Page 57 of Petrichor

If it’s his dick plugging it, I’m in. Wait. Did I say that out loud? I feel exhausted. But I can’t sleep on the bed, unless…

The bed bounces as I hear him moving away. The sound of water in the bathroom. Then his fingers are spreading something on my back and butt.

“What—?” I can’t see what he’s doing.

“Ointment.”

Oh, I have scratched and bruised my skin against the alley wall. A warm sensation spreads inside me at his attentiveness. I must be inthe presence of Dr. Jekyll at the moment. But Mr. Hyde is always close by.

When he’s done, he lies down next to me. “Get my dick in your mouth.” And here is the psycho jerk. Still, I can't stop myself from sliding down the bed, and again let myself fall onto his legs without resisting.

Because I’m too stuck inside my head. Too many worries. Too many dark memories. I need to feel safe. Does he know that? Is he doing this for me? For himself? The latter is more believable.

“If you want to keep doing this. It’s just us. No other people.” My tone is firm.

He grunts. “Agreed,” he replies. That was easy. Marco is not a man that breaks his promise. He must really want me, then. At least for the time being. That partly soothes me.

“Why do you sleep on the floor?” he asks, as I start lapping at the tip of his cock. He washed it, I can smell the soap. The realization makes me smile, but it disappears as he adds, “I asked you a question.” He pulls at my hair, looking at me with narrow eyes.

“I’m not one of your minions!” I slap his hand, even though it’s not really hurting me.

“You work for me.”

“I am not your whore!” I purposely misunderstand his words.

He growls angrily, and I huff back, taking his soft dick inside my mouth. It smells so good. All of him does. That orange blossom scent has the power to soothe me and excite me at the same time. And perhaps that’s the reason why I decide to answer.

“Beds aren’t…comfortable.” I give his cock a long lick down tohis balls.

He grunts, and I start drawing circles on his ankle with my fingers—just how he likes it—brushing the hair there with light touches.

“Go on.” He’s threading my hair through his fingers, massaging my scalp.

I dogo onafter a few seconds. “I just never found a mattress I could sleep on.”

“Why? And give me the answer I’m waiting for, Butterfly.” Why does he keep calling me that? It confuses me.

“Or what?” I provoke him, now irritated by his hot and cold attitude. My lips close around his dick, and I let my teeth scratch the skin lightly as I study his unfazed expression.

“Or I’ll tie you to this bed, uncaring if you find it passable or not.” I’m pretty sure he isn’t bluffing. But my ass clenches at the image popping inside my head in which Marco is the one tied, and I’m exploring every inch of him.

A light spank on my red ass cheek brings me back to the present. I feel his cum dripping down my inner thigh, and I clamp down, attempting to hold it in.

“Waiting.” His voice sounds gruffer, sexier. I don’t understand why he is so insistent when he’s the one constantly guarded and tight-lipped.

I swallow hard while some old memories come back to me. “When I was a kid, I didn’t have a bed. The hard floor is still the only place I can fall asleep on.”

“You fell asleep in my bed with me.”

Yeah, and you take me back to my room every single time—thanks for the reminder. This man is really like a bull in a china shop. Did something happen to make him like this? Or was baby Marco born with a blank face and a cigarette between his lips?

I shrug, not wanting to confess to him how I feel safe enough with him that I don’t care where I am.

The interrogation stops, and I focus on warming his dick again. The continuous sucking calms me down enough to make my eyelids start to droop.

Once again I fall asleep, but I still feel the sudden coldness near me. The loss of skin contact is like a punch to the gut.

He left me alone once again.

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