Memory: Book Two (Scars 2) (7 page)

“The
food here sucks,” he said. “Let’s go.”

I
still couldn’t speak, but managed to get to my feet, following him out.
Everything in me shook, but something else went through me as I slid into the
passenger seat of the car — exhilaration. Aaron drove out of the diner’s parking
lot at no great speed while I stared at him.

“What?”
he asked finally, not taking his eyes from the road.

“That
was awesome,” I blurted out. “How did you do that?”

His
eyes darted to me quickly before returning to the road ahead, his brow
furrowing slightly as if he were surprised by my words. “Practice.”

I
collapsed back in my seat. “That was amazing. Could you teach me how to do
that?”

He
paused for a moment, before saying, “Sure. If you want to.”

For
some reason, I felt unexpected pleasure at him paying attention to me after all
of his coldness. “Great. What should we do now?”

“I’ll
take you back home so you can get some rest.”

“No!
I feel like I’ve been stuck there forever. I want to do something else.
Please?”

“Okay.
What then?” he asked.

“Let’s
go shopping. I need to buy some more underwear.”

He
frowned at me. “You’ve got tons of underwear.”

“Yeah.
But it’s all boring and white and cotton. I like color. Even my clothes are all
pale. I want vibrant reds and purples.”
I want tacky, I want slutty, I want
you under my spell…

He
ended up taking me to an upmarket lingerie store. It was manned by a model-beautiful
assistant who had just the right level of snootiness to pull it off. She cooed
over Aaron, offering him champagne as he settled himself in a comfortable chair
in the private waiting room. However, she didn’t really irritate me like Mandy
did. I didn’t care though. My attention was taken by the stunning lingerie in
electrifying colors and expensive fabrics. I ran my hand along them childishly
before selecting the ones I wanted to try on. I swept into the changing room as
the assistant held the door open for me.

“I
won’t need your help,” I told her with the well-practiced tone that I had
learned from my mother; the one she saved for women who were just as, if not
more so, attractive as her. It was the tone that put them in their place and
told them to back off from her man of the moment.  The woman merely raised an
eyebrow at me and wisely said nothing. No doubt she had come across the worst
of the mistresses and wives whose men brought them here to harness them into
pretty things and ensure that they were eternally whores, wife or not.

The
first one I tried on was satin and lace, and red, red, red, as close to blood
as you could get. I adjusted my breasts in the cups that held them high and
accentuated the valley between them, promising heaven hidden by satin. The
panties were cut high in the leg and garnished with rosettes. I gave a smug
smile at myself before I put on the single red garter — and frowned. My thigh
was slimmer than I remembered. I took in the view of my entire body; all of me
was slimmer, except for the breasts, they had stayed the same. But otherwise I
could see my hip bones jutting out. I touched them, before sliding the flat of
my hand up to my ribs that were in plain view. What had happened to me? I was
still toned so I didn’t look like a complete skeleton, but I had always had
more meat on me than this.

I
studied myself a while longer before taking a breath and forcing a smile. Skinny
freak or not, I had a job to do. I pushed the door open, exposing myself to
Aaron. To my disappointment, his eyes were on his phone and not on me. I suppressed
a sigh and walked closer so that I stood before him, hands on hips and beauty
queen smile on my lips.

“What
do you think?” I asked.

“It’s
fine.” He didn’t bother to raise his eyes from his phone.

“You’re
not looking.”

“I’ve
seen you naked a thousand times. Putting you in a pretty package doesn’t change
anything.” He finished typing his text before finally looking at me. “What are
you trying to do, Rachel? Manipulate me? All you succeed in doing is annoying
me.”

I
felt like I’d been slapped. That was exactly what I was trying to do, but
annoying?
That motherfucker, he should be on his knees at my fucking feet. I didn’t let
my own
annoyance
show. I kept that trying smile on as if it were glued
there. I stepped between his open legs so I was right against the edge of the
chair, my bare legs rubbing against the denim covering his.

“I
don’t want to manipulate you,” I said in a low, calm voice. “Or annoy you. What
I want to do is fuck you. I want you to find me desirable. You’ve given me no
indication that you even seem to think that I’m a…”
girl
“…woman.” That
was what I was now, wasn’t it? A woman? I had always been cursed with the body
of one, but now I really was one, out on my own, playing my own games…

He
gave a slight noise, one of amusement maybe, but I couldn’t be sure. “How would
you like me to fuck you, then?”

