Tears burn the back of my eyes as I watch the door close quietly behind him.
“Well that was unexpected,” Xena says as she walks back toward me. My eyes snap in her direction, focusing on her mouth in a bid to keep my tears exactly where they need to be until I’m alone. “I haven’t touched him like that since my first week here.”
“But last night?” Sitting up on the edge of the table, my mouth turns down in confusion.
“A massage,” she specifies giving me a weak smile. “That’s all last night was. That’s all any night is between Lynch and me.”
“I’ve been ready for you since I got off the road.” His words filter into my orgasm-fogged mind.
I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle. My dad would’ve killed me himself before he allowed me on the back of one of those death traps, but I can imagine soreness is a close friend after long rides. I can’t sit still for long on the damn couch, so being on a bike for hours on end would kill me.
“He’s always sore when he comes off the road,” she says as if she’s reading my mind. “Now go clean that pretty pussy of yours so I can wax you and go find someone to fuck.”
Climbing off the table, I chuckle at her blatant statement.
He walked out on me without a word, but somehow knowing he didn’t touch her in a sexual way last night lightens my spirits. In the back of my mind I know that the elation I feel over that knowledge is more dangerous than the pain I felt watching him silently leave.
“Don’t laugh,” she warns. “I’m the only one who didn’t come. You can remedy that if you want.”
Her eyebrows jolt up and down playfully, a teasing smile spreading across her face. Without answering, I scurry into the attached bathroom. Her laughter follows me inside.
In the harsh fluorescent light of the bathroom, I stare at myself in the mirror. My oil-slicked skin glows pink in patches all over, some spots from my recent release, others from where Xena bit and pinched me at Lynch’s command. She was an ambassador, a stand-in representative for my pleasure, an extension of him. Her mouth was his. He was the one licking, biting, and sucking on my flesh.
His pleasure was evident in the clench of his jaw and the punishing grip of his fingers into my hips as he held me in place.
Turning slightly, I run my fingers over the bruises blooming on my skin, the evidence of my punishment.
Pain was clear in his eyes. His tortured soul bleeding out right before my eyes, so intense I had to look away. I couldn’t face his demons. Addressing his would only force me to recognize my own.
Each time he touches me, I give a little piece of myself away. Each time his lips brush mine or his tongue licks into my mouth, I lose some of the walls I’ve built up.
Lynch is deadly. He’s untouchable in any real sense, and wanting him, needing him, is a fairy tale.
No.
There’s nothing redeeming about this place or the man who runs the Ravens Ruin MC. I’m not progressing toward a happily ever after. I’m stuck in a nightmare, and Lynch is my puppet master. Hell, he’s controlling each and every damn person in this compound.
A clang on the other side of the door forces me to refocus. Fixating on all of the things I’ve done since arriving here won’t change anything. It won’t alter the fact that I let a woman fondle my tits as I writhed on Lynch’s mouth within an hour of my arrival. It won’t modify the truth that watching Vixen suck him off turned me on more than I ever thought it could. And it sure as fuck won’t erase Xena’s mouth on my pussy, or how much I fucking enjoyed it.
Nothing will change, not my memories or the incessant need to have Lynch’s body touching mine. Just like Lynch walking away time and time again after he’s done with me will never change.
I step into the shower and turn both nozzles up full blast. The frigid rush of water is quickly replaced by warm, soothing heat. I don’t know if the soreness in my muscles is from Xena’s deep-tissue massage or a combination of everything that has happened since I arrived. Regardless, the heat of the water isn’t strong enough to wash it away. With exhaustion, I reach for the shower gel, pooling it in my palm before lathering it up.
Twice I’m forced to wash and rinse to get the slick oil off my skin. Twice I brush over my clit and groan at the unsatisfied need still waiting there. Coming multiple times didn’t eliminate the urge to want to do it again, over and over until I’m too tired to open my eyes.