Chapter 45

It was the feeling he was looking for. The scars reminded him who he was, where he’d come from and why he needed to move forward with his mission. The water stung against his ass and his genitals, and he felt the lump in his throat building and rising into his mouth. He would never let it out. He would swallow it down and keep it prisoner in his chest. He allowed his hands to come down and shield his cock and balls from the punishing heat of the water.

There was a knock on the door and Alan’s head whipped toward it. Kitten had stepped inside, announcing herself with a knock, but not waiting for his answer. Shock assailed him. He couldn’t keep it from his face and without thinking he scrambled to turn the cold water on. This was private!

Well, at least she didn’t run. But where would she have gone anyway?

Kitten looked at him… everywhere. Even through the intense amount of steam, he could see her fierce blush. Blushing virgin or not, her eyes did not deviate from his person.

Their eyes finally met.

“I…,” Kitten, cleared her throat and she began again, but nothing came. She wasn’t blushing, anymore.

“Did you need something,” Alan snapped. He’d been trying to rebuild his composure but her interruption left him feeling exposed somehow, even vulnerable, and he didn’t like it. However, she was also naked, never having dressed again since last night, and that was confusing as well. His eyes took her in, inch by inch, and all sense evaporated. Beneath his hands, his cock stirred. He wanted to wince at the stinging sensation of his punished flesh stretching and expanding but it didn’t hurt as much as it should have because pain and pleasure were suddenly almost one in the same.

Kitten straightened her spine, her posture confident. “Yes. I need something. Lots of somethings. Where do you want me to start?”

He stared at her, shocked. Had she really just said that? To him? He knew he should be angry, but instead, he turned his head to hide a smile. This banter was familiar, and oddly, it quelled whatever distracting emotions had just been storming through him moments before. He knew this part of the game—it was his game, no matter how much, Kitten, participated. He spoke to the shower wall and tried to keep the amusement from his voice, “Well, can it wait until I’m at least out of the shower?” And because he couldn’t help himself, he added, “Unless you’re looking to climb in here and return last night’s favor?” He hazarded a glance in her direction.

She blushed heatedly, but held herself high, “Actually? Sort of. I mean… no, but…” She huffed, “I would like to take a shower and since I’m practically crippled, I could use your fucking help. But not if you’re going to be an asshole about it.” She nodded, as if to say: There, I said it.

Alan couldn’t resist laughing, his mood much improved, and he decided to let her antics amuse him. It was much safer and less complicated. He knew his reaction was counter to the one he would have normally had, another day, another situation, another girl. But right now, he was just fucking relieved to feel something similar to joy, instead of what he’d woke up to. He grabbed it and held on tight.

He opened the shower door and gave her his best and most salacious smile, “Well, come on in then. I’ll try my best not to be an asshole.”

She didn’t smile back, opting instead, to hold on to her anger. It was a sort of challenge to him and he accepted it because one day, her hate for him might keep her alive. She needed him and he was determined to do what he could for her. He owed her at least that much.

He stepped backward into the shower as she approached. Her head was down and her cheeks were tinted with pink, but also, hues of purple, green, yellow and blue as she carefully maneuvered toward him. Suddenly, flashes of her beaten, and bleeding body, and of his own past, merged like one vision, like one person reliving a horrible memory. Powerful emotion swept through him and he was glad the steam of the shower and the sound of the water pounding against the walls hid it all.

Alan blinked, fighting the thoughts and voices streaming through his brain. When Kitten reached out toward him, using his arm and shoulder as a brace, he only saw and thought about her.

“Jesus, it’s like a sauna in here,” said Kitten. She looked up, her expression strained. “Can you make it so it isn’t so hot?”

“I don’t know. Can you say, please?” Alan’s tone still held humor, but unease was creeping its way back in. The feeling of differentness between them hung heavy and dense in the air.

Kitten finally gave him the tiniest of smiles, just a quirk of her full lips but her eyes were direct. “Pretty please, Alan?” And instantly, she was the girl from the night before: seductive, predatory… Ashley.