I
kept my eyes on his. Could this guy ever say anything nice? Finally, I caught
his hand and pulled him to his feet. He offered no resistance, coming up easily
and letting his phone fall onto the cushion of the chair. I dragged him over to
the floor to ceiling mirrors that dominated an entire wall, my hands going to
his belt, pulling the leather free before delving in to feel his hardening
cock. At least his body worked like a normal, red blooded male’s. That was
good. That told me that there would always be something to manipulate somehow.

In
a sudden, swift action he pushed me up against the mirrored wall, his mouth
coming down on mine. But I managed to swerve my head so his lips met my cheek.
“No kissing. I didn’t say I wanted to make love. I said I wanted you to fuck
me.” I pushed him back from me and turned so I faced the mirror. Hooking my
fingers into the satin of the panties, I lowered them so they sat tantalizingly
just below my bottom. I caught sight of myself, before closing my eyes. There
was nothing about this that I wanted to watch. I pressed myself flat against
the mirror, feeling the cold of it even through the bra and it turned my
nipples rock hard. I waited like that until I felt the hardness of his penis
press against me and steeled myself for it to enter me and rip at my dry flesh.
But instead his hand crept up between my legs to gently stroke and tease. That
was surprising; I had expected selfishness.

I
squeezed my eyes shut, almost mentally willing him to stop. I didn’t like this;
it was like he was manipulating me now, playing my body like it was his toy.
But my body didn’t seem to mind. I couldn’t make my mind wander like it
normally did; because it didn’t
need
to. He would have felt how wet I
was from those fingers dipping in me rhythmically, drawing in and out to massage
around my clit teasingly before diving back in and making me want it to be him
instead of just those fingers.

I
bit my lip because I didn’t want him thinking, knowing, that he was making my
body and mind morph into a horny, undisciplined mess. But he would have,
because his fingers were drenched in my juices. I felt a kiss on my neck, and
that broke the spell. I reached behind me to grab his cock and guide it into me.
It slid in, stretching me and filling me in a way that had a gasp escape from
me much to my annoyance. He waited for a moment, then his hands clutched onto
my hips as he began to thrust into me. I couldn’t help myself, my eyes opened at
half-mast as my head tilted back. In the mirror, I could see that he was
staring straight at my reflection. Our eyes met and held there — there was no
indication on my face of the pleasure that was running through me, and there
was none on his face either. We looked like two mechanical robots going through
the motions. But I must have been broken, because a fast approaching orgasm
made me begin to gasp and quiver, and a grunted “fuck” came from somewhere deep
inside me. For some reason, I felt like I was losing a competition, but soon I
didn’t care as he held my body up as I came. He must have come at the same time
because he gave several violent thrusts before sliding out of me.

There
was no moment or pause for him to catch his breath. He merely fixed himself up
before going back to the chair that he had been sitting in. He arranged himself
there and took a sip of champagne before directing all his attention toward his
phone once more. I stood where he had left me, except I had turned to face him
now. My bra was askew, showing nipples, and my panties still sat mid-thigh,
sticky now and soiled with his cum.

“How
are you getting on?” The sales assistant pushed her over made-up face through
the curtain.

“I’ll
just take these,” I muttered to her, pulling my bra strap back up. If she were
surprised, she didn’t reveal it, merely disappearing back through the curtain
as she fought a smile. I didn’t look at Aaron again as I shoved through the
door of the cubicle and let the bra and panty set fall to the ground.   This
guy was so frustrating, but he had made me cum like no other.  The way he took
control was unsettling and didn’t sit well with me, yet at the same time, he
had completely turned me on. All sense and thought had flown out the window
with just a mere instance of his attention.

I
dressed quickly and smoothed my hair down. Perfect, I looked perfect once more
and there was no indication that I had lost control minutes before.

“Ready
to go?” I asked Aaron brightly as I took the soiled garments toward the sales
counter. He was still on his phone, and didn’t even take his eyes from it as he
got to his feet and followed.

He
paid with cash, not blinking at all at the cost of those scraps of fabric. They
fit into a tiny bag that the woman handed over to me. “Enjoy your day,” she
chirped.

I
didn’t answer her and just walked out the door, swinging the bag that smelled
like Aaron’s cum.

Aaron
dumped me back at the house. “I’ve got stuff to do. I’ll be back later,” he
told me as he walked me to the front door and then left me, heading back to his
car while the day nurse opened the door for me. She gave a shaky smile and I
realized that she smelt like alcohol.

“How
are you feeling?” she asked. “Oh, you’ve done some shopping. Do you want me to
help you put them away?”

