Loving Me, Trusting You(33)

I sigh and slam my forehead against the wall, resting there with my fingers lighting brushing the mirror. The soft sound of a piano drifts to me from the speakers above, painting a melancholy backdrop to my misery. When did life become such a chore to live? I don't even know what it is I really want. Love? Not anymore. Freedom? I guess I have that. Nobody's keeping me here expect myself. Vengeance? Definitely. But then, I have a feeling it's not going to leave me as full as I want it to. It'll be like a bandage to my damaged soul, not a cure.

I push away from the wall and step between the doors as they slide open, gliding down the hallway to my room. As soon as I step inside, my clothes start to come off and I end up sitting on the floor of a hot shower, my mind drifting to places best left undisturbed. The rapes play over and over again in my mind, faces of betrayal and feelings of humiliation that I try to wash away with soap and scalding water. Nothing works. I live it over and over again, the horror stirred up like dust in a stampede. I'm in there so long that Gaine lets himself in and flings back the curtain like he thinks I might be dead.

“Just because we've had sex, that doesn't give you the right to walk in on me when I'm showering.” I don't look up at Gaine, just stay where I am with my arms wrapped around my legs. I can feel his eyes on me, can see his cock responding out of the corner of my eye. He pushes the curtain back into place and I listen as he takes a step back.

“I'm just checkin' in on you is all,” he says with a sigh. I aggravate him. I can tell. But too damn bad. I never asked to mean that much to him. That's his problem. The room stays silent for awhile with nothing but the sound of running water to keep me company, but I know he's still there. Strange as it sounds, I can feel him. My nightmares run down the drain with the soapy water, pushed back by Gaine's presence. I might not realize it in that moment, but it's true.

The steam surrounds me, touching my skin with wandering caresses. I lean my head back and let water cascade around my face.

“I thought you might want to get out tonight, do something interesting.”

If I listen hard, I can hear his breathing, rough and pained outside the curtain. He's aroused. Doesn't take a f*cking genius to tell me that. Even though we just had sex, my body calls out for him, swearing up and down that my * is jealous, that it needs his touch. I tell it to f*ck off, but somehow, I find my hand wandering between my thighs, brushing my clit ever so slightly, just enough to send a thrill through my body. “Like what?” I ask, and I manage to keep my voice even. I fall back, laying my head next to the faucet and resting against the wall. My fingernails brush across my opening and pause there, hovering, half desperate.

On the other side of the curtain, I catch just the slightest hint of a groan.





Mireya is driving me bat shit f*cking crazy today. I can't get enough of her, and I want desperately to get away from her. The two emotions are threatening to strip my sanity and make me nuttier than a jar of f*cking peanut butter.

My hand drops down to my jeans and brushes across the fabric there. I've been whacking it more than usual, like I'm still a damn kid or something. Mireya does that to me. She makes me so hot I can't think straight. I don't intend to touch myself then and there, but as soon as I make contact, I'm bitin' back a groan and trying to resist tearing that friggin' curtain off the wall, so I can get to her.

“I don't know, Mireya. Go out to dinner? See a movie? Something normal. We don't get a lot of that around here.” I unbutton my pants, careful to keep the sound to a minimum. I imagine that the water will cover most of it up, but if she catches me, I'm a dead man.

“You want to go on a date, Gaine?” she asks, and her voice sounds a little faraway, not as bitter as usual. If I've learned anything by being around Mireya Sawyer, it's that half the things that come out of her mouth are curse words and insults, and the other half are reserved for caustic slurs and put-downs. It's not that she's a bad person, not at all. That woman has a heart of f*cking gold. She doesn't know it, but I do. And one day, I'm going to figure out a way to show it to her.

I slip my hand under the waistband of my boxer briefs and grab my cock in a firm hold. It feels so damn good that I almost let a sound slip.

“What makes you think that's a good idea? We're babysitting, remember?” I wait for a moment, but I don't hear any signs that she's gettin' out of the shower, so I start to stroke myself, slowly at first but quickly building into a frenzy. Sure, we just screwed. But I'm not done. I'll never be done with her. Something about those saucy lips, those full breasts, her round ass. I can't get her out of my mind. I've tried a few times, but it never works. I'm hooked and there ain't nothin' I can do about it. Best I go along for the ride instead of digging my heels in. It can only hurt less this way.

“Amy and Christy can come. Don't see why they couldn't sit at a different table or nothin'.” I squeeze harder and move faster, letting my eyes fall closed for just a moment, so I can pull up the image of Mireya with her pants down around her ankles and her body bent over that bike. I bite my lip to hold back a groan.

“I'm not going out to dinner with those bitches, so you can just forget about it.” The words are classic Mireya, but the tone is not. Did I just hear her moan? Outside the door, I can hear Christy and Amy chattin' about something, probably our little rendezvous at the dealership. I don't know how they know, but they know. Amy's friend won't even look me in the face now. Doubt I'm making a very good first impression. I check the door, just in case. Thank the f*cking stars I locked it this time.