5sos Imagines

Million Dollar Baby L.H (Chapter 12)

TICKLING THE IVORIES (12)
LPOV
"It's Hemmings. Do you have anything for me yet?" I asked, not really sure if I wanted to know the answer, but needing to all the same.
"Actually, I just got the last of everything I needed. I was going to call you first thing in the morning, because I didn't want to disturb you," he said. "So, what do you want to know?"
"Everything..."
"Okay, here goes," Jenks said and I could hear him settling in his seat and flipping papers while I was anxiously awaiting any bit of information that he could give me to help me put the puzzle that was Jasmine Johnson together.
Before I could get even one morsel of information, there was a timid knock on the door to my study, and then it opened wide. Jasmine positioned herself there rather seductively, her arms stretched above her head as she arched her back against the door frame. Her wet hair was tossed back off her shoulders and her long legs were angled so that one was bent at the knee. She was wearing black wrap-around heels, the cuff with my family's crest, one of my black dress ties and...nothing...else.
"I'm sorry, am I disturbing you?" Her voice was a purr of erotic lust as she seductively fingered the tie that hung loosely in the valley of her fuckawesome tits. "I can leave...if you want..."
My heart thumped erratically in my chest, and I'm pretty sure my mouth was hanging open. She was a vixen, a porn star...a goddess.
My cock strained against the zipper of my suddenly too tight khaki pants, all the blood having raced there within a millisecond. I thought for just a second that maybe my little soldier was trying to burrow a hole so that he could have look-see for himself, but that couldn't actually happen, could it. Hell, I was quickly learning that whenever Jasmine was around, anything was possible.
"Hemmings?" Jenks voice was a vague echo in the background. My focus was trained completely on my million dollar baby, her body the siren that was distracting me from my previous obsession. She was all that mattered. Everything else just faded away into nothingness.
"I was just in the shower, and well...all that hot water was washing over my skin with the most delicious pressure...and it made me think about your body pressed again mine and that magical thing you do with your fingers...and your tongue..." She closed her eyes and reclined her head while caressing her bare throat with one hand and the other slipping between her legs as she sighed. "Fuck, I need you to touch me..."
"Helloooo? Are you still there, Hemmings?"
I shook off the haziness as best I could and cleared my throat as I forced myself to look away from her. "Um, yeah...I have someone, er, something to do. Call me first thing in the morning."
I didn't even wait for a response before I hung the phone up. He'd call me because he wanted to get paid. And I figured I'd gone almost three weeks without knowing the information I wanted...surely I could wait ten more hours.
With lightning quick, vampiric speed, I was standing in front of her with both hands fisted on the door frame above her. I didn't dare touch her for fear that I might bruise her, break her. "You can't...fucking...say shit like that without..."
Unable to finish my thought because she was standing there, all sinfully naked and smelling...wickedly aroused, I lost all resolve and sank down on one knee, perching one of her delicate feet on my shoulder before I leaned in to give her the tongue lashing of her life. Of course it was merely a punishment for interrupting such an important business call. It was going to hurt me far worse than it was going to hurt her.
Yeah, even I call bullshit.
"Uh-uh-uh," she cooed as she pushed ever so slightly on my shoulder with the spiked heel of her shoe to force me to sit back from her. "So, I was just wondering...You don't happen to play piano, do you? Because I just happened to find this sexy little black number downstairs, in what I assume is your music hall, and I was thinking about how incredibly erotic it would be if I were to be say, oh I don't know...on display for you while you played for me...I mean, I am dressed black tie formal and all..."
'Nuff. Motherfucking. Said.
Without even a word, because like I said...there were none needed, I threw her over my shoulder and headed toward what she so adequately named my music hall. The fucking acoustics in there were even better than the acoustics in the foyer and I couldn't wait to hear the echo of her screaming my name in ecstasy. And she would definitely scream...
JPOV
Men, especially admitted pussy addicts like Luke, are so fucking predictable...and easy.
All I had to do was show up virtually naked and insinuate I wanted a little bit of attention, and I had him eating out of the palm of my hand. Well, maybe it wasn't exactly the palm of my hand that he wanted to eat out of, but either way, I got the desired result.
