Chapter Five

Shannon

 

“Shannon, you really need to see the doctor.” Tracy bugged me for the fifth time since coming over to my house. I’d called in sick after Noah dropped me at home, but today was my day off. And Tracy was ruining my plans of cleaning every inch of the place until I stopped thinking about him.

 

“What for? I’m fine.” I picked up the rag from the coffee table and dropped it in the laundry basket.

 

“What about the police? Did they have anything to say about who he was? I mean, do you have to worry about him coming back?”

 

Wouldn’t that be amazing?

 

“No.” I picked up the basket and headed to the laundry room.

 

She followed close at my heels. “Are you going to tell me what the hell happened?” she demanded.

 

I sighed. “I already told you, Tracy. He had me hide out with him for the night and then let me go in the morning once he was sure no one was following us.”

 

She folded her arms over her chest.

 

Ignoring her disbelieving expression, I opened the washer and bent down to grab some of the dirty clothes from the basket. Her sharp intake of breath told me the shorts I wore hadn’t covered the bruises.

 

“Holy fuck, Shannon.” She pushed me against the washer and pulled the legs of my shorts up higher.

 

I hissed and pushed her off. They looked much nastier than they felt, but when too much pressure was applied, I still felt the pain. Sometimes I found myself pressing down hard on my ass to find the sweet reminder that he’d been there. He’d done that to me.

 

“What happened?” Her voice rose with the question.

 

“Nothing. I mean, it was nothing. I’m fine. It’s all over with, and I want to forget it. Okay?” I emptied the laundry into the washer and spun the dial. “Please, Tracy. Just forget about it.”

 

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Did he rape you?” Her question came out low and soft.

 

“No. He absolutely did not.” I gripped the basket. He’d fucked me four times in the short time we were together, but not a single kiss, thrust, or bite was unwanted.

 

“You know he’s a runner for the Death Angels. I heard the cops talking about it when they came by the unit to ask questions.” Tracy looked at me with more concern.

 

“I don’t know anything about him, Tracy. He wasn’t cruel, he didn’t really hurt me, and he let me go.” I hugged the basket. “He didn’t tell me anything about what he does for the club, and I didn’t ask.”

 

“I guess that’s smart.” Tracy followed me to the kitchen. “Did he bring you home? Does he know where you live?”

 

I opened the fridge and laughed. “Don’t worry about any of that. I’m sure he can handle himself fine. And I just want to forget about it. They recovered the ambulance, right? No damage? Nothing missing?”

 

Aside from the one little bottle of sedative.

 

“I’m pretty sure that’s not the point. I don’t think you can return what you stole and say it’s forgiven.” Tracy sat at my kitchen table.

 

“Why don’t we see a movie today?” I suggested, sliding my phone onto the table. She’d been great and brought my bag and phone with her.

 

“You’re avoiding.”

 

“I’m coping. Now distraction is all I want.” I tapped the phone. “Pull up the listing and find something while I shower off the stank from my cleaning spree.”

 

I left her there fiddling with my phone and got into the heated shower. The water felt good on my tight muscles. Ever since Noah drove away yesterday, leaving me with nothing but an ache to be touched by him again, I’d been tight. My hands roamed my wet, naked body, pretending it was his touch, his hands kneading my breasts and plucking at my nipples.

 

Going lower, I ran my fingers through my folds, finding the right angle to push two fingers inside of me, and still have the heel of my hand pressing on my clit.

 

That’s a good girl. I could almost hear him.

 

“Yes, sir,” I whispered into the water. “I want to come. Please, sir,” I begged, knowing I was alone in the room, but I needed to ask, needed to get permission.

 

Such a good girl.

 

“Please.”

 

Come for me.

 

I cried out, snapping my mouth shut to muffle the sound as my body sang to his tune. My orgasm was intense and cleansing. I pressed my head against the shower wall, letting the water run over my face, down my body, and slipped my fingers out of my passage. Without thinking, I licked my own juices from my fingers, still pretending he was there, coaxing me on, calling me his dirty girl.

 

I groaned. I really needed to get over him.

 

“Thank you, sir,” I whispered and turned off the water.

 

I was hopeless.