Page 72 of Shatter

Dark eyes search mine for something. I've never felt more vulnerable and more secure than I do right now, with this man, cutting off all my hair. Whatever he finds in my naked gaze must be good enough, because he flips the clippers off.

"Get naked. Knees on the sink, hands on the mirror," he commands in his deep gravelly voice.

Giddy, I giggle again and do as he asks, while he rips his t-shirt over his head and shimmies out of his pajama bottoms. The counter bites into my knees, but just as I'm about to adjust, Harrison fills me in one brutal stroke. We both groan loudly at the feel of the stretch and it reverberates off of the tile walls. Nothing feels better than being filled by the man behind me.

I think he's going to nail me hard and fast but he stills, and the sound of the clippers comes back on. Oh, he's going to torture me.

I watch, a shaking mess, as curtains upon curtains of honey blonde hair fall to the floor around us. My breaths come in short and shallow as my arms tremble to hold me upright. This moment feels so much bigger than just hair. So much bigger than me, or us. This is an awakening - a transformation - a rebirth.

And I know, right at this moment, I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.

Harrison's chest heaves under his restraint. Sweat beads around his temples and just under his nose, but he bites his bottom lip, concentrating on his task.

"Fuck, Mel. Fuck," he grunts, giving short shallow thrusts with his hips. I'm burning up with need but need him to take control. From this angle, propped on the counter, I can't thrust my hips backwards so it has to come from him.

"Abigail," I pant. "Abby."

He stills. Dark, stormy eyes find mine again in the mirror. "What?"

"Melody is an alias," I whisper, afraid of what's about to happen. He could be pissed, he could leave. But I know that, in this moment, I need to lay it all bare. If I'm truly going to live as my authentic self, I need to put Melody away and fully step into Abby.

"My real name is Abby Miller."

"Fuck!" he shouts as the clippers hit the floor.

One arm bands around my stomach as he snaps his hips at an alarming rate, abusing my G-spot and thrusting me toward an orgasm.

"No... hair... to... pull," I gasp out between punishing thrusts.

Harrison growls behind me, his other arm snaking between my heavy breasts, his forearm drifting over the sensitive piercings in my nipples, causing me to cry out. He wraps his other hand around my throat.

"You think I need to pull your hair to make you mine when you have such a delicate little throat?"

I don't know how he's still talking with how hard he's fucking me, but the moment his hand wraps around my throat and he pulls me back against his chest I lose all control. My orgasm tears through me on a scream.

Harrison buries his face in my neck, chanting "Abby, Abby, Abby," under his breath as he thrusts in and out of me, prolonging my orgasm and sending me barreling toward another.

"Give it to me," he groans, teeth scraping my shoulder.

Logically, I know he means another orgasm.

"I love you," blurts out, and I wince. My head is swimming, the bathroom is suffocating, and the scent of sweat and sex surround us.

He bears his teeth and bites down on my shoulder as he comes, grunting and groaning, and I come again, feeling like I've cut open my own chest and laid it bare for him.

But he doesn't say it back. Disappointment is a heavy thing, but I can't make someone love me. I can't make him say the words. It has to be enough that I told him how I feel.

Instead of putting me down, Harrison shifts his hold on me and I hear the water turn on. I sleepily blink my eyes open and watch us in the mirror.

When Harrison catches me watching him, I swear his cheeks pinken and a look of soft adoration crosses his face. It's reassuring that he doesn't look at me bald any different than he did with my long locks. I would think less of him as a man, if he did.

My eyes drift back over to my face and take in my bald head. My head's always been a good shape, but the lack of hair makes my eyes stand out even brighter, and the pink on my cheeks has given me a healthy glow. I look good.

Moreover, I look like me.

Not Melody Snow. I look like Abigail Miller.

I jump a little as something prods at my pussy, before rolling my eyes and watching Harrison over my shoulder as he pushes his cum back inside of me. I spread my legs to give his large hand more room.