Perfecting Patience

“Oh, you want control of me, huh?” He tilted his head up and sucked softly on the side of my neck.

“That depends. Are you controllable?” I bit down on his shoulder and he hissed into my hair.

“Hell no, but it’s fucking hot watching you try.” He lifted his hips and pressed into me.

“Good. Then keep watching. It’s about to get hotter.”

Twelve

Zeke

I was content. Happiness and relief was found in the eyes of my snowflake. I never thought I’d feel that kind of peace again. Yet there I was, being straddled by the only woman to ever make me feel anything emotional. I was overcome with a sense of joy that I’d only ever felt with her.

Leaning up, I wrapped my good arm around her and latched on to her hip. Pulling her onto me and closer, she lowered her head and laid her soft lips against mine. Tiny noises spilled from her lips as she worked her body slowly back and forth and up and down. Breaking the kiss, she threw her head back in pleasure. White strands of hair covered my arms and tickled my thighs when she leaned back. It was such a beautiful thing to watch.

The curve of her slender neck caught my attention. My eyes followed the dip of her collarbone down to her perky pink breasts. I ran my thumb across her flat stomach, allowing it to dip into her belly button. Her body shook with my touch. I loved how responsive she was.

I let her have complete control of me. She was the only person in the world I gave that freedom to. She was the only person I’d ever allow that for the rest of my life.

Her old couch dug into my back as she pressed herself to me over and over again. I lifted my hips for more. I’d never get enough of her. Never.

The rest of the night was a blur of twisted limbs and the sounds of Patience whenever she came. It was a beautiful sound, a sound that I tried to hear as much as possible.

After passing out exhausted, I woke with a throbbing hand. Looking over at the clock, the number one flashed at me. Sleeping through the night was something I was having a hard time doing lately.

I peeled Snowflake’s arm from my chest and slipped from underneath her. At some point, we ended up in her bed. Her place was cozy and felt like home, but that could be because she was there. Home was wherever she was.

I flipped on the bathroom light and looked at myself in the mirror. There was a faint hickey on my chest and I ran my fingers over it. I turned my back to the mirror and pink scratch marks were scrawled down my back. Patience was becoming a bit of a wildcat in bed, and I loved every minute of it. After taking a piss, I washed my hands with something that smelled like coconut, took two of my pain pills that didn’t seem to do squat, and then turned off the light and went back into the bedroom.

The sounds of soft whispers filled the room, and I wasn’t sure what Patience was trying to tell me.

“What did you say, baby?” I asked into the darkness.

There was no answer. I’d never heard her talk in her sleep, but there was a first time for everything.

Slipping back into the bed, I pulled the covers back and pressed my body against hers. She was so warm and sweet. Throwing my good arm around her, I pulled her tighter into my embrace.

At that moment, everything changed. She lashed out at me with her fingernails and dug them into my face and chest. I pulled back and grabbed her arms the best I could, but the cast and the pain made it hard.

“What the hell, Patience?” I asked as I pinned her arms to the bed.

Still, she kicked and wiggled her body as if she were trying to get away. Using my broken hand, I reached over and turned on the lamp next to the bed. It hurt like hell, but I pushed through. Looking back down at her, the soft light illuminated her face and all I could see was fear. Her eyes were still closed, but she looked so afraid it broke my heart.

She continued to struggle.

“It’s me, snowflake. Wake up. It’s me, Zeke.”

Nothing I said made it past her barrier of fear. She continued to kick, catching me occasionally in the shin. I put my leg out and pinned her leg with mine.

“No! Don’t touch me! No more. Don’t touch me!” she screamed over and over again.

“If you’d stop kicking me, I’d let you go!” I yelled back.

I wasn’t sure what the hell her problem was, but I wasn’t about to let her hurt herself or me.

“Please, Daddy, just let me go.”

And then I knew. Raw sickness filled my gut and I wanted nothing more than to take it away. You hear stories about people who’ve been sexually molested and the lives they lead after such a traumatic event, but I thought she was better. She always seemed so happy and improved.