I'd been thinking about the whole cheating whore of an ex-girlfriend thing that Keesha had told me about earlier, and I was determined to shower him with the attention he craved, to make sure he knew that I was all about him. Because when it came right down to it, that's the whole reason he stooped so low as to buy a woman in the first place. I was a sure thing: guaranteed to cater to his every whim and desire: guaranteed to want him and only him.
Not that I was complaining. Sure, I should have been disgusted with myself for basically being a willing participant, and I was...to an extent. But I'm a woman for Christ's sake...a human woman with needs that I hadn't ever realized I had before all this shit began, needs that were most certainly being met by a man, who under normal circumstances, would've been able to get me into his bed without having to ask twice. Besides, I signed on for this, right? I knew what I was getting myself into. Actually enjoying the "torture" had to be an added perk, right? I mean, I could've just as easily been stuck with Jabba the Hut.
The Cooch nodded her head emphatically in agreement, and then I had to go and mention that fat, nasty bastard, which sent a shiver down her spine.
Luke threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and I giggled like a school girl when he turned his face and nipped me on the ass with those gorgeous white teeth of his. Apparently, I'm not the only one with an ass-biting fetish. As long as Vida Guerra keeps her fat ass away from him, I won't have to punch a bitch. I'm just sayin'.
We finally made it into the music hall. I could tell because his inner saber-tooth purr had become more like a constant humming vibration that I not only heard, but felt. As gently as he could, he sat me on top of his baby grand and stood between my parted knees.
"This what you had in mind?" he asked, his voice a deep, sultry rumble that travelled through his body and out through his hands, which were perched on the piano on either side of me. His voice actually travelled through the damn thing and vibrated against my girlie bits, making me reminisce about my new bestie, the Hemmings bullet.
"Actually, I was thinking something more along the lines of you...sitting on the bench, letting those talented fingers of yours molest the ivories," I said while running my hands up and down his chest. "You think you can do that for me, Luke? Play me a little something...inspired by the vision of my...your...pussy?"
I pressed my lips to his reverently, but he made no move. He was still as a statue, an Adonis of a statue. I had just begun to think that maybe my dirty talking hadn't come off as sultry as I'd hoped when he leaned in closer to my ear and whispered.
"Jasmine?"
"Hmm?"
"I think I just came a little." Before I could formulate a response, he pulled away abruptly and went to sit on the piano bench.
With my chin perched on my shoulder and angled toward him, I watched as his hands softly ghosted over the keys without making a sound. The look in his eyes was one of pure awe and concentration, a man who obviously revered his instrument. Can't say that I blamed him; I thought his "instrument" was pretty awe-inspiring myself.
He licked his lips and shifted to a more comfortable position before he looked back at me expectantly. "Um, I'm pretty sure you promised me that if I'd play, you'd provide the inspiration."
Oh yeah, right. One problem, folks. If I tried to swing my ass around on his glossy as shit piano, which was nowhere near as slick as it looked, it was more than probable that there would be some skin squeakage. And I just didn't know if my dignity could handle a major blow of embarrassment like that when I was trying to be all sexy and seductive and shit. Damnit, I wished I had thought of powdering up or something. So, I did the only thing I could think of to do.
I hopped down, amazingly remaining upright on the fuck-high hooker heels that I was wearing (the Cooch picked them out because they matched the nearly there outfit), and then I channeled every runway walker I could remember from the countless fashion shows that my dear friend Jesse had forced me to watch, and I strutted my naked ass toward Luke, hoping and praying that it wasn't blotchy and red from piano burn, or whatever.
I think I was pretty successful at it, because Luke eyed me like he was a wolf in one of those Looney Toon cartoons, licking his chops like I was some prized lamb. Feeling probably more confident than I should have been, I put one foot up on the bench beside him and stood up on it. You know how they say, "If looks could kill"? Yeah, well if looks could feel you up, I swear that's exactly what Luke had done to my legs...and my ass...and my boobs, the cooch...hell, his eyes had just as many appendages as an octopus, okay?
Speaking of puss...mine was positively sopping wet. Go figure. It wasn't because Double Agent Coochie was salivating; it was because the twisted bitch was crying tears of joy over what she knew was to come. Well, lots of tears, actually. So, I made a big show of perching my ass on the top of his piano again and crossing my legs to conceal that little fact. Even though I'd come to learn that was a major turn-on for Luke, I wanted to tease him a little bit. After all, he needed some incentive to give me what I wanted before I gave him what he wanted.
