Peep Show

by Starling, Isabella

  Because the jealousy would eat me up alive.

  I heard it what felt like minutes after. The soft sound of sobs, of her crying like a little girl, so vulnerable, so fucking sweet it threatened to tear me in half. I was next to her in seconds, my arms wrapping around her shoulders as I held her, murmuring into her hair, trying to calm her down. All my fears of germs, of the unknown, were forgotten. All that mattered was the scared little girl in my embrace, shaking, trembling like a fucking leaf because of something I’d put her through. I’d never hated myself more than in that moment, but I also knew I had to help her before I started to worry about myself.

  “Bebe,” I whispered into her hair. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

  She started grasping at the fabric of my shirt between her little fingers, practically climbing on top of me in an effort to get closer. Her breaths were uneven and raspy, and she was still crying. For every tear that fell down her smooth cheeks, I hated myself a little bit more.

  “Talk to me,” I begged her as she settled on my lap. “Just talk to me, Bebe, I’m begging you.”

  She grabbed my chin with purpose and twisted my face towards her own. I shut my eyes tightly, still unable to look her in the eye.

  “Look at me,” she got out, hiccuping through the tears.

  I forced my eyes open and looked into hers. She was so painfully beautiful, innocent of everything my sick mind had accused her of. I hated myself for it, and I knew it would be a long time before I could forgive myself for what I’d put her through.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, and she shook her head, swallowing tears. Biting back the pain. Just for me.

  “Get it out of me,” she whispered, and I stared at her, trying to understand what she meant.

  “What, sugar?” I asked her roughly. “Get what out?”

  “The…” She swallowed thickly, looking so completely broken I felt my devastation to my core. “The cum. They fucked me, both of them. I feel d-dirty.”

  I let go of her and punched a wall repeatedly. Once, twice, three times until the wall was sprayed with my blood and I groaned at the pain in my knuckles.

  “Miles!” Bebe’s screams finally got to me, and I walked over to her with fast, angry steps.

  She shrank away from me, but I grabbed her gently, pulling her into my lap and walking down the hallway. She sobbed against my chest, her arms wrapping around my neck in relief when she realized I wasn’t going to hurt her. Fucking shit, she really thought I could’ve done that. I was madly in love with her, and she thought I wanted to get her hurt. It was all my fucking fault.

  When I finally found it, I walked into the bathroom, a beautiful room with white and mother of pearl tiles. I walked her into the huge shower and didn’t let go as I turned on the water above us. It came in a luxurious warm spray, making my clothes stick to my body and stopping Bebe’s naked body from shivering against me.

  “It’s okay,” I whispered into her ear, water falling all over us. “It’s okay, sugar.”

  I kneeled with her in my arms and let her down gently on the tile. She sobbed softly as I let the water rain on us.

  “Open your legs,” I whispered, and she let her legs fall open lifelessly like she was nothing but a doll following instructions now.

  My heart broke for her, and I cursed myself a thousand times inside my raging head.

  I reached for a loofah, lathering it thick with soap that smelled like strawberries and Bebe. Placing my hand between her legs, I started washing her slowly, my motions soothing and sweet. I focused my eyes on her because I couldn’t bear looking down. Couldn’t fucking think of anything but her eyes, those beautiful, beautiful eyes blinking back tears and smiling into mine.

  “It’s okay,” I promised her again, and she nodded, sniffing a little. “I’ll make it all okay, Bebe.”

  I was going to kill them both for fucking her bare. I didn’t even dare ask her whether she was on protection. I knew I’d have to, but I swallowed the question every single time it came up.

  The water was nice and hot as it washed over us, soothing away the pain and the worst of Bebe’s weeping. I washed her so carefully, like she was made of porcelain and one wrong move would shatter her to pieces. I knew just how close to the truth that was.

  “Bebe,” I said gently, tipping her chin back and smoothing the loofah over her toned stomach, to her tits and her aching neck. The fingerprints of one of the jerks were still on her throat, red and angry. They would probably bruise, and every time I looked at them, I’d hate myself a little bit more. “Bebe, look at me. Let me see those eyes.”

