Driven by the demands of my body, I dug my fingers into Lyla’s hips and hung on as I began to thrust hard and fast in and out of her. It wasn’t enough. I needed more. I fucked like a madman and still I couldn’t get enough of her. I couldn’t seem to get far enough inside her. I knew I was out of control. I was fucked. There was nothing about this that would earn me my Sex God title. This was rough, primal and basic. I went at her like a rutting animal, each thrust of my hips forcing an almost primitive sounding grunt from me.
I didn’t last long, I couldn’t. Not the way I was going at her. I slammed into Lyla a few more times before exploding, grinding against the curve of her ass as I emptied into her. All through my release broken cries erupted from me, filling the room. My breathing rasped heavily, my chest heaving as I struggled to get air and my body shook violently as I came hard, so fucking hard inside her.
When I was spent, my body drained, I collapsed over her, my breath hot against her back. Somehow I managed to force my eyes open and I met Lyla’s in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed with her arousal and she was panting but the longer I looked at her, the more I realised I’d taken my pleasure from her and left her frustrated and wanting. For the first time in a really long time, I hadn’t sexually satisfied a woman.
Immediately I felt shame. I’d failed. I was the failure my father told me I was. I was the failure I tried so hard to pretend I wasn’t. If he could see me now I knew what he would say. As if on cue his voice filled my head. Harsh, scathing, condemning and sneering at me. It was so loud, drowning out the sound of my breathing, drowning out everything until all I could hear was him.
Desperate to escape his voice and the cruel words he threw at me, I stepped back, pulling out of Lyla. I couldn’t look at her. I didn’t dare look at her because I wasn’t sure what I would do, if I saw the same level of disgust and contempt in her eyes, that I was so used to seeing in my father’s.
I staggered back, overwhelmed by emotions I couldn’t get under control and a body that was being ravaged by illness. It was too much for me. Too much to deal with and a ragged sob ripped its way up my sore throat. Weakened by everything. Weakened by the endless barrage of memories of my father’s cruelty and besieged by emotions that ran rampant through me, I collapsed to the floor when my legs refused to hold me any longer.
I lay there shaking, hurting, sobbing and yet painfully aware that my meltdown was happening right in front of someone. Right in front of Lyla. I didn’t do this. I always made sure I was under control when outside my home. I never let anyone in. I never let them see the real me.
The problem was I felt like a twig that had snapped. That something had broken in me, and I knew it was bad that Lyla was seeing this, but I just couldn’t seem to find my control. I was tired, so fucking tired of playing the part. Of being the consummate performer. Always portraying a certain image to the public when inside I was nothing more than a fucked up mess.
My tears began to fall harder, my sobs louder and I stopped fighting, giving myself over to my emotions. Rolling onto my side, I curled my body into a ball and cried.
Lyla
Now after him taking me so roughly and then collapsing on the floor in the foetal position sobbing like a man who had reached the end of his rope, I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say to fix this. To fix him. It was heartbreaking to watch him, distressing to listen to him and overwhelming trying to work out how I could help him. He sounded like he was in a world of agony. He looked nothing like the cool, confident, controlled man I was used to. Seeing him like this was like a bucket of ice water to my sexual frustration. Wiping it away as if it was erased from me.
He was hot and then cold. Freaking out and then going at me like a wild animal. A gal could get whiplash trying to keep up with the many faces of Shay Vidal. I couldn’t even find the words to point out to him that we’d done it again. Sex with no condom.
I didn’t know what to do for Shay. Something was tearing this beautiful man apart and I realised I couldn’t help him. I wasn’t qualified for this. I could help him while he was sick but I couldn’t fix what troubled him inside.
My heart ached for him. He obviously needed to talk to someone. No one could keep their shit bottled up inside forever that was the problem I suspected and now for some reason, much like a pressure cooker, glimpses within him were escaping. It was if he couldn’t control them and perhaps it was because of the virus? Maybe it was weakening his defences?
