Page 10 of My Turn

“Oh, Alana,” I sighed, dropping onto the couch beside her. I pulled her into my side and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her temple.

She was on her fourth glass of wine and from the way she nearly spilled it for the third time, I thought it might be time to cut her off. In her state, though, maybe she needed to work through it this way for a night. She might scream and cry or she could shut down entirely. Either way, it probably felt better than being sober.

I grabbed her glass and went back to the kitchen to pour her more. “Do you want to talk?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know what to say. It’s just unbelievable. How did I not know?”

“Apparently, he had secrets. I’m sorry.”

“Fifty thousand,” she said, then scoffed. “It helps, but half of it will be gone just paying off my car. Then my student loans. I thought I’d be able to get those out of the way to help with my bills. Maybe go back to school…” She drew in a shuddering breath before she drained her wine.

“We can figure all of that out. I’ll help you.”

When I pulled her against me again, she relaxed, then she became tense suddenly. Her eyes met mine and she scooted a little further away.

My jaw ticked at the gesture.Him. How could I ever create a future with her that was untarnished by him when she saw his face every time she looked at me? The betrayal in her expression right now wasn’t earned by me, yet I suffered for it.

It wasn’t just about my need for her. She’d always shot longing glances my way as well. We circled each other but couldn’t do anything about it, at least in her mind. She overthought everything.

One time, when she was drunk, she admitted that she saw me sometimes when he fucked her. It had taken every ounce of self-control not to claim her as mine right there. But that was the fucking problem. We were interchangeable. Connected. The legacy of one bled into that of the other.

I needed her to wantme. No face. No sapphire eyes or dark waves. No Jake, but also no Jayce.

Ideas were forming in my mind, ways to keep these two vastly different people separate in her eyes. Maybe it didn’t start with me. Maybe it started with someone else, a person she didn’t know- the man who had been stalking her for nearly half her life, the nameless entity who lurked in her shadows and knew where she was at every moment.

Me, but not.

I looked at her lips, stained slightly by the wine. My tongue moved with the desire to taste its sweetness on her. She’d drankfrom the bottle with my cum in it, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted it smeared across her pretty pink mouth, glistening as I painted it there with my cock.

Those lips should be wrapped around my shaft, swollen and needy. While she held my cum in her mouth, I wanted to fill her pussy with it. Then, I’d allow her to swallow, only to collect every drop from between her legs and spit it onto her tongue. I wanted her so addicted that she would beg for it, unable to feel whole until she tasted me every morning.

My quickly spiraling fantasies solidified one thing tonight.

Jake was a tumor wreaking havoc on her brain. It looked like I would have to excise him.

*****

When I left Alana’s apartment, she was mostly passed out already. I’d tucked her safely into bed and locked the door behind me so that she’d be safe. From others.

It was easy for me to get in since I had a code. She didn’t know there was an app, but I cleared the entry anyway. If she ever learned about it and downloaded it, I didn’t need her to see how often I came in here when she wasn’t aware of it. How could I not? She was here every night, alone and vulnerable in her bed.

I never touched her in any meaningful way when I was here. My fingers in her hair or trailing down her back. That was it. My body throbbed with the need for more this time. It was an ache that grew with every step I took toward her bedroom, driven further by her fragile state. If she was in pain, I wanted to either take it away or be the cause of it. Right now, I was leaning toward the former, but the second option burned through my veins every day.

From the moment I saw her, I loved Alana, but that didn’t mean I wanted a life of sweet kisses and unmarked skin. That wasn’t enough for me. Maybe it stemmed from going so long without her, watching my brother have her and underappreciateher. It awoke a hatred in me- toward him and maybe a little toward her because she stayed when things became stagnant. She watched me with longing in her eyes, but she denied herself. It was weak and I knew that she could be strong.

It might be from all of the other sex I had over the years. It angered me every time because it was never with who I wanted. They were surrogates, practice for the moment I’d finally have her, grotesque mockeries of my true desires. Sometimes, I hurt them. It felt fucking good. And with Alana, I wanted that, but I also desired more. Her pain, her pleasure, her acquiescence and complete surrender to my will. Tome.

This thing had festered for so long and I could feel that it was about to burst. It was better to get ahead of that, to sate myself gradually so that I didn’t do something insane like declare my undying love for her while we sat on the couch rewatching Schitt’s Creek for the fiftieth time. That would be awkward and I knew what I would see in her eyes if I did that. So, I needed to feed the beast scraps until she was ready.

Stopping in her doorway, I stared at her sleeping form. She’d kicked off the blanket like she always did because she got warm at night. From her position on her stomach, I could see the swell of her ass peeking out of her sleep shorts. The fabric indented her skin and I imagined my fingers pressing into her like that. I could leave bruises there. She might not notice them.

With my mask and hood, only my eyes were visible, but barely. In the darkness, I was all but a ghost. This black fabric covering was the only thing I had, but I’d buy a full mask tomorrow- something that was frightening and would burn my memory into her brain when I allowed her to see me in her bed soon. It would establish an identity, a persona that would exist only with this version of me. It was Halloween, so it should be easy enough to find something good.

If she woke up, she would be groggy from the wine. Worse, probably. She’d been incoherent when I put her to bed. It was possible she wouldn’t remember anything. And if she did? I was simply an intruder who touched her but didn’t hurt her. Maybe a little bit.

That settled it.

Feeling brave, I stepped further into the room. I gently placed my knees on the end of the bed. It dipped slightly and I moved slowly so that it wouldn’t jostle her too much.

---