Page 8 of My Master
“I need you,querida,” he whispered almost desperately. “I need you like I’ve never needed anything—anyone—before. I need your body, your soul. I need to know you still love me.”
Something softened then in her gaze and she reached her palm up to caress his cheek. His heart nearly shattered when she whispered the one word he needed, the one word he longed to hear.
“Always.”
Then, slowly and deliberately he peeled off his leather jacket and tossed it to the floor. He ruffled out his curly hair and leaned down to take her mouth with his. He trailed his tongue along the familiar path in her mouth, tracing the pattern of her teeth and touched their tongues together in that oh-so-familiar way that excited him to no end.
He pinned her hands above her head with one hand and with the other pulled down at the waistband of her sweatpants. She gasped against the bruising pressure of his mouth and automatically leaned her hips upwards in an arc, towards him, inviting him on. He pushed her sweatpants past her knees then moved to her panties, pushing them down as well. He couldn’t get out of his pants fast enough; he didn’t even have time to pull them all the way off before he pushed his way inside of her, desperate and hungry.
Her body instantly warmed to his touch as he let go of her hands and gripped her hips, pulling them closer to his in a pleasurable joining that made their insides tighten up before turning into water. He swelled inside of her, pushing deeper and deeper until she clawed at his back, pulling at the bottom of his shirt, muttering phrases of nothingness into his ear. In his desperation, he pushed harder against her, faster. There was nothing gentle about his touch, only a rough possessiveness that rocked the headboard of the bed into the wall in violent movements.
He could only think about how much he wanted her, about fixing their relationship before it fell apart, unraveled like a ball of yarn before his eyes. If this was his form of fixing it, then so be it. He had to try, had to make her love him, so he decided to do so in the only way he knew how, in the only way that she would understand and accept.
He opened part of his mind to her by entering hers first. He projected all of his want, all of his need and all of his love for her with one big push into her brain, hoping she would understand. The way she moaned and gasped in pleasure told him that she did. He felt the touch of her thoughts, as soft as a butterfly wing, inside of his mind, holding him with pale fingertips.
Her fingers slipped into the inside of his shirt, scraping his back and edging him on. Their brief mind connection only made it all the more torturous, it only made them all the more anxious; it made them reach out for more. He penetrated deeper, both mind and body, and felt her gasp mentally and physically. She returned the feeling to him by pushing past his barriers and touching the inside of his mind, not just with her fingertips but with her palms.
She felt the love he had for her, the memories they shared; of their good times, of theirfirsttime, of everything they’d been through. When she reached the memories, the painful part of him that he had stored away, she pulled harder, invading him in a way she had never attempted to do before. She tugged out the memory of Damien, and she could see every dream of pain ever since the night he killed his brother playing across her mind like a movie screen.
She felt his guilt, his betrayal, his sorrow, the inevitable way he felt like a monster, and lastly, she saw the memory, theOtherworldexperience he had felt when he had seen his mother. He threw his head back and screamed as he exploded inside of her, then broke their mental connection so that she would see nothing further.
He rolled away from her, breathing heavily, and turned his back to her. His blood pounded in his ears. He couldn’t believe he had risked that connection, couldn’t believe how much of him she had seen. Feeling worn out, he pulled himself together, clothes and all, and sat down at the edge of the bed.
Her breathing was heavy.
He fought to ignore it, but somehow couldn’t. Was she breathing that way because of what she had seen in his mind? He couldn’t be sure, and didn’t feel like asking her.
“Antonio,” she began. “Your mom…”
“Don’t…” His voice cracked. He didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to hear about how he felt as though everything that had happened to him when he had the ‘Otherworld’ experience was a lie. That he had only imagined his mother coming to him and telling him to stop his brother, tosavehis brother. It all had to be a lie, somehow. It was a truth he couldn’t deal with. It had been only a dream, a hallucination, and based on that, he had ended his brother’s life.
“I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.”
“Please, don’t.” His voice cracked and he felt his eyes begin to prickle with tears. He put his face into his hands and swallowed the lump in his throat. A second later, he felt Ezzy’s hand on his shoulder. He wanted to shake her off, but couldn’t find the strength to do so.
“Antonio—” she began, but never finished, because her phone rang. She sighed loudly and pulled it off the bedside table. She glanced down at the caller I.D. and answered it. “Yes?” she sounded annoyed.
Antonio vaguely heard the voice on the other end of the line; it was a female that much he knew for sure. Probably Maria or Isis, it’s not like Ezzy had any other friends to talk to. He thought of the foreign smell, which was still on Ezzy, but only a small trace of it, and then shook away his thoughts. She’d probably just grazed across someone outside and brought the scent home with her. It was the only explanation he could think of.
“Isis, slow down.” Ezzy pressed the phone tighter to her ear. “Why don’t you come over tomorrow night and we can talk?” She paused, her eyebrows scrunching up together as she listened to Isis’s reply. “Well, why not?” she asked. “Oh, hold on for a second.” Ezzy pressed a button and then, Isis was on speaker phone.
“Talk to me again, Isis. Are you okay?” Ezzy asked. Antonio listened.
“Yes, I’m fine, God will you stop it for a second and just listen?” Isis’s voice wafted through the room.
“Okay.”
“The thing is, I have a lot of work to do and I won’t be able to hang out with you…” She paused. “For a while.”
“Isis, you sound weird. Are you crying?” Ezzy asked.
Antonio agreed. Her voice wavered the whole time she had talked to them. He waited for her to reply but it never came. The line went dead, a buzzing sound filling the place of Isis’s voice. Esmeralda pressed the red end button and scratched her forehead.
“That was weird,” she decided.
Antonio knew something was up, he had heard Isis before, he had heard her exasperated, annoyed, and as always, pissed off, but he had never heard her that way before. She had sounded, in a way, scared. Terrified, actually, and he wanted to know why.
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