His jaw moves from side to side, but he doesn’t say anything. His chest heaves with every breath, his hands balled into fists by his sides. He’s nearly three times my size, but I don’t feel an ounce of fear.
“I can’t help you with that. You should find a way to love yourself and let other people do that too.”
With that, I turn away and collect my cami from the floor. I half expect him to rush after me, but he watches me move around the room for a few moments before he goes to thebathroom, shutting the door behind him. Soon the water starts running, and for a second I think it would be a good idea to not waste hot water and jump in with him. But then I instantly give myself a mental smack for my over-crazed libido and get dressed.
Ten minutes later, he comes out, wearing new gray sweats and a tight white T-shirt. Fuck me if he didn’t dress like that on purpose. Every muscle in his strong body is on full display. Full sleeves of his tattoos look striking in contrast with the white. His hair is wet and disheveled like he didn’t bother with a brush. He probably really didn’t—the whole time I’ve been here, I’ve only seen him use his hands to manage his dark mane. I can see his sharp, pierced nipples poking through the thin material of his T-shirt. And as the nail in the coffin, he doesn’t wear any underwear—I can see his huge dick swinging with every step.
Evil bastard. Evil pants.
I give him a side-eye and walk to the bathroom.Game on.
Chapter Seventeen
ARCHIE
I hate that she’s right.
I hate myself for losing my cool and having sex with her.
I hate myself for letting what I like in bed slip.
And I hate myself for announcing that she’s mine. She can never be mine. Never. And it was a low thing to do—she’s young, and she might be living in a fairytale. I don’t know anything about her experience with love and how she may take my words. Fuck, she’s nearly ten years younger than me. What type of an asshole am I?
At the moment though, she doesn’t feel younger. The way she thinks? The way she processes things? And the way she took charge? My dick stirs just remembering it. I’m an alphain bed. Always have been. But the moment she told me to shut up and do as she said, my body listened. It was an out of body experience. I had never let anyone take control in bed like that. Never.
When it all started, I was ready to go to the bathroom and finish what we started because there is no way I was going to share my kinks with her, making her cut me. Well, in my defense, all the blood left my brain, so I blame my slip on that.
And then she proved me wrong on all accounts—I rocketed like a fucking volcano without drawing any blood. I don’t remember ever having such a strong orgasm. And my words about being vanilla? Yeah, bullshit. That was anything but vanilla.
When she told me she wanted ‘to try it like that,’ I nearly came on the spot. I’d never admit it, but I love that position. Every single thrust brings me deeper than any pose ever could. Every move in is effortless. No woman has ever loved it the way I do until her. It’s a hard position for a guy, but it takes a physical toll on the woman as well. But she met my every push with one of her own to match. Her arms wrapped around me while her little moans tickled my ear.
I groan and glance at the bathroom door—she’s been in there for a long time. What is she doing? Is she crying?
No, I can’t imagine Leila crying. The way she called me on my bullshit when every other woman would get offended and run away, locking themselves in the bathroom, not ever speaking to me again. Yeah, I’ve been there before. But she didn’t. She just got mad. I was a second away from throwing her over my shoulder, carrying her into the nearest cave, and fucking her into oblivion like a madman. Harder this time. Longer. I’d prove to her that after time with me, she wouldn’t want anyone else.
Anyone else…
Fuck, even the idea of that makes my skin crawl. How will I survive when she finds some asshole to be in her bed? A woman like her has a large appetite, and not everyone can satisfy it. I know I can. But my sex skills come with a side of issues that I will never be able to resolve, and I wouldn’t do that to her. Plus, it’s hard to forget Alex. What I did is a slap in his face. If he didn’t warn me against doing anything with her, this situation would be a little more bearable, but he saw it coming and told me not to. And yet, here we are. And now Kenneth has been added to the list of people I’ll disappoint—the asshole wormed his way into my life.
It was bullshit to say that she judged me for my masochism. I knew she didn’t, but I needed to push back when she got too close to the truth. I’ve always liked my sex with a bit of pain involved—woman’s nails digging into my skin, pulling hair, an occasional ass slap—but after I came back, it changed. Every time I felt pleasure during regular sex, I felt guilty that I was enjoying my life while my brothers lost theirs. So, I stopped having sex for a while. But urges won, and I found a way to coexist with them. I began inflicting pain on myself.
But at some point, it stopped being enough—I was still here, enjoying my life, whiletheirfamilies couldn’t see their husbands and sons. I was lost for a year and couldn’t deal with that, deciding to refuse sex again. But I had people relying on me, and without sex or even jacking off, I became unbearable to be around. Even Hank, my top artist, told me to get laid, and he never gets involved. Ever.
I’d always been a sexual creature, and refusing sex felt like a good punishment to myself. Until it became a punishment to the people around me; I had to come up with another solution. One which came to me one night in the face of a very sadistic partner I picked up at a bar. She had a knife and cut me pretty deep—I couldn’t stop the bleeding after she left—but it worked. By thetime she was out the door, my balls were empty, but my thirst wasn’t satisfied. I didn’t get any pleasure from the act, but my hormones calmed down a bit. And that’s how I eventually found myself in this circle of self-hate only I was privy to.
But when Leila said it out loud, it became all too real, and she was right. She really read me like a book, and I attacked her for it, being an asshole instead of just agreeing with her. Because agreeing meant accepting the problem and thenhealing(fuck that word away from my vocabulary), and I will never be ready for that. So, here I am, a jerk extraordinaire who just told the woman he dreams of making his own, that she’s pretty much a piece of shit.Way to go, Stephan.
Suddenly the water stops, and Leila comes out, wearing skimpy shorts (even skimpier than before, those tiny offensive shorts that made my dick hurt) and a tiny see-through shirt with thin straps. It’s pink; I think they call it blush or something. Her long hair is down, and it moves with every step she takes toward the kitchen, completely ignoring me. There, she proceeds to put a kettle on the fire and grabs a mug from the cabinet. Still ignoring me.
It pisses me off, so I rise from the couch where I’ve been waiting for her to emerge from the bathroom and walk over to her. Tea sounds good right about now.
I walk past her to grab a mug for myself and graze her shoulder with my arm. She shoots away like I just burned her and gives me a death stare. I lean my butt on the table, waiting for the tea to boil. She takes the same pose opposite me, leaning on the counter.
Our eyes meet, and she quirks a brow. I want to smile, but I keep my cool. I cross my arms over my chest, knowing that the muscles in my arms pop. I’ve seen her ogling me before, so I count on that. True to my assumption, her eyes dip down, and her cute nostrils flare. But she quickly catches herself andcrosses her arms over her chest too. Her tits threaten to spill from the top—two perfect globes I had in my mouth just an hour ago. I feel a stir in my dick, but I keep staring at her, not acknowledging it.
She drops her hands and brings them to the back of her neck, kneading her muscles. A low moan follows as she drops her head forward, and I shift my feet uncomfortably, suddenly not so sure of myself. She tilts her head to the side, gliding her hand over the side of her neck.
I swallow.
