At the hospital, I was restrained in a lovely white form-fitting jacket that wrapped my arms fully around my body and I was labeled insane.
The people I met in that hospital made everything worse for me, because I knew I wasn’t like them. I was touched by violence. There was no chemical imbalance in my head, no malfunction in my cerebral cortex, but no one understood this… They all thought I was mad just like before. The other kids in that asylum were terrifying, constantly listening and arguing with the shouting voices they heard in their skulls.
Jesus told me to kill my dog!
Yes! He did!
My dog told me to kill my teacher!
Yes! I fancy the idea too!
An alien from the planet 971 in the Garfilplex Galaxy offered me a million shiny golden stars if I slit my wrists.
Pass me the razor!
You could see the madness and chaos when you looked in their bouncy nervous irises. That was where I learned to watch people, read the body language of everyone around me, learn their innermost thoughts and their next moves. You just needed to recognize the tightness in the skin around their eyes and the tension that coiled the muscles of their faces when they were about to have an episode, because their voices became too loud for them to handle. Or watch the corners of the lips of the nurses and the way they moved their fingers before deciding to inject you with syringes filled with brain-to-broccoli-induced-crap. I lived there for three months until my mother finally understood that I wasn’t insane, packed Dylan and me up, and left the country.
Nothing had changed since I was that young boy. Now I was this award-winning novelist, with nothing…nothing but scary stories on paper. What was I truly doing, but glorifying murder and horror? Yet, how many fans did I have? Millions. So few of them have actually had their life in jeopardy, faced a near-death experience or been introduced to the real terror of violence. Their way of experiencing it is by being perpetually entertained by books and movies that safely portray it. If they only knew how it seeped into your cells and overwhelmed your psyche, I wonder if they would cease to partake. The truth is easy. Once you felt violence, most people couldn’t cope with it, they couldn’t even push the words through their lips. It instantly freezes the images in your mind, and those images are indestructible. Then there are people like me, who have been touched by violence so deeply that they completely lose their soul to it.
“Are you okay, Kade?” Samantha’s voice, as soft as a symphony, floated through my muddled mind.
I lowered the two glasses of brandy to the table, and sat down on the couch, eyes fixed on hers. I’d been hovering on the edge of humanity for far too long. I wanted to step away from that ledge and I wanted to love her. “Everything that happened…to me…is stained here,” I whispered, touching my hand to my heart. “It will forever be in my heart, but what I want, Sam, is to move it over a little so I can fit you in there too.”
Her cheeks bruised crimson and I felt a surge of power knowing I could make a grown woman blush so deeply. She was taking all the chaos that constantly swarmed by mind and calmed it, without ever trying to.
I needed her. Right then. Right there.
She was going to be mine.
I didn’t want to let her go.
Chapter 13
“Undress for me,” he whispered, raking his teeth over his bottom lip. “Slowly.”
He leaned back into the cushions of the couch, sliding his splayed fingers across the leather. “I want to know who Samantha Matthews is…unwrap every part of her for me.”
The words blanketed me, wrapped me in warmth, tucking me in tight.
“I want to see all of you, Sam. Every scar.” Leaning forward, his elbows pressed into his knees, his whispers tickled my ears, “Then I’m going to make you forget how you got each fucking one.”
I was breathless as I looked at him, trembling, throbbing…he’d changed into a pair of black boxers and nothing more. My muscles ached to slide over him, and sheathed him in my warmth. I wanted to tell him everything, have him make me forget with his kisses and his words. And I could. I could forget everything in someone like Kade Grayson for just a little while.
But I’m terrified.
Shaking fingers grabbed the hem of my shirt, heat surged to my cheeks, and I paused.
“Who made you frightened to stand in front of a man naked, Sam? Who broke you?” He asked in whispers.
The questions made my cheeks burn hotter, and for a moment, I feared they would blister and peel; falling like broken feathers to the floor. Squeezing my eyes tightly, I slowly raised the soft fabric of the shirt up over my stomach and my breasts. A cool breeze lapped across my bare skin causing it to prickle and tighten. I lifted the shirt over my head and let it fall quickly to the floor.
“Open your eyes,” his voice demanded.
His stormy grey eyes glistened with appreciation as he slid his hand under the waistband of his shorts and placed his fist around his cock, “Samantha, you’re fucking stunning.” Below the silky material he wore, his fist started gently moving. “Now, give me a piece of your heart, Samantha. Tell me something.”
The flames of the fireplace snapped and crackled behind me, the burn of its heat scorched my naked back, biting at my skin. The small bit of pain it brought gave me courage; but his stare, his stare made me forget my inhibitions. “The first time you kissed me in the trailer…it was the first time any man had ever called me beautiful,” I whispered, as I watched him pull himself out of those silky shorts.
A single pearl of pre-cum rested on the head of his cock as his clenched hands glided over its thickness. My tongue craved a taste, as I watched the small opal bead tremble slightly and slide down the smooth edge of his tightened skin. My breathing changed, quickening, as the teardrop slowly dripped under his fingers and disappeared into the rhythmic movements of his tightly fisted hand. “I tried so hard to stay away from you, but I couldn’t get you out my head. Every time I thought of you, I became more and more consumed, haunted by you. The harder I tried to forget about the things you said to me, watching you dance, and fuck me, that kiss, the more obsessed I became. I couldn’t focus on anything else but you. I had no clue what you were doing to me; only that I needed you with such intensity that it terrified me. I found myself back at the bar watching you, like a junkie jonesing for my fix. You’re more than just beautiful, Sam.” His hands moved faster over his cock, his thumb rubbing its milky tears around its head.
I was speechless. This was a scene in a rated-R movie, not something that happens to a woman like me in real life. His words had me hurtling through space, sweeping past stars with the brightness of the moon dancing its shadows over my skin. My thumbs slipped under the waist of my pants and I gently guided them down my legs and stepped out. I wanted to be the starring actress in this movie.
Releasing himself, he leaned his hands on the edge of the couch and slowly stood. Paralyzed, I stayed in front of the fire and watched as he slowly closed the distance between us, stalking closer and closer, a hungry predator. The damp flesh between my legs ached with a nervous anticipation and suddenly he was on me, against me, my back thudding against the wall. He pressed his forehead to mine, and fixed his dark stare on me. “Beautiful is a pathetically weak word for what I’m seeing right now,” he growled.