15 CHAPTER 15

He needed to deal with the negative feelings inside him before he could hurt Lie any further. He had seen the bruises he inflicted on her body and those really added to the guilt that ate at him. What was this feeling anyway? He's not supposed to get angry if and when she decides to date anyone, is he? They're sex friends. Nothing more. No holds barred BUT no strings attached. He's not even sure if they're friends outside the bubble of their relationship.

"You coming?" Lie stood by the open door of the bathroom, still waiting for him. She was already as naked as the day she was born and was smiling at him as if he hadn't almost broken her in the washroom. It was as if he didn't even hurt her. And if that wasn't the salt that rubbed itself to his wound, he didn't know what was.

She let her hair flow freely down her back, curling and rolling at the tips. The sunlight gave it the colors of the sunset, or maybe it was autumn--full of the different shades of red with hints of brown. It had felt incredibly soft against his fingers--flowing through the gaps like water in a river. And now, it was a beautiful mess with strands sticking out everywhere like weeds. He knew its scent by heart now. He knew its texture when she uses shampoo and conditioner, when she uses conditioner only, and when she doesn't use anything as to not abuse her hair. He knew the differences now.

His eyes traveled down to her shoulders and he winced inwardly at the bite marks that could be found there. Her upper arms were no better. They were decorated with the bruises that had come from his big hands and harsh fingers. He had held her too hard. But he knew that he could have gone harder. More violent.

However, one thing had stopped him from going all out on her. He was just a sex friend. He shouldn't be having these negative emotions no matter what she did. She could have kissed and hugged anyone and he shouldn't have cared. He didn't have any right to care. He didn't have any right to be jealous of any man or woman on Earth who fancied Professor Calliope Ford Fitzgerald.

Bullshit.

His eyes flared with temper towards himself. He was being so damn stupid it was irking him. He was being selfish but he couldn't help it. He wanted… no… he needed her. That was the truth of it all.

He stood up from the bed and removed his clothes as he walked towards her. A trail of fabric was made on the floor from the bed to the bathroom door. He saw her eyes follow his movements and how she caught her lower lip between her teeth before he pulled her against his body again. "Tell me if you want me to stop." It was a warning that needed to be given before he took her into the bathroom.

She was soft and smooth against him. She was fragrant and also weirdly submissive as they entered the shower area. How could she smile so sweetly when she was about to be devoured again? How could she look up at him with those huge and dark eyes when he could hurt her and break her? She must be crazy. That or she's some kind of masochist.

And he was equally crazy for indulging their combined needs and wants.

He pushed her against the wall and turned the shower on, letting the cool water cascade down their bodies before he knelt in front of her and parted her bruised up thighs, revealing her slightly bumpy and fragrant garden. He had helped her shave that part the night before, but now, stubble was starting to show up again.

A little of their combined juices dribbled out oh her hole when he parted her lower lips with his thumbs.

The marks on her inner thighs made him stop momentarily. They were blue and black. They were bruises. Not some sweet looking love marks but bruises. They were the products of his violence. And they will last for days. They looked painful enough to make him wince. He'd rammed her too hard against the wall, and then against the wooden chair, and lastly, against the washing machine. He had taken her so many times in the wash area that it was ridiculous that he was still so needy and she was still letting him do things to her.

And with the inner thighs, the front was also banged up. Those were her parts that slammed against the washing machine when he pushed into her from the back.

Her hips carried the evidence of how possessive his hands could be. They were the part he grabbed hard as he pummelled her. His eyes slid up to her chest and neck. Jesus fuck. He was an animal for hurting and marking her this way. She didn't deserve it at all.

Her hand landing on his head made him look up into her eyes. "What's wrong with you today?" she asked before she sat on her heels in front of him. Her head tilted to the side even as she reached to cup his face. "Tell me, Damien… I won't know if you won't tell me." She looked genuinely concerned about him and maybe a little bit guilty, which she shouldn't be. She was perfect. She didn't do anything wrong.

His mind and heart warred inside him. If he tells her about his jealousy—of course, it was jealousy he was feeling—she might run the other direction. If he shows her the real ferociousness of his emotions, she'll run away too. If he doesn't, she might feel guilty over something that is not her fault.

He looked away from her and gave a shrug. "Nothing," he lied and pulled her to him for a kiss. "It's nothing." He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince with those empty words.

