Page 17 of Wanted
I couldn’t help the fact that I started shaking. Placing the bowl of Cheetos on the coffee table in front of me, I moved further away from him. I hoped he’d leave. I was having a moment, reminiscing and torturing myself.
From now on, this is your life. Forget your education. I don’t even know why your bitch of a mother wanted to fill your head with ideas. The only things that get filled up now are your holes. I’ll pump them full of come. When I call this phone, you come running. I don’t care if you’re in the middle of your period. I don’t care if you’re sleeping. You come when I call.
When I found my footing again, I realized Alex had taken a seat next to me. He wasn’t too close, just close enough to hold my hand.
Alex Winters held my hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. My eyes followed the movements while my heart tortured itself to death. I hadn’t had a moment to think about what was happening to me all these years.
I didn’t have a phone anymore. I wasn’t on-call at all times. I could sit on this sofa and do nothing.
“I’m sorry.” The sincerity in his tone bothered me.
“Don’t ever say that again,” I hissed at Alex. It wasn’t his fault, and I wouldn’t let him carry this burden with me. “This has nothing to do with you. I just met you.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.
I shook my head.
His hand made mine look like a miniature. Some of his fingers were taped, red and blue, decorating his long fingers. I frowned, not knowing what that meant. He addressed me in a gentle voice that I didn’t want to get used to. “What do you want to do?”
My daughter means the world to me. I won’t let her walk around looking like trash, Penelope. No, forget it. If you want to punish her because she doesn’t obey you anymore, find another way. My little princess will dress in diamonds if she wants to.
“Nothing,” I said. “I want to sit here and do nothing.”
The light chuckle on his end made me snap my head in his direction. I memorized the tremble he caused inside of me while he talked.
Kind times never lasted. I cleared my throat, daring to demand one thing I’d always wanted to experience. “Can we lie down and just… Lie there? Is that something you’d ever do?”
If he asked me to have sex with him, I would. I missed doing it. But I could do without right now. I craved intimacy. I feared that I’d never experienced it before.
“Sure.” Alex shifted next to me, setting aside the sofa’s massive pillows. I observed him as he freed space around me on the sofa, and I questioned whether this was real. I could be in a haze, for all I knew. I was a recovering drug addict. My nose itched, and my brain throbbed with pain at the thought of not being around my favorite friends. They weren’t right for me, but I loved them anyway.
“Have you changed your mind?” Alex asked, and I inhaled sharply, sobering up. “There isn’t a lot of space here. It’s only meant for me…”
I shook my head. “Lead the way.”
“You take the inside.” He gestured at the spot previously occupied by the massive grey pillows. Trained in following directions, I never actually followed them. For once in my life, I did as told. I lay flat on the comfortable sofa, staring at the plain cream ceiling. It was flawless and boring.
I felt Alex’s weight next to me, and I flinched. He noticed, distancing himself. He needed more space than me, so I moved to give him space. When he settled down next to me, I found myself trapped between him and the sofa. As comfortable as this felt before, now, I struggled to breathe.
When would the other shoe drop?
“Do you want me to leave you alone?” Alex asked sincerely.
I swallowed. “Would you?”
“Yes.” Why did it hurt so much?What happened? You became a woman. That’s what happened. That sticky shit on your thighs? That’s my come. It dripped out of your pussy after I used you. You were made out of that sticky shit, so you better respect it. No, you don’t get to shower today. In fact, I want you to walk around with that sticky shit for a week. Get an infection. I don’t give a damn.
“Please, stay,” I urged him. I took deep breaths, and I inhaled him, memorizing his own brand of scent. There weren’t any remnants of an aftershave or a cologne. He didn’t smell like anything but himself, and that wasn’t because he wasn’t freshly showered. In my experience with Fylox so far, nothing carried a scent around him. Nothing. Not even his friends.
One last breath and I placed my head on his chest. My arm wrapped around his torso.
I had never done this before. Was this even a thing? “Is this okay?”
“Yes,” he responded instantly.
“I like this,” I told him, snuggling closer to him. “Please, tell me if I’m crushing you.”
“I may not play football, and I don’t play against the Pistons in their Bad Boys era. But your 150 pounds do nothing to me,” he commented in amusement.
