Raw(22)
Author: Belle Aurora

Breathing deeply, she blows out a long breath before nodding to my coffee. “I think I’m going to need something stronger than that.”

Bunching my face in a please don’t be mad at me kind of way, I offer, “Cocoa à la Lexi?”

Her eyes narrow, and I know she wants to be mad at me some more, but her anger fizzles slightly when her lip twitches. “Yeah. Make it a double.”

Smiling so hard that my cheeks hurt, I whizz off to the kitchen to whip up a strong batch of cocoa. Coming back with two mugs full, I hand her one, and when she takes the first sip with her eyes closed in bliss, I throw in there, “By the way, we’ve been invited to a masque this weekend. A charity function. And I know you think costume balls are lame, but I thought maybe if we got Dave out and about, he wouldn’t feel so sorry for himself.”

Dave and Phil still haven’t patched things up. And not for Dave’s lack of trying either. I spoke to Phil online for a while today and he explained that he just needs some time to think about what he wants in life and if Dave is something he could make a part of that.

Never a good sign.

Dave cut him deep. And he’s paying the price.

You can only push someone so far before that push sends them walking away in the opposite direction. Everyone has their limits.

Dave may need to rethink his diva ways.

On a brighter note, Nikki seems to have perked up at hearing the word invitation. “Where did this invite come from? It’s a little late notice, babe. Last minute costumes are hard to find.”

Avoiding the first question, I try to get away with answering the costume dilemma. “There’s an address on the card. A costume store in the city has been completely reserved for use of the masque. All we need to do is show up and take our picks.”

Nikki spots my avoidance pretty quickly. “Who invited us?”

I’m so bad at masking my emotions. I wear them right there on my sleeve for all to see. So when my eyes widen and I stutter, “I-I’m not sure a-actually, I think s-som—”

“Cut the bullshit and tell me!”

“Twitch,” I blurt out.

“Bless you.”

Bursting into laughter, I repeat, “Twitch. That’s his name. Twitch. The man who watches me. The guy who saved me.”

Leaning away from me, her face bunches. Smiling, I nod. She asks incredulously, “Stalker dude is called Twitch?”

“Yep.”

After a second, she mutters under her breath, “Fuckin’ hippies.”

Another bout of laughter bursts out of me. “That’s not his real name, babe, it’s just what he calls himself, and from what I’ve seen, it’s what everyone else calls him too. He doesn’t want people to know his real name, and for now, that’s cool with me. He’s part owner of a business – a big business – so I know it would be easy enough to find out but,” my brows furrow and my lips purse a little, “it’s important to him for some reason. So if he doesn’t want people to know, I’m not going to go looking. Not until he tells me himself.”

Looking up at Nikki, her eyes on me feel more like an interrogation and I know I’ve f**ked up. Suddenly, her eyes widen comically, she leans forward, and hisses, “You f**ked him!” When my brows almost hit my hairline, she gasps, “You skank! You dirty hooker skank face! When did this happen? And more importantly, was it any good?”

Both taking our places on the sofa once more, I lean back into the soft cushion. “The other night. I don’t know if it was me reclaiming my sexuality and not letting my attacker have that stupid hold on me or if it was just…” sigh, “…just Twitch. I can’t really explain him to you. It’s something you have to experience. He likes control and he’s not afraid to let people know that. He can be so f**king arrogant and annoying one second, then the next second, he has you wanting to take orders from him. He’s intense. And kinda scary. And I want to know him better. So I’ll bide my time and do what I have to to make him open up to me.” Frowning, I look up into her eyes and tell her quietly, “Something bad happened to him, Nik. I can feel it.”

Her eyes turn sad. “Oh honey. I’m glad you’re safe and all, but can you really trust this guy? You barely know him, and you just said yourself that he’s kinda scary.” When I try to speak, she cuts me off with, “I trust you. You’ve never made a bad decision in your life. I know this. We’ve been through a lot together. And maybe you’re right. Maybe he needs someone. But I don’t want you to make him a project. You have to stop worrying about protecting everyone around you, and start protecting yourself.”

Staring eye-to-eye, a small smile breaks out onto my face as I whisper, “He’s a freak in bed.”

Her body shakes with silent laughter. “Oh, I gotta hear this. Do tell.”

My belly flutters.

And suddenly, I can’t wait until Saturday.

I don’t know if I can do this anymore.

The urge to touch her is overwhelming.

Never being one to deny myself, I allow my fingertips to glide over the silky skin of her shoulder.

Waking to feel of rough hand on my upper arm, panic sets in only a moment before I smell him.

My tense body relaxes almost immediately. The darkness of my room allows me to fake my sleep a little longer, savouring the gentle sweetness of a touch reserved for his private moments. Moments like these are fleeting. I know he would never touch me like this had he known I was awake.

The CD player on my dresser still on low volume, I’ve never been able to fall asleep without the TV or music playing. Something I took with me when I left home. As a child, I needed something to drown out the constant shouting and bickering. Music worked. And it stuck.

When the fingertips on my arm move away, I feel like crying. I want them back.

I want him.

Desperately.

The sounds of clothes being removed make my belly flutter, and I fight the urge to cheer and clap. The covers lift, and he climbs in and over me.

“Twitch?” I ask sleepily.

A long silence, then a husky, “Yeah.” Pinching the material of my tank between his thumb and forefinger, he tugs and says, “Off.”

Stretching, I work on my tank while he pulls off my pajama pants and panties in one swift yank. Then I’m lying naked in the middle of my bed, unable to see much of anything, just a silhouette of a large male body. And that body is stalking towards me, then covering me.