Does It Hurt?

by H.D. Carlton

“I will make you see that,” he vows. “What happened to you does not define you. It only forged a new path that will take you to a different version of yourself. But no one can force you to walk that road; only you can determine who you will be once you get there. It’s your choice who you become, Sawyer.”

“No more running, baby. I want him to come looking for you just so I can have the privilege of ending his life for touching what’s mine.”

“I wasn’t yours then. You didn’t even know me.”

“You were always destined to be mine,” he says.

“It doesn’t matter if he’s dead or alive, he’ll always haunt me,” I rasp, sadness ringing from the truth. “Then I will haunt you worse.” Just when it seems like he’s going to kiss me, he pulls away. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Hey, Enzo?” I call as he helps me into bed. “Hmm?” he hums. “Try to hide the judgment, okay? Kev always used to tell me that no one would believe me, and well… he was right. No one ever did. And I think I prefer that now. It’s better if you think I’m a liar.” “I won’t judge you,” he says softly. “That’s good,” I nod, flopping into the bed ungracefully. The room is spinning, and I would like it to stop now.

“Maybe I will stay here forever,” I sigh whimsically. “Live on in the cave with the glowworms and Sylvester as my neighbor. At least then I won’t have to hurt people anymore.”

“Lead him to me,” he says, his voice hushed and deep with malice. The request is similar to his declaration earlier, and even in my drunk-addled mind, I remember him claiming me as his. My heart stops, then restarts, stuttering and tripping over itself in a syncopated rhythm. Butterflies sprout in my stomach, and I decide they’re fucking drunk, too.

“Why would you do that for me?” I whisper, suppressing another shudder when his hand tightens, fisting my hair until the strands hold taut. I hiss between my teeth as sharp pinpricks bloom across my scalp.

“Because I want to be the only thing that keeps you up at night, bella ladra,” he growls. “And if anyone is going to hurt you, it’s going to be me.”

“I will survive you, Enzo, just as I have survived him. And I will do no different than I’ve done before.” He’s silent as I exhale slowly, then whisper, “I will do what I must.”

Ice so cold descends over us, and I know I’ve accomplished what I set out to do. And that’s just heartbreaking.

“I never found my mother,” he tells me quietly. “I did search for her, but I didn’t search for long. You know why?” There’s a foreboding feeling replacing the electricity crackling in the air. “Why?” I ask, though I don’t think I want to know. “Because she let her sadness transform her into a miserable human being, capable of hurting others just to save herself. She wasn’t worthy of my forgiveness.”

“Bring him to me, Sawyer. I’ll take care of him. I won’t let you get away as she did.”

“She was lucky then,” I whisper, hoping my words were as sharp as his. He doesn’t deign to give me a response, but he does turn away, and I know they were. I can feel it. Did that hurt, baby?

I prefer his fire over ice, his anger over silence, and his hate over indifference. I would take the worst of him if it meant I never had to go without him.

Seeing her is a bad idea. I still want to fucking throttle her, but fuck if I don’t want to kiss her, too. Even worse, I want to protect her while also wanting to protect myself from her.

“Come here, baby,” I whisper, gathering her tiny body against my chest. “I need you to hold on to me very tightly. Don’t let go.” “Goddamn, I’m still not dead yet?” she whines, and Christ, I’m going to fucking spank her the second she recovers.

“You’re not dying.” “You sure? I think I hear Jesus talking to me.” “Then you’re definitely not dying. Jesus would never talk to you.” She snorts, then groans. “You’re right. Maybe it’s just your voice I’m hearing, and that’s my sign I’m going to Hell. You are the devil, after all.” If I’m the devil, she’s fucking Lilith.

“Didn’t I say you can’t get away from me? That means in death, too, bella.”

“I can walk.” “You’ve proven you can fall, too.”

A buzz forms beneath my skin, and now that I’m no longer distracted by her wound, having her this close is dangerous. It feels too fucking good, and rather than my typical anger, it terrifies me. I’ve faced far worse, yet a five-foot-nothing nymph is what brings me to my knees. I want her out of my fucking head, but she’s in too deep.

I have plenty to say, and I will make sure she hears it, but only when I feel like I can speak without wanting to simultaneously stick my tongue down her throat.

What a little shithead. I did die, and he’s just trying to convince me Heaven is real before he pulls back the veil and reveals a hellfire that will burn me alive.

He meets my stare, the muscle in his jaw pulsating. The moment he does, a deep throb pulses between my thighs. My pussy aches from a single look, and if that isn’t giving someone too much power, I don’t know what is.

