by Nikki Chase
I try not to judge Peter for what he did. Mortality was staring him right in the face and he did the only thing he knew to fight against the darkness that was closing in on him.
He lost the battle—not very gracefully—but I can’t say 100%, for sure, that I’d be able to do the right thing if I were in his position either. I mean, hell, I’ve done a lot of things wrong.
I open my bag and throw the the bottles inside.
It’d be a disaster if I get them mixed up with these ones, I think to myself as I take out identical bottles from another compartment.
Finally, I arrange the pill bottles I brought from home on the shelf.
I take a step back to check my work. The new bottles I got from Joe certainly blend in with the others.
I don’t think either Sarah or Brian or whatever the other vet’s name is would notice anything different about these bottles.
I was very careful to source the correct stuff. That’s why I had to wait this long to do this.
As I make my way back home, the sound of my running shoes hitting the ground fills my ears, but I feel like I’m running on air.
A big weight has been lifted from my shoulders, and I can stand tall again.
Finally, I don’t have to hide anything anymore. I can stop lying and sneaking around behind Sarah.
To be honest, that’s been getting harder and harder to do lately. I’m glad that’s over.
Now, with my task finally done, I have some space left in my brain to consider other things.
Things like … Why the fuck did it bother me so much anyway? I was only trying to protect her, just like her brother had wanted me to.
Now, I don’t need to keep Sarah in my house anymore.
But what I’ve been doing to her … I worry that I’m only making things worse for her, that she’s only getting stronger and stronger cravings for more extreme shit.
And now, if I let her go home … What if she goes online in search of a stranger to dominate her?
I shouldn’t care. This isn’t supposed to be about me.
But … I do.
She’s quickly becoming my new addiction, and I can already feel myself getting lost in her. I keep craving her.
And for the first time in a long time … I start to wonder … Maybe it won’t be such a bad idea for me to actually make her mine. Maybe I can do this. Maybe I can stay by her side and continue to take care of her, always.
Sarah
As the days go by, I crave Luca more and more.
But it’s not just his touch that I miss anymore—not just his lips on my body, or his cock in my pussy.
I want to know the man behind his tough-guy mask. I want to open up his skull and take a peek inside.
On the other hand, I know that I’d just be digging a deeper hole for myself.
There’s no way something like that won’t just get me more attached to him. Everything about Luca that I’ve learned, so far, I like. I can’t see myself taking a closer look at him and not liking what I find.
So, I shouldn’t.
But just like any other addict, I crumple under the slightest pressure.
“Luca,” I say over breakfast one morning. Dust motes shimmer in the slice of light streaming in through the window blinds. “Tell me about your life in San Francisco.”
“What’s there to tell?”
“I can think of some things … if you don’t mind.”
“Sure,” Luca says casually as he cuts off a piece of cherry pancake and sticks it into his mouth.
Hmm … I don’t remember it being this easy to get him to talk.
“Tell me about your parents,” I say. “Do they live there?”
“I have no idea where they are, or whether they’re still alive, and that’s the way I like it.”
“Pretty strong words there.”
Luca shrugs. “I don’t really care. They didn’t beat me up or anything, but they didn’t care much about me either. They shouldn’t have had me.”
“Same. My parents shouldn’t have had me either. They would’ve been happier apart.” I pause and stare at the glittering dust motes. “Well, maybe my dad would’ve been happier without my mom. I can’t even imagine my mom as a happy person.”
Luca chuckles.
“Next question. Tell me why you spent time in prison.”
He groans. “Why does everybody want to know about that?”
“It makes you seem all dangerous and mysterious,” I say. “Besides, people probably want to know if you’re a sexual deviant and if they need to keep their kids away from you.”
Luca raises his eyebrow. “Well, we both know I am a sexual deviant.”
“Yeah.” I giggle. “But seeing as nobody else does, I doubt that was the reason you got in prison. I would’ve heard about a sex offender in town a long time ago. Every time I go to the bakery, Bertha keeps me updated on all the gossip.”
“That’s true.” After a short pause, he says, “I had some coke on me.”
“That’s it?”
“What do you mean, ‘that’s it?’ What kind of sick crimes did you think I’d done?” Luca asks, an offended little vein popping up on his temple.
“I don’t know. People seem to be scared of you.”
“Oh. Actually, that used to happen before the prison thing, too.”
I laugh.
“The amount of coke I had … It was quite a lot,” Luca admits. “I was dealing.”
“Did you leave San Francisco to forget about prison?” I ask.
“No. I spent some time there trying to get my life back to normal. I apprenticed at this tattoo shop. And then later I just thought it’d be better to strike out on my own.”
“Because you’ll get more money that way?” I ask.
“That’s one of the reasons.”
“But not the only one?”
“But not the only one,” he confirms.
“Want to tell me about the main reason?”
“Maybe.” The corners of Luca’s lips curl up into a cocky smile.
“Maybe?” I ask.
“Yeah. If you try something for me, then I’ll reward you with the story.”
“What is it?” I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t do for Luca at this point. Everything he’s asked for, I’ve given.
“How do you feel about getting a piercing?” he asks.
“I have piercings,” I say, pointing to my ear lobes.
“Not like those. I’m talking about a piercing … down there,” he says, his gaze falling to the juncture of my legs.
“Oh … You want me to get a piercing there?”
“Yes,” Luca says.
“I’ve never thought about it. Does it make anything feel better?”
“From what I’ve been told, it makes everything feel better. You’re already really responsive, but I’d love to see how much more sensitive you can get.”
His words send a thrill down my spine. At the same time, my chest fills with warmth, knowing he’s still thinking about me and fantasizing about me, even though we’ve been humping like rabbits.
“What about a tattoo?” I ask.
“You want to get another tattoo?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about.”
“What kind of tattoo?” Luca asks, suddenly all business.
“Why do you ask? Are you going to give me a $100 tattoo for free in exchange for a blow job?”
Luca laughs. “Something like that.”
I hesitate. I don’t know if he’s going to think I’m stupid. “I’m thinking of a word. Tattooed in black. Cursive handwriting.” I pause. “Or whatever your handwriting looks like.”
“My handwriting?” Luca asks with a frown. He eyes me suspiciously. “What’s the word?”
“Doll,” I say quietly.
“No,” Luca says quickly. He shakes his head. “No.”
“Okay,” I say, taken aback by his strong reaction. “I know tattoos of lovers’ names
are a bad idea because people break up.
“This is different, though. I just feel like … You’re the first person to have made me feel like I have enough … Like I don’t have to keep running around looking for my next fix …” When I raise my gaze, I see Luca watching me with deep concern etched into his gorgeous features.
“It’s not what you think,” I say quickly, panic filling my chest. “It’s not like I want more from you. It’s about my personal realization.”
I hope he buys my bullshit.
“I don’t care what your reason is,” Luca says brusquely. “You will not make that part of you the center of your identity. Not on my watch. Bad shit happens when you do that.”
I hate being told what to do—this is exactly why I don’t let myself get attached to some guy. But the way Luca said it … The care and concern he shows in that comment … I don’t know what it is, but apparently, I don’t mind being told what to do by Luca.
“Is that what that girl did, the one who died? She made her sex addiction the center of her identity?” I ask as jealousy grips my heart. I wonder if she’s the reason why Luca doesn’t get emotionally involved with anyone.
Luca goes silent. Pensive. “You can say that.”
“Was she an old girlfriend?”
Surprise registers in Luca’s piercing eyes, which glow in the morning sun. He studies me. “What if she was?”
I shrug, even though my heart rate jumps up at the thought of being found out. “I was just curious.”
“She was my sister,” Luca says quietly.
“Oh.” I raise my hand up to cover my mouth.
“She … I tried to save her, but you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. I learned that the hard way.” He adds, “Our parents … We grew up watching them shoot up in the living room. It wasn’t always shooting up. They smoked, too. And snorted.”
The air in the kitchen thickens as the atmosphere grows heavier.
“Sorry, Luca,” I say. “I had no idea you even had a sister.”
“There’s no reason why you’d know. I never talk about her.” Luca clasps his hands together on the table. “I hate how predictable my life is—and my sister’s, too.
“Our parents were addicts, and so we got caught up in the same problems, too. In any case, when she died, I felt like I’d failed her, and I just had to get away from the city.”
“Sorry,” I repeat. “You never talk about her … Not even to Peter?”
“Not even to Peter,” he confirms.
“Why are you telling me, then?” I ask, my heart racing.
“Because you asked,” he says simply.
“That’s all it takes?”
“Do you want it to be harder?” Luca asks, curiosity dancing in his eyes.
I shake my head. “I just wonder why nobody knows about your past if it’s so easy to get you to tell the story.”
“I don’t tell people anything,” Luca says. “Just you.”
My heart does a happy backflip. So I am special.
“I also don’t care whether other people get piercings, by the way. But you …” Luca’s voice trails off. A sinful grin spreads on his handsome face. “How about we do it on Tuesday? It’ll be a quiet afternoon for me.”
“Okay,” I say.
“I can’t wait to see you go wild when I play with your new piercing.” Excitement sparks in Luca’s eyes.
I give him a smile. I love how eager he is to do this. I can’t get over how much he wants me and how much that turns me on.
But there’s another difficult question I’ve been meaning to ask, and I think I’m ready for the answer now.
“Luca,” I say quietly as our eyes meet. “Was Peter happy, in his last days? And … when he died, was he at peace?”
“Yes,” Luca says, clearly uncomfortable.
I wonder if he’s lying, but I guess I don’t have the courage to learn the truth, after all.
Sarah
Donna: You’re still living with that loser?
I let out a tired sigh when I read my mom’s text.
After years of nothing from her, suddenly now, she’s all concerned about me?
I don’t buy it. And that’s why I haven’t been responding to her lame attempts at communication.
Besides, Luca’s been nothing but kind and gentle to me—except for when I specifically don’t want him to be kind and gentle, of course—and my mom has been her usual egotistical, abrasive self.
Also, I’m kind of … tied up right now.
Literally.
Luca went outside when the doorbell rang, but it’s been half an hour and he’s still not back yet. It’s quiet in the house, and I wonder if he’s even home at all.
Maybe he’s gone out and left me to sit here all day, tied up with porn playing on the big screen in front of me and a vibrator on my pussy.
He could do that. And he would do that. When Luca’s being cruel to me, he hits me where it hurts.
Other men may only hurt me physically and verbally, but Luca messes with my mind. He gets me all dripping and desperate for him, and then he makes me wait and beg for him to take me. At that point, I’m happy to do anything for release.
If Luca’s really gone and, say, a robber breaks in here and finds me, I don’t know what I’d do. I mean, there’s nothing I can do. I’m sitting backward on a bar chair Luca’s dragged in here from the kitchen island.
My chest leans against the back of the chair, while my thighs rest on the seat and my ass hangs over the edge. My legs and the chair legs are taped together.
If a criminal bursts into this room and sees me naked and gift-wrapped like a Christmas present, I worry about what he’d do. At the same time, the idea of a robber forcing himself on me is … kind of hot.
That’s exactly what’s happening in the porno I’m watching. Luca’s done some magic to the TV in his bedroom so it shows my phone display on the screen, which is why my video was interrupted by a decidedly unsexy text message.
Currently, I’m watching yet another video where a woman’s being taken by force.
The porn stars’ acting would be more believable if they didn’t also show the part where they interviewed the women to show they were actually doing everything willingly.
But who am I kidding? I don’t really care if the storyline is believable, or if the actual sex scene should be in a different video than the interview scene.
Wetness has been trickling out of me and onto the chair. I’m literally trembling with arousal.
A vibrator is nestled at the corner where the seat and the back of the chair meet, between my thighs. It feels good, but not enough to bring me over the edge. Luca’s positioned it so I could feel the vibrations, but not press myself on it.
When the door opens behind me, I prick my ears up. The way my shoulders are tied to the back of the chair, I can’t twist around to see who’s joined me in this room.
Luca?
… or a robber?
Whoever’s in the room, he (or she?) isn’t giving me any clues. All I hear are footsteps and heavy breaths.
Judging by how Luca reacted when I told him about my past lovers, he’s not the kind of guy who’d share. So even though I haven’t expressly told him not to bring in another person into the bedroom, I’m pretty sure that’s not what’s happening.
So, this person is probably Luca … right?
I gasp when fingers lightly trail down my bare back. The shadow of the figure behind me is reflected on the TV screen. He’s probably a man—a tall one. He’s wearing a hoodie. Beyond that, there’s not much I can see.
The fingers travel south. As they graze over my ass, I whimper. My heart skips a beat, and my breathing grows heavy.
I’ve had anal sex before, but I’ve never enjoyed it—not physically, at least, although mentally it’s a mindfuck, especially because I don’t get any physical satisfaction from it, and I only do it to please the man I’m with.
My breathing slows down as the fingers
brush over my taint and my wet pussy lips. Just as I begin to pant and sigh with need, a heavy hand lands on my ass and I scream in pain and surprise. My clit grazes against the seat of the chair, which is enough to send a shot of pleasure straight to my core.
A firm hand grabs my hair, and rough stubble scrapes against my ear lobe. The scent of cherries and musk tells me it’s Luca after all.
“You were naughty, doll,” he whispers dangerously in my ear.
“What did I do?”
“I told you not to move, didn’t I?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You think I wouldn’t know you tried to rock yourself against the vibrator?” he asks.
“But … I didn’t.”
“Don’t lie to me, doll.” Luca pulls my hair in his fist.
His other hand holds a gadget and points it at the TV. The screen displays a moving image of myself. The footage is clearly being taken live right now. Obviously, Luca’s hidden a camera in this room—possibly the one I brought home from the clinic.
He says, “I could see everything.”
He really could.
I mean, I didn’t know I look like that.
I can’t tear my gaze away from my own image on the TV screen. My back is arched and my ass is sticking out, just waiting to be used. I look helpless and vulnerable.
I try to turn my head to the side to take a look at the camera, but Luca won’t let me. He pulls on my hair to keep me in place.
“You said you wanted to have some fun with the camera,” Luca whispers. “Are you having fun yet?”
Smack! His palm hits my other ass cheek.
“Answer my question, doll. Are you?” Luca asks as he spanks me again.
“Yes!” I exclaim, eager to avoid more spanking. “Yes, I’m having fun.”
“Have you forgotten how to address me?”
Smack!
“No, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir. I’m having fun, Sir,” I say in one breath as pain pricks my skin.
“That’s good.” Luca gently caresses my ass, making the sting melt into fuzzy heat.
His fingers play with my soaked pussy lips and easily slip inside me—a sign that I’m wet and ready for him.
Luca pulls his fingers out of me. But instead of reaching for his cock, he drags his fingers up and presses one against my asshole.
