20
Day 34 – Tack
At some point, she slept and I eventually carried her into my tent. She nuzzled against me, and I couldn’t stop my lips from continually kissing her. Her hair. Her cheek. Her fingers. I laid her on my pallet and removed her sandals. I slipped off my shirt and climbed in behind her, drawing her to my chest. She clutched my arm that settled between her breasts and drew it upward so my palm opened and covered her heart. It raced even in her sleep, and I worried she was still frightened of me. Then I thought of her face when she shaved my jaw and cut my hair. Her pupils dilated. She was attracted to me.
I was leaving no doubt that I was attracted to her, and it wasn’t because she was the only female on the island. I couldn’t keep my hands from her, and I thought back to that night. I wanted to take her, but something stopped me. The look in her eyes. That moment we shared, I couldn’t follow through with what Rick wanted to do.
“We’re going to play this my way,” I had said as I slipped down my pants, enough to release me. I stood at her entrance, taking willpower I never knew I had to withstand entering her.
“I’m going to move, blink if you understand.” Her eyes closed and she turned her head, but I needed her to see it wasn’t me that planned to harm her. The damage had already been done, and I wanted to kill Rick. If she became one of his charges, I would instantly request her.
I rocked my hips, the hard length of me caressing her inner thigh. The pleasure was unbearable. The heat of her skin rubbed against mine. I licked two fingers and pressed them over sensitive folds. My eyes closed, and I shuddered, fighting the control. I wanted inside her, but then I looked at her eyes again. I slipped a leg over hers, hoping to disguise from the others that I hadn’t entered her. I wanted it to look real. My mouth lowered to hers again and I spoke against her gagged lips She didn’t seem to hear me, and I worried she was drugged. The camera was recording. Rick was encouraging, but I couldn’t perform. Never in my life had I had to fake an orgasm. It was harder than I thought, as I rolled on a condom and pretended to release inside the latex.
My false finish was interrupted with a shout from that weaseling bartender.
“Get off her. She’s not one of them.” Rick went for the kid instantly, and I thought he’d lay him in the ground. Instead, he hollered for Rory to take care of him. As Rory had been the camera man, the show was over, and she was free. But she was dead in her eyes, dry of tears, and staring blankly up at the ceiling. I hated myself in that moment, and I reached to help her. When she turned away from me, my anger flared.
“Suit yourself,” I snapped, adjusting my pants and leaving her behind.
I tugged her tighter to me, burying my nose in the nape of her neck. I’d already apologized, but a million I’m sorry’s would never be enough. She was still unsure of me, slightly frightened. The fidgeting in her sleep proved it, but I vowed to all things above, that I’d never let her hurt again.
+ +
“Tack.” The sound of my name loudly rushed through my ears. A palm pressed against my face, forcing me backward. I woke with a start, finding her under me, breathing heavily. I was groping her. My hand massaged over one breast as my hips bucked forward, finding friction in the heat of her core.
“Shit,” I hissed, abruptly scrambling off her, realizing I’d been fucking her in my dream, completing the act that I started but hadn’t finished.
I lay on my back, my dick throbbing, my heart racing as I stared at the dark ceiling. My thoughts collided with sorrow and my need to be inside her. For a moment, I thought she’d seen my dream, recalled my memory, and realized my desire. How could she not know how I felt after what I’d been doing? I wanted nothing to break this spell we had started, but I was ruining everything.
She sat up and flipped her legs to the side of the mattress. I wrapped my arm around her waist and tugged her back.
“Don’t go,” I breathed. “I’m sorry.”
To my surprise, she spun to face me. Burying her head in my chest so I couldn’t see her in the darkness. I couldn’t make out her expression or read her body language, other than feel her body quivering against mine.
“What is it, baby?” I asked, but knowing the answer. I’d scared her again. My fingers skimmed over her body, reaching for her chin. Tipping her head upright, I still had no way to focus on her eyes in the dim light.
“I need to go back to my house,” she whispered, her breath shaky.
“It’s the middle of the night. It’s too dark. Go back to sleep. I’ve got you,” I said, wrapping my arms around her and holding her tighter against me, but knowing I was the nightmare who caused her to shake. Her lips hovered over my skin, the warmth of her breath tickling my chest. I wanted her to kiss me—give me a sign she accepted my apology. Softly, her lips met my flesh where she lingered over my heart.
The connection was like a jolt of electricity, and I felt something I’d never felt before. My body stiffened—petrified, in fact. I was terrified of the sensation coursing through my veins. Her lips at my heart were a live wire, reviving me over and over again. She shook her head as she released me, and her hair brushed at my damp skin. The tent was warm with two bodies so close together, but I’d do anything she asked to be warmer, to get closer. She was in control, but I was at the edge of mine.
Her hips rolled forward, brushing her core dangerously close to the heavy weight of my stiff dick. It had to be an accident. On the verge of denotation, I groaned. I wanted her too much, too fast. My fingers folded into the sheer material of her skirt, clutching at her dress.
I can’t do this, I thought. I was on the verge of taking as a way to prove I needed her, but I wanted her to willingly give herself to me. I wanted her permission, but I didn’t have it yet. She didn’t trust me, and I sensed it with the stiffness of her movement, the ragged inhale of her breaths, and the moisture leaking onto my chest. She was crying, and I was to fault for the salty liquid streaking her face. My breath hitched.
“I can’t do this.” The words were harshly stated as if more to myself than to her. It wasn’t rejection. I was saving her from me. She rolled to her back, and I followed her, reaching for her face, swiping at the tears moistening her cheeks. Her hand came forward and pressed against my wrist.
“Get off me,” she whispered. My chest pinched with her misunderstanding.
“Mouse, I didn’t mean—” The motion of her sitting up cut me off.
“Get off me!” she yelled, and I scrambled back from the bed, swiping a hand through my hair as I stepped to the front of the tent. I couldn’t look back. I wouldn’t be able to see her face. I wouldn’t be able to look her in the face. After all that I’d done, she’d never forgive me, and I had to accept these facts.