by K. Webster
“They tried. Believe me, they tried. But my son,” he says with a teary chuckle, “is a stubborn one.”
A smile plays at my lips. That he is. “I’m familiar,” I tease.
“He spent five weeks in the psych ward after the accident, his obsessions grew and grew despite the constant psychiatric evaluations and therapies. The psychiatrist explained to me that he had PTSD, anxiety, depression, and OCD issues among other new problems including a delusional disorder. He seemed miserable there, so finally, I took him home where we struggled for months trying to learn how to cope. Together. Eventually, when his obsessiveness over blood and germs became too much, I’d asked if he’d feel more comfortable in his own place. A place where he could control the environment. I’d bought him this house in an effort to make him feel close to his mother and to give himself space. As time went on, I became angry at him for his behavior—as if he had some way to change it. We fought but eventually I decided having my son was more important than trying to make him heal when he wasn’t ready.”
I turn my head over my shoulder and look back up at the house. A dark shadow stands at the window.
War.
That poor, beautiful, tortured soul.
“What about his girlfriend?”
He groans. “Lilah? She only made things worse. Out of desperation for him to return to his normal self and either reconnect or break up with her, I’d invited her over while he was staying with me. I’d already learned to respect his no touching rules, but she’d barged in and had thrown herself at him. What she didn’t know or understand was that War was no longer the boy she knew. When he pushed her away and roared at her to not touch him, she burst into tears and spewed nasty words at him that don’t need repeating. Needless to say, I ended up dragging her out of my home and that was the last we’d seen of her. War tells me she’s married now with three kids.”
Turning back to look at the ocean, I sigh. “I feel so bad for him. For you. I’m so sorry. You both must have been so devastated.”
He climbs to his feet and then tugs me up too. We embrace and I bury my face into the warmth of his chest. I wish I could do more to help them.
“Come on,” he says finally, “let’s get you back inside before you freeze. Besides, War looks like he’s about three seconds from breaking from his cage to come fetch you himself. That boy likes you.”
The fondness that he speaks of his son with warms me. It’s easy to forget my problems after hearing Land’s story.
“What am I going to do?” I ask as we walk to the house. “I can’t stay here forever. Once my mom gets the help she needs, I’ll need to leave to be with her. Or worse yet, if Gabe figures out where War lives, he’ll come for me. Either way, War will be hurt.”
Land remains calm for a short while. “Just give him a chance to love you. Even if it is only for a short while. Then, when it comes time for you to leave on your own free will, I will be here for him to pick up the pieces once again. He deserves a sliver of, albeit brief, happiness in his dark world. And you’re just the right person to give him that.”
“What happens if my choice is taken from me? If Gabe finds me?” I shiver as I remember the terror of being chased in his woods and the things he did to me after.
“War and I will protect you. I swear it on every penny I own in this world.”
A beeping wakes me up and I stretch. It’s been over a week and a half since Land came to visit and my feelings for War have intensified. I can no longer hardly keep my hands to myself. On more than one occasion, I’ve had to physically refrain from touching him. After learning about what happened to his mother and sister, I crave to comfort him. To understand him. Land had given me insight into the issues that plagued War.
PTSD.
Depression.
Anxiety.
OCD.
A delusional disorder.
I’ve been a witness to his issues for over a month now. When I’m not trying to make contact with my dad, I’m researching all of his conditions until the late hours of the night. I want to understand him. I need to fix him.
Now that I’m getting to know him well, I watch for his non-verbal cues to better understand what he won’t tell me. Sometimes I ask him to tell me stories of his childhood or the beach—times I knew he’d been happier. We’ve played chess every night, and every day we laugh until it hurts. He’s funny, flirty, and incredibly good looking. I’m completely crushing over this flawed man.
And I know the feeling is mutual.
The intense desire he feels for me is evident every time our eyes meet and it thrills me to no end knowing he wants me. I just wish there was a way we could break through his mental barrier so it could happen.
Dad went silent which has upset me. No more replies. No more scathing demands for me to come home. Nothing. Despite my attempts to reach out to him or Mom, I’m met with silence. Thankfully, as promised, War has continued to wire money to them each day. Dad may have his reasons for cutting off contact with me but Mom deserves all the help she can get. And I know my parents, my father would die if anything ever happened to her. He will do everything in his power to save her.
I push the button on my watch to silence the beeping and can’t help the smile that plays at my lips. After that day Land took me to the beach, War surprised me with a watch. He’d told me he wanted rose gold because it reminded him of me—a sweet notion in itself—but then decided it should be bold, pink, and waterproof. He revealed that it fit me better because I was brave and indestructible. A shiver runs through me again at the memory of his sweet words.
“Bay,” he says softly and enters my bedroom, interrupting my thoughts that are all over the place this morning. “I have something I want to give you.”
I sit up in bed and push the hair out of my eyes. His gaze falls to the T-shirt I’d slept in for a brief moment before he smiles at me.
“I have fresh coffee waiting for you at your spot,” he assures in a playful tone that has me crawling out of bed after him. His eyes flicker with a hunger that can frequently be seen in his stare. I walk past him, inhaling his fresh, manly scent on the way to the sofa that has a great view of the ocean.
