Empathy (16 page)
I BURST THROUGH THE DOOR, the rain beating against my skin, the cold droplets soaking me through but not cleansing the pain away. Loneliness is suffocating me. I miss my parents so much I can barely breathe. There are no leads but the police are releasing the bodies to us so they can be buried. It’s a surreal moment, like learning they’re dead all over again. My heart hurts so much. How can people survive loss like this?
The laughter of a couple running to find shelter is so deafening I want to scream at them to notice they have each other; they’re happy and completely oblivious to the person dying right in front of them.
I’m here, can you see me
? On the inside I’m screaming from the depths of this empty void but on the outside my pain is clearly invisible because no way could people ignore the death of a soul happening in front of them, right?
A shiver rocks me, making my whole body vibrate. I stand, drenched, my clothes sticking to my skin but I can’t move. The beats from the downpour tap dancing over the ground is keeping me from picturing them; it’s grounding me to this moment. , the drops hitting the surface bouncing off expanding, swallowing, drowning everything beneath it. My tears blending with the coating of the rain. I want to cry out the hurt but there aren’t enough tears to convey the pain, so powerful it leaves a physical ache surrounding my heart.
“Puya?” Blake, barely visible through the torrent, calls to me. Why is he standing there in the rain? His intensity shifts the air around us. My heart beats hard, reminding me it can feel more than just the pain. He affects me in a way that confuses and excites me. His strides eat up the ground between us.
“Why do you call me that?” I murmur, not sure if I’m dreaming him. The way my mind has been in a constant fog lately, I wouldn’t be shocked if I suddenly awoke in my dorm alone.
Droplets form, pebbling over the smooth planes of his face and in his heavy soaked hair before running a path down his beautiful features. Trickles cling to his long, dark eyelashes. He reaches out to me, capturing my wrist, the pad of his thumb stroking over my small tattoo there. “Do you want to die?”
The laugh ripples through me. What a question. I think I have died; I’m living between the two realms. His eyes bore into mine, my laugh turning quickly into sobs, my hands trying to cover my face from his probing stare. My legs are weak; I’m going to fall in a heap right in front of him, all my scars on display for him to recoil from. Who could deal with someone grieving, losing themselves, drowning in the current of sorrow right in front of them, getting them caught in the wake of my despair?
Strong arms wrap around me, lifting me into a bridal hold. I can’t look up at him. I reach my arms around his neck and burrow my face into the crook. I need someone to catch my tears, to just hold me and let me know I’m still here.
I don’t query why he knows my dorm room as he opens the door and carries me inside, going straight to my bathroom. My eyes are still closed, and I hear the shower start and his heavy breathing as he manoeuvres us around. His heart thumps erratically against my chest and the warmth from the water makes me sigh as it pours over us, both still fully clothed. He lowers us into a sitting position in the cubicle with me on his lap.
“I’m so lonely without them,” I murmur into his neck before lifting my head to find an intensity so raw in his eyes it flays me, stripping back the final layers, exposing my soul to him. “I need justice for them but I’m not going to get it… so I want vengeance, but first I want to forget for just a little while.”
My breaths become yearning gasps. I need to feel something else. I need to feel connected. I can’t keep dying alone, fading into nothing. I need an anchor.
My eyes drop to his lips. I feel his already hard cock beneath my ass. “Take me, Blake. Make me forget for just a little while. Make me feel something more than the hollowness.”
His lips clash with mine, hard and merciless, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip, his hand slipping up into my hair, grasping fistfuls, tipping my head back with force. The build is already catching fire inside my core. He spins me so my back is against his chest, my ass sitting snugly on top of his hard erection. He tugs my hair, wrenching my head to the side so he can claim my neck, his lips sucking, teasing me. My hips grind against him to gain some friction to ease the ache throbbing between my legs.
His hands grip my wet tee, ripping it from my body, making me gasp and exposing my lace bra covering my hard, aching nipples. Reaching for the buttons on my jeans he tugs them open before I feel the warm, solid presence of his body leave mine for a few seconds. He fumbles above me, but before I can turn to see what he’s doing, the warm water stops falling down on us. I’m about to ask him until his hand wraps around my front, pulling me hard against him once more. He leans me back and slips the shower head into my panties. The warm water massages in waves of continuous ripples over my sensitive lips, making me squirm.
“Open yourself up for me,” he groans into my ear.
