Page 15 of Blackout

For as much of a self-loathing animal as I am, I’m also selfish as the day is long. I’ll keep repeating the same fucking track. I’ll get clean and continue to tear through the streets of New York, wreaking havoc at Jack’s command. I’ll draw blood and wash it from my hands, plant a smile on my face and fucking promise Lacey the world. I’ll hold my baby in my arms, minutes after birth and bask in that beautiful. I’ll make more promises and I’ll break every fucking one. I’ll take and take because that’s what men like me do. We bleed the well dry.

Dropping my hands from my face, I begin to undress and strip down to my boxer briefs. I move to the bed and carefully pull back the sheets before climbing in. Rolling on my side, I wrap my arm around Lacey and draw her back against my chest. She stirs for a moment before settling into me and I close my eyes.

Billy’s voice rings in my ears and this time, I listen.

This time, I breathe.

I breathe in her scent and hold on for dear life. Tears sting my eyes as I bury my nose in her neck and I give into the guilt.

“I’m sorry, girl,” I whisper against her shoulder. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

It’s an apology she doesn’t hear for a promise she doesn’t know I broke and yet still, she manages to give me her forgiveness by covering my hand with hers. It’s here, in our bed, with my body curled around hers that I am safe.

Here, where leather entwines with lace, that I am free.

I don’t know how long I lay awake holding her, if its minutes or hours, but I don’t allow myself to sleep. It’s a punishment and a privilege. When she stirs again, I pull her tighter against me and kiss her shoulder. Her body melds against mine and she mewls softly.

“You’re home,” she murmurs.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I rasp.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, moving her hand to my thigh. Her touch ignites me, reminding me I’m alive and I press my lips to her neck as a groan sounds from the back of my throat.

“Yeah, baby, everything is good,” I reply hoarsely.

Another lie.

“Go back to sleep,” I add as my hand travels up the hem of her t-shirt.

“Mmm,” she moans. Her hand moves from my thigh and quickly finds mine, guiding it up her body to cover one of her breasts. Taking it in my hand, I give it a squeeze. Her perfectly pert nipple hardens against my palm and all the blood rushes to my dick.

“I waited all night for you,” she whispers. “To feel your hands on me.”

I swallow, pushing down the lump in my throat.

Don’t take.

You don’t deserve what she’s offering.

Give.

Just fucking give.

“I needed you, Blackie,” she continues. “I needed you to make it go away.”

Those words resonate with me. They take me back to the beginning, to when she wasn’t mine. A time when she needed me to help her break away from the madness. Every part of my body goes still as she turns to face me. The second her eyes connect with mine, I see it. I see the pain and it fucking guts me.

“What happened?”

She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she winds her arms around my neck and just stares at me. For a second, I remain powerless to the fear and I hold my breath, waiting for her to call me out on my wicked ways.

“Tell me you love me,” she pleads.

“I love you, baby,” I rasp, moving my hands to her hips. My fingers dig into her flesh as I bend my head and touch my forehead to hers. “I love you so fucking much.”

A small smile plays on her lips as she closes her eyes.

“Tell me again.”

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