Page 125 of Ominous: Part 1
I’m glad she doesn’t just do anything I say. Even Luna and Dominic, they take my statements as commands. I don’t know how I emerged as the leader when I was the one in and out of psych wards, but I could snap my fingers and they’d jump.
Eden… not a fucking chance.
“I want to play with your hair.”
She stares at me a long moment, like she doesn’t believe me. I roll my eyes, tapping her hip as I sit up, disturbing her comfortable position against me.
“What are you scared of?” I ask her. “There’s no water in my room. I promise I won’t hold you under.”
She flips me off, which makes me laugh, but she sits up, and I widen my knees, pushing back against the headboard.
“Scoot back,” I tell her, and she does, until her ass is against my dick and it’s going to take it about three seconds to get fully hard again.
Her arms drape over my thighs, hands resting on my knees as she focuses on the TV.
“Can I take out your braids?”
“Yes.” It’s permission, but I feel her fingers tense against my kneecaps, beneath the hem of my gym shorts.
I run my hands up her arms, starting at the bracelets on her wrists. She has a scar beneath them. Maybe several. I can feel a slight bump in her skin underneath my thumb. A few of them. I’ve never been able to look closely, and in the dark, only the glow of the screen lighting the room, I wouldn’t be able to make out any detail. I let it go as her body grows rigid while I rub her arms.
“Relax.” I know it’s easier said than done. “You’re safe here, okay?”
She doesn’t believe me; her guard is always up even when she wants to obey me. It’s dancing on the line of submission and self-protection and defiance.
She nods once, and I feel her make an effort to rest as I reach her biceps, pushing up the sleeves of her shirt. I knead her shoulder caps, then let the sleeves fall again as I come to her neck, careful not to circle my fingers around her. In my head, I choke the shit out of her as I fuck her, and she loves every second of it, but I’ve been working on curbing my impulses for years. Turns out, if I can just keep sight of the reward at the end, I’m pretty good at it most of the time.
She has a lot of tension in her neck, and as I start working through all the delicate muscles and bones there, she twists her head one way and the other, giving me better access.
A contented sigh leaves her mouth, and my dick jumps at the sound, but I ignore that feeling. Nothing more is going to happen tonight. I think we pushed each other far enough for now.
Finally, when she feels completely relaxed, her body leaning into mine, her hands no longer fastened around my knees, I move my fingers up to her hair, going by feel rather than sight when it comes to the bobby pins. They’re black and her hair is just one shade lighter, and she’s got so much of it, coarse and heavy, it’s easier to pluck the pins out as I touch them, no light from the TV reaching back here.
I place each pin beside my thigh, on top of the pure white of my sheets so I don’t lose any for her. Her hair starts to tumble down, uneven, not like in the movies where it all floods down at once, bouncy and whipping around an actress’s shoulders.
This is more work.
I add the tenth pin to the pile, running my fingers over her scalp as she sighs, slouching down a little more. I don’t feel any more pins, so I start to work on undoing her braids. It’s not easy, her strands thick and coarse, some a little damp from the pool and the rain.
It takes time, running my fingers everywhere, unlooping the three braids, unwrapping the crown on her head. Her breathing sounds even, a little louder as I finally get the last of the braids unwound, dragging my fingertips through them and pulling them apart, then scooping up the entire mass of her hair and running my hands beneath, away from her neck.
She’s against me, and I don’t want to move her, so I can’t see exactly how long her hair is, and some of the strands are caught between my chest and her back. For long moments, I bring my fingers back up and massage her scalp softly, letting the TV flick off automatically.
When I hear the lightest of snores from her, I force myself to stop, snag all the pins and deposit them on my nightstand, then wrap my arms around her warm chest. Slowly, carefully, I shift my hips, moving us both so I’m lying on my hip, and I turn a little, so she’s on her side, tucked up against me.
I rest my head on the pillow, inhaling the scent of her hair, peaches and soft flowers.
I close my eyes, and I don’t sleep, but there’s nothing but emptiness in my mind.
Despite the storm raging outside, she quiets the one inside of me.
22
Eden
I’mawake when Mom’s good morning text comes in. The light is thin, pinpricks spearing through the heavy curtains.
Eli is asleep, curled on his side, his back exposed to me, olive skin pulled over taut muscles.