She pouted but her lips molded with his and her arms wrapped around his neck to pull him closer. "If that's what you say." Her voice was soft but the tone didn't sit well with him. It was like being stabbed with a needle. It was not deadly but it still hurt.

He gently pushed her away from him and looked at her. The breath he took filled his lungs and he released it slowly. He didn't know what was worse: her question or her nonchalant reply. Of course, it was her reply. She may not have meant any offense to it but it really got to him. Didn't she care or was she just letting him off easily? Either way, he wanted to tell her what was going on inside. After all, she's been nothing but honest to him. It was only fair to return the favor.

"I was jealous," he mumbled, his eyes cast down and they just so happened to land on her bruised up breasts. "I know that I shouldn't be. He is your brother and I am not your boyfriend. I don't think I have any right to be jealous because you and I are just—"

His words were interrupted by her finger against her lips and it shook him. He wanted to finish explaining before she could even run the other direction but everything in his mind went silent when her lips met his. When her arms wound around his neck, he couldn't breathe. He was drowning in his own anticipation and hopes that she wouldn't run. When her body fit to him perfectly, he couldn't even comprehend the amount of need that flooded him and took his breath away.

He felt her teeth nip at his lower lip and get sucked before popping out. When he opened his eyes, he found her grinning at him. "What?�� he saw the combination of innocence and mischief in her eyes. His heart did a frightening somersault in his chest. He pushed the wet hair away from her face and looked down at those curved lips of hers. They were pale without the color of any lip gloss or lipstick and yet for him, they still looked delectable and very ripe for picking and eating.

"Show me what you'd rather do to me now," she whispered and leaned back against the tiled wall. Her hands cupped her breasts and squeezed them gently. "Show me how much you want me, Damien. Today, this body belongs to you without any question or protest. It belongs to you to use as you see fit." The droplets of water raced on her skin and gave her the look of a wet goddess. She was tiny. She was bruised. She was crazy. She was perfectly imperfect.

He grabbed her arms and pushed her down the slick and wet floor. "You'll regret this, Callie," he whispered and took her mouth into a hurricane of need and want. His body didn't need the instructions of his mind. It took over and drove them both into an explosion of bodies and passions.

Her voice filled his head even as her scent filled his senses. She was screaming and he knew that it wasn't from any pain. Her hands couldn't seem to help but pull him closer even when he was eating her alive. Her body gripped him even when he moved so roughly her back slapped the tiled floor harshly.

With his every hard and deep thrust, she gasped and arched up. With every bite, she moaned. With the hard grips of his hands, her body was marked even more.

He grabbed her thighs and locked them together against his chest and looked down at her. He didn't need any words. He just moved his hips and moaned out at how fucking tight she was around him. His eyes met hers while she was fondling her breasts in the process of him attacking her body with as much force as he could muster. He doesn't even know how many times they had cum.

He dropped her thighs once again and pulled her up so fast she bounced on his lap and threw her head back in surprise when his shaft slammed into her a little bit deeper and harder. "Fuck!" he groaned and pressed his lips to her ear gently before letting out a deep and rumbling chuckle. "How much more can you take?"

She panted against his neck, her face buried at the junction of his shoulder and head. She pulled back and stood up, wincing when his cock slid out of her garden. Thick and warm cum dribbled down her thighs and legs as she stared down at him. She shivered and he didn't know if it was due to the coolness of the water or the amount of cum he had released inside her. "Don't underestimate me, Damien," she replied and tossed her wet hair back regally. "Give me your worst."

He didn't need to be told twice. He jumped up and turned her around so she was facing the wall. He pulled her hips back while pushing her shoulders down and slammed into that moist and tight goddamn garden. He threw his head back and groaned out when her walls clenched his member so hard he thought he'd lose it. His hands grabbed her ass and left imprints on them as he continued to pound into her.

Her legs trembled from the force but she seemed adamant to go through it. She looked over her shoulder with her lips wet and parted, eyes half-closed, and hands fisted against the wall.

Damn it all. She looked so fucking sexy. He latched his teeth onto her shoulder and bit hard until he could taste blood in his mouth and her voice had raised an octave. His hands grabbed her breasts and squeezed them hard enough to make her yelp.

Control. He had to control his urges. He had to stop hurting her. Gods, he can't. he just can't control it. Fuck it all.

Control was the last thing his body and mind wanted and neither of those listened to his heart.