Alan slowly sucked in a breath and turned to adjust the water. He didn’t realize his error until he heard her startled gasp and felt her hand on his back. “Don’t touch it,” he growled and turned to face her. Her eyes were wide, filled with both terror and horror, and her hand covered her mouth. Alan clenched his fists and she turned her face away from him. It hurt. The idea she believed he would hit her with a closed fist. He strained to unfurl his fingers from his palm, but it became easier as he watched her relax with his progress.

When he finally stood in front of her, hands open at his sides, his face, one of deliberate calm – she finally brought her hand down from her mouth and smoothed the fear and horror from her eyes. She studied him warily, looking for a way to approach him without setting him off. Cautiously, she reached for his hand. Her fingers brushed against his, silently asking permission.

He pulled his arm back slowly, a few inches, issuing his denial of the intimacy between them. He watched as she stared down toward her feet, but inched forward and traced her index finger along Alan’s wrist.

“Come on, Alan,” she whispered softly. Her head remained down, allowing him the privacy of his reaction.

His skin crawled. If she weren’t so injured, he might have pushed her away. Instead, he let her keep coming. Two fingers touched him now; they trailed slowly from his wrist toward his hand. He allowed it. With a deep breath, he let her fingers find his and interlace. Alan stared over her head.

His hand was lifted. He felt his fingers brush against Ashley’s ribs. And then her shoulder. And at last, her cheek.

Here.

They hurt me, here.

Alan’s body swayed a little.

“Kiss me,” she whispered. It was an offer of distraction.

He took it.

Alan’s chest rattled with the force of his sigh and his lips swept down to meet Ashley’s upturned face. They moaned into each other’s mouths. Fuck! Yes! He wanted nothing more than to hoist Livvie up into his arms, slam her against the shower wall and fuck her until he forgot all of his frustration, anger, lust, and remorse.

Unlacing their fingers, Alan reached for Ashley’s breasts with both hands and squeezed. His touch was rough, needy, but she responded with equal intensity. His thumbs traced her areolas. Her flesh puckered beneath his skilled touch. The pebbled tips of her nipples dragged across the pads of his thumbs and she keened softly into Alan’s ravenous mouth.

Ashley’s trembling hands found his waist. Her fingers gripped his hips and her fingernails dug into his sensitive flesh. It was Alan’s turn to groan. His flesh was tender from the hot water, but he welcomed the pain, especially when it mingled with the pleasure. He wanted more. He wanted it all.

Alan stepped forward. Livvie stepped back without breaking their feverish kiss. It was a dance their bodies already knew. She nipped at Alan’s tongue, his lips, stunning him for short seconds before she slid her tongue along his. With her back against the wall, Alan took the opportunity to come closer, kiss harder. His cock brushed her belly and he thrust against soft, slippery flesh.

“Ow!” Ashley cried. She broke the kiss and braced her arms around her body, bending slightly as she processed her pain.

Alan instantly backed away. “Shit. I didn’t think,” he panted, clenching his hands, and with his arms by his side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, but didn’t sound it, “I’m okay, just give me a second.”

Alan felt silly, hovering over her with his massive erection between them. What the fuck was he even thinking?!? He shouldn’t be doing this. He vacillated between what he should be doing and what he wanted to do. He should stop. “We need to stop.”

One of Ashley’s hands reached up and Alan gave her his arm to use as a support. He wasn’t expecting it when her other hand wrapped around his cock and squeezed. Alan groaned loudly.

“No,” she said. Her tone brooked no argument. “I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to think. I want to stay here and pretend nothing’s waiting for us when we get out.” Ashley’s words seemed to touch something deep inside him, something he couldn’t touch on his own. Of course, there was also the very physical touch of her palm against his cock.

He hissed through his gritted teeth. Her hand was wrapped tight around him; her fingers not long enough to touch. She squeezed again. More pleasure. More pain.

“We can’t. I’ll hurt you,” Alan said.

Ashley’s hand released him just barely and the sensation of blood rushing toward the head of his cock was almost enough to make him thrust into her hand. He moaned as her fingertips skimmed his hard flesh. “Well, I can see that, Alan. Are they all… like this? I mean… are all men this big?”