Right now, all I could do for him was get him off the cold tiles at least. He needed to get back to bed and hopefully sleep off more of his illness. Dropping down alongside of him I gently laid a hand on his shoulder, wary in case he lashed out. Shay in this state of mind was like a fractious horse: flighty and unpredictable.
“Shay…please…what’s wrong?” I ran a hand over his hair, keeping my touch light, trying to soothe and calm him. “You’re sick and these tiles are cold. You need to get off the floor and let me help you back to bed.”
For a while I didn’t think he was going to respond until finally he lifted his head. When he turned those silvery blue eyes of his on me I nearly fell backwards at the sight of the pain and anguish in them. It was like someone had taken hold of my stomach and was twisting it between their hands. It hurt that much to see him like this.
“Why are you still here? You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be around me. You don’t know who I am. What I’ve done. I hurt you and I hurt you again. If you only knew. If you knew what I let-” He stopped abruptly, his eyes shooting to mine, wide, panicked for a moment before lowering again. “Jesus.” He muttered the one word, his voice hushed before his eyes shot from side to side as if worried someone might overhear him but of course we were alone.
“I’m here because you’re sick and you need someone to care for you Shay. I hate to see you sick. I don’t know what troubles you so much but you’re not a bad person.” I whispered, running my hand down his cheek and back up across his brow. I could feel the heat of the fever returning to his body as the pain pills obviously wore off. “Please, let me help you back to bed.” I moved to stand so I could help him to his feet.
Staring down at him, I was beginning to realise that when the fever ravaged Shay’s body it weakened his defences and I saw more and more of what troubled him, and there was a hell of a lot troubling him. The man was like a powder keg of emotions and I wondered how on earth he’d managed to look so calm and controlled any of the times I’d seen him prior to getting sick.
“I don’t feel so good.” He moaned drawing my attention back to him and I braced myself when he took my hand to help him back onto his feet. I wasn’t too confident as to whether he’d stay on them, given he was swaying slightly and I could see sweat beading on his forehead.
“Are you going to be sick?” I asked, preferring that he did it in the bathroom and not all over his bed.
His eyes closed briefly before opening again. “Nah. It’s better. I need to lie down though.”
“Ok.” I said, leading him from the bathroom and back to his bed. He crawled across the mattress until he could lie down with his head on his pillow and again I popped him out two more tablets. It was too soon to give him more but I figured overdosing him wouldn’t matter too much. They were only over the counter pain tablets after all.
Once he was settled in bed I moved to leave him so I could go and shower but his voice stopped me. “Don’t leave me. I need you.”
His words were nearly my undoing. Tears sprang to my eyes and I lowered my head so he wouldn’t see them. Being around Shay was like being trapped on the rollercoaster from hell. He flipped from mood to mood so dramatically. I couldn’t keep up with him. If I survived this time in his home I was going to need a shrink to deal with the mess he was turning me into.
I nearly refused him. I even went so far as to open my mouth to tell him no, until I saw his face and the expression in his eyes. He looked so incredibly vulnerable and unsure of himself. There was nothing of the Sex God visibl
e to me at the moment. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t say no to him.
“Ok.” I lay down next to him pulling the sheet over the pair of us. He reached out and pulled one of my hands across his body as he rolled onto his side. His actions dragged me closer to him, until I was nearly pressed up against his back.
I didn’t close the gap. I didn’t want to lie that close to him. He was like a human furnace and I’d get too hot if I got close. I couldn’t relax though. Even when I heard his breathing even out and I knew he was asleep, I couldn’t relax. It was a relief that he was sleeping given the state he’d been in on his bathroom floor, but it didn’t stop me feeling like I was strung tighter than a bow by the fact I’d been left high and dry. He’d fucked me until I’d been poised on the brink of orgasm and then nothing.
I dropped a hand between my thighs and worked my fingers over my clit to finish what Shay hadn’t been able to. It didn’t take long despite the craziness of the last hour. As I reached my orgasm, I turned my face into the pillow to drown out the cry I couldn’t contain. When the tremors finally settled and my body relaxed, I lay there. My mind preoccupied with thoughts of the troubled man beside me.
