Chapter 13 Laynie
He walked out of the bathroom. He sounded angry when he spoke. I looked down at my mess and my mind kept going back to that kiss. The way he tenderly kissed my mouth made my insides melt, but the thought of anything more made my stomach hurt. I shoved the thoughts aside and got in the shower. It felt good to just soak under the warm water. At the warehouse, we had 2 minutes to shower and get out, or we would be beaten. It was hardly enough time to wash your hair thoroughly, let alone your whole body. The water was always ice cold, and the pressure was weak. I had gotten so used to showering in that way I had to stop myself from rushing. I noticed he had stocked the shower with shampoo and conditioner and a cocoa butter body wash. It smelled amazing. I took my time washing my hair and scrubbing my body. I savored every moment of the warmth and cleanse the water brought to me.
When I finished, I saw he had left some llama pajamas for me on the sink. I smiled at the little cream-colored llamas wearing red sombreros scattered all over the pants. I put it on without question. Everything fit perfectly.
I noticed he was not in the bedroom when I walked out. I made my way to the living room, where he was pacing and yelling into the phone.
“I know you set me up, you fucking bastard.” He hung up and slammed the phone against the counter.
I jumped.
When he saw me, his demeanor changed. “Nice pajamas.”
“Thanks, I’ve always wanted Mexican llamas on my pajamas.” I smiled at how that sounded when it left my mouth.
“Me too. I should have bought myself some.”
“Missed opportunity.”
He walked over and inhaled my scent. I could feel that same tightness in my stomach when he kissed me earlier. Part of me wanted him to kiss me again, while the other part wanted to run. I leaned into him and his hand slid behind my head and grabbed my hair. Eddie had done the same thing two nights ago, but it didn’t feel this way. He lifted my mouth up to his and took me again. His tongue worked circles in my mouth. I moaned into him and he kissed me faster. How could I be letting this happen? How did I want this?
He lifted me up by my waist and sat me on the counter. He whispered into my neck, “If you want me to stop, I will.”
“Stop.” I don’t know why I said that. I had never held that power before. The power to say no.
He pulled back immediately.
“I just wanted to see if you would stop,” I whispered.
“I will always stop, baby. I will never hurt you.”
His words filled me with something I hadn’t felt in what felt like forever. I leaned forward, desperate for his mouth to meet mine again. He took the hint and devoured me.
He suddenly pulled back, leaving me wanting more, and slowly started kissing down my jawline and then down my neck. I moaned again. Feeling his touch was so different. He lifted my shirt over my head, exposing my bare breast. He gently cupped one of them in his hands. I couldn’t help but have flashbacks of how other men had used me as a rag doll. Pulling and twisting them, making me bleed for their pleasure. I panicked at the thought and he caught on to my change in body language.
“You can trust me. I will not hurt you, baby,” he said while rubbing my breast.
I closed my eyes, trying to clear my mind of the thoughts, but they wouldn’t disappear. I couldn’t get the images to leave.
“What are you thinking? Tell me. Does this bring up something bad for you?” He was playing with my nipple between his thumb and finger.
I nodded.
“What did they do?”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk about it.
“What did they do?” he asked again, but this time his voice was much darker and demanding.
I shut my eyes as I spoke, “There is this one guy, Alek. He is obsessed with them. He will do anything to make them bleed. It’s torture. Every time I am with any of them, I just go somewhere else in my mind, but he hates that. He wants me to be present. He wants me to feel the pain and respond to it. Most of the other men don’t care about that. My body was just there for their pleasure, and it didn’t matter where my mind was while they did it. But this guy, he’s different. He watches my every move and my breasts are his go to for responses.”
He listened carefully as I spoke, like he was soaking in every word. When I finished speaking, he slowly took my nipple in his mouth and between his teeth. I gasped. “Pain can be pleasure, Laynie. I plan to show that to you.”
Pain was all I knew when it came to sex. Pleasure didn’t even exist. Never had I experienced an orgasm with a man.
I pressed my hand against his chest and noticed how small it looked up against him. I probably lost 20 lbs, maybe more, since I was taken. When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t even recognize myself.
I ran my hands through his dark hair as he took a moment to rest his forehead on my thighs. I could tell he was holding himself back like he was capable of darkness, but was trying to keep it at bay. He looked up at me and kissed me on my forehead, and then scooted me off the counter and into his arms. I was straddling his waist as he carried me to the bedroom. He laid me on the bed and took off his shirt, revealing more tattoos and a few scars across his stomach. Like a delicate doll, he handled me with gentleness. He locked eyes with mine when he slid down my llama pajama pants, taking the panties with them. I laid there completely exposed to him, with all my battle scars and bruises open for his view. He began touching all of my scars. Running his fingers over them lightly. Then he started counting them.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Counting how many times I need to stab the fuckers who left these scars on you.” That wasn’t the answer I expected, but I liked it. Thinking about some of them crying like squealing pigs brought joy to my black soul.
He finally finished counting at 84.
My body was trembling under him, begging for his touch. I knew I was wet. My thighs could sense the slickness. I wanted him to touch me there. I wanted him to show me pleasure instead of pain. My body arched towards him as he was making swirl motions on my stomach with his thumb.
He smiled a wicked smile and stood up, slipping his sweatpants and boxers off. “Is this what you want, baby?”
I didn’t respond. It was thick and long. He stroked himself as he came closer to me.
Then it happened again. I panicked. My body was screaming for him, but my mind was somewhere else. It was panicking and giving signals to disengage. I didn’t want to go to that place right now.
He saw my body and face tense. “Baby, come back to me. I won’t hurt you.” He laid next to me and stroked the side of my face.
A single tear slipped out of my eye, and he kissed the tear away.
“Breathe baby girl. You’re in control here, not me.” He was reminding me of my ability to make him stop whenever I wanted.
“I don’t want to,” I choked. I wasn’t ready and the images in my mind were taking over.
“We don’t have to,” he whispered.
And we didn’t.