Christine Zolendz - Brutally Beautiful

I knew I was far-gone when I woke to an empty bed, after a night of continuously shifting towards the warmth of her body in my sleep, a sleep without the sweat of nightmares, only to wake and find a cold empty spot where I hid my heart. She had it too, and I was intrigued with what she’d do with it. Crush it beneath her little white converse sneakers, or with her bare fucking hands? I didn’t care too much how it was she crushed it, just as long as she did. Pain was just as good as pleasure, because it was something . In a blind frenzy, I dove head first through the tangle of sheets to find her.

She was beyond my ability to put what I felt into words.

Something other than the emptiness.

The hate.

And rage.

But my fucking bed was empty. Empty and cold.

Slipping on a pair of shorts, I stormed past the balcony ready to search the ends of the earth for that woman, but I noticed a small movement just outside. Pressing my hands against the cold glass, I could see her silhouette in the darkness, huddled up on one of the lounge chairs, as soft flakes of snow fluttered down around her.

The door creaked as I pulled it open and her head turned in my direction.

“Jesus—Lain…Sam…it’s freezing out here. What the hell? You’re so cold that you’re shaking.” I hovered over her and gather her small shivering body in my arms, “Bloody hell, Sam, you’re fucking soaking wet.”

Her body shook against me. Then trembling lips touched mine with such a hunger that I was instantly kissing her back, carrying her inside the warmth of the house and thrusting into her so violently, so dominantly that I was afraid I might have broken her. But her hands fisted my hair, clawed at my back and matched my thrusts, her body pressed against mine, encouraging me, begging me for more.

Being inside her wasn’t like any of the empty fucks I’d had before, it was filled with some sort of overwhelming emotion that made me feel like I could breathe. Her pussy was flooded with thick pleasure; her moans were all the music I would ever need to hear. It was pure insanity, crazed hunger that drove me into her over and over again.

It felt…it felt like I had never had sex before. Yeah, yeah, I know how damn crazy that sounds, but…it was the first time the flesh beneath me came with heat, and scent. It was the first time I noticed the taste of someone, the touch that only she gave; the tingle that only her breath could cause on the surface of my skin. It was as if I’d been abstinent for years, alone in a dry uninhabited land, completely unaware of what sex really was.

It was the first time I cared about someone. It was the first time it was real for me. She was just as damaged and out of bounds as me. All I wanted was to seep into her skin, curl myself around her heart, disappear completely and escape into her body. To have her taste on my tongue forever, have her smell and touch drown me, and her face always in my sight.

I wanted to erase everything fucked up that had ever hurt her. I wanted to spill myself inside her and fill her with me, no one else. She clung to me, clawed into me, ravaged me just as I did her, and finally, as sleep crept over her body, I watched her. The repetitive thought of her walking out of my door looped over and over again in my mind. I knew she would leave. I also knew that whatever darkness that held her prisoner was not something she was going to go back to.

I watched her. For hours, I just lay and watched her.

I watched as the first rays of glistening sunlight fell against her skin, soaking it with a golden morning glow. Her inky black hair splayed chaotically across my pillows, her breathing light and even. She lay on her stomach, as the sun and shadows danced their way across the curves of her flesh, unknowing. She laid bare, save for the thick comforter she’d tucked her toes under in her slumber.

She shifted onto her back and a small sound, almost a sigh, passed her lips. Watching the light spill into the room, crawling up her skin, my cocked twitched to life. Hardened rose tipped nipples lay perfect atop her ivory breasts. Her raw beauty paralyzed me.

I watched her.

My tongue found its way to the perfect peaks, and she moaned quietly against me; so close to her smooth skin. Then, with the sunlight slowly brightening up the room, I noticed things I hadn’t seen the night before.

Torrid heat flushed through my body, stinging my cheeks and burning my scalp as adrenaline slammed through my bloodstream. Violent images flipped through my mind, a flash slide show of horror and blood, and Sam .

“What the fuck is that?” I growled before I could stop myself.

“Kade?” she asked in a sleepy voice. She lifted her head off the pillows, wild dark hair spilling past her shoulders, and sat up, tucking her feet underneath her. “Kade? Is something wrong? Is it…is it Dylan?”

Fuck yeah there was something wrong. She had scars across her body; raised fucking ridges of flesh, a pale pink shade that matched the natural color of her lips. Yeah, there was something real fucking wrong, because some of those scars spelled out fucking words. It was a fucking name .

David.

I could feel the anger coiling tight, threatening to explode.

“Kade?” She was looking at me with those beautiful doe eyes, and then realized what I saw and clawed like an animal for the blankets to cover herself.

“No. Don’t,” I whispered, but she continued to scramble for the covers, pulling them out from under my body, tugging and yanking. “No! Don’t fucking COVER YOURSELF!” I screamed. I tore the comforter off the bed and hurled it across the room, and there she sat, naked, alone on my bed with her arms wrapped around her body as if she could hide behind them.

“Who the fuck is David? Was that your husband?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you do that to yourself? Why the fuck did you let him brand his fucking name on you?”

She laid her palms flat on the bed and shifted herself over to the edge, and turned her face away from me, “I wasn’t conscious when he did it.” Moving off the bed, her beautiful lithe form glided across the room and started dressing.

No. No. No, no-no-no-no-no .

All the air just sucked out of my lungs and I had no idea what I could have said. I probably should have said so many things, but didn’t, nothing filled my mind but emptiness. I watched her cover my sanctuary with remorse.

“He had his own branding tool and a butane torch.”

“I’m sorry, Sam. I shouldn’t have yelled. I…I don’t know what to say…I don’t know anything and I want to know everything…”

“Coffee,” she whimpered, standing there in just an oversized tee-shirt.

“Excuse me?”

“I need coffee. I go through serious withdrawals without it,” she smiled then, but I knew she was humiliated, and it drained away part of my impulsive anger, part of it . I knew she was just buying time until she could get out of there and never have to explain anything to me.

So I made her coffee. Because, well, if Samantha Matthews, whoever she was asked me to build her a boat, I would have worked on that too. Placing my hand over my own scars, I tried to think of anything but someone branding her smooth skin. Smooth ivory skin that smelled like apples and cinnamon. Smooth ivory skin that tasted like sweet sugar and felt like soft cream melting under my hands.

That pussy whipped me real good last night. Now I’m hard again .

The coffee mugs clanked as I slid them over the uneven wood of the butcher-block table, and midway across she just reached out, grabbed the steamy hot cup, and brought it to her lips. After the first few sips the relief in her expression was priceless and her shoulders loosened as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.