Page 172 of Brainwashed
It makes me feel sort of precious, the way he cares for me now, after we fool around. In the prison he wasn’t like that… He would sort of toss me away when we were done, I guess because he was afraid of what it meant. But now, it’s different.We’redifferent.
I just wish he’d admit it. I don’t want him to run from me like everyone else does.
He helps me out of the tub and I wince at the feeling of cum wanting to drip out of me. Then he brings me to the large shower stall and we get inside, turning on the warm water.
I’m fidgeting in place. I don’t think I can hold on for much longer when he says, “Turn around. Let me see.”
I spin and bend at the waist.
“Spread,” he commands. My face is on fire with shame as I pull my ass cheeks apart. “You can let go now, baby.”
I do, and he watches his cum drip out of me. I’m humiliated, but much to my own chagrin, my dick is hardening, which means I must like it.
I feelspecial… Praised by his inspection, his possessive gaze. Actually, I love it.
Lem comes up behind me, running his thumb over my asshole, stuffing it inside me. Stuffing the cum back in. I gasp and he groans.
“You are so goddamn sexy, Felix,” he whispers, dropping a kiss on my back. “Turn around and face me.”
I do as he says, and he immediately presses me up against the wall of the shower. His eyes glisten, holding some emotions I can’t quite place as he stares at me, our warm, blood-stained bodies zipped up.
He urges his mouth to mine, kissing me, sensually; with a passion I’ve never experienced before him. Beneath the spray of the water, with our lips locked, the traces of our evil are washed clean. We’re purified together, like a baptism.
But my sins can never truly be washed away like the blood on our skin. I know that.
I just hope that my damnation won’t take him away from me. That he won’tleavejust like everyone does, because it doesn’t make sense for them to love me.
I don’t deserve love… do I?
With everyone who came before him, I loved the idea of keeping them more than I actually lovedthem. I’m not so sure that’s the case anymore…
Because this man, this deeply complex, intelligent, gorgeous human, is the Want I’ve always dreamed of. With real flesh, and warm blood in his veins that dribbles when I cut him…
He’s perfect, and that’s terrifying, because Iknowhe’ll leave me.
I know I don’t deserveLove.
Uncertainty makes me itch.
I’ve always craved order. Since I was fourteen and I ran, panting, heart racing, up from the basement of an empty house, my wrists and my throat burning and raw.
After that moment, I knew I needed to be in control of everything. I could never letanyoneview me as a slacking, haphazard person.
Never become a target again.
So when things are up in the air, outside of my ability to grasp them in my palm and squeeze them into submission, I feel tense and icky. My skin crawls and I find it hard to catch a proper breath.
I’m making my way to Johansson’s office so we canchat, per his request. He’s been calling me for the past couple of days, pestering me about Felix and his studies.
This meeting is pointless. I already know what his issue is. He’s bent out of shape because he hasn’t had as much access to Felix lately for his experiments. He said it to me on the phone the other night.
He thinks my relationship with Felix is interfering with his research, as well as my own. He didn’t say it outright on the phone, but I read between the lines.
The thing is that I know he’s right, but I refuse to admit it. Because I’m not having arelationshipwith Felix. This is just work…
Regardless of how spectacularly destructive it’s been… How wonderfully wrong, and beautifully inconvenient it’s all become between us… It’s still just ajob. And when I complete my assignment, I’ll leave.
I’ll… leave.
