Page 64 of A Pawn in the Game
He grabs my thighs, stretching the sensitive skin enough to make it hurt again, and starts pumping even faster. His eyes are feral as he stares at me, and I can’t look away.
“Come for me,mila,” he says, and my body obeys before his words register in my brain.
Bursts of color flood my vision, forcing me to close my eyes. My pussy spasms around him, eliciting a low moan. My legs tremble and his cock twitches inside of me. Wave after wave, my release crashes into me, longer than I’ve ever experienced. Shivers wrack through me as I come down from the high, Luka peppering kisses over my face and chest.
I flutter my eyes open, his gaze stealing the breath I’ve barely managed to inhale. The dark pools of chocolate turn liquid as they glance straight into my soul. The second stretches for an eternity before they widen, blinking rapidly, as if he wanted to snap himself out of it.
He slips his cock out of me, and I mourn the sudden emptiness. Raising himself on his arms, he removes the weight that was crushing me. Instead of relief, I feel loss.
I try to figure out why, but my mind is still too hazy. My body is floating, and the millions of sensations I had just a few seconds ago all turn into one—exhaustion.
CHAPTER 32
Luka
Ipractically feel the moment her energy leaves her. Her gaze becomes unfocused, her head falling to the side. A lone tear drops from her eye and panic rises in me. Quickly, I get up and pick her up in my arms, bringing her to the bathroom. I place her in the tub, setting the water to the right temperature before pouring her a glass of water. She closes her eyes as her throat bobs, and I make sure she drinks every drop. Finishing the glass, she releases a sigh, and I place it on the sink counter before slipping into the tub behind her. She relaxes fully into me, her muscles serving only as décor.
I lather the soap onto every inch of her skin, and she doesn’t move. I lift her arm to wash her, and it drops back down as soon as I stop holding it.
My heart pumps loud and fast in my chest.Did I break her?
Eventually, she sighs. “I was eleven. I was already in bed, but I heard commotion downstairs, so I went to check.” She starts talking and I hold my breath, afraid to interrupt her. “There were three men.” She swallows. “With guns. My mom was on her knees, with a gun pointed at her head. My dad was gesticulating wildly to the other man, with a gun pointed to his chest. I gasped,too loudly I guess, and they noticed me standing on top of the stairs.”
My body freezes, scared to find out what comes next.
“The third man dragged me by my hair down to where my mom was kneeling. He put his arm around my neck.” Her voice is now level, almost clinical. “It was hard for me to breathe, but it was even harder for me to see, what with all the tears in my eyes. My ears were buzzing so loud that I barely heard a word, and what I did hear was jumbled by my memory. As far as I know, my dad did something he wasn’t supposed to. And they were there to threaten him, which came as a relief. A threat means a chance, right?” She pauses for a second before continuing, “That wasn’t the case. They stripped my mom naked, to deepen our fear. Then they shot her. Point blank. She dropped dead on the marble floor next to me, her blood pooling around my legs.”
I want to say something, but I’m stunned speechless.
“The same man pressed the gun to my forehead while I begged him not to kill me. I guess Dad’s words changed his mind, because he decided not to. The guy holding me ended up letting me go, and I slipped into a pool of my mom’s blood. They told us that next time, there won’t be any survivors. Then they left. That's why I have nightmares.”
Of course. The pleading. The tears. The fear.I brush the palms of my hands over her arms, trying to bring her some comfort. The water cooled down and her skin is prickled with goosebumps. I want to dry her off and warm her up, but I want to let her finish her piece first.
“That scene haunts me.” She places her hands on her scarred thighs, gently caressing them. “It’s how the self-harming started. There was no way to remove the memory,the painfrom my mind. No way other than to make something else hurt more. I started with scratching and worked up to nicks with a knife. The relief was instant. It was what helped me cope.”
“What happened to those men? Are they still alive?” A surge of hate rushes through me.
“I don’t know. Dad moved us across the country after it. I still don’t know who the hell they were.” Her voice falters, like she can’t stand to speak anymore. “You’re not the only one who hates him.”
There are a million more questions I want to ask. But right now, I need to take care of her. I lift her from the tub and wrap her in the largest towel I can find. Drying her off the best I can, I place her on the bed, still naked.
I’m guessing she’d prefer not to sleep naked, so I search for her clothes, but by the time I find them, she’s already asleep. I release a shaky breath, my first real exhale since she started talking. Then I climb into bed, bringing myself flush to her, and wrapping my arms around her. She’s warm and relaxed, and while I barely get any sleep, replaying her words in my mind, she sleeps through the night.
Iobviously drifted off sometime near the morning, because I’m half asleep when she sneaks out of bed. I let her, pretending to be out like a light. She deserves to get dressed in peace. There’s also no way to know how she will feel about what transpired between us.
I’m not even sure I know myself.
She asked me to hurt her. So I did. But she got off on it. And so did I. Then she let her guard down and told me her life story, sharing more than she ever did before.Was I even supposed to hear that? Does she regret it now? Fuck.
I hear the water in the bathroom running and get up from the bed to throw on some clothes. Seeing the missed calls from Ivan, I give him a quick call while facing away from the bathroom.
The call ends, and I turn around to find Sophie standing, fully dressed.
“Hi,” she says, and I can’t read her expression. Her eyes arecautious, but the corners of her lips are lifted. As if she’s… curious.
“Hi. Are you sore?” I clear my throat.
“Just a little.”