Eventually it all became too much. The stress. The sex. The craziness of his behaviour. His pain. His tears. My pregnancy and the fact I hadn’t been sleeping well and I closed my eyes, following Shay into oblivion.
Chapter Twenty
Shay
When I woke I knew immediately that I felt better. Not back to normal but no pounding headache, aching joints or any of the hot and cold bullshit. The virus was no longer ruling me.
I rolled over and felt my heartbeat kick up a gear or two when I ran straight into a warm, soft body. As the familiar fragrance of her perfume, her shampoo and just that sweet scent that was all Lyla rose, teasing my nostrils, everything that had transpired over the time she’d been in my home slammed into me.
Everything. Waking up to find her in my kitchen after I must have blacked out. Her bossiness over making me take damn pills. Pills I wouldn’t normally have taken since I didn’t always react well to chemicals in my body. The times she’d seen me in the grip of a nightmare. The sex we’d had without a condom. But the worst of all, she’d been witness to my epic meltdown. The meltdown to end all meltdowns in the bathroom last night.
Holy fuck. I’d cried around her, not once but twice. I’d been hot and cold and fuck…fucking hell…I’d fucked her without a condom: again. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d been with more women than I could remember and I’d never, not one single time forgotten a condom. I was the Prince of safety normally. The fear of leaving any women out there knocked up who could come and make my life a living hell because of it, was enough for me to be careful to the point of obsessive. Yet not once, but damn twice I’d gone in bareback with Lyla and not given it a single thought while I was fucking her. Again, what the hell was wrong with me?
It was the damn dreams that came to me when I slept that caused this shit to happen. Sure they weren’t there all the time but for some reason they were really bad now. Maybe it was because I’d been sick and couldn’t block them or get myself better under control like I normally would? I’d spent years building up walls. Years perfecting the image I portrayed to the outside world, and the last few years playing the role I’d become known for. The role of: Sex God. It gave me the kind of control I needed and the ability to push all the dark shit down that battled to consume me, much like cancer spreading through me.
Fuck getting sick. Fuck Lyla coming here and fuck her seeing me the way she did. After my flip out around her when I was weakened by the virus, it was impossible to hide the truth. She might not have seen all of me. She might not know exactly why I was the way I was, but she knew. She knew enough, or she’d figured out enough anyway. She’d mentioned the word ‘rape’ so clearly I’d revealed far too much to her. Knowing what she did made me wonder; what the hell was she still doing here?
I had to get her out. I had to make her go home. I couldn’t turn back time and stop her seeing what she saw. I couldn’t change that but I could get her the fuck out of my house before she possibly saw more. She might not want to go. She might still feel a certain obligation to take care of me or some shit, but I didn’t need her to play fucking Florence Nightingale anymore. If my behaviour so far hadn’t been enough to remove her then I was going to have to turn into the asshole she expected me to be and kick her out.
Leaning over her, I studied her features as she slept. She was beautiful, there was no denying that. Seeing her sleeping with one hand under her cheek and her lips parted slightly caused a dull ache inside me and I frowned. I had to focus on what I needed to do and not let myself get distracted by her beauty.
Reaching out to her, I closed my fingers roughly over one shoulder and shook her. I made no effort to be gentle and she reacted much as I expected her to. She snapped awake abruptly, shrieking in shock and shot upright in the bed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Startled eyes met mine. “What? What’s wrong?” She asked. “Are you alright? You scared me half to death. You shouldn’t shake a person like that to wake them.”
I shot her a sardonic smile. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t sleep with anyone. You’re the first person in my bed I’ve had to wake up. I needed to wake you and you’re awake, aren’t you? I’m feeling better now. Thanks for the whole Florence Nightingale routine the last couple of days but it’s time for you to go home.”
Her expression turned to incredulous. “You’re kicking me out? You’re kicking me out after I’ve been looking after you while you’ve been sick?”
