Page 18 of Tower
I’m trying to make myself move when Levi shifts again, reaching around my body to feel me intimately until he finds my clit.
I make a silly sobbing sound when he presses into it.
“You’re not done yet, are you?” His voice is hoarse and soft. “Shoulda told me what you like sooner.”
I never would have told him this works for me because I didn’t even know until now. I’m washed with such embarrassment that I let go of the headboard and hide my face in a pillow. The shift in position leaves only my ass in the air, but I don’t care. He’s still rubbing my clit, and I come and then come again, muffling the loud sounds of pleasure in the pillow.
“That’s good, girl. You come as much as you need. Tell me when you’ve had enough.”
After the second one, my clit is so sensitized I can’t stand any more. So I turn my head and gasp out, “That’s enough. I’m good. Thank you.”
He pulls his hand away and pats my bottom briefly. “All right then. That should do you.”
That should do me.
Even that makes me hot. What the hell is wrong with me?
I’ve never been like this. So carnal. So base.
I fall sideways and curl up on my side, and Levi waits until I’ve recovered so we can go downstairs to the tents before settling in bed for the night.
It’s not the sex. I’m sure it’s not. Maybe it’s partly the release I got tonight—both the physical and emotional release—but it’s not only that.
I really think it’s that my crisis-fueled adrenaline finally runs out.
Whatever it is, I sleep like the dead for several hours before I wake up in the wee hours. As soon as I come to consciousness, I’m hit with a wave of grief out of nowhere.
My dad’s voice. My dad’s face. Gone forever. Along with my mom eighteen months ago, leaving nothing but her crystal butterflies. All my friends. Everyone I knew and loved all my life.
The intensity of grief scares me so much I get out of bed, stumbling over toward the dresser. It’s dark in the room, and I’m unsteady from the unexpected emotion. I stumble, barely managing to catch myself on the edge of the dresser.
It’s an old piece of cheap furniture, and it rocks from the impact. All the crystal butterflies rattle, and the smallest one at the end falls to the floor.
It breaks.
Gasping on a sob, I crouch down to peer in the dark at the spot where it fell. It didn’t shatter, but it cracked in two. The butterfly broke off the base.
It’s broken. Like the world. Like me. Like everything.
I start crying, and once I begin, I can’t stop. I cover my face with both hands to smother the sound, shaking helplessly for a minute until I’m capable of standing up and returning to bed. When I’ve climbed back under the covers, I turn away from Levi, who’s sound asleep beside me, and I contain my sobbing to raspy wheezes and restrained shudders.
It goes on a long time, and I don’t sleep at all for the rest of the night. When Levi gets up at dawn, I pretend I’m still asleep. After he’s gone, I lie in bed limply and can barely force myself to get up for breakfast.
I do. I force myself. I have duties here. I have to earn my keep, or all I’ve worked for these two weeks will be for nothing and my life will fall apart. I’m quiet and glum over breakfast. Levi sneaks a few looks at me, so maybe he notices something. But he doesn’t ask about it, and as soon as I’m allowed, I return to the room and hide the broken butterfly in the drawer with my underwear.
I stay in the room all day.
Jen brings me lunch and asks if I’m feeling all right. I assure her I am.
Becca stops by an hour later to check on me. Jen must have said something to her. I explain I’m just tired, and she goes away eventually.
I lay in bed, half sleeping and half crying for hour after hour.
I really don’t know what happened, but there’s nothing in me that can do anything else.
It’s late afternoon when Levi returns from some sort of protection job. He knocks on the door like always, so I have to get up to remove the security bars.
I don’t say anything. Just return to bed and curl up on my side with my back toward him.