  She raised a weary, tired look up into my gaze. I smiled at her, and she returned a faint, tired smile.

  “I’m sorry, Bebe,” I told her roughly. “I’m sorry for what I put you through, I should never have done that, I just…”

  “Just what?” she whispered.

  Her eyes looked at me with accusations flying. I knew she was angry, and she had every right to be. I just sacrificed her body to my own insecurities, like she was a cheap fucking whore.

  “Just know I…” I swallowed. Couldn’t get the words out. “I was ashamed. Scared of our… connection. Scared of you. I wanted to detach myself.”

  “How did that work out?” she sounded bitter and tired, and I couldn’t blame her.

  “It didn’t,” I admitted. “Because I fucked you up when all I wanted to do was push you away.”

  “Why?” she sniffled. “Why did you try to get rid of me? You’re just like everybody else. Every single person who doesn’t even want me…”

  “I’m not,” I said, grabbing her gently and pulling her closer. “I’m not, Bebe, I…”

  “Say it then,” she taunted me, her eyes boring into mine. “Say it, you fucking coward.”

  “I just… I…” I gasped for air.

  The walls were closing in. The water switched between being boiling hot and ice cold, at first burning my back and then freezing the wounds. I could barely breathe. Could barely keep my eyes open. It was limbo, horrible, hellish limbo and I was caught without a way out, the only solution so unbelievably hard I couldn’t physically imagine doing it.

  “I do,” I whispered. “You know, Bebe…”

  “Say it!” She smashed her little fist into my shoulder and I was suddenly glad the shower was running because I was crying like a pussy. “Say it, you fucking jackass!”

  I couldn’t.

  She tore out of my hands and stormed out of the shower, leaving me in there broken. I stumbled after her, my wet clothes running everywhere, puddles gathering around my feet.

  “Bebe!” I snarled, grabbing her waist and pulling her against me.

  “What?” she growled. “What the fuck do you want? You won’t even admit it, you selfish bastard…”

  “I…” Once again, my words froze in my throat. “Bebe, please.”

  My lips sought out hers, but she pushed me away.

  “Bebe,” I growled back. “Stop. Fucking. Fighting. Me. You’re mine.”

  “I’m not!” she screamed.

  “You are!” I yelled. “Mine. Mine. Fucking. MINE!”

  She howled and I bit her lips, kissing her so fiercely she crumpled in my arms, desperately pressing her lips to mine, offering herself to me.

  “Tell me,” I ordered her. “Tell me you’re mine.”

  “Yours,” she whispered hoarsely.

  “All mine,” I corrected her. “I don’t fucking share you.”

  “But you—”

  “I. Don’t…” I bit her throat and she cried out. Her body spasmed. She was fucking coming. My fingers fought their way to her pussy and I pulled the orgasm out of her trembling cunt. “…Share. YOU!”

  Protégé-moi, French

  Protect me.

  His eyes on mine were so savage it sent icy shivers down my spine.

  He was poised like an animal, his arms wrapped around me in that one tense moment before he attacked. Our eyes danced over one another, caught in a d
ance I didn’t try to understand. It was a battle now, but it was futile because we both wanted the same thing. I wanted him inside me, and he wanted to own me. It was inevitable.

  “Do it,” I growled at him, my voice raspy with need as my eyes zeroed in on his. “Just fucking do it, Miles.”

  He let out a low groan before he dipped his head, making his lips meet my own. I opened up in anticipation, desperate for another taste of him. He kissed me like I belonged to him completely. Like I didn’t have a choice in the world about it. I was his property, and I would be, as long as he wanted me to stay in his arms.

  My body responded to his with wildness I didn’t know I possessed. My arms were raised in seconds, my fingers twining their way into his hair, and I yanked him down against my neck, making him kiss me savagely and leaving bruises in his wake.

  “Harder,” I bit into his neck. “Fucking do it harder.”