Luke looked up at me from beneath his brow, and then slowly began to undo the studded buckle that was wrapped around my ankle. When he was done, he leisurely pulled my shoe off and placed a lingering kiss to the top of my foot. I wasn't the kind of girl who liked to have her toes sucked or anything, but I gotta' tell ya'...that shit felt sensual as all get out.
"Can't have these on my ivory babies...baby," he said in a hushed voice as he dropped my bare foot and went to work on my other shoe. "Jimmy Choo? Remind me to give Keesha a raise."
"Just buy her a pair of these bad boys, and she'll be overjoyed," I suggested.
Sitting my shoes down on the floor beside him, he kissed a trail along my shin until he reached my knee. Then he pushed them apart and set my feet directly on the keys, as far on each end as they would stretch. The sound that came from them depressing was really quite hideous and we both cringed at the same time.
"I fucking love how wet you get for me," he said as he eyed the Cooch. She was busy oiling herself up and spraying Binaca in her mouth, warming up for the big show. "You should probably know that no one has ever so much as laid a finger on my baby grand, Jasmine, let alone their feet."
"I'm sorry. I can move them," I said, but before I could lift so much as a pinky toe, he stopped me.
"Don't. " The quiet still of his voice carried more weight than if he had barked the order.
Luke never took his eyes away from my snatch as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbow. When he was done, he straightened his back and curved his shoulders in slightly as he finally looked away long enough to position his fingers on the keys.
"Um, I haven't played in a while," he said nervously with a shrug of a shoulder. "So, I might be a little rusty."
I already knew this. Right before Luke had called to tell me to be in the car when Riley picked him up from work, Keesha had called to check on me. We talked for quite some time while I wondered around the house. That's when I stumbled upon the room we were in. That's also when Keesha told me that he used to play all the time before the whole cheating whore debacle. When she told me that she didn't think he'd played since, I knew I had to at least try to get him to again. After all, they say music soothes the savage beast. I wasn't so sure I wanted him soothed right before he fucked the living shit out of me, mostly because I thought he needed to release some pent up...something. Rage? Frustration? But maybe if he got reacquainted with something that made him happy once upon a time, it would still be all good.
Was it risky? Yes. But, I figured if I had any chance whatsoever at succeeding, appealing to his sexual nature was definitely the way to do it. Seems Keesha thought I might be a weak spot for Mr. Hemmings, and while I had no intention of exploiting that tidbit of knowledge for personal gain, I definitely wasn't going to deny myself any pleasure that might come my way from helping him learn to live again.
The Cooch oohed and aahed at my sentimentality, and I threatened to close down shop if she didn't knock that shit off. She made a show of buttoning her lip, but kept that smug ass smile on her face regardless. Cheeky bitch.
I was a puddle of goo the moment he made that piano sing the first chord. His fingers moved quickly and expertly along the keys, stringing together notes I didn't think I'd ever heard before, but were beautiful nonetheless. I was afraid for the cleanliness and sterility of his piano, because if he kept playing like that, I'd cum big time, without him even having to touch me. Although, I guess in a way, he was; the fingers making that beautiful music that was vibrating through the piano and across my girlie bits did belong to him, after all.
"Lean back on your elbows, baby," he said without missing a fucking note.
At least I don't think he missed a note. It's not like I wrote the song or was any kind of expert at that type of thing, but it sounded right. More than right really; it was fucking awesome. I wouldn't exactly call it porn music, aka bonchickawowow, but consider this...music was obviously just another extension of Luke, much like his fingers, his tongue, his colossal cock...you get what I'm saying? It fucking moved me, made me feel things that were probably illegal in 48 states. Plus, the way his digits worked those keys...it was obviously where he got the practice in for other things. So I realized, the King of Fingerfuck had apparently changed his name from the King of Pianofuck.
Hey, he can change his name if he wants to. Prince did it, Diddy continues to do it. And as long as he doesn't change it to Knit-One-Pearl-Two, having taken on the fine art of knitting sweaters instead of using them for something more...constructive...I was good with it.
I leaned back on my elbows, just as he'd asked, but kept my eyes on him. Luke was looking right back at me. And when I say he was looking right back at me, it wasn't the Cooch, like I thought it would be. It was me...my eyes; he was looking at me so intensely I thought I might spontaneously combust.
And then it happened.
