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Obviously, there are events in my life that have affected me, have broken small pieces of my soul that will never be the same. I was fifteen when Volkov’s men took me and my brother. When they held us for hours, waiting for my dad to come just so they could shoot him. Just so I could watch him die. I got shot that day. I lost my brother. For months, certain sounds, certain smells would send me spiraling down into panic attacks. I felt lucky at how quickly I worked on PTSD with my therapist. It shouldn’t have been that easy. Only now do I realize I shouldn’t have gotten over it that quickly. At some point, somehow, I buried the fact that I lost a figure of healthy authority in my life, a figure of healthy protection. A father, a brother. People who laid their lives to save mine.
My mother is a wonderful woman, a superheroine. She supports the both of us, she works hard, she is strong-minded. But she is no protection when it comes to the dangers of the outside world. We’re both scared of it, we’re both traumatized.
When I thought Nathan was just a normal guy, I had found safety in him. Normality. But it wasn’t enough. I found possession in Jake. He doesn’t just make me feel safe, he picks up the broken pieces and crushes them in his hands until they are cut and bleeding from the shards of my trauma. He accepted his own demons, embraced them so tightly that he’s not afraid of mine.
He doesn’t protect me, he owns me. And there is nothing that can surpass that. It comes with the thrill of his control, the tension of his hold on me, the metaphorical collar around my neck that constantly reminds me I’m his but that he is impossible to domesticate. And my body, my heart, my soul, that’s all they want. That’s their deepest, darkest desire. My brain is only starting to catch up now, and that’s okay. I’ll give time for my consciousness to understand there is nothing else. Just Jake.
In my room, I look at myself in my full-length mirror as I dry myself. There are already bruises forming on my hips, and a dark hickey from when he bit and sucked at the skin covering my right hip. There’s another hickey at the curve where my neck meets my shoulder. I sigh, knowing I won’t be able to hide it at school and knowing perfectly well that he did it on purpose. He is so selfish. He uses and abuses me, and he didn’t even run after me after I left the living room.
I don’t even know if he’s still there.
I put on another pair of leggings and this time a large sweater that won’t leave me so vulnerable around him.
When I walk into the living room, he’s still right there, on the sofa, lying down. His feet are far off the right end and his head resting on the left armrest. He’s got an arm folded behind his head, looking at something on his phone, fully dressed. I post myself by his feet, crossing my arms across my chest, and his gaze meets mine.
“I could look at this picture all day long, Angel.”
Discomfort feels heavy in my stomach as I understand what picture he means straight away. I don’t want to see it, I don’t want to know what I look like; flushed from two orgasms, saliva dripping from my lips from him fucking my mouth, and covered in his cum.
“Just delete it,” I order quietly. My voice is a little raw from how far he went down my throat and I feel myself getting tingly again at the thought. Surely it isn’t normal that I enjoyed it so much.
“Watch my lips,” he says as he sits up and gets closer to me. I roll my eyes and it makes him chuckle, one of those rare chuckles that he can’t help and sounds genuine.
He grabs my arms, softly, forcing me to uncross them and he holds my hands in his, threading his fingers through mine. “I will never delete it. I might even print and frame it.” The humor in his tone forces a laugh to cross my lips. “Unless you promise I’ll get to take another one? Another hundred? We can settle on that, if I can take another hundred, I won’t frame it.”
His soft side gets to me, especially after the violence of our sex, after the rawness and exhaustion of strong orgasms. He pulls at my arms and his back hits the sofa before I fall gently on him.
“Why are you so addictive, Angel?” He wonders aloud as his hand mindlessly strokes my hair.
I giggle into his neck, nestling myself closer to him, inhaling his wooden scent, as his other arm wraps around my waist to keep me on top of him.
“Let’s order some food,” he suggests as his lips hover over my ear. He kisses the soft skin under my earlobe, then drags his lips across my jaw, stopping at the corner of my mouth.
“We haven’t even finished our homework,” I answer. “We need to finish that.”
“But I’m starving, you sucked the life out of me. I’m hungover. We’ll finish after food.”
I don’t reply for long seconds because I’m hungry and I know he’ll order if he wants to, anyway.
“Sushi?” I ask in the quietest voice I can. I feel him chuckle, his mouth against my temple.
“That sounds like a wonderful idea.”
The sun is setting down and the night creeping in on us when another episode of the Real Housewives of Atlanta finishes.
“How often do you watch these things?” Jake queries. “I thought you were meant to be a bookworm or something.”
I laugh, but it’s a little quiet, I’m exhausted and can barely keep my eyes open anymore. Probably because I was teased and deliciously tortured into another orgasm as I was trying to rest and watch my show, followed by my boobs being used for Jake’s pleasure. This guy can get pretty creative when we don’t have condoms.
I ate my own weight in sushi and I’m now lying on the sofa while Jake is behind me, holding me tight against him and drawing calming circles with the tip of his fingers on my arm, my shoulder, my collarbone. He keeps going back and forth, lulling me into a state of total relaxation.
“I’m not a bookworm.” I yawn and rub my eyes. “I enjoy studying, homework. I like organization and discipline in what I do. But I’m no bookworm, I read the same as everyone else.”
“Mm, discipline,” he murmurs in my ear, not realizing the kind of pleasure it brings to my body. The kind of electricity it sends through my veins. “I can think of a lot of ways to discipline you, my sweet Angel.”
I giggle, but it’s only to hide my anticipation. “I meant as in rigorous work.”
“Sure, you did.” He keeps going with the caresses on my body and I don’t realize when I fall asleep. All I understand is when my body hits my bed and covers are being drawn on me.
