Fear of Falling (24 page)

I felt the coolness of the doorknob, my vision obscured with dark, fuzzy spots. I twisted until I heard a click, releasing it from the frame along with my ragged breath. I was ok. I would be ok.

Relief washed over me, pushing away the panic, as I slid to the floor against the tub. Within seconds, my breathing became more productive. My heart rate had begun to slow, no longer thumping in my ears like a bongo drum. After a couple minutes, my vision had returned to 20/20, and the thick saliva in my mouth, preempting vomit, had dissipated.

I took a deep breath before standing and peering out of the cracked bathroom door. Thank baby Jesus, Blaine was nowhere to be found. I peeled off my now sweat-drenched clothes and stepped into the hot water.

Lathering up with shower gel that smelled masculine and fresh, I washed away the remains of my angst. It smelled like
him.
I squirted a generous dollop onto the shower puff and slid it along my body, letting his scent seep into my skin, as I rubbed the soap across my nipples, down my stomach and between my thighs. I took Blaine’s bath sponge, the sponge he used to clean his own wet, naked body, and raked it against my sex slowly. Then I did it again, biting my bottom lip, as I applied a bit more pressure and massaged his smell into me with closed eyes. I did it once more, letting my fingers create little circles with the mesh barrier.

A half-whine, half-cry startled me suddenly, and I dropped the sponge.
Shit.
What was that?
Ohmygod
, no I was not… I couldn’t even think it. I was too mortified at my complete lack of decency.

I rinsed as chastely as I could and stepped out. Luckily, I was still alone, but I wrapped the towel around me hurriedly, remembering that the door was slightly ajar. I picked up the pair of boxers first. They looked brand new and were a good bit too big. Then I remembered that Blaine went commando, and I nearly choked on my own saliva.

Oh God.
What if he slept naked? My bare lady bits percolated, and I slid on the underwear, hoping like hell that the loss of air would stifle the throb.

The plain white t-shirt was next, reminiscent of the tees he usually wore. I brought it up to my nose and took a whiff, savoring the scent of mint and spice absorbed in the soft cotton. I quickly put it over my head with the need to be surrounded in his scent. In that moment, I never wanted to wear anything else ever again.

I stepped into the still empty bedroom, unsure of what to do next. After stowing my clothes and shoes in a neat pile against the wall, I sat on the king sized, four poster bed, and pulled my knees up to my chest.

What was I doing here? This was all wrong. Too risky, too dangerous. Totally unlike anything I had ever done.

“Hey, you’re done,” Blaine smiled, stepping into the bedroom. He was freshly showered and damn delicious in only thin flannel pajama bottoms. I sat, staring, my knees still drawn up, mesmerized by the sight of intricate patterns and vibrant colors over smooth, hard planes of muscle.

“You ok, Kami?”

I snapped my gaping mouth shut and cleared my throat, nodding. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. I’m fine.”

Blaine gave me a devilish grin, rolling the barbell in his mouth as he stalked towards me. “You ready?”

“Uh, what? Ready?”

“For bed. You ready for bed?” he asked, stifling a chuckle. “Like I told you before, Kami, I’m not giving it up. So please, stop begging.”

I rolled my eyes and snatched the comforter back to climb in. “I take it back. You
are
a creeper. A full on, eyelash-collecting, panty-sniffing, toenail-munching creeper!”

Blaine stood at the foot of the bed in stunned silence before erupting into gut-busting guffaws. “What the fuck?” he chortled between hoots. “Eyelash-collecting?”

“Yes, creeper. Eyelash-collecting.” I settled into the bed, and turned onto my side with a huff. Away from him.

“Awww, come on, baby.” I could feel the bed dip as he climbed onto the bed. “I’m just teasing you. Don’t get mad. If you really want me, you can have me. I swear,” he snickered.

“Argh! Shut up, Blaine!” I pulled the comforter up to my face, hoping to hide my amused grin at his playfulness.

