Come To Me (Owned 3) - Page 26

“Let me go, Vic.” Lenny’s voice was tired. “If I’m going to die, I want to be fresh for the funeral.”

I pulled her closer. “Have I ever failed you?” I searched her eyes, wishing to find just that one thing.

Lenny shrugged, eyes still refusing to meet mine. “I was just kidnapped.” I felt it snap inside me before anything else, before I heard my growl, and before realizing I’d pushed her against the wall. The painting above us rattled and I covered her just as it fell, knocking into my head and then shattering on the floor in all directions. Her eyes went wide with fear and anticipation. I pushed her against the wall and took her lip between my teeth, biting until I tasted copper.

“Are you alive?” I demanded as I shoved my hand between her pants and underwear. She was wearing some type of elastic legging pajama—having still not changed. The minute my hand went in, it stayed snug, which was just fine, because I wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. I gripped her ass with my other hand, holding her in place so she couldn't move. Lenny jumped up, wrapping her legs around my waist.

Using the hand planted firmly on her cunt, I spread her open. She was drenched, soaked. She was always so goddamn wet for me. Even like this, when we were in the midst of a fucking cold war, she was hot and wanting. It drove me crazy.

“How are you always so fucking wet?” I questioned her, pressing my forehead so hard to hers that I heard the plaster behind her head crunch. I didn’t wait for an answer. This wasn’t about lovemaking. This wasn’t about mending fences. That was going to take a lot more than one fucking to fix.

My fingers were now wet with her cunt juices, her breathing hot on my neck. I wish I could tell you that what I did next was about love. That sex between Lenny and I at least had the veneer of love. I think you know us better than that by now. I was pissed, and over the years we’d developed a system of punishment that relied solely on fucking. Driving Lenny mad with pleasure had become my favorite torture. That day she was getting punished, the next it would probably be me. I slammed my ring finger into her ass. She yelped, but I captured the sound with my mouth.

I fingerfucked both her holes until her pants became musical. My pointer finger slid against her slick folds until they reached her clit, circling around it. She shivered against me and tried to move away from the sensation, but I pinned her harder against the wall.

“Oh...” She groaned when I upped my pace, going in and out of her holes. Hands gripped my shoulders so hard they would surely leave marks, head undulated against the wall as if she could escape the torture. I stretched her cunt with another finger, and that did her in. Her scream escaped her in a long, anguishing wail that matched the quivers of her cunt.

And then there was silence.

“Are you alive?” I repeated, twerking my fingers inside her.

“Yes!” She gasped. Satisfied, I pulled out immediately and stepped back. She fell to the ground, looking up at me wide eyed. Even though all I wanted to do was pick her up, I affected a cold demeanor.

“That was a reminder, Lenny,” I said, wiping her off on my shirt. “Don’t forget again.”

Lenny stood up and shoved by me. “Fuck you! As if I could ever forget. As if you would ever let me!” I opened my mouth to respond when she said, “You’re a bastard, Vic.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, like why you’re such a fucking pill head.”

“Because it’s not safe here.” Lenny thrust wildly around the bathroom, but I knew she wasn’t talking about the goddamn tub and toilet. “And it’s not safe in here.” Lenny pointed to her skull, shoving so hard against the skin it bent back the finger. After a few seconds she left and I heard the guest bedroom door slam. I let her words settle like ashes from a fire, the meaning behind them burning holes in my gut.

What little friends I had, what small family existed, had been made to scatter like ants. Because of me. Lenny was holed up in the cabin refusing to speak to me and I really couldn’t blame her. Grace and Eli were long gone, hopefully miles away, as were Lissie and Zoe. If everything went according to plan, Lenny and I would disappear as well.

I should have known nothing ever went to plan.

When I woke the door was locked and Lenny still refused to speak to me. I knocked, but only silence followed. Part of me wanted to break through and force it, but that’s what I’d done the day before. Instead I stared at the wood separating and then told her I was going to get some breakfast. If she wanted space, then I was going to give her space.

If she wanted to get high, then I wasn’t going to be around to watch.

Earlier in the morning, I’d ambled around town. I walked by a house, thinking nothing of it at first, but then I saw the vinyl letters: Addiction and Recovery. I paused, then walked backward, drink in hand. I’d probably been outside the goddamn purple painted place for an hour before a woman walked out and started to talk to me. I glared, thinking it would get her to fuck off.

It didn’t.

“Can I help you?” she’d asked.

“No,” I responded, but I still didn’t move. She kept a smile on her face the same way others kept a gun in their jacket. After a few minutes, where neither of us moved, I finally spoke.

“So, can you just walk in or what?”

“Well, not here, but other places, sure.”

“How long does it take?”

“Well, there’s inpatient and outpatient. It depends.”

“Just give me an answer.”

Her smile wavered. “A month, maybe two.” I walked away without a goodbye, thinking about Lennox. It was no secret I’d driven her to pills, and now I was driving her further away from help. There would be no rehab where we were going, and as much as I liked to get on her about taking her meds, there would be no psychiatrists.

Tags: Mary Catherine Gebhard Owned Romance
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