Page 29 of Tormenting Me

“Baby, you need an ashtray,” she whines as she looks over the railing. “There have to be hundreds of butts down there. Think about the birds.”

Baby, she called me baby.

I’ll be honest, I half expected her to tell me I needed to quit smoking. “No telling me to quit, Ma Petite Mort? Just ‘think of the birds’.”

Layne’s laughter fills the air as she responds to my question. “No, baby. I’m not gonna tell you to quit. If we end up having kids, no smoking around them though. Does that work?”

How did my crazy ass get so lucky?

“Yeah baby, it does.”

We walk back inside, and Layne makes her way into the bathroom while I head to the kitchen. I already laid out a towel and toiletries for her. “Wes,” she calls to me. I round the corner and she is buck naked. “Do you want to shower with me?” She doesn’t have to ask me twice! I strip my shirt and underwear off, scooping them up to toss them in the hamper. In the bathroom, Layne reaches in and turns the hot water on.

Full blast. Hell water. Get used to it Wes… you’re signing up for this. You wanna shower with her, tough it out.

We both stand under the hot spray of the shower, and it takes only seconds for us to become entangled. “Everything about you is so fucking addictive, Layne. You’re the drug I never knew I needed. I’ll gladly stay high on you for the rest of my life.” My lips dance across the supple skin of her throat. I bite and draw it into my mouth.

“No, no hickies. We’re getting married today.” She protests, shifting her neck away. I wrap my hand around her throat, squeezing with gentle pressure and she levels her gaze with mine.

“Ma Petite Mort, hickies are beautiful. They are the only mark made on our skin that is from love and affection, rather than hate. This is my way of letting the world know that I adore you.“ Layne rolls her eyes at my words. “You doubt my words, baby?” I squeeze a little more.

She mouths, “No.”

I let go of her throat, lifting her up and pushing her back into the tile wall. The urge to bury myself inside her is overwhelming. I wrap my arms underneath her thighs, so her weight rests on my forearms. “Put me inside you, baby.” Layne reaches between us, gliding her hand down my stomach. She grabs my cock and lines me up with her entrance, already slick with her arousal.

She coats the tip and as I thrust in, we both gasp, reveling in the feeling of being one again. “I’ll never tire of your pussy, Ma Petite Mort. Jesus, you’re fucking strangling my cock, baby.“ Her lips find mine and we melt into each other. Only breaking to murmur, “I love you” and “Don’t stop.” Layne’s hands run through my wet hair, fisting a handful. She gives a firm tug as her orgasm crashes over her. Her back arches off the wall, and I pick up my pace, chasing my orgasm. “Thats is baby, come for me.”

I come inside her, collapsing into her up against the wall. The release from both of us drips onto the shower floor as I pull back. “We need to get cleaned up. Then we can head over to your apartment and get whatever you want to bring here. I have some totes I’ll bring with us to pack.” I put her back down, getting the soap to wash her. “Then you can let the pizza maker know you’re moving out.” My fingers massage the soap into her scalp.

“Okay.” She says, just like that, no fight or anything. Layne groans as my fingers apply just the right amount of pressure to her scalp.

“Whatever you don’t want to bring, we can figure it out later.” I rinse off the soap from her hair and body. I wrap my arms around her from behind and stand under the hot water with her. But Layne has other ideas as she helps me wash, her soft hands lingering on my abs, her fingers itching to touch me. “No more, Ma Petite Mort, let’s wait until after the ceremony.“ She nods and exits the shower.

On the bed, she discovers the pair of sweats and an oversized shirt. I pull on a pair of clean jeans. “These are for you,” I say as I pull a Metallica shirt over my head. “I figure you can change clothes at your apartment.” She slips into my clothes, and I catch the slight smile on her face as she wraps her arms around herself. We walk back to the kitchen and I hand her a bottle of water and hold up a muffin and a banana. She takes the muffin.

We’re gonna have to actually go grocery shopping. Kinda need food in the place when it’s more than just you, Wes.

Behind the wheel of the car, I eat the banana, resisting the urge to chuck the peel out the window. The stack of totes slide around in the backseat as I put the car in reverse. After a short drive, I pull into the alley next to the pizza shop. She hops out and rushes to the door, unlocking it and holding it open as I carry the totes up the stairwell, then runs up behind me to unlock the apartment door.

We enter and I glance around, taking in the sight before me. So many nights spent here, watching her; uninvited. Now I stand here, getting ready to help her pack so she can come and live with me. It’s mind-boggling. I set the totes down and follow her into the back of the apartment. “I think I’ll put clothes in one tote and towels/bathroom stuff in another.” She stands back and plots out how she wants to attack this. Her phone buzzes in her pocket. “It’s Atlas,” the screen lights up as she checks his message.

“He has the dress already.” She says, surprise in her voice.

“Does he sleep? It’s like six-forty-five.” I run my hand through my hair, curls starting to form as my hair air dries. I have a feeling Atlas is going to drive me crazy, one of those “she was mine first” types, but Layne loves him, so I’m going to have to learn to tolerate him.

Layne turns to face me and responds, “He’s very…resourceful. He has friends all over the city. The shop owner opened early so he could pick it up.”

“Well, that’s nice of them.” I take clothes out of her drawers and start putting them in the totes. I pull out the black bodysuit I bought for her and hold it up. Catching my gaze she chuckles, “Atlas thinks he’s funny.”

“Atlas, huh?” I raise an eyebrow. “No crotchless underwear then?”

Layne’s eyes widen. “Oh my god it was you?!”

I crack up, “A lot of things were me, baby.”

Layne pulls out some black leggings, and a worn Alice in Chains shirt, changing into them. Over the next few hours, we packed a good portion of her things. All her clothes and bathroom essentials, I’ve been back to the loft to drop stuff off a few times. On my third trip, my phone buzzes. The tracker I have on Layne’s father shows he is near our downtown district, bar hopping.

Dude, it’s still morning.

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