brought you a snack.” Lunatic saunters into the room with a variety tray of cut-up fruit.
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” I turn back to stripping his bed. “Do you have another set of sheets?”
“I’ll grab some from the hall closet. You know there’s still a party happening down there if you want to get a drink or something.” He touches my back, and I flinch at his touch. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just, you know, feeling a little gross. Starting to detox.”
“Didn’t Doc give you something for that?”
I nod. “Can’t start those yet.”
“I can get you something for your stomach. I’ve got these nausea pills that will knock you out if you want to get a good sleep.”
I shake my head. The last thing I want is to pass out and wake up to Tyrant raping me again. I could tell Lunatic what he did, but who is he going to believe? A whore or his club brother? “I’ll be okay.”
“Well, if you change your mind.”
“I appreciate it.”
“I’m going to grab those sheets.” He places the tray on the dresser and leaves.
When he comes back, I’ve turned the TV onto some horror movie. There’s nothing scarier than my life. “You like scary movies?”
He looks skeptical.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t really watch TV.”
“Okay, what do you normally do?”
He doesn’t want to know, and I don’t want to tell him. “Hang out with the other girls. Clean the compound. Help in the kitchen. Play card games.” Get high. Whore myself at any given moment. “I read a lot. Hector has an extensive library, and he’d let me borrow books.”
“What kind of books?” he unfolds the fitted sheet and hands me an end.
“Mostly history. Politics. War. But sometimes some of his men would give me thrillers or an occasional romance novel.”
“Which were your favorites?”
“I preferred the thrillers.” I grab the top sheet, and he goes for the remote control to the TV as someone gets a knife to the heart on the screen.
“Mind if we watch something else?”
“Not at all.” I don’t care what he puts on. It doesn’t matter. At any time I’m going to be in the bathroom either puking or shitting my guts out and he’s going to want to be as far away as possible when that happens.
With the bed remade, he grabs the fruit tray and gets comfortable. I perch on the edge of the opposite side as he flips through the channels, popping grapes into his mouth. “You sure you don’t want any?” he sits the tray in the center of the bed.
“I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”
I scoot up to the headboard and close my eyes.
He chuckles under his breath at some fail video compilation.
“You don’t have to babysit me, you know.”
“Maybe I like your company.”
Me too.