“I called you weak,” he states. “Why didn’t you correct me?” “Because I am—” “You’re not,” he interjects, voice hard and unyielding. “You’re not weak, Sawyer. You’re exceptional. And I’m sorry I ever validated that misconception.”

“You did something admirable. Imagine what you could do if you only believed in yourself.”

“You ensnare men with your beauty, spin them into your web, and then steal from them. You’re a beautiful thief.”

Our eyes meet, and the fire-breathing dragon in my stomach grows angrier.

Slowly, as if he wants me to make sure I’m watching every move, he leans back against the wall, crossing his arms again and getting comfortable. Water is splattered all over the front of his shirt, and the floor is soaked. Yet, he doesn’t seem to notice anything outside of me standing beneath the stream staring at him with a puzzled expression.

A bead of water catches his attention, and I’m not sure which it is of the hundreds, but I know it’s trailing between my breasts and down the planes of my stomach. His tongue slides along his bottom lip, slowly and sensually, as if he’s imagining lapping it up.

Beneath his penetrating stare, I rub the soap between my palms, then cup my breasts, spreading the suds across them. The heat in his eyes deepens, and his nostrils flare. I can see the outline of his hard cock in his shorts. At some point, he must’ve readjusted, so it’s tucked in the band, and I’m disappointed by that.

Biting my bottom lip, I move my hands down my stomach, across my hips, and over my ass cheeks. He tracks every move religiously, as if the secrets to the universe will appear within the suds coating my skin.

“Brava ragazza,” he whispers, his accent deepening while he drops his gaze, resuming to draw little circles on my skin.

“What does that mean?” I whisper. His eyes flit to mine, and that brief moment is heart-stopping. “Good girl,” he translates, causing a shiver to roll down my spine.

If he asked me to ride him like a cowgirl, I’d have no issue pushing him down and showing him exactly what a wild animal looks like. But asking me to be vulnerable quite literally feels like pulling teeth.

“I’m not going to.” My mouth parts with shock, and I blink at him. “I want you to show me how you like to be touched. Show me how you make your pussy feel good.”

The second his cock is freed, I can’t look away. So fucking beautiful. So fucking lethal.

I implied I could touch myself better. When, in reality, no one has ever touched me the way Enzo does.

He wraps his hand around his cock, and if I were standing, my knees would collapse from the sight. My mouth waters as he pumps himself once, twice, three times, and his head kicks back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he groans.

I slide my hand down my stomach and in between my thighs, biting my lip when he follows my movements raptly. My eyelids flutter when I brush my finger across my clit, teasing myself for a few seconds before dropping lower and dipping my middle finger inside me. I’m dripping wet, and the noises my body makes are vulgar, but I’m past caring when it pulls a groan from deep in his chest.

“T-tell me a truth,” I stutter, hoping he'll relieve me from that painful confession. “I lie to myself every day. I tell myself that I'm so fucking addicted to you because of how sweet your pussy tastes or how it cries so easily for me. But I know it's only because of you.”

“Fuck, Sawyer,” he groans, and hearing my name—my real name—fall from his tongue is my undoing.

“Do you think I’d be happier if I lived in another world?” His response isn't immediate, but it stops my heart anyway. “Maybe. But I wouldn't be.”

“What will take me first? A sea creature or hypothermia?” “You'd run from a sea creature,” he states dryly. I chuckle, turning back to the moon. “You're right. Hypothermia it is.” “That won't happen, either. I don't think you're ready to die.” I shake my head. He's wrong. I've been ready. I've just been too stubborn to give up doing the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Live.

“I’ve never feared death, Enzo. I’m only afraid to live and it all be for nothing.”

“Do you remember why you’re living?” It takes him several moments to answer. “Even as a kid, I was angry at the world, and I was always told that I’d waste my life away if I settled into that anger. Of course, I didn’t care. And until recently, I stayed firm in that way of thinking. I didn’t care about life when I felt so goddamn worthless to the one who was supposed to love me most. Then you came around and stole it from me. Yet somehow, it feels like you gave it back instead.”

“Do you know what attracts a predator to its prey, amore mio?” “What?” I whisper. “When it’s hurt,” he murmurs, placing a featherlight kiss on my jaw. “I love it when you're hurt, baby, but only when it's me who inflicts the pain.”

“You will heal, Sawyer. And as long as you are with me, you will never have to cause pain again. But when you are between my teeth, I will make you bleed. I will make you hurt instead.”

“That's where you will find the meaning of life. And that's where you will find a life with me worth living.” “Why?” I whisper. “You couldn’t even say that you didn’t hate me.”