It Ain't Me, Babe
Reaching up, I spread my hand on his chest, digging my nails into his skin, picking up rhythm, his harsh breath panting, faster and faster.
“Mae… Mae, Christ! Love you…”
Freeing Styx from my mouth, I sat up, spurred on by his words, lifted my hips, and, bracing him at my entrance, slammed down to push him all the way inside.
His chest reared off the mattress. “MAE!” he roared.
Palming my behind, he ground me furiously against his hardness, the movement hitting that spot, that spot right there.
“River… oh, yes…” I mewled.
“I f**kin’ love it when you call me River…” he whispered, licking along my neck, down my chest, and over to suck on my ni**les.
“River… River…” I moaned, my stomach tensing, thighs squeezing. As I threw my head back, I shattered into pieces, the pleasure lighting me up from the inside out.
“Mae. Babe… You’re milking me so good… so… tight… argh!” Styx stilled and every muscle in his ripped, hard body strained. His neck veins corded, his mouth dropped open and a flood of warmth spread within me.
Pushing back the damp hair from Styx’s face, I pressed my forehead to his as I caught my rasping breath. I smiled as his hand ghosted up my spine and gripped the nape of my neck, holding me in place.
“You did not stutter,” I casually commented, a happy smile on my face.
He drew back in disbelief, a deep V between his brows. I moved in and kissed the crease.
“I didn’t?”
I shook my head.
Styx exhaled and a wry smile emerged. “It’s like… I can… breathe around you… It’s… getting easier… I forget I can’t… speak when… we’re alone… It makes me feel… normal.”
Styx spoke each word with crystal clarity. He paused several times, his eyes twitched as he spoke the sentence and he took several deep breaths, but there was no stammer. I positively beamed with pride for him.
“You know… I had every kind of treatment growing up… until eventually, at six, a… specialist recommended I… learn to sign. You know, just… to give me some kinda voice. The docs couldn’t… ever work out the cause. I had no… fuckin’ clue. Just knew my… words didn’t come like… everyone else’s. I never let… anyone get too close, ’cept… my old man and Ky… and this… chick I met through a fence… when I was a kid. Then years later… she stormed back into… my life.” He cupped my cheeks. “Babe… you’re my best… kinda therapy.”I stared into his large hazel eyes and tipped my head. “I thought you said, ‘it ain’t you who’s meant for me’?”
He laughed. He rarely laughed, but when he did, I rejoiced at the sound of it: husky, deep… male. “Oh, it’s me, babe… Ain’t no other man for you… but me.”
Pressing my forehead against his, I brushed a kiss on his lips, my tongue licking along the silver lip ring. “Mmm…” he groaned. I began rolling my hips, his length hardening once more.
Styx laughed. “Again, babe?”
I nodded and pulled at his dark, messy hair. “Again… and again… and again… and again…”
A finger stroked my arm, waking me and I smiled.
“Mmm… Styx? I dreamt of you again.”
The hand froze on my skin and I frowned. Even in my sleep, I sensed something was wrong. “Styx?”
Still heavy with sleep, my eyes opened slowly and I wrestled with blurry vision. Sitting up, I felt a tidal wave of nausea roll around my stomach and I rubbed at my eyes to wipe away the fog of my deep sleep. “Styx?” I called.
As my sight improved, two figures emerged from the mist; females, one blond, one dark-haired.
“Mae?” a soft voice whispered, gently calling me into the world of reality.
Delilah? Why can I hear Delilah? I quickly scanned my surroundings: gray cement walls, wooden floor, a large wooden cross on the north side of the room. And a large hand-painted picture of someone… Prophet David!
No… no… no… please take me back to my dream. Styx. Styx, Styx…
Shaking, I jumped from the narrow bed, trying to run, walk, crawl—I did not know. My weak legs were unable to support my weight and I fell to the floor. Tears welled up as realization hit.
The commune; I was back in the commune.
Not the compound. No more Styx.
Abducted against my will and returned to Hell.