Page 48 of Cut Me Down

“Bottom drawer.” I gesture to it as he opens it and pulls out some gauze and medical tape. “Emmett gave me that liquid skin stuff, but it’s not working very well.” I warn him, but he doesn’t even look at the bottle.

“It’s because it has to be dry and clotted first.” Putting a gauze pad over my finger, he squeezes down, and I can’t help but wince at the pain. It’s sharp and quick, kind of like the snip of my shears that caused it, and just took me by surprise. His gaze snaps back up to me at the small noise. “I'm sorry.” He says much calmer than before, almost as I whisper. Is he sorry for pushing on the cut or his reaction when he first came in? Probably the cut, but either way I feel my heart begin to tug in his direction.

Shove it back, Ashia.

“I can do that you know.” I say pulling every ounce of resistance I have in me.

“I know, you're not helpless. I just want to take care of you.” He looks back into my eyes and begins reading me again. Tilting his head to the side in a thoughtful movement as he rakes his eyes over my face. “You're feisty this evening. Bad day?”

“You don't already know?” I glare my eyes at him with an attitude twanged in my voice. He shakes his head. A frown taking over his features.

“I was really busy with DH today, I only had time to check the cameras twice and make sure you were okay. Couldn’t watch much past that.” The swell in my chest builds again, and as much as I try to push it back down, I feel a little bit of it slipping through. He watches me just to check up on me? He could’ve just texted or called, but I suppose from the view of a man as possessive as he is, seeing is believing.

“Then yeah, bad day. You?” I say, my voice a little softer.

“Not the greatest.” He lifts the cloth to check the bleeding. “What kind of movie are we watching tonight?” I furrow my brows, waiting for the joke, but it never comes. He seems very serious about his inquiry. Is it because I haven’t watched anything since he’s been here? He actually wants to watch a movie? Spend some time that doesn’t involve him ramming his dick into me?

There’s that swelling feeling that just keeps building. Is that all it takes for me to melt? A simple gesture of not wanting to just be used as a piece of ass? Something as simple as watching a movie and relaxing can really make my walls drop? As if he could put a band aid on all of my wounds, and that would magically fix everything?

“Well?” He asks as he gently removes the cloth and applies the liquid skin before wrapping it up and taping it. Careful not to tape it too tight.

“You actually want to do something other than have sex?”

“I'll always want to have sex with you, but yes, I want to do everything I can with you.” I pull every last sliver of defiance from my brain, regardless of how sweet he looks right now, and a part of me instantly regrets it.

“Or you could leave.” I sharply say, looking down at the floor to avoid his gaze. I actually had to force those words out of my mouth, knowing I only halfway mean them. I’ve been telling him to leave every night now, but every day I mean it less and less. His presence, while unwelcome, is soothing. Warm. I know I'm not a piece of ass to him. The way he holds and caresses me every night tells me that.

I’m still just having a hard time accepting everything. I haven’t left the building or seen Ser in person. Not wanting to upset him and put anyone in danger. It’s not that he said I couldn’t leave, or threatened to do anything if I did, but I can’t help the similar feelings of when I would be locked up with Cooper. There would be times when I knew he didn’t lock the bedroom door, but I was terrified to come out anyway. Or telling me that I could go to work or the store but knowing that it was a trap, and he’d find something to be mad at me about once I left and made me face the consequences when I got back.

This is not the same, and I know that. I keep trying to shove those feelings down and work through them, but it’s harder than it sounds. While I know that he hasn’t forced me to do anything, and hasn’t demanded a thing from me, I’m terrified to test these boundaries. Flinging my attitude around with words and plucking his nerves isn’t enough to set him off, but what if I did? I’ve heard of the violence he commits. How mangled his victims are left sometimes. How can I be sure I won’t end up like them? I don’t believe that he would hurt me. Every pull and tug of my gut tells me that, but I’ve misjudged people before. My mind is so conflicted, I don’t know what to believe.

“It looks like a horror kind of evening.”

I focus my gaze on Damien again. My anxiety starts to conjure and bubble up from my racing thoughts.

