He drew both his thumbs across my lips, smearing the dampness from my tears that had gathered into the flush of my cheeks. “Tell me what you felt last night when I cut you. When both Rob and I fucked you.”
Thinking about how to describe it, all I could say was, “I felt free.”
A shadow seeped into his eyes and he blinked it away. He nodded abruptly and lifted me off his knee, gently settling me on the bed. Without another word, he strolled out of the room, leaving me staring after him.
I couldn’t understand what I had said wrong. I had been as honest as I could, sensing it was important to him. Maybe I had it wrong. Maybe my reaction to what happened last night was ‘wrong’.
Anderson reappeared minutes later with a steaming cup. He nodded when he held it out to me. “Drink. It’s lemon and ginger. It should help settle your morning sickness.”
Silly little things like that endeared me to him further, the monster that resided in him cowering to the tender man I knew could dominate him if he allowed it.
“Thank you.” I took a sip, surprised by how much I liked it. “That’s nice.” I smiled up at him. He was gazing at me, a soft look in his eyes that was a rare spectacle. Not many people ever saw this side to him, but I knew he was the one who never allowed it. Anderson had to be hard to protect himself, to steel himself from the horrors that life haunted him with. Just like me, really.
He settled back down on the bed, propping himself up on the headboard. Carefully, so as to not spill my tea, he moved me until I was sat between his thighs with my back resting on his chest. We were both naked but I felt as comfortable as if my bare skin were covered in clothes.
“Tell me,” he ordered quietly.
I took another sip of the hot liquid and swallowed it down to lubricate my parched throat. “Can we trade? I share with you and you share a piece of you afterwards?”
He drew a long breath in through his nose, however I felt him nod behind me. His arms came around me, guiding the cup back to my mouth. “Drink. It will help.”
Doing as directed, I sipped again, relaxing as I felt the warm trickle in my queasy belly.
“I think… I think it was a memory, not a dream.”
He remained silent, patiently waiting for me.
I shuddered and he wrapped his legs around mine. His arms and his legs guarded me and I felt safe enough to continue.
“I was hungry.” My belly rumbled as if bringing the memory to life, so I took another sip to calm it. “My mother was sitting in an old chair in the corner of the attic, and Brian sat beside me on the bed. He had chocolate and a can of pop.” I couldn’t remember which brand it was, and for some reason that angered me. “He was angry at me.” I blinked, trying to remember why. “I think he wanted something in exchange for the treats. And I wouldn’t…”
I shook my head, my skin prickling with goose bumps at the realisation of what he wanted from me.
“Go on,” Anderson urged. “You need to get it out, Kloe. Or it will haunt you forever.”
I blew out a restricted breath. “I wouldn’t open my legs,” I whispered.
A faint snarl, the feral one that only Anderson perfected, echoed from him, and his grip tightened further.
“My mum…” I tilted my head, concentrating on the memory. “She was angry too. But, I think she understood. She was looking at me and I swear I saw the pity in her eyes.” I shrugged. “I’m not sure if that’s a corrupted part of the memory, but I don’t think so. She got up from the chair and came in front of us.”
I swallowed back the bile that was slowly rising up my throat and took another drink to guide it back down.
“She dropped to her knees in front of Brian and started to undo his trousers. And she said, ‘Leave her today, Brian. I’ll buy the food.’”
My chest ached with sadness and I gulped.
“I ate the food and drank the pop while she paid Brian with a blowjob.”
Anderson stayed silent behind me as we both tried to make sense of it. I wasn’t sure I would ever make sense of it.
“Do you think she was protecting you?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe she couldn’t cope with my whinging.”
He snorted, understanding the sick humour in my statement. “I understand how she feels.”
I gasped, and playfully and lightly slapped his arm. “Cheeky. I’m not that bad.”
“I dunno.” He smirked. “You do moan quite a lot.”
I reached over to the small bedside table and placed my cup down. Then turning to face him on my knees, I gave him a mock glare. “You love making me moan.” I winked and his bright smile made my heart stutter.
His smile dropped when I took his semi-hard cock in my hand. Even soft, Anderson was large and thick, filling my palm with the size of him.
He sucked air through his teeth and his eyes darkened on me.
Slowly, I stroked my hand up and down his length, cherishing the feel of him growing hard under my grip. I got him hard. Me. It was my touch that aroused him. My touch that got him off.
Our gazes locked as I fucked him with my fist, the gentle movement making his jaw drop to accommodate the quickness of his pants.