"These moans of yours, Zemira, they tend to tamper with my head. They're making my mind a haywire, 𝓜𝓸𝔂 𝓿𝓪𝓶𝓹𝓲𝓻." He whispered into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. His dominance was giving me power to show my dominance.
If he wants to...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
To say that the shower was filled with my sexual thoughts would be an understatement. The beauty, sensuality, intensity, and hunger in the first kiss in the pool was very different than the first two kisses I've had with him. The only same thing was the pair of lips locking onto each other and the hands which roamed the bodies. Comfortable in a new white shirt, I was sitting on the bed, patiently waiting for him to come. It unlikely for men to stay with someone whom they had something sexual with, especially when they know nothing about the another person but that is where I think I'm wrong. We may be somewhat similar.
"Here." Canzone's deep and husky voice which never failed to make me wet, startles me. I look up at him, holding the same book I had been busy in from the past few days. He stood tall, gazing at me with those damn green eyes and wearing a black wife beater above sweatpants, his muscles visible. I had seen him very less wearing such casual clothes, almost never, maybe because I never looked at him like the way I do now.
"Have you been stalking me lately?" My question catches him off guard, a deep chuckle falling from his mouth as he walked towards the other side of the bed and dips into it, covering himself with the soft blankets. This man was the hottest man I could have ever met but my eyes didn't fail to notice the scars around his exposed body parts. A cut hidden in his eyebrows, a slightly crooked nose because of breaking, a small scar below the chin which was almost not visible and the several scar on his arms, hidden like mine, with tattoos.
"No, I have not. You just show a lot from the classics."
His gaze was concentrated on the ceiling and mine on him. I didn't care of the rape, not after I was 13. My specific 'rape tear tank' had become empty and my feelings stopped giving a fuck to what happened to me. I never cared about myself for the three years after I was adopted. I would spent hours in the shower until all my skin became pale and wrinkly just because I felt unclean. Eating no food because the taste of their cocks lingered in my mouth. Staying in the bed behind those cotton blankets who became my best friends in the morning and my crying partners at night. I was depressed.
Papa or mama, no one talked to me until I left the room someday. They knew that it was my fight and only I could fight it, no substitute. I thanked them for this because I started yearning to listen to their voices, to the angels who gave me so much care and received silence in return. One day, papa couldn't bear seeing me.
'You don't make a nice caterpillar, child.'
He barged into the room with those exact words, making me laugh for the first time in seven years. His voice was the most soothing I heard then, so smooth, so much wisdom in those words. Artur gained his wisdom from him, the exact replica of him while Athena gained mama's jollyness, the carbon copy of her. Just after papa came and sat beside me that day, I heard another soothing voice, a very sweet one.
'Try being a butterfly.'
Mama comes into the room and takes me into a hug that I'll never forget, it was my first one after all. Everybody joined the hug, all four of them hugged me like their own and I knew I couldn't have a better family than this. So, I worked on myself, slowly but surely forgot about the incidents. Trained myself to be the best, loved myself more than anyone, showed myself my worth.