“I'm serious, Damien.”No, I'm not. “I'm tired, and maybe next time you could try knocking.” He gently puts my hand down and walks behind me again. Which instantly allows a sharp fear to grow and tear its way through my body. I feel as he moves my hair from the back of neck over my shoulder, draping the long straight locks down my chest, and I look up in the mirror to see his large hand reach for the base of my neck.

I jump slightly to his touch, expecting to be drug out of the bathroom like a dog on a leash, but instead he begins massaging my nape. The pads of his fingers caressing me with perfect pressure motions. I release a pent-up breath at his touch, feeling the release all the way down to my trembling fingertips.

“There are plenty of other things these hands can do besides make you scream, baby girl.” I dip my head down in relaxation to absorb his mesmerizing touch. His fingers squeeze all of the right spots as he moves his hand down where my neck connects to my shoulders and brings his other hand to meet it. Squeezing and rolling them just right before he drags them down to my shoulder blades in serene bliss and begins to massage there.

His precision surprises me, as if my body told him exactly where it hurts. The stinging pain feels so good against my sore muscles, I can almost hear them sigh with relief. My body feels like jelly, like from his kneading motions alone, it travels through my bloodstream and infects my entire body. His palms glide down my back, putting pressure on and stroking every muscle he can find. I release a slight moan as he travels down to my lower back.

“Tell me what you want. Do you want me to make you feel good, baby?” He whispers, his tone soft, as he moves his strong hands down to my hips and presses his hard body against mine. Those magical hands still kneading and massaging my hips. He towers over me, and his body encases mine as he gently leans into me. Every touch he places emits a relaxing, tingly feeling, and I shamefully feel the warmth and wetness begin to gather between my legs.

As much as I don’t want to admit it, this man turns me on. He always touches the right places, says all of the right things, and I’ve never felt so attended to. Cooper never made sure I was taken care of, in any sense, but especially sexually. Damien? The only thing he seems to care about is if I'm taken care of. Making sure I have coffee when I wake up, paying my medical bills, protecting me. He holds me so close at night, as if I’m the most precious thing he’s ever touched. It’s nice, I must admit.

I stupidly nod, and he glides his hands up to remove my shirt and bra before he reverts to massaging my back. He begins to gently kiss my exposed neck as he squeezes. Leaving soft, peppered kisses along the soft column as he moves his hands down to my hips simultaneously. I feel as he angles his head, directing his warm breath against the shell of my ear as he nuzzles into my hair.

From my hips, he slides his hands inside my pants and thong, and begins pushing them down, massaging my thighs as he does, and leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. My whole body heats up, and I can’t help but squeeze my thighs together as I squirm.

Once he gets them down all of the way, I step out and turn away from the mirror. Pivoting towards him as he begins massaging my ab muscles. Those rough fingers now feeling soft as he glides his thumbs across my mid-section. Using the other four digits to caress and knead the skin on my sides. He lowers to his knees, kissing up and down my stomach as if he was worshipping every cell. I want to throw my head back and take it all in, lose myself in the feeling of his lips and hands, but I also want to watch him. Damien on his knees in front of me is a sight to behold. As if he’s bowing to royalty and swearing an oath.

He continues to slide and kiss down my body until his lips reach my vagina. His tongue slips into my folds. Coercing a small moan to make its way through my mouth as the tip of his tongue swirls around my clit and flicks against it like he’s flipping my internal switch. He moves his hands to the back of my thighs. Gently spreading my legs apart for better access and buries his face further into my pussy. The tip of his tongue lightly grazes the throbbing bead again, circling at a teasing pace, before he flattens his tongue against my core and slowly drags it through me. Lightly flicking my clit again as it passes.

My knees immediately feel weak as he swirls his tongue around my sensitive bead. Pressing his textured tongue against me with more pressure than previously. I reach out to grip the edge of the counter, but then he firmly grabs the back of my knees and squeezes, buckling them on purpose. As I fall, he gently lays down on his back and uses his strength to keep me from slamming onto my knees. Lowering me down gently and putting me in the perfect position to ride his face.

The pressure of his tongue increases, sending ripples of pleasure throughout my body as he alternates tactics. Tight circling movements, then flattening his tongue, then lapping into my entrance and circling the walls. The process repeats. Over and over, and I start to grind and ride into his face. Moaning louder and deeper as he buries deeper with every thrust of my hips.

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