The warmth and hardness of his body against my back erased all signs of humor from my face. He wrapped his strong arms around me, pulling my frame into his. I noticed that about Blaine. He wouldn’t come to me with his tail between his legs, begging for a treat. He pulled me to
him
. He made me want to melt into his body, making it known that he was in control and taking what he wanted. I loved it, and the desire to be somewhat dominated scared the living shit out of me.

His soft, warm lips were at my ear, his breath tickling my neck. “Do you forgive me?” A large hand dipped down under the covers and grasped my thigh, sliding upwards before stopping at the imaginary panty line.

“I don’t know,” I breathed.

His hand slowly made its way past my hip before easing under the oversized tee and splaying across my stomach. My head was swimming, and I closed my eyes just to keep from drowning. I felt him all over. The slide of his fingers along my bare skin, his rippled chest flush against my back, his lips teasing my ear, the large stiffness under his pajama bottoms pressing hard against my backside… it was all too much to take. Yet, I wanted more. I wanted to feel all of him, as I wanted him to feel all of me, inside and out.

“How about now?” The very tip of his tongue darted out and traced the shell of my ear. Then his lips were on my neck, gently nibbling.

“Mmmm. Maybe,” I replied breathlessly. Every inch of me was aware and prickly, anticipating what would come next.

“Maybe? Not good enough.”

The moment his hand cupped my left breast, my already puckered nipples hardened until they ached, and I cried out. I couldn’t help it. He teased and rolled the pebbled skin between the calloused pads of his fingers, pulling and flicking gently as if simulating a tongue.
His
tongue. I wanted it. I needed it. But I was just too damn afraid to say it.

By the time his hand had moved to my right breast, repeating the delightful torture, I was writhing against him in a slow rhythm. He matched my movements, stroking me through his thin pajama bottoms, letting me feel how ready he was for me. I nearly gasped. I had never been with anyone quite
that
ready before. I mean, he was really,
really…
ready.

Blaine’s mouth was hot at my ear, his breath as labored as mine. “I need to kiss you. Now.”

In the next instant, he flipped me onto my back, and settled his body atop mine. Blaine’s inked arms enclosed my frame as his knee eased between my legs, slowly parting them. I didn’t have time to protest even if I’d wanted to. His lips captured mine with a hunger I had never experienced before. It was like he needed me to survive. Like kissing me was as necessary as his next breath.

Our lips, our tongues, moved together in perfect harmony. We were music together—melodious, intense and dramatic. His low groans became the bass line as he plucked the strings of my body, producing soft moans and high mewls. My hands were tangled in his hair, as his roamed the soft expanse of my frame, exploring the valley of my waist, the dip between my breasts, the raised peaks of my nipples. We were belly against belly, the hard ridges of Blaine’s midsection melting into the softness of mine.

Feeling his warmth, his body demanding my compliance, felt good. It felt right. And it felt like
more
. Not just another meaningless sexual encounter. Not a physical response to the opposite sex. Not a means to an end. Blaine was giving me more than just his body. He was filling me with his soul.

His mouth moved down to my neck, licking and sucking a trail down to my chest. The moment Blaine’s studded tongue flicked my nipple, I gasped. Sensation attacked the puckered bud, as he skillfully twirled that barbell around the tip before taking it into his mouth completely. His fingers coaxed the other, simulating the delicious torment of his tongue.

Blaine moaned his satisfaction against my skin, heightening my own arousal for him. With every lick, stroke and suck, he was vocal. He let me know how hot he was for me, and it made me even hotter for him.

Just as I thought I could seriously lose it just from his mouth on my breasts, Blaine lifted his head and looked down at me with hooded, dilated eyes.

“Let me make you come,” he rasped.

O.M.G.

He stared at me for long seconds, before I realized he was waiting for my answer. I didn’t know what to say. What could I say? With every thought centered on Blaine and what he was doing to my body, I couldn’t focus on much else. I knew I wanted him,
needed
him. But I also knew that crossing this line would only make it that much harder to keep him out of my head. Could I really do that? Could I give him part of me and expect him not to want the rest?

