Page 24 of Tower
I’m not sure I’ve ever felt quite so proud of myself when I finally straighten up.
He’s totally wiped out. Limp and sprawled and deliciously sated. “Thank you, sweetheart. You totally blew my mind.”
“You’re welcome.” I stand up because it looks like he’s going to fall asleep any second.
I’m going to have to hide somewhere and rub myself off because my pussy is throbbing intensely.
Before I know to expect it, he grabs me and pulls me onto his lap. I’m startled and self-conscious, draped over his thighs like this. And I don’t even know why until he slides a hand under the fluttery skirt I’m wearing today.
“You got real hot from doin’ that to me, didn’t you?”
I whimper wordlessly.
“You really do like it dirty, don’t you? No soft, pretty romance for my girl. So now you’re gonna let me fuck you with my fingers, and you’re gonna like it real bad.”
He does exactly what he says. He fucks me fast and rough with his hand until I’m sobbing into his shirt with how good it feels.
And he’s entirely right.
I like it real bad.
At dinner that evening, I’m in a strange mood.
I’ve never been a person who’s particularly up and down with emotions. Usually I go through life on a pleasant even tenor. Even during the years I spent cooped up in our house with my parents and then only my dad, I usually maintained a fairly stable temper.
But I really sank into despair the other week, and I do feel a lot better now. I’m also exhausted from too much change and too many emotions. And weirdly confused by my interaction with Levi this afternoon. Also kind of guilty, like I might have to somehow move on from my family when that’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.
It makes me jittery. Nervous. And weirdly energized in a way that’s not like me at all.
Levi would no doubt call it feisty.
Maybe that is a reasonable word for the mood.
I prepare Levi’s plate. We got some ham from the Nelsons’ farm, which is a special treat, so I slice him off a good piece and fry it up in a pan with his bread so it’s hot and tastier than what everyone else is getting. The mashed sweet potatoes look pretty good, so all I have to do is make sure the scoop on his plate looks pretty. He doesn’t like peas—I know this because I’ve noticed him eating around them—so I remove all the peas from his mixed vegetables, which have been prepared by dumping a random assortment of canned vegetables into a pot to heat up.
Pleased with the result, I carry his plate to him, flushing at the murmur of appreciation from the table.
When I shoot him a quick glance, I catch Levi’s eyes on me. He doesn’t say anything though. Just pulls out my chair to get me to sit down.
Dinner is good. I enjoy my food, and Levi even makes a few hums of appreciation as he eats, which make me happy.
I haven’t been eating very much lately, especially since I was forcing down the bare minimum in my room for a week, so I can’t finish my portions. He’s already done, so I switch our plates so he can finish mine.
After checking my face, Levi starts eating the rest of my meal. I reach over to eat the peas he leaves behind since it’s a shame to waste them.
He never says much at mealtime. And he’s still not talking a lot when a bunch of us move into the lounge in the old office and lobby space. But he’s listening to the others hanging out there as they talk about the Nelson boy’s new wife. She’s evidently not happy and isn’t hesitant to tell people.
That could have been me. The knowledge makes me feel… weird.
I’m sitting on a footstool next to Levi’s outstretched legs. He brought his glass of water with him to the lounge, and when he takes his last swallow, I get up to refill it.
On my way back, I get waylaid by Becca in the courtyard right outside. She wants to admire my fingernails, which she shaped and polished beautifully after lunch. We don’t chat for very long. That should be clear.
It’s why I’m a little annoyed when Levi calls out through the open lounge door, “You got my drink?”
He’s not being mean. Or even particularly rude. But the question feels entitled, especially after I’ve been treating him so good all day. So I say, “Just a minute.”
“I’m parched over here.”
