Let Me Go (Owned 2)

Eli bent down. He was eye level with me but I refused to meet his eyes. I felt his hands as if in the periphery, not really in my own body. He was lifting me up off the floor, hugging me to his body, but I couldn’t really feel him, like there was some kind of casing around my body.

“You can’t do that, Gracie,” Eli whispered into my hair, hugging me tight. “You can’t take all the pain for yourself. You gotta leave some for the rest of us.”

“I’m so, so sorry.” I was lost in that night, the memories overtaking me. I remembered the looks on the nurses’ faces and that feeling of emptiness in my belly. I wasn’t sure if I actually said the words out loud, but I was; I was so, so sorry. I couldn’t even look at Eli.

I knew our love was nothing but a fairytale; because like fairytales, we didn’t exist in reality. The scars on our love were proof.

“You didn’t lose anything, Bug,” Eli said, putting me back at arm’s length so he could look into my eyes. “Our baby was taken from you.”

“I did,” I cried. “I lost it. It was mine to take care of but I was bad and I lost it.”

Eli grabbed me and pulled me back to his chest. “Oh, Grace. What am I gonna do with ya?”

I struggled against him, feeling suffocated. “Don’t you see, Eli? We’re ruined. I ruined us. We’re nothing but scars and graveyards.”

Eli took my chin between his fingers, holding it hard enough that I had to stay but not hard enough to bruise. I was forced to look into his eyes. Forced to face us.

“You act like having scars is a bad thing. A scar is just a healed wound. You and me have had a lot of wounds, Gracie, but we’re still standing. Wounds don’t define us. What defines us is the skin that forms over the wound, and you’ve done a damn fine job of healing, Gracie.”

I looked away, disbelief forming on my features.

“You don’t like what I’m sayin’?” Eli snapped, causing me to look back at him. “You don’t like that I still love you? Do you not feel lovable? Sorry, but you are. I love you. I will always love you. No matter how many cuts you get, how many times that soul of yours bleeds, I will love you.”

Eli kissed me. It was hard and forceful, all the sweetness of his statement dissipating as we met each other like two storms in field. Eli pulled back, his lip between my teeth, and said, “You’re going to stop taking my pain. I feel everything you feel, Grace, whether you like it or not. You bleed, I bleed. You cry, I cry. Stop hiding from me.”

Like two ships about to collide, my focus remained on Eli. Though I felt him touch me, as if every nerve responded to him, I kept my gaze pinned on only his eyes. He traced circles on my body, bit by bit lowering his hand until it rested right above my waistband. My eyes never moved from his and he kept his on mine. I pressed my forehead so hard to him that I was sure it would hurt the next day, but I didn’t care. Right then we were connected.

“No more secrets,” Eli said, eyes pinning me. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Slowly, Eli lowered his hand underneath the fabric of my shorts and panties. My eyes widened when I felt his skin meet mine. As Eli’s hand cupped me, I bit my lip to keep from moaning.

“Don’t do that,” Eli rasped. “Let me hear you.” Eli grabbed me with his other arm and jerked me to him. With one arm keeping me firmly in place, his other started an assault on my senses. Slowly he rubbed his hand against me until I was a whimpering mess. I needed to squirm, but Eli kept me pinned to his chest and immobile.

I clawed, trying to get away because I was having a pleasure overload, but Eli kept me in place. Instead of lessening the torture he upped it. I moaned in simultaneous pleasure and anguish when Eli slid a finger up inside me.

“Eli!” I yelled, writhing in his hold. I’d stopped looking at him, too overwhelmed to keep my gaze straight.

“I want you to come all over my hand,” Eli commanded. I whimpered in response.

“Eli… I…” As I was about to explain that I couldn’t do that, that I wasn’t even sure how to do that, Eli inserted another finger inside me. Stars obscured my vision. “Oh god I…” I lost the words as Eli’s fingers became the only thing I could think about. Their rhythm inside me seemed to vibrate through my entire body until I was nothing save sensation. With one last wail, I collapsed against his chest.

“What are you doin’ to me Eli Jackson?” I muttered into his chest.

“Making you come.” Eli grinned. “And you’re going to do it again.” Slowly, Eli released me from his vice-like grip and I stumbled backward, my legs wobbly from the orgasm. As I got my bearings, I noticed Eli was undressing. First he took off his shirt, baring his naked chest. Then, I watched raptly as he unbuttoned his jeans and kicked them off. I licked my lips: he was completely naked beneath his blue jeans.

“Now you,” Eli said. “Take off your shirt.” Feeling slightly naughty as I undressed in front of him, I pulled my shirt over my head. “Now your shorts.” I did as he asked, throwing my shorts to the side, and even went one further by taking off my panties.

“No, those are mine,” Eli growled. I shot up straight, panties still in my palm.

“These?” I asked, unsure I’d heard him correctly.

“Those,” Eli replied. “Bring them to me.”

Tentatively I closed the short distance between us. His palm was out so I

placed the panties in them, and as I did, his hand closed on mine. He pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me. I squealed in surprise and excitement.