I’m nervous but so turned on. I need the relief he’s offering. I push at my jeans and panties so they move further down my legs. The cold air mixed with the heated of the water makes me catch my breath. He hisses when I slip my fingers to my pussy, opening myself for his eyes to devour. His growl and roughness as he rips the cup of my bra away, making my pebbled bud harder, sends shock waves of adrenaline pulsing through me. I’m almost vibrating out of my skin. He moves the shower head to my now exposed clit and I quiver; the pressure is perfect and he holds it so his knuckle is stroking the delicate bundle of nerves, his other hand pinching my nipple. I can’t take it, the pleasure is incredible and I lose myself to lust so powerful it takes possession of my body and mind.
I writhe against him, his cock prodding against my ass and lower back. He’s thick and long. My needy moans, loud and shameless, bounce off the tiled walls. My hands explore myself as he does, the build intensifying, the flutter in my lower stomach, the pulsing inside as my inner walls grasp for relief.
“Slip your fingers inside. Show me how much you want me.” His hungry growl rumbles into my ear.
I move my hand over his, then down to my opening, sinking two fingers inside myself. My walls grab greedily at me, the friction from everything all at once makes my body cry out with an orgasm like I’ve never experienced before, igniting inside me, lighting every nerve in its path and leaving a tingling tremor in its wake.
The warmth of my cum coats my fingers as I ride out every shudder. The shower moves away and Blake’s hand grips my wrist, slipping my fingers free. I turn my head to watch in fascination as his tongue swipes out and then sucks my fingers into his mouth. The groan thunders through his body, reverberating against my back, his lids fluttering closed.
“You’re so fucking pure and sweet.” His lips collide angrily with mine, my own scent mixed with his exploding on my tongue. It’s too much but not enough all at once, a contradiction in the perfect form. His movements are slow and the usual flood of embarrassment and anger at myself for being weak to his advances creep over me. His eyes are too probing.
I stand, awkwardly fumbling to untangle myself from our entwined bodies. I get to my feet, look down at him staring up at me, grab a towel and leave the bathroom.
I SAVOR HER FLAVOR ON my tongue. She’s as sweet as I thought she would be. Her writhing against me as she came was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen but her armour is thickening back up, awaiting my change in mood like our other encounters, no doubt. I always turned on her after she succumbed to my advances in the past, but this time is different. I know it’s more than that now. Ryan mentioned that she’s been off, moody in classes. She’s building walls and as much as I have them too, I don’t want to let her hide behind any, I don’t want her to lose herself any more than she already has.
I follow her into her room. “You’re not alone, Melody.”
Her glare doesn’t help the ache in my cock. “I don’t need your sympathy, Blake. I don’t need anyone’s.”
I enclose myself around her; she’s standing in front of the covered mirror, her wet hair dripping onto the carpet beneath her feet. She’s only in the tiny towel she rushed to cover herself with when she came down from the bliss of her orgasm. She steps forward to try to put some distance between us but I refuse to allow it, placing my hands either side of her and the mirror.
“I don’t give sympathy easily, Melody. In fact, it’s a new emotion for me. I know you’re hurting, and sympathy from anyone is them showing you they feel your pain, they share it with you, so you don’t have to carry it alone.” Her body tremors from the emotions taking control of her. “I’m going to help you. Let me show you don’t need to fear mirrors.”
Her breath hitches as I snatch away the towel; our reflections stare back at us from the now visible mirror. She’s shaking her head but I need to show her how to find power in her weakness, in her fear. I reach up, wrapping my hand around her throat, making her eyes flare wide and her petite hands come up to pull mine away. I lean all my weight into her back, my one arm still placed on the wall stopping me from crushing her into the mirror. Her scent is firing off all my desires.
I lick the shell of her ear before whispering, “Own your fear, Puya. Replace it with pleasure.” I bite down on the lobe then suck the sting away. She’s still tense. I flick my eyes to hold hers in the refection.
“Get out of my room. I feel sick that I let you touch me,” she spits.
The bite wounds me more than I expect, but I know it’s a coping mechanism. She is so close to breaking that it turns to anger to prevent herself from rupturing into particles, never finding her way back again.
“You want someone to hurt because you’re hurting. You want them to know what it’s like to see what your eyes have witnessed just so you’re not alone in the ache haunting you, the misery holding you hostage in that house. Look at yourself!” I growl, turning her face.
“No, get off me.”
“Look at yourself.”
Her eyes strike her own image. Tears well, collecting into small dams of sorrow before overflowing, spilling in tiny rivers down her cheeks.