Page 95 of The Worst Pucking Deal

“Don’t,” I hiss in warning. When he furrows his brows in confusion, I keep on talking. “Don’t ruin this by second-guessing me. Not when… not when I’m high on what we did. Not when I, for the first time ever, feel like my past isn’t defining me.”

I don’t know if my words make sense to him, but I can’t explain it any differently. That’s how I feel, and I don’t want him to put a damper on it even if he means well.

His eyes darken and he runs a hand through his unruly hair. Some of it still gathered in a messy semblance of a bun slash ponytail, but most of it has escaped. “I’ll never stop worrying about you, my sweet bunny. Never.”

“I guess I can live with that,” I say, doing my best to sound put out. Though the smile splitting my mouth in two ruins it.

Chuckling, Sy gets up and walks toward the bathroom. “Let’s get cleaned up,” he suggests. “And then we’ll get something to eat.”

I follow him to the bathroom, and while the shower runs, I shoot him a playful smile. “How can you be hungry when you just ate?”

Thank God Sy’s shower has multiple showerheads so we don’t have to wait for each other. It’s totally handy when we’re as dirty as we are. While wetting my hair, I watch as our blood mixes with the water and disappears into the drain. It feels symbolic, somehow. Like we’re washing away the past.

“What can I say, I need my food to keep up with you,” he laughs. It takes me a second to remember he’s answering my question from before we got under the water spray.

Even though I’m tempted to initiate another round of amazing orgasms, I focus on washing my hair and body. When we’re both done, we towel dry before seeing to our cuts. Neither of them are deep enough to need anything but some antibacterial ointment and bandages, which he keeps under the sink.

Afterward, I get dressed in one of his team t-shirts, but don’t put on any underwear. He puts on underwear but nothing else. Together we almost make one somewhat dressed person. Then we order Chinese food and lounge in the living room while we wait for it to be delivered.

The delivery guy does a double-take when Sy opens the door and even asks for his autograph. While Sy grumbles about privacy and just wanting to eat, I laugh loudly.

“Come feed me,” I call when the delivery guy keeps going on and on about Sy’s games.

I almost regret interrupting, because I like how awed the guy sounds. But I’m hungry, dammit. Besides, tonight isn’t just any other night; it’s special, magical almost. Getting up, I return to the bedroom, throwing drawers open while I look for things with the Sabertooths logo on it.

“Here,” I say, holding out a jersey and a cap for the young guy. “Take these.”

The guy’s eyes widen. “Really?” he asks, excitement making his voice high pitched.

“Really,” I smile. Then I hand Sy the pen I found and gesture toward the items. “Come find me once you’ve signed those.”

It doesn’t take Sy long to get rid of the guy, and when he does, he finds me waiting in the kitchen. “I should spank you for letting him see you like that.” He points at my bare legs before swatting my ass.

I squeal playfully. “If you’re good, I might let you do it later,” I laugh, waggling my eyebrows.

This behavior is so unlike me, but I can’t stop. Knowing that Sy doesn’t just know everything, but is still here, is making me giddy.

After dishing up the food we snuggle up in the living room. There’s no TV or music on, we’re alone with our thoughts, and I like it. It’s not awkward or forced. It’s comfortable and really nice.

I’ve just claimed the last egg roll when Sy says, “You never told me about the scars on your thighs, baby.”

The bite I’ve just taken gets lodged in my throat, making me choke violently. My eyes water and I reach for the wine I poured while waiting for him to join me. “W-what?” I croak, swiping the tears from my eyes.

Sy leans back, and I take the opportunity to stretch my legs across his. “I can wait if you’re not ready to tell me,” he clarifies.

I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. I wasn’t not going to tell you. It just didn’t feel right earlier.” Taking a deep breath, I ready myself for telling him. “Fabian liked to mix his punishments and rewards together. He said it was his way to balance the scales, to even things out so we didn’t linger on the past too long.”

Sy’s eyes stay on mine, and though I want to look away, I can’t. His dark orbs are like magnets keeping mine in place.

“Twice, he said I deserved his mouth on my… on me. But he also wanted to punish me for displeasing him. I don’t even know what I had done wrong and right, all I remember is the pain. There was never any pleasure. He didn’t… umm… lick my clit. He bit it, used it to keep me still while he sliced into my skin.”

I startle as the glass table suddenly breaks, sharp shards of glass spraying everywhere. Blinking, I look up at Sy, who’s standing in the middle of the carnage. It feels like my thoughts are moving in slow motion, and it takes me several moments to remember I was talking to him, not reliving the horrible memories by myself.

“I’ll fucking kill him.”

Red, hot fury rolls off Sawyer in potent waves that threaten to pull me under. No, that’s not right. Sy would never do that to me, so if anything, his anger is bringing me closer to him and further from my family.

I get up, careful not to step on any glass. Then I reach for Sy and he uses his bare feet to kick some shards away before coming to my side. “You can’t kill Fabian—”

---