I forced what I hoped was a look of cool indifference to my face. “I appreciate your help but like I said, I’m feeling better now. It’s time for you to go. I don’t share my bed with anyone.” I let my eyes wander up and down her before meeting hers again. “Not even you.”
I nearly choked on my words and I had to turn away so I couldn’t see the pain in hers because I feared I’d weaken and let her back in. I couldn’t let her in. I couldn’t let anyone in. The longer she hung around someone like me, the quicker she would work out what I worked so hard to keep from the outside world and her. She’d already seen too much of me. I had to get her out by whatever means it took.
“You really are just going to toss me out after all I’ve done for you?” She whispered and I kept my head turned from her because I couldn’t bear to see the hurt I heard in her voice, reflected in her eyes.
“You gave me some pain pills and made me soup. Like I said. Thanks for that but I really do need you to leave now. I have things to do now I’m feeling better.” I turned to her again and our eyes clashed for mere seconds but it felt like eternity while I worked on keeping my expression as cold and impassive as possible. “I think now I’m feeling better I might get out and go find some pussy for tonight.”
Finally, this time, my words had the desired effect. She broke away from my gaze but not before I saw the sheen of tears in her eyes and her shoulders drooped. I could feel the hurt rolling off her in waves and I felt like the biggest asshole but it was necessary. I needed her to go and to stay away. I needed her to end up hating me so she wouldn’t ever bother with me again. I needed to turn her against me because I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength to stay away from her if I didn’t. I couldn’t let her get close. I couldn’t let anyone get close. I was too fucking damaged to be any good to anyone.
Without another word Lyla climbed off my bed and stormed out of the bedroom. I wasn’t sure exactly what she was doing but I could hear muffled cursing and knew she was probably calling me every vile thing she could think of and it would be justified.
I hastily got up from the bed and grabbed the first item of clothing I could find for me: a pair of grey sweatpants. I’d just pulled them on when Lyla appeared in my bedroom doorway. She was dressed in the clothes she’d been wearing when she first arrived.
“I’m going Shay. I won’t put you out a moment longer.” She sneered but I could
see the tears in her eyes that she struggled to hold back. “You truly are an asshole. You’re all wrapped up in pretty packaging but inside…now that’s not pretty. You need help. I know something awful has happened to you at some stage of your life. I would have liked to help you.” She paused, drawing a couple of shaky breaths. “I just want to see you happy, truly happy. I could have helped you. You need someone to help you fight those demons Shay. Stop running from them. For a little while I thought…” She trailed off. “I stupidly thought you might have cared. I hate that you’ve made me care.” She stopped again, her breathing choppy now from her distress and the tears she still held in. “You know what the stupid part of all this is? I let you in. I’m…I’m in…I’m in love with you.” Her voice cracked on the words and I felt my heart crack right along with it.
Hearing those words come from her lips shocked me but I immediately dismissed them. She didn’t love me. No one loved me. The only person who had loved me was dead. I wasn’t lovable. I wasn’t good. It was because I was bad that no one loved me. My father had told me often enough when I was a child and he loved to remind me of that fact now my mother was dead. I had no one who loved me.
Fighting not to let her see how much her declaration pierced through me, like a dagger to the heart, I called on every one of my acting skills to hide the truth from her.
“Well you just made a big mistake didn’t you?” I kept my tone as cool as possible. “You’re wasting your time loving me. No one should ever love me because I’m incapable of loving anyone. I’m incapable of loving you.”
The moment the words were out of my mouth I watched Lyla lose the battle to hold back her tears and they began to flow down her cheeks. Watching them, the steady, unrelenting tracking of them down her soft skin nearly crippled me. I forced myself not to show anything and I let my body go into the familiar lockdown. I called it that because when I was emotionally and physically in lockdown, I could turn to ice. Hiding everything I felt inside and right now, I needed to be as vacant and devoid of emotion as a statue. It must have worked because she snorted, a hollow sound lacking all traces of mirth.
Sex God Page 24