Without breaking eye contact or interrupting the sexy little ditty he was playing, he leaned forward and placed an open-mouthed kiss to my clit. My jaw hinged open as I sucked in a breath and held it while my legs jerked involuntarily. Of course that messed up his angelic song, what with my toes kerplunking on the keys under my feet and all, but Luke just gave me that smug ass smile and continued on. The only difference between what he was playing before and what he had begun to play was that the notes sounded heavier, more urgent.
He also continued doing that thing he does with those luscious lips and serpent-like tongue. His mouth was hot and wet, his lips softly caressing my south mouth while his tongue expertly manipulated every nerve ending in my body from just that one spot between my legs.
It wasn't going to take me long.
The Cooch was warming up her vocal chords, prepared to give the concert of her life. Oh, hell...please don't let this turn out to be another case of some stupid idiot putting herself out there on live television to be humiliated in front of the millions of people who tune in to watch some clueless fool do exactly that, just because a mother who didn't have the heart, refused to tell the bitch that she CAN'T. FUCKING. SING!
Yes, I am the Cooch's mother, but I had no idea if she could actually sing. Luke, however, had made her hum madly over the short amount of time that they'd known each other. All I'm saying is that he's one hell of a vocal coach.
And speaking of humming...Luke was doing just that against my vajayjay, keeping in perfect harmony with the music he was playing, like he'd wrote the damn thing himself. Which he very well could have.
The muscles in my thighs were shaking uncontrollably and my hips were bucking as I tried to get closer to the deliciousness that was his mouth. I ached for my release and found myself begging for it out loud. The music suddenly stopped as Luke latched on to that swollen little bundle of nerves between my legs and sucked like his life depended on it.
I bolted upright and fisted his hair in my hands to force him to stay right where he was. At the same time as my orgasm took over my body, my head fell back, my thighs clamped around his head and a string of indecipherable profanity left my lips in a voice that didn't in any way, shape or form sound like mine. Swear to God, er... Luke, I think I'd become possessed my some evil, orgasm hoarding demon or something.
It wasn't until after the waves subsided and the tension in my body unwound a bit that I became legitimately concerned that I had cut off Luke's air supply. Death by aspussiation, as opposed to asphyxiation, was not exactly something they'd put on a death certificate, but how cool would it be if they did?
"Oh, shit! Are you okay?" I asked with a panicked voice as I forcefully lifted him by the hair of his head to get a look at him.
He was wearing that I'm-A-Fucking-God smirk on his face as he licked the remnants of my orgasm from his lips and said, "No. But I sure as hell am about to be."
I don't know how or when he had a chance to do it, but as he stood upright, his pants were already down to his ankles and his colossal cock was standing at attention, and...oh hell, was it saluting me?
He lifted me off of his piano and sat back down on the bench with me in his lap. It took all of two seconds for him to lift my ass, position himself at my entrance and then slam me back down on top of him. And he didn't lose momentum from there. Over and over again he lifted my hips and brought me back down hard on him. His mouth was clamped onto a nipple as I held him to me. Even though I was the one on top, I was in no way in control of the situation. It was all Luke...inside me, around me, on me...he was everywhere.
With each thrust of his cock, he went deeper and harder until a light sheen of sweat coated his forehead and began to dampen his hair. My eyes started rolling to the back of my head, and I thought perhaps I literally was possessed, but I wouldn't know for sure until my head started spinning or I felt the urge to vomit pea soup everywhere. I didn't actually think it would happen though because how could something that felt that good possibly be evil?
I came again, digging my nails into his back and I didn't give a rat's ass if I was shredding his designer dress shirt or not. All I knew was that I needed to hold on and never let go. And I did just that, even after Luke let loose this feral growl that should've frightened me, and then came inside me. With a couple of final strokes, he was finally spent and exhausted.
He kept the side of his face pressed against my chest and his arms wrapped around my waist. He didn't even bother to pull out of me. And he was silent. The only sound in the room was the echo of our heavy breaths as we both tried to come down off our high, or maybe we were just trying to make it last longer.
I didn't let him go either. I just kept stroking his air and kissing the top of his head until I finally laid my cheek against it and held on.
I couldn't let him go. I couldn't...fucking...let him go. For the first time since I made the decision to do this, to sell myself into this whole damn thing, I was scared shitless.
When the hell did that shit happen?
