Love Is Strange (I Know... #2) (30 page)

“Don't flinch when I touch you here,” he whispers, running his thumb over the scar at the base of my throat. “I won't go that far ever again.” I swallow hard because it's difficult to push past that fear and discomfort. It's not just the fear of being hurt, it's also a reminder of the dark days after he left me, the days when I was so numb I might as well've been dead. “If I do, you can cut off my balls with a rusty steak knife,” he says, flicking his eyes up to meet mine. “I swear.” I see he's trying to make light of the situation and can't stop the small smile from crossing my lips at the image.

“I want that in writing,” I say, forcing myself to relax the tense muscles in my shoulders. He rubs the scar with his thumb, softly, and it reminds me of all the times he's wrapped his hands around my throat when he's fucking me and made me feel good. All the times I wanted him to do it. My skin there is so sensitive; his touch sends little shots of electricity down my spine. He leans in and presses his mouth to the side of my neck, running his tongue all over the skin and making me arch my back at the force of the arousal that he unleashes in me. He hasn't even touched my most sensitive spots and I'm already wet and aching for him.

His ruined hand is lightly moving as well – up my thigh and to my hip. That hand feels strange on my skin, not in a bad way but in a different way. I don't stop him from moving up my thigh, even though I haven't let anyone touch me there in the past year. I didn't want him to feel the scars. I didn't want him to see what I was doing to myself in the name of pleasure. I didn't want him to see how weak and disgusting I really am. It was embarrassing, but it wasn't embarrassing enough to stop. And now I'm just as scarred and ugly on the outside, just like I am on the inside. “Don't do this anymore,” he says, like he can hear my inner thoughts. He covers my scars with the palm of his hand and I wince, because the bite mark he gave me there is still sensitive. “If you want to bleed, I'll do it for you. All you have to do is ask.”

My whole body shudders at his words, because that was what I always wanted all along. I want him to hurt me. I want him to make me bleed. But he's the only one who can do it right. Now that I'm back in his presence, I know without a doubt it's true. I hate it though. I hate feeling like I need him so much. So I wrap my fingers around his hand, feeling the bumpy scars and the oddness of its shape. “What happened?” I ask, because we both need a distraction. I need to find some control over myself. I can't let him win this easily. I can't. He groans, nipping at my neck like he doesn't want to answer.

“On the boat,” he says, his voice hoarse in a beautiful way. “I grabbed a rope I shouldn't have grabbed. It was stupid, but it was instinct. It happened so quickly I didn't know what hit me.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“Yes,” he hisses. “Every fucking day.”

“Good,” I whisper. He clenches his jaw and the muscles in his chest jump, like he's holding himself tight. I wonder why he doesn't just push me over onto my back and fuck me like he wants to do. He's being cautious, trying not to scare me away. I won't break this time, though. I'm trying to control myself too, but I don't know how much longer I'll be able to. I don't even know if I want to anymore. I've already lost myself. I've already given up. This is just the preliminary arguments before a lengthy trial. But we're both guilty and the only question is how long the sentence will be. Last time we were together, we got a few weeks before it all went to shit. So much has happened since then, so many terrible things, that I can't help but feel that we're cursed. Maybe this time we'll destroy each other instead of destroying everything around us. That's the only thing I can hope for.

I run my hands up his arms, feeling his rough skin against mine. He's had a hard life; he's worked with his hands out in the sun. His skin is freckled and scarred and damaged. He's got pain etched on his flesh. He can't hide it anymore like he used to be able to. He lets out a slow, measured breath as I run my fingertips over his collarbone, feeling the familiar bump on the right side where he broke it once and it didn't heal right. I remember that bump. I remember the way his Adam's apple juts out and the way his jaw feels against mine. I remember how his hips fit against mine and how his fingers fit in my mouth. It's all coming back now, that I'm letting myself remember. I wonder if he tried to forget me as much as I tried to forget him.

