𝖡𝖤𝖳𝖱𝖠𝖸𝖠𝖫 𝖲𝖤𝖱𝖨𝖤𝖲 #2
"Stefano..." I open my eyes and awaken from the lust. My hand is still on his erection. I'm about to protest to how wrong this is. How friends don't do this to each other.
"Please...just- fuck it."
He placed his lip...
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RAENI
When I was a small girl, I would watch the door to my moms room bang consistently as the shouting got less and the screams got more. I would be immobile and watch, paralyzed with fear.
That was me watching Derek ruin everything in our room because a male touched my hand for too long and I didn't break it. The handshake. Not the hand. Although, I think he would've preferred I break his hand.
"You sat there, completely oblivious to the looks he was giving you. You sat there and did nothing." He seethed like a rabid dog. I was sure the smoke coming out of his ears were not completely apart of my imagination.
"What was I to do?" I asked him, completely tired from the whole day.
Our date was turned in short when he finally had enough of the waitress and threw a fit. I suggested we go home and we did. As soon as we got home, I regretted ever leaving that restaurant.
"Leave his fucking hand." He screamed at me and resorted to trashing my whole entire dresser. I kept my eye on the door, wishing I had just dashed out of there while he burned a pathway through the floor from his walking up and down.
"Sorry."
"You're not sorry." He dismissed me and sat down on the bed.
I flinched when he got up, the instant wind from his swiping hand as he punched the air. I fisted the bed sheets and bit my lip to suppress my tears. I looked up and prayed that he continued to get his anger out on everything else but me. My bruises were just starting to heal.
I checked at him behind me, his whole body heaving up and down from rage. His voice so hoarse and tired of screaming and acting like a hybrid wolf.
He wasn't wrong. In that moment, I was sorry for causing him so much stress and frustration but now, I'm not even fazed about it. In the bedroom, I was. Everyday until he passed on, I was. But now? Not an ounce of empathy.
His hand reached out to mine and he tugged me. I knew he wanted me but I wasn't sure because he was still shaking from anger.
"I need you, please." He begged. I got up and sat on him, my legs on either side of him, trying not to look at him. He placed his head on my chest and kissed the middle of my chest. "I'm sorry, mama."
Was he? No, this was just a facade.
He grabbed my hand and slowly applied pressure to it. I winced but let him be because I thought he was going to stop. He didn't stop. He kept on pressuring my hand, and I yelped.