It was in that moment that I realized how truly inexperienced and foolish I really was; a small town girl attempting to play in the major leagues with a man who was larger than life itself.
After what seemed like an eternity, we finally released each other and I retreated to the bathroom for yet another shower. I might have needed one, but more than that, I just wanted the time alone to collect my thoughts.
It wasn't until the hot water from the shower hit my skin that I began to silently cry.
The pretenses...oh, God...the pretenses I had been hiding behind, that wall of I-am-woman-hear-me-roar...it all started to crumble in rapid succession. I was nothing but a girl; a girl crushing madly on a man; a man who saw me as nothing but his property. And he truly did own me in every sense of the word.
My mind wondered back to earlier in the day, after the romp in the limo. I thought he said he loved me, and my heart stuttered, felt like it had dropped to the pit of my abdomen, laying in weight to be birthed and handed over to the one person I felt I might actually be able to hand it over to willingly.
But that wasn't at all what he said. Was it?
Which just goes to show you how truly inexperienced I really was. Such a silly little foolish girl.
Luke Hemmings was a man who had the whole world sitting in the palm of his hand, and I had nothing to offer him. But, God help me, I was falling in love with him.
From out of nowhere, Luke appeared, having opened the shower door and catching me by surprise. "Hey, I'm going to go shower in one of the guest suites. Just wanted to let you know in case you get done before-" he stopped talking abruptly and furrowed his brow. "Have you been crying?"
I turned my head away and started wiping my eyes. "Um, no. Of course not," I lied. "That's a silly question. Why would I be crying? I just got soap in my eye, that's all."
He slowly lifted my chin to look at my face and I saw something in his eyes, but before I could let my mind wonder too far into the land of delusional idiots, I realized that it was just a mere reflection of myself. And it scared the shit out of me...again. Because if he saw what I felt...I shudder to think of the consequences. He'd probably take me, and his receipt, right back to James' customer service counter for an exchange...or a full refund.
He didn't feel the same way about me, and he never would, never could.
"Okay, if you're sure, I'm just going to..." he nodded toward the direction of the bathroom door.
"Yeah...I'm good," I said with a fake smile. "Go ahead, you're freezing my tits off here."
"Well we can't have that, now can we?" He leaned in, spray from the shower splashing against his bare chest as he gave my lips a chaste kiss. With a wink and that crooked grin, he was gone.
Just like he would be if he ever found out that I was developing feelings for him, which undoubtedly was not part of the contract. Kind of went against the whole "no strings attached" clause, don't you think? I had to get my shit together and push past my moment of weakness.
I could do it. I could get over him, and be there in the capacity that he needed me, and nothing more. I've survived far worse.
I was not a vulnerable woman. I was strong. I was resilient. I had done everything within my power to help my parents deal with the impending loss of my mother, the foundation of all that we were. I had blindly sold myself to the highest bidder to make sure that she, that we all had a fighting chance.
I could get over this. I had to.
JPOV
The next morning, I found myself sitting at my desk with my hands tearing at my hair in frustration. I hadn't been able to sleep well the night before, probably because the look in Jasmine's eyes when she was in the shower was haunting me. Something was definitely there, something foreign to me, but I'd seen that look before. I just couldn't place my finger on it.
She'd lied to me. She had been crying, and since she wouldn't tell me why, I was left to draw my own conclusions in my mind. It didn't take me long to figure it out. Duh, she was a prisoner in my home. Although I'd pretty much given her free reign, she was still a prisoner, forced to submit to my primal urges whenever the mood hit me. Why had it never crossed my mind before that she might actually find that disgusting?
Sure, a lot of women threw themselves at me, but they did it of their own accord, not because they'd been paid to and therefore had no other choice.
I stood up and went into my private bath. After turning on some cold water, I let it pool into my hands before splashing it across my face. I did that over and over again until I realized it was having no affect. Nothing was going to shake me from the numbness I felt. I grabbed a hand towel to dry my face, but I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and froze in place. I could see it then; I had become the one person that I despised most in the world...Jake Jackson.
After all, what I did was nothing short of what he might have done, except I paid for a long-term contract instead of using her as a one night stand. Then again, Iwas using her...for my own benefit and with total disregard for how this might affect her in the end. And I did it all under the safety net of "she chose to do this, so she knew what she was getting herself into." And while that might be true, it certainly didn't mean I should've taken advantage of that fact. What if she's mentally ill? She didn't really seem to be to me, but what person in their right mind does something like this? Someone desperate, that's who.
