Page 72 of Perfect
“Please don’t make me,” I beg. “It’ll hurt.”
“What thefuck?” He unties my wrists a moment later, and my arms flop to my sides, my shoulders screaming as Theounties my ankles before he’s on the bed, pulling me into his arms. My back rests against his chest and his legs bracket mine as he pulls a thick duvet over us and tilts my face up to him, his eyes wide and worried. He massages my jaw gently, and I start crying harder because it feels so good.
We stay like that for a while until I start feeling calmer and less afraid, but I’m still exhausted and pent up and painfully sensitive. My body feels wrong, and I’m so confused by everything right now except that being held feels nice.
“Sweetheart,” Theo says, his voice slightly shaky, “I’m going to take care of you, okay? You weresogood for me.” I don’t totally register what he’s saying or doing until I feel his hand between my legs, and I start whimpering immediately, pressing back into him as he touches me softly.
My body is so pent up, and his touch is so overwhelming that I start crying again. Inevercried this much during sex with Danny. He didn’t allow it, but Theo just makes soothing noises and strokes my skin with his other hand as he touches me.
“It’s okay, sweetheart, I’ve got you. You’re going to feel good in a minute, I promise,” he says as he slowly pushes his fingers inside of me, and I moan as I start to feel my orgasm building rapidly. He goes back to circling my clit with his fingers, and I can feel my leg tense as my hips move against his hand, my body flooding with heat quickly. I break apart in his arms, coming so hard my vision goes black for a second. I’m shaking and crying, and his body is tense around me, but he’s gentle when he touches me, kissing my hair and stroking my skin. I’m so oversensitive that every graze of his fingers feels like heaven, and nothing makes sense anymore except that he didn’t hurt me, and he made me feel good.
I feel a rush of gratitude and drag my hand along one of his arms.
“I’m sorry,” I slur as he starts massaging my jaw again.
“Fuck, no,I’msorry, I’msosorry. Come here,” he says, rolling me gently until I’m lying on my side. He curls around me and holds me tightly, kissing my hair and shoulders, telling me how perfect I am.
I can’t tell which one of us is shaking, but he’s so warm and I’m so exhausted that I fall asleep almost instantly.
***
When I wake up a few hours later, the clock on the bedside table tells me it’s close to four in the morning, and Theo is nowhere to be found. Everything is still hazy, and my body feels heavy, so I take my time getting out of bed, grabbing a soft crewneck sweater and a pair of grey sweats from his dresser.
When I use the bathroom, the mirror shows me I look as miserable as I feel.
I walk down the hall towards a door that’s slightly ajar and spilling light out into the hallway, opening it to find Theo behind a large desk. He’s looking between the three monitors in front of him, his brow furrowed and his hand across his mouth. The walls of his office are hung with large, framed sepia photos of trees and piles of logs, but aside from that, the room seems just as staged as the rest of his house.
He looks up and sees me in the doorway and stands up quickly, running his hand through his hair.
“Hi,” he says, his voice tight as he crosses the room immediately. He pushes my hair back from my face and kisses my forehead, rubbing my arms and looking into my eyes with an intense, concerned look. “How are you feeling?”
“Why are you up?”
“Uh, I couldn’t sleep. Are you okay? Can I get you anything?” He’s speaking rapidly, obviously stressed about something, andwhen I pull back to look up at him, he looks even more upset than a second ago. My brain feels sluggish.DoI need anything?
“Food.” He nods and escorts me out of the office and down the stairs, turning on lights as he goes. I sit at the island as he starts moving around the kitchen quickly, occasionally running his hands through his hair in agitation.
“Do you want breakfast or dinner?” I shrug. “Okay, um, breakfast. Eggs? Bacon? Yogurt? Quiche? Oatmeal? What do you like?”
“Oatmeal?” He nods, rifling through his pantry with sharp, jerky movements. He’s so high-strung right now, but I’m too tired to care.
He’s probably just upset he didn’t get to fuck me before I fell asleep.
Once he puts a pot on the stove to boil, he leans over the kitchen island towards me, staring at me with a concerned look.
“Can I ask you some questions?” I shrug faintly. “How did he make you apologize?” A hazy recollection of how freaked out Theo was by the apology thing swims through my mind, and I look away from him. I don’t want to talk about this, but I’m so worn down that I answer.
“Um, he’d use my mouth, but he was…rough.” Understatement. Theo’s hand very lightly touches my jaw and lifts my chin until I’m looking up at his bright, concerned eyes.
“That’s not how we’re doing apologies, okay?” I don’t believe him, but I’m too tired to argue with him about anything. He looks at me, frowning when I don’t respond. “How long were you married?”
“Nine years.” Did I tell him I was married?
“How old were you when you met?”
“Seventeen.”
“How old was he?”