He jerks his hips and drops his head back as I continue exploring him. I drag my nails down his chest and over his flat nipples, watching as they pebble and harden under my attentions. His cock jumps between us, like it's trying to remind me of its existence. Like I could forget it. I reach between us and roll my palm over the head of him. He's hot to the touch and I almost pull my hand away because it's too much. We just fucked last night, but it might as well have been ages ago for how long it feels. Besides, last night didn't count. Last night was two animals attacking each other in a back alley and fighting for the upper hand.

The difference is night and day.

I lift myself up and roll my hips over him, steering his cock toward me. I bite down hard on my lip as I slide the head of him against me. I'm wet and it feels good. It feels more than good, it feels heavenly. My stomach cramps up as I think about him thrusting into me because I want it so badly. But we both can wait a bit longer. It'll be better that way.

“I love you,” he breathes as I run my thumb over the head of his cock. “I always have and I always will.” I nod, because I know he's telling the truth. He loves me in the only way he knows how. He lives in the only way he knows how. I tell myself that it doesn't mean I forgive him as I line him up against my pussy and lower myself onto him. I'm just living the only way I can. The only way I can survive is like this. So I do it. I survive.

His whole body goes stiff as my body stretches to fit him. It feels like it takes forever until he's deep inside of me. I can hardly breathe but I don't move on top of him. I just savor the feeling. All the years of not having it and suddenly I have it again. It's not perfect. It's not sane. But it is what it is. I dig my fingers into his shoulders, trying to steady myself against him. The sensation is on the cusp of pain, but the pleasure is there, too, lurking in the corners of my brain. It wants to be let out of its cage. It wants me to fully embrace it again.

He runs his hands up the curve of my waist and over my ribs. He's trying so hard not to ruin it by being too rough. He's trying and that's something. It's getting impossible for me to think so I put both of us out of our misery. I slam down on his cock, calling out as he fills me up in the way that I crave. He finally loses a bit of control and grabs my ass as I move against him, rolling my hips to take him deeper. I fuck him slowly at first and he doesn't fight me, even though I can tell it's not going to last. For a few minutes, he stares into my eyes as I ride him and I can see how he's spiraling into the dark space where only we exist. The people outside don't matter; nobody else can get inside. When we're together, only we're important. Only the way our bodies collide and fit together and fight each other is important.

He drops back against the bed and arches his body, holding me in place with his steel-like grip. He thrusts so hard into me that my vision blanks out and I call out again because I can't help it. My tits crave his mouth and every other inch of my skin craves his hands. I want him in my ass, in my mouth, and deep in my pussy. I want all of him, everywhere. I clench around his cock and lean over him, pressing my hands to the mattress on either side of his face. For a few seconds, we moan in tandem as he thrusts in and out of me. A chunk of my hair falls forward and he reaches up and pushes it away from my cheek. I lean into his touch, the striations of his scars surprising me again. I'm still not used to it, but I will be. He roughly caresses my thigh with his other hand, his touch insistent. He's not happy with just fucking me like this. He wants more.

“Do you promise to cherish me?” I ask him, slapping a hand against his neck and pressing down lightly, enough to get his attention. “And honor me?” His eyes come back to life, flashing with a wicked light. He bares his teeth and presses his tongue to the corner of his mouth. Then he grinds his hips into mine and I have to grit my teeth to keep from screaming. For a second, my mind jumps back to the noisy couple who was fucking in the room next door earlier that afternoon. I wonder how loud we're going to be tonight. I don't necessarily care, but I also don't want to draw too much attention to our room.

He catches me off guard because I'd let my mind wander. He shoves me off of him and I land on my side. I barely have time to react before he's got me on my back and pinned under him, his knees forcing my thighs open wide and his hands forcing my wrists into the mattress. He lowers himself over me, his mouth sneering over mine. I stare at his lips, wondering what he's planning to do with that evil mouth of his.  He smiles a bit before he answers my questions, even though I wasn't expecting him to. “I'll cherish you if you'll let me,” he says. “I'll honor you until my dying day. And I'll love you forever, whether you want me to or not.” He angles his erection against me and I shiver in anticipation. My body is throbbing with need for him. I want to come but I also want to put off the inevitable orgasm for as long as possible. The longer it takes, the harder he'll try and the more painful and desperate it will be.