Before my brain could come up with a logical answer, I was nodding. I wanted what Blaine wanted. And that was the only thing that mattered at the moment. Not his past, not my scarred psyche, not the uncertainty of tomorrow. Just him.

His lips were back on me, once again tasting my mouth, my throat, my nipples, and moving south. He licked a trail to my belly button, swirling his tongue around it while easing off the too-large boxer shorts on my hips. I closed my eyes and lifted my backside to aid his efforts, hoping like hell that I wouldn’t regret it.

Though I knew it was coming, the feel of his tongue on my hypersensitive sex nearly made me scream. Never in my life had I felt so utterly exposed and out of control. I didn’t even try to muffle my cries of pleasure. He matched my erotic sounds with his own, the vibrations from his mouth creating a new layer of sensation. He tasted and teased my flesh, the contrast between the feel of hard, slick metal along with the soft texture of his tongue coaxing my orgasm. I knew it would do me in. I knew I would be totally vulnerable once I reached my peak, and dammit, I didn’t care. I wanted Blaine to take me. To claim me. To own every one of my orgasms for the rest of my life.

Blaine didn’t stop when the first waves of pleasure took me under. His tongue, his lips, his fingers… they kept moving, eliciting more tortured sounds during my dramatic downfall. I begged him to stop, yet worked my hips closer. Even as tears streamed down the sides of my face, and I cried his name over and over, he devoured me, demanding I surrender every drop of my defiance. And I let him have it. It was too weak to fight it anymore.

Finally, when I was just a mewling mess of whimpers, Blaine slid beside me, covering my half naked body with the comforter. My eyes were still shut tight, the aftershocks wracking my frame and pushing me into exhaustion. He eased my head onto his chest and squeezed me tight, kissing my face and hair.

“Sleep now, beautiful Kami,” he whispered, just as the walls of my subconscious closed in on me.

Tucked under his arm, his silver threaded nipple just centimeters from my lips, I smiled and did just that.

I jerked awake, sweat covering my entire frame. I was warm—too warm. And I wasn’t alone. But the thing that terrified me beyond anything else, the thing that had me hyperventilating, fighting for my next ragged breath was the darkness. It was completely dark. And there was a body wrapped around mine.

NoNoNoNoNo

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even scream. I just knew that I had to get away from here. I had to find the light switch, but my body wouldn’t follow my sleep-fogged brain’s commands. It was already too late.

I was beyond losing it. I was already lost.

Weight lifted off of my chest, and hands gasped my sweat-slicked shoulders. A silent whimper passed my lips. I wanted to cry so badly. I wanted to scream for help. Someone was in this darkness with me, shaking me, calling my name… I had to get away. Bad things happened in the dark. Evil things. Things that had me plummeting toward the bleakest recesses of my mind…

Mommy told me if I stayed quiet, she’d leave a light on for me. She knew how afraid I was of the dark. How it reminded me of the times Daddy would lock me in the closet. He laughed at me. He called me names and teased me for being so scared. My cries only made him keep me in there for longer, but I couldn’t help it.

Sometimes the fear would make me wet myself. Then Daddy didn’t laugh anymore. He’d get his belt and beat my bare, soiled bottom until it was burning with red welts. He said he had to. He said he had to teach me, because he loved me.

Daddy’s love hurts me. I don’t want him to love me anymore.

Afterward, Mommy would put me in the bathtub. Daddy would force her to leave sometimes. She would cry and beg to stay, but he would slap her across the face and tell her to shut up. Then he would close and lock the door. I hated when he closed the door. I knew what was coming. Bad things always happened when Daddy closed the door.

He said he had to give me a special washing with his hands. He said he had to because that’s what daddies did when they loved their daughters. They touched them. I didn’t like it. I never liked it when Daddy loved me. Mommy wouldn’t let him love me for long though. She would beat on the bathroom door until her small hands would bleed. She’d threaten to call the police. Daddy hated that. So he said he had to teach Mommy too. He had to teach her with his fists because he loved her so much…