  His teeth sank into my skin and I howled underneath him, my body thrashing and trying to get him off me instinctively. The second I could, I clung to him again, desperate hands moving against him, clawing, grasping, claiming Miles Reilly for myself.

  I felt him grazing my skin, but he wouldn’t do what I wanted, and I yelped in frustration as I was picked up from the floor and carried into the bedroom.

  We were both soaking wet, our bodies dripping with water from our shower together. I wanted desperately to pull him on top of me, but he had all the control in his hands. He tossed me on the bed, and I landed with a desperate moan, the bed molding to fit my body. I grabbed the sheets behind me, crawling away from him.

  “T-take your clothes o-o-ff,” I managed to get out, my teeth chattering against the sudden cold of the room on my naked, wet body. “M-Miles. Off. N-now.”

  He reached for his shirt and ripped it across his chest, my pupils dilating to black holes as I watched. His pants were next, and he got rid of them angrily like they were personally offending him for still separating us. I watched his body, the ink mixing with water, muscles bleeding into bones. He was incredible, magnificent. He was a wet dream, but he was also the salvation, the angel I’d prayed for every night. I stared at him like he was a god. My mind didn’t understand what my body knew, and I panicked as I arched my back for him, desperate for him to grab me.

  He did, his fingers bruising my ribs as he wrapped them around me, holding me up like he’d been the whole time. His thumbs caressed the skin under my breasts, and one slipped upwards to tease my nipple into a point. I exhaled in exhaustion, the simple touch almost too much for me to take.

  “Miles,” I breathed, realizing he hadn’t said a word in what felt like hours. “Miles, talk to me.”

  “Talk to you?” he growled, letting go of me with one hand.

  I gasped in fear of falling but he held me easily with one arm, raising me to him and inhaling the scent of my skin above my navel. He was an addict, a man possessed, free at last with his obsession. And I couldn’t get enough of it, of him. I wanted things so cruel and twisted I couldn’t even admit them to myself. He made me want the danger, the darkness. He made it so fucking clear what was out there.

  Dragons. Fire-breathing, ash-inducing, flying fucking beasts who would destroy my life if I took a single step off the beaten path.

  No, I had to keep doing this, one foot in front of the other, walking to my goal, slowly, slowly. Forget Posy, move on. Forget Posy, move on.

  And suddenly I was only on the second step, an infinite number of others leading upwards, and I was falling, falling…

  But Miles caught me. Easily. Like it was the simplest thing in the world.

  “Tell me I’m yours,” I begged him, breathless from the dreamlike thought. “Tell me I’m yours again.”

  “You are,” he groaned, and then his hands were on his cock, and he was holding me above the bed, pushing me down on his hardness.

  “Let go,” I whispered, fighting him for show. “I wanna do it.”

  “No,” he whispered, his voice almost in a trance. “Need to watch.”

  We both looked between our legs, and I squirmed when he placed his cock at my entrance. I spasmed away, and a thick string of precum clung to me as he slipped away. I cried out at the sight, the lust I was feeling overwhelming every other emotion in my body. I was a desperate, needy little fuck-doll and I didn’t care about anything else but what the man before me had between his legs.

  “Fuck,” I begged. “Fuck it.”

  He did.

  I sank on his cock with a shiver of relief and Miles’ filthy mouth spewing curse words as he lowered me down, all the way down until I felt him in my belly.

  “Miles!” I cried out, my fists slamming his chest. “Miles, too deep!”

  “Shut up,” he groaned, his free hand grabbing both of my wrists. “Shut the fuck up, sugar. Look at me, look right the fuck at me.”

  Our eyes connected, so intense I felt tears slipping down my face. His eyes were glassy, and in that one moment, I understood what it meant to be him, to be this broken, to be this hurt, and I wept for him.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered, pulling out of me so suddenly I could barely catch my breath. “It’s okay, sugar, it’s okay baby, don’t worry, it’s okay…”

  “Don’t,” I mumbled. “Don’t stop.”

  “Never,” he promised and started thrusting inside me.

  I thought the pain would split me open, and I thought his groans would make me squirt before he spurted inside me.