If I was taking advantage of her desperation, how was I any different from Jackson? Ignorance really wasn't a good excuse. I should've known that anyone, whether it was Jasmine or some cracked out whore, would only do something like this out of desperation. So, regardless, I was still in the wrong from the get-go.
I went back into my office and looked at the phone sitting on my desk, willing it to ring. Like the masochist I apparently was, I wanted to know what had happened in her life to force her down this path. The savior in me, wanted to help her. Truth of the matter was, I was no savior, I was an enabler.
I must have some sort of super ESP or some shit like that, because it was at that moment that the damn phone actually did start ringing. All of a sudden, I wasn't too sure I wanted it to be Jenks because if he told me that what I suspected was true, that Jasmine was in a desperate place when she decided to do this, I just didn't know how I would handle that.
I took a deep breath to calm myself and steady my nerves and then picked up the receiver. "Hemmings," I answered.
"Hey, Hemmings. Jenks here. Got that information you wanted. Hope I've caught you at a better time," he said with a hint of I-know-why-you-hung-up-on-me-last-night.
I sighed and it sounded despondent even to my own ears. "It's as good a time as any," I answered. And then I waited with bated breath.
"Yeah, well...Got a pen and paper handy?" Jenks asked in his all business voice.
"Shoot," I said as I grabbed a pen from my pocket and slid my notepad in front of me.
"Jasmine Marie Johnson, aka, Jazzy or Jas Clarks." Yeah, like I needed to be reminded.
"She's 22, lives at home in Brooklyn, New York with her parents, Maria and George Clarks. I've got an address if you want it," he offered.
"Isn't that what I'm paying you for?" I asked, agitated.
Jenks rambled off the address and then got right back to it. "High school records show she was a straight A student, but I couldn't find any record of her ever having attended college." I wasn't surprised at all that she was smart; maybe she needed the money for tuition.
"Also doesn't look like she was much into the social scene. Not surprising with a straight A kid. They tend to be recluses." Fuck you, Jenks. I was one of those straight A kids, so I knew damn well that nothing could be further from the truth.
"Seems pretty boring, if you ask me." Ah, but I didn't ask you, now did I?
"There really wasn't much more on her, so I went digging on her folks." Get to the point, already.
"Her father used to be the police chief until he recently resigned to stay at home and take care of his ailing wife, Maria. Maria Johnson is terminally ill, like on death's door terminally ill, and in need of a heart transplant," he said and then paused.
Memories of my mother's closed casket flashed before my eyes and I dropped my pen, suddenly losing control of my motor functions. I had lost the only two people I had ever truly loved on the face of this planet...at the same time, so I was all too familiar with how she must be feeling. And she was there with me, instead of by her mother's side. Why?
I could hear Jenks shuffling papers in the background and then he continued. "Um, they recently came into a large sum of money, donated by an anonymous source. Before that, looks like they were going under...fast. Lots of medical bills, maxed credit cards...Jeez, you'd think health insurance would pay for some of this shit. But then again, no job usually means no insurance." Son of a bitch.
"No police record on Jasmine. I'm going to guess being a cop's daughter probably makes you walk a pretty straight line. Either that or a lot of shit gets swept under the rug. That's it. That's all I've got," he sighed and then waited for me to say something. The problem was, I didn't know what to say. My brain was still processing the fact that Jasmine's mother was terminally ill, and for the first time since my own mother passed away, I wanted to cry.
"Hemmings? Hemmings, do you hear me?" he repeated.
I couldn't say anything. I was choking back the emotions that suddenly rushed at me and threatened to overtake the walls of the dam, which I had carefully constructed to keep those emotions in check, like they were made of twigs instead of 330 feet of reinforced concrete. The grief that I'd felt when I lost my parents...I would've done anything to save them if it had been possible. Anything.
I barely even registered hanging the phone up in my state of shock.
Jasmine had done the most selfless thing any human being on the face of the earth could ask of her. She gave up her own body, her own life...to save her dying mother.
She was a goddamn saint, and I had treated her like a sex slave.
Guilt, like none that I had ever felt before, started eating away at me. Because knowing what she did, and the reason she did it...it just broke my fucking heart.