“What’s this?” I ask, seeing a black hatbox sitting on the table. It’s tied with a pretty, hot pink ribbon. I sit down on the sofa and give him a confused look.
He smiles, almost as if he’s embarrassed, and sits surprisingly close to me. “I got you a gift.”
“My birthday isn’t until tomorrow,” I chide but can’t help the excitement bubbling to the surface.
“Well, in that case, I suppose I’ll take it back to my closet and hold onto it until—”
“Not so fast, mister!” I say with a laugh and playfully swat at him.
He beams at me and I adore the twinkle in his eyes.
Turning, unwillingly, from his handsome face, I grab hold of the ribbon and tug. After I lift the lid, I gasp.
“You hate it.”
Ignoring his words, I lift the pair of pink Nike’s from the box and stare at them. Underneath the shoes are some running shorts and a sports bra. At the very bottom is a pink iPod.
“What is all this?” My voice is breathless and I don’t let go of the tennis shoes.
“I thought perhaps you’d enjoy running along the beach for exercise. You know, since it means so much to you. From my perspective, I can watch you all the way to the restaurant, a mile to the left, and the big dock about a mile to the right. It’d be a great length to—”
Without thinking, I launch myself at him. I’m thrilled and wrap my arms around him in a gracious hug. It isn’t until a few heartbeats later that I realize what I’ve done. Tearing from him, I stand and look down at him.
“I’m so sorry! Oh my God!” I let out a ragged breath of air upon the realization that I touched him in ways he’d flip out over.
His jaw clenches and his hands fist at his sides. The internal battle that wages in his head is in full force. I have to do something.
&
nbsp; “Warren, look at me.”
Eyes remain fixed on the coffee table and he doesn’t respond.
Doing the only thing I can think of, I grab the hem of my shirt and tug it from my body. My tiny scrap of black panties are the only thing keeping me from being completely nude.
“Warren, look at me.”
It takes everything in him to drag his gaze to my body but when he does, the relaxing of his muscles is almost instant. His hands are no longer in fists and he rakes them through his chocolate-colored hair in a way that makes me think he’s controlling himself from touching me.
“Follow me,” I instruct.
He blinks a couple of times but stands on shaky legs.
“I won’t touch you but you need to shower so you’ll feel better. Come on.”
I walk off toward his bedroom and am thankful to hear him padding behind me. Once I make it to his bathroom, I push my panties down and start the shower. His shower is a nice walk-in, tiled shower with plenty of space for the two of us. When steam starts to fill the bathroom, I turn to see his hulking frame taking up the doorway.
“Take off your clothes, Warren. I’m not going to hurt you.”
He swallows but heeds my direction. With a quick grip of the bottom of his shirt, he tugs it off his body and up over his head in one swift movement. I chew on my lip when his muscular chest is bared to me. What I wouldn’t do to touch that chest.
“I’ll be waiting,” I say, a hint of sauciness in my voice, and step into the warm spray.
My hope is that he won’t leave me hanging. I want him in more ways than I should. And helping him is my priority.
“I used to be able to run a mile in six minutes. Do you think I can beat that with those shoes? They look awfully fast.” My hope is to distract him with numbers. It must work because he steps into the shower and my mouth hangs open. The man’s body is a beautiful sight to behold. His height combined with his lean physique is a turn on, and my pelvis begins to ache with need.
“I think you could beat that time. Easily.” His response is more than I could have expected and I sigh in relief.
I grab the bar of soap and lather up my body in a slow, teasing way. His eyes never leave where my hand travels. It’s as if he’s fixated on what it’ll do next.
“Your turn.” I hold out the bar by one end and he carefully takes it from me.
With the same level of excitement, I watch him cleanse himself. His cock, thick and long, points at me as if to accuse me for being some seductress.
“Why are we showering together?” he questions as he sets the bar down on the ledge.
I pout at his words, wondering if maybe he doesn’t feel the same desire for me as I do for him. “I thought that maybe…”
His dark brow raises in an amused way that has heat creeping over my flesh.
“Since this is a safe place for you,” I try again, “that maybe I could touch you or you could touch me. We’re clean.”
Dark blue eyes find mine and hope flickers in them. My body craves to climb up his firm chest and sink myself on his hardened cock but I know better. Instead, I wait for his next move.
SHE WATCHES ME with narrowed eyes, the same competitive look she gives me when we play chess. In her eyes, she’s calculated all of the moves and she’s certain she will win. But for me, I’ve counted thousands of other variations. Move upon move upon move of how things could and should go.
This time, she might win.
Chess may be my game that I dominate.
But this?
This is clearly her territory.
My heart thumps in my chest as I contemplate whether or not I have the strength to do what she wants. Is it really that simple?
Suds run down her pert tits and my cock feels like it may explode with a long overdue release. I want to do so many things to her but I don’t know that I can.
“Can I touch you? All you have to do is tell me to stop and I’ll let go, War. Trust me.”
Her smile is kind but her eyes are hungry. I do trust her. Problem is, I don’t trust myself. What if I push her away from me in a moment of mental breakdown? Would she crack her head on the tile? Would blood run down and mix with the water at our feet?