I
held the bag of soiled lingerie to my chest. “No, thanks. I’ve got it. I’m
going to go and rest.”

“All
right, then. Just call if you need any help,” she said cheerily.

I
made my way back to the bedroom and threw the bag into the corner. Suddenly, I
did feel tired and kicked off my shoes and lay on the bed. I had planned to
resume my search for my phone but even that felt like too much effort. Thoughts
of Aaron intruded in my head, but that just gave me a pounding sensation in my
brain so I tried to think of other things as I lay in bed and pulled the covers
up to my chin.

Where
was my Mom? She had always been there for me — until the last time. A
bitterness arose again and I tried to push it down. It was best not to think of
that. I didn’t sleep, there was too much in my head for that. Instead I lay
there while hours passed. Dinner was brought to me by the dreary night nurse
who couldn’t fashion her thin lips into any kind of smile if you paid her, so I
gave up and treated her with the same disdain that she treated me. 

There
was no sign of Aaron until later, when the moonlight streamed in through the
glass eerily. He stole in like a shadow, slipping in beside me and wet drops
hit me. He must have showered in another room. He smelled nice, like powder and
cinnamon.

“Where
have you been?” I asked quietly as I turned to face him.

“Working.”
His tight, one word answer was enough to tell me not to enquire anymore.
Instead, I moved my hand over his chest. I slowly felt every muscle that formed
him, each dip and bump. My fingers brushed against his nipples, and I felt him
tense slightly. I paused, before brushing over them again, just lightly. They
hardened beneath my touch and I ceased any movement; I couldn’t even hear him
breathe. The only sound was from me: shallow, even breaths. I listened to my
breathing for at least a minute, before shifting closer to him, dipping my head
down to rest against his chest. There was a heartbeat; it thumped loud and
clear, and for some reason, that pleased me.

I
moved again, away from his chest and that thumping, before letting my tongue
dart out to lick at one nipple that was pebble hard already. Boldly, I opened
my mouth and took the whole of it in. My mouth sucked softly at first, almost
as an experiment, and then I suctioned my lips to his skin and sucked hard. No
man had ever had my mouth on him like this before. Other parts…of course, but
the nipples weren’t as seductive as a kiss on their salivating mouths nor my
tongue massaging an aging penis.

But
this, his hard hairless chest, beckoned me. It made me want to touch. And the
scariest thought was that it made me desire. I released that hard peak in my
mouth and dragged my tongue across to the other, inhaling his clean scent. That
nipple was already hard and awaiting me. My tongue rolled around it before
drawing it in.

A
hand reached up to touch my hair and at first I stiffened. I was used to this,
their touch starting off as kind and then gradually turning to a firm grip to
hold me there until all their needs were met. My scalp would burn, my mouth
would ache, filled and stretched with pungent flesh, and a nagging voice would
needle at me…
whore, whore, whore
.

Aaron’s
hand didn’t tighten or push or pull. Instead, he let it slide down the length
of my hair to finish on my back, before running up again in a motion that could
nearly be considered affectionate. This sparked an unexplained desire in me to
please him, and I kissed down his chest and over a stomach that could have been
carved of stone. Pushing the blanket further down his length, I came face to
face with his cock. It stood to attention, waiting for me, and gently I stroked
it. I cupped his balls with one hand while I grasped the base of his shaft with
the other and very slowly, almost teasingly, I set to work with my mouth,
sucking his balls into the hot, wetness of my mouth while my hand stroked him
so slowly that he was sure to ache with need.

Then
I ran my tongue up from the base of his cock to the head, lifting myself up so
my breasts were exposed. As I worked my mouth back and forth, I peeked a glance
at him where he lay propped up on the pillows, watching me.

Whore,
whore, whore

His
hand touched my hair again and I steeled myself for when he would push me down
to deep throat him, ignoring my gagging until he spurted forth into my mouth a
sickening substance that would linger for days no matter how many times I
brushed my teeth.

But
he didn’t. “Come ride me,” he ordered softly. I didn’t need to be told twice,
my fingers went to massage myself in preparation as I crawled up to position
myself on him. It was no surprise that I found myself already moist and wanting.
I carefully slid him into me and it was like he fitted perfectly. Only when I
began to move my hips did I dare another glance at him. That stare was still
intently on me, and part of me wanted to hide from him. Instead, I lifted my
head high and shook my hair away from my face. My back arched to present my
breasts at their best and I began to fuck him like it was my last day on earth.

At
some stage, his hand crept down to sit trapped between us, and that was all I
needed to spur me on, It was like I forgot about him completely; he was just a
tool, