Morphine (Complete)

𝟐𝟏

t/w: self harm. it happens at the end of the chapter, but if it could hurt you please do not continue reading)

Chapter Twenty-One

The process of waking up was torturously, fuck-it-all slow.

She didn't know at what point she'd passed out beneath Mykel's unrelenting tongue, but it must have been hours in.  Alone during the quiet hours of the night, with nothing but the sound of breath on skin to fill the room. 

Dark satin sheets were wrapped around her naked body, tangled and sticking to her sweaty hot skin. She pushed one breath passed her lips, followed by another. Tangled hair stuck to her lips and cheeks. She sat up with a grimace and pried the dark strands from her skin. She hadn't always had long hair. As a child, she'd had a boy cut. When she was finally old enough to make her own decisions, she grew it long and kept it that way in spite. Sometimes she wished she weren't so stubborn. Long hair was hell.

She trudged over to what she presumed to be a washroom, one hand rising to turn on a light. The other swatted mindlessly at her oily skin. God knew what new microorganisms were thriving on her unwashed skin, courtesy of the Thoughtful Mykel, who had decided to leave her there, uncleaned, for the entire night. She almost tripped over the small ledge of the shower door, stumbling in. Her legs were shaky and tired from the strain her body had gone through last night. Her apparent lack of stamina was a punch to her gut.

She choked out a breath when cold water sprayed all along her back. Her fingers jumped forward and tried to turn off the water, but her hands were met with a smooth wall of tile. Her eyes widened and she spun in place to find Mykel leant against a wall, arms crossed, one finger toggling a switch on the wall. Who the fuck put the shower switch there?

"Say please and I'll turn the heat on."

Rannia grit her teeth and ignored the cold blasting down on her cold, and now wet form. She turned away from him and began to sort through soap bottles instead. She could feel his heavy stare on her back, which she knew was a glare, but that didn't explain the prickling heat he left behind as well.

"I'll stay cold, thanks," she replied unenthusiastically. Sopping her fingers through her thick hair to get it all wet, she rubbed her scalp and relieved herself a little. Soft breaths escaped her lips and she squirted some white soap into her hands, rubbing it to foam a little. Then she started applying it to her hair.

It was really, really cold. She was naked, dirty, tired and sore, but there was no way in Hell she'd give Mykel the satisfaction of hearing the word 'please' come from her pretty little lips.

Her mind flashed back to last night. She bit her cheek. Well, not again, at least.

When she returned under the water head, soapy suds started running down her body in streams of bubbles, covering all her curves, head to toe, around her hips, between her breasts, and along her thighs.

He was watching, but she didn't really care. Her fingers ran across her breasts to swipe away a hair, and with the nimble movement of her fingers, she felt Mykel's eyes trace each inch of her body. The glass walls of the shower started to fog a little, and with a small glance to her side, she saw Mykel's silhouette move from the doorframe to the stall's open door, letting his large frame cast a shadow on the wall behind her.

Grabbing a bar of soap, she turned to look at him, fingers running up and down its sudsy length. Her eyes held a lusty glaze to them, searing her dark pupils with light and dripping light specks of water all along her thick lashes.