  I felt myself coming as he fucked me so absolutely relentlessly I left bloody trails down his back.

  I felt myself coming again when he laid me down so gently. He grabbed my throat and I was already close, but when he held me, the pure insanity of it took over my body. His grip was firm, his fingers just a little too tight, but his thumb gently traced my bottom lip as he punished my pussy. His eyes were on mine, in my head, in my soul. He fucked me like he’d known me for centuries.

  The tears were spilling but Miles kept fucking, and I kept letting go for him until my body started going limp, my eyes threatening to shut completely and my legs kicking aimlessly at the bedsheets.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered, my words jumbled and delirious. “Please, enough.”

  “Not enough,” he growled. “Not enough!”

  “When?” I begged tearfully. “When?”

  “When. It’s. All. Gone.”

  He looked possessed. Obsessed. He looked crazy, and I was more in love with him than I’d ever been with myself, with Posy, with God, with anyone alive or dead.

  “Miles,” I whispered. “It’s gone. It’s gone. I’m yours.”

  “Not until you take it,” he groaned, licking my throat.

  “So do it,” I begged. “Come inside me, fuck me full Miles, please…”

  He stopped thrusting, his body a statue above mine. I felt his hair, wet from the shower, dripping on my heated skin. He only seemed to just realize he was really fucking doing this, after what those two jerks had done to me.

  A smile lit up his face, big, fucking cocky.

  “Mine,” he growled again, and then his body gave into mine, and he braced the headboard as he filled me up, my body reacting to his with such intensity he had to hold me down so I wouldn’t climb all over him.

  I felt him coming, not spraying me but leaking, fucking leaking into me so painfully slowly I wanted to scream. But I took it, and a laugh escaped my lips when I came as he did, making him bite my throat in a possessive rage like a filthy fucking animal.

  He rolled to the side, taking my body with his, and I whimpered when I landed on top of him, my lips finding his for comfort. He kissed me with his hands clasped on the small of my back, and he told me what I so desperately needed to hear.

  “I’m in fucking love with you, sugar.”

  Whispered words, a lover’s promise so sweet in my ear I melted to his touch, kissed him all over as he laughed, and I felt his essence running out between my legs, all over him. I was in love, so fucking in love I could
n’t see anything but him, my Miles, my perfect, beautifully broken Miles. He was all I’d ever wanted.

  “Hold me,” I begged him, and he pressed me closer to himself, his still hard, dripping cock a firm wedge between us.

  He laughed nervously and I settled into his embrace, wild happiness making my mind and my heart race. Lying in his arms felt incredible, as amazing as I had known it would be all along, but the surprise was what came after.

  The fact that I didn’t want to move, not a single inch, not a fraction of one. I couldn’t leave now, not like every other time when I was done the second they were. Now, I wanted to stay. Now, I couldn’t do another thing than settle in his arms. Let him hold me. Let him take care of the husk that was left of the body he’d used, fucked and loved like nobody else before him.

  I put my hands under my chin and he toyed with them as we stared at one another.

  “Aren’t you scared?” I whispered, still a little out of breath.

  “Yeah,” he muttered, and only then, I noticed the light tremble of his capable fingers. “Of course I’m scared.”

  “Don’t let go,” I muttered before I could stop myself, my fingers wrapping around his, my eyes begging him to understand what I needed so badly. “Don’t let go of me now, please.”

  He stroked my hair, his smile so much gentler than his thrusts had been.

  “Never,” he promised me, the word as ominous and menacing as it was erotic.

  Maybe that was when I should have been the most afraid.

  Because the moment I fell in love with him, I knew he was a stranger. A dangerous creature I barely understood and who would never bare himself to me completely, leaving me guessing for the rest of the time I spent with him.

  And now, he felt the same for me. And just like he’d said, he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. I just wasn’t sure how dangerous that made him.

  But in that moment, I didn’t care, either.

  All that mattered was his heartbeat underneath my ear. The way he held onto me like I mattered more than anything else in his life. More than he did. He’d protect me from the dragons.

  But would he protect me from himself?