I'm aching for the pain.

“No more killing,” I say, because I can't help myself. I want to say it before I can't. He drags his gaze slowly up over my stomach and my breasts until he meets my eyes. He studies me for a moment, then a teasing smile crosses his lips. But on him, a teasing smile looks just as menacing as it does teasing.

“Do you promise to obey me?” he asks. He digs his knees into the mattress and thrust into me. I'm so wet that he slides inside of me easily but the friction is still heavenly. I lift my head off the mattress to see where our bodies meet. I want to watch him pump in and out of me. He drives hard into me, giving me a good show and making me scream at the same time. He wants me to answer his questions, but he's crazy if he thinks I'm going to agree to that. He drops his body on top of mine, pinning me to the hard mattress and making it hard for me to breathe. “Promise to love me,” he growls in my ear and the sound is the sexiest thing I've heard in a long time. Lust swirls through my brain like steam and my thighs clamp around his waist. “Promise me,” he nudges, his voice husky and resonant. I can hear how much he needs me to say it in his voice. I can feel it with every movement, every flex of his strong muscles.

We're sweating together, our bodies slippery and loose. It's hot as Hades in the room, but I'm getting used to the heat again. It feels good to be against him like this, to be so completely close to him that it's hard to tell where my body ends and his begins. This is something like love, I think. I used to believe that I loved him, but now I think it was closer to obsession. I let myself become obsessed with him. The strength of those feelings haven't gone away. They were just buried, deep inside my chest. The more time I spend around him the more I know that I couldn't leave him even if I wanted to. We're stuck together, but I don't think I would have it any other way. I should've never let anyone come between us. I won't make that mistake ever again.

“I promise to love you,” I say, my voice as strong as I can make it.

“You'll be my wife,” he continues. “You'll love me above all others.” He's not really asking anymore. He's announcing it; he's declaring it. It's my own fault, I suppose. I was too out of it at the wedding. I made him feel uncertain. He hates to feel uncertain when it comes to me. It makes him lash out. Or in the case of earlier, drop to his knees. When I'm unpredictable, it makes him unpredictable in turn. So I have to be steady. I have to be strong, for both of us. And I have to love him. So I will.

“I will,” I respond, fighting against his hold on my wrists because I know he'll like it if I fight. Shit, I'll like it more, too.

“You say it like it's a challenge,” he says, stilling on top of me. “Is loving me so difficult?” I grit my teeth, wanting him to move. I lift my knees, trying to force him deeper inside of me.

“Loving you is impossible,” I say, trying to shift my hips under his heavy weight. His forehead creases in a scowl and I know that's not what he wanted to hear but it's true. Loving him
is
impossible, at least in the normal sense. Loving him isn't like loving anyone else. Loving my parents or my brothers used to be easy. Loving my friends and my high school boyfriends came easily, too. I used to have so much love to give. Love always seemed infinite before. But now it starts and ends with Elliot.

Love is strange when it comes to him and me. Undefinable and always on the verge of collapsing in on itself, but never going away. It always lingers under the surface, even if there's a build-up of layers of dark hatred on top. I don't even know how or when I started to love him, but I suppose I do now. Besides, I might as well. “Take it back,” he whispers and I feel the air in the room shift. I'm being cruel to him, but I can't resist being honest. There's no use lying to him anyway, because he can sense that as well.

“I'm your wife,” I respond, because for all intents and purposes, I am. It doesn't matter if the rushed little ceremony at the church today was legal or not. For him and for me, it's binding. This is how it should've been anyway. When I walked down the aisle toward Mitch, I knew deep down in my soul that it should've been Elliot standing at the other end. But I married Mitch anyway because Elliot wasn't there. All the men in my life since I met Elliot were placeholders. Now I have the real thing again and it's going to last. Until we kill each other or live happily ever after. Either one.