Page 48 of Love Hate

I reached out and grabbed a washcloth from the bar next to the shower and wet it, adding soap before gently cleaning the wound. I didn’t care if he liked it, I still felt bad, and I’d feel worse if it got infected.

He stood there and let me do it without a word. And when I was done he allowed me to shove him under the showerhead to rinse it clean.

Since he was already there, I grabbed his shampoo and scrubbed it into his hair, tipping his head back to rinse it then following with conditioner.

The whole time he stayed pliable, not saying anything, just letting me take care of him. And I wondered if this was how it was supposed to work. I figured it was the least I could do, after he let me fuck him, hurt him and mark him.

Once his hair was rinsed he leaned forward and kissed me, then stepped out the shower, leaving me to finish cleaning up on my own.

I really, really liked fucking him. But if this was how it was always going to be, I was going to have to get a lot cooler with a whole of shit. Because as good as I felt physically after that, I felt kind of gross emotionally.

Andy was already dressed when I stepped out of the shower and I was glad to see that I’d bitten him far enough over that it couldn’t be seen.

“Hey,” he said, stepping toward me and grabbing my face in his hands. “Don’t spiral on me. Please.”

“I don’t like it,” I said. “I think that was too far for me.”

“Well, it wasn’t too far for me,” he said. “But you don’t ever have to do it again. It was a heat of the moment thing. And every time I move I’ll feel it, every time I change I’ll see it and I’ll remember how good I was for you.”

“So it’s like…a merit badge?” I asked.

“Something like that, yeah.” He beamed at me and it was quite honestly the most genuine smile he’d ever given me. “It doesn’t have to make sense to you. But please don’t be sorry. Because I’m not.”

Yeah, I was definitely going to have to do some more research if we were going to keep doing this. Because I wanted to make him happy, definitely wanted to see that smile again. But I just didn’t understand why he liked it.

“I have to go to church,” he said. “And then I have to study my own stuff tonight.”

“Fine,” I said with a fake sigh. “I’ll just have to occupy myself with like, football and the rest of my classes.” I snagged him around the waist and pulled him into my chest. “I’ll call you.”

“You fucking better,” he said, smiling at me again. “Now put some clothes on and get out of my house.”

“Yes, sir.” I reached out and swatted his ass he headed out, leaving me alone in his bathroom to get dressed.

By time I exited the bathroom, Andy was already gone, so I collected my stuff and headed home. My head was a jumbled mess of happiness that we’d finally taken this step together, fear at how much he liked being hurt, and confusion about how willing I’d been to do it.

Chapter Twenty-Four

~Andy~

I spent the next two days feeling lighter than I could ever remember being. After having sex, real, actual sex, with Trevor, I’d expected to be wracked with guilt. But it never came.

I was just…happy.

Too happy to tie myself up in knots over what was happening. Not this time. And even if this feeling didn’t last, even when the inevitable crash came, I knew I had to appreciate what we had while it lasted.

As I got out of my car, I was so distracted by thoughts of this unfamiliar happiness that I didn’t hear the footsteps behind me.

“A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be walking through dark parking lots alone,” a man said from behind me.

I whirled around to see Mark Tafta, his arms crossed over his wide chest and a smile barely visible through the shadows across his face.

“Fuck off,” I snapped, turning back toward my apartment building.

“Language, Father Simpson,” Mark said coldly. “Man…what the hell is the deal with you?”

“What do you want?” I asked, spinning around to face him again.

“I want to know what’s so fucking special about you,” he answered, stepping closer and leaning forward, sniffing my neck.