Page 42 of Cut Me Down

The love I crave is gentle, while the sex I desire is gruesome and rough. Can those two things even coexist? What if the love I need just isn’t possible? Am I asking for too much? Expecting too much? But what if I’m not? What if what I need is right beyond those gates, and if I just let go, I could have it?

I'm naïve to believe that this situation could ever evolve into something good. His touch and his words, his grand gestures and declarations of admiration, are all nothing but a smoke screen. Damien could never love me. He desires me, for now, but that will change with time. When he realizes what everyone else has. That underneath the surface I’m nothing more but damaged goods. He wants to try to melt every piece of me back into a shape that fits whatever hole is in his heart. I wonder how many pieces he'll pick up before he realizes I'm not worth the trouble.

That’s what being swept under the rug is.

He releases the ties. Gently and methodically, and it’s like I'm drug back down to hell just as the shimmering gates open. A tease. A taste. A God damn dream…

He’ll want something from me now. No one spends the kind of money he does without expecting favors. I’ll be indebted to him forever, and that’s what he wants. Complete control. A noose around my throat, and every time he’ll see an action as acting out, he’ll tighten it around my neck to remind me what I owe him. I remember what that feeling was like, and for something as grand as the amount he spent today, I can only imagine how thick this rope will feel.

I lay there, stiff and still. That’s all I can do. I don’t want to look into his hypnotizing gaze. I don’t want him to decode my sadness and spill a bunch of lies that I’ll most likely believe anyway. The sex is earth-shattering, but I can’t allow him to enter my mind any more than he already has.

While I’m not sure if I want this, I’m not sure I want him to go either. I’m so torn between giving him a chance and shoving him away that I don’t know which direction to look in. He could mean every word he says. His intentions could be pure, but then there’s the possibility that I haven’t grown at all, and I’m still just the stupid, gullible girl that I always have been.

The one that believed her parents tried their best, and that as long as I was a good girl and did what I was told, that they wouldn’t hurt or leave me. The one that believed that a man just needed to be loved correctly to know how to love in return. The girl that looked at herself under a microscope and tried to fix everything about herself that they didn’t like to appease them. I can’t do that again…

Is the shattered mess I’ll be when he leaves me worth keeping him for a while? Having some taste of being desired? Wanted? Tolerated? Is giving in to my delusions of a fantasy worth the broken mind I’ll come out on the other side with?

I feel a dip in the bed beside me, bringing me back from the dissociation I was currently participating in. One of his strong, warm arms snakes around my middle as he presses his body against my own, and I try to suppress the flutter that starts in my chest the moment I feel his fingers run through my hair.

“What’s wrong?” He asks softly, his tone concerned. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” I flinch lightly as I feel him bury his face in my hair. Taking a deep breath in, I inflate my guarded walls and steel my spine. Fighting the urge to look at him and lose myself in his beautiful eyes.

“No. You didn’t. Well, not seriously, anyway.” I say back, my voice strained and hoarse. He gently runs his thumb back and forth across my stomach. The touch gentle and loving. Soft enough to make my skin crawl.

“There’s something wrong. You can talk to me.” He implores.

“I don’t want to talk.” I say with conviction, hoping he’ll drop it.

“Don’t do that. Please, don’t do that.” His voice pleas breathlessly as he nuzzles deeper into my hair and inhales. Making me want to melt into him. I blink my pooling tears away, not willing to show weakness.

“Do what?” I ask, trying to sound indifferent.

“Retract your draw bridge.” He replies, almost desperate. “Let me in.” Those words make me shiver. He is either the best actor on the planet, or his pleas are real. I breathe deep and straighten my face as much as possible while I sit upright and stare into his ocean eyes. Almost already losing myself and turning to putty the moment I make contact. How the hell does he do that? How am I so drawn to such a dangerous and unpredictable man?

He just broke into my apartment, tied me up while I slept, fucked me senseless, not necessarily with my consent, and what? Because of a few touches and praises, I’m swooning for him? How desperate can I be?

“What was your business today?” I ask sternly as I watch the longing sweeps across his gaze. He can tell what I'm doing. He knows I’m trying to keep a distance and he actually looks affected by it.

“A few different things.” He dodges my question.

“Like paying off my medical bills?” I ask, the tone coming out more harshly than I intended.

“Yes.” He answers punctually and confidently. His tone plucks at one of my nerves, and I feel as my anxiety begins to charge deep within my chest. My hands and fingers starting to tingle.

“Why did you do that?” The same anger as before rises as I recall seeing the notification in that hospital room today.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re mine, Ashia, and I take care of what’s mine.” He says with such determination that it’s almost believable.

“So, you just happen to pay the hospital bills of every woman you sleep with?” His expression hardens, his lips closing to a straight line.

“You’re not just any woman, and I’m not sleeping with anyone but you.” He says sternly as his eyes gleam with truth, causing a shiver to run down my spine.

“I’m not falling for your bullshit. I don’t owe you anything.” I hiss.

“I never said you did.” He voice deepens, spilling the words as he sits up, towering over me and causing me to scoot away. Damien’s size is so hot yet intimidating. I can feel myself getting smaller as I look up at him.

“You didn’t have to. I don’t need anything from you. I don’t need you to buy me curtains or pay my bills.” I thrust my hands in the direction of my newly covered window. “I don’t need you to do things for me!” The volume of my voice grows.

“I know you don’t!” His voice grows as loud as mine.

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