I clamp my eyes closed.
I can’t do this.
What if—
“Warren, look at me.”
It’s almost painful having to open my eyes, but I do. Staring back at me is the most decadent woman on this earth.
“Let me feel you,” she says firmly and my dick twitches at her words.
Her arm stretches for me and I flinch when her fingertips tickle the flesh over my heart. Our eyes meet and I nod. She’s right, I do want her to touch me. It feels safe in here. When they start to move down, I groan. My dick bobs up and down as if it begs to be caressed next. But she ignores my eager cock and pokes a finger into my belly button. Her smile is wicked and I chuckle.
“Okay so far?” she purrs.
That voice, low and seductive kills me.
“More than okay.”
Her eyes shine with pride and her other hand begins to explore me. I should be obsessing over all sorts of chaos that normally plagues me but all I can think about is each cell in my body coming alive at her tender touch.
She revives dead parts of me.
She’s the sun, water, and earth. And I’m a seed that has hope to grow into something strong and beautiful. Because of her.
One of her hands slides up my shoulder and cups the side of my neck. Her eyes darken and her other hand moves purposefully downwards.
“Jesus, Baylee,” I say with a growl.
A choked gasp is the only sound I make as she softly grips my erection. Bliss explodes from where her small fingers touch me there. I’d expected the crawling, itchy sensation to overtake me at any second. The burning and the flood of awful thoughts.
But they never come. All of my focus is on the millions of nerve endings in my shaft all eager for her to stroke me to heaven.
“My God,” I hiss out when she begins moving up and down along my length. My eyes start to close but I force them back open. Right now, I’m safe. With her. If I close my eyes, the demons will suck me under and it will all be ruined.
“Does that feel good? Am I doing it okay?”
I grit my teeth and nod at her. Every other stroke, her fingernails graze my testicles and I nearly lose it.
“I won’t last long. It’s been so long and—”
“Shhh,” she murmurs and pulls her hand from my neck so she can knead her breast with it. “Come for me, Warren. I want you to let go and feel how much I want you.”
Her thumb and finger pinch her pebbled pink nipple and I groan. So close. The sight arouses me even further, like nothing I’ve ever seen before, and I can’t control myself any longer. A burn deep in my lower abdomen seizes me and I come without warning.
“Baylee!” I snarl out, but never take my gaze from hers.
She intensifies her actions as I throb out my release. It splatters her soapy belly before running down toward the drain. When I’m no longer twitching, she slides her hand off and sets to cleaning herself off. As if she knew I’d lose my shit about having my cum all over her.
What she doesn’t know is that a fire has begun to burn inside of me.
Seeing my cum spurting all over her body awoke some carnal part of me.
A part that needs to possess and take what’s mine.
Baylee is mine.
But can I do it? Can I actually make love to her?
“I want to touch you,” I mutter. I wonder if the words were even spoken aloud. My gaze falls to her breasts, not because they’re beautiful because they are, but I can’t look at her. What if I fail? What if I pussy out and can’t offer her the same pleasure in return?
Her even, melodic breathing calms me and I count five of her breaths before I have the courage to look back up at her.
“Is that okay?”
Pink, perfect lips turn up in a sweet smile
and it spurs me on. I’ll push through whatever mental barriers I can in order to have her. I will do whatever it takes. I can do this.
“More than okay.”
I push a palm against the tile beside her and lean in. She gasps at my proximity but doesn’t move.
“Spread your legs,” I instruct with false bravado. I want to behave like a normal man, not some scared as hell boy. “I don’t know if I can do this but I really want to fucking try.”
She flashes me a naughty grin and does as she’s told. Then, she gathers her half wet hair up in her fingers and piles it on top of her head. My girl is smart. She’s keeping her fingers occupied so she doesn’t accidentally touch me and ruin the moment.
Leaning in close to her, hovering just above her mouth, I make my move. With a shaking, unsteady hand, I lower it to cup her pussy. She flinches from my touch and lets out a tiny, pleased sigh.
“Want me to touch you?”
She nods and chews on her bottom pink lip. It drives me wild and my cock is already thickening again, ready to play once more. Slipping my finger between the lips of her sex, I locate her throbbing clit and massage her. It’s been ages since I touched a girl—Lilah had been the last—so it takes a minute to figure out the right pattern.
“Oh, God,” she whimpers and her eyes flutter closed. “Yes, that feels good, War.”
My name on her lips makes me want to beat my fists on my chest. I love how it sounds. I don’t want her to murmur it, but to scream it. Intensifying my movements, I draw her closer to the edge of ecstasy. I’ve never seen her look more beautiful than she does now with her mouth parted open and her eyes closed. A pinkness tinges her nose and cheeks as she grows closer to climaxing.
“Can you touch me inside, too?” she murmurs and jolts against my touch.
I grunt, unsure on whether or not I’ll lose my mind and decide to at least try. Slipping my thumb to her clit, I then plunge my middle finger into her hot, tight center.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I can’t think about anything aside from the way her body clenches around my finger, almost brutally. Images of how my cock would feel buried inside of her are the only ones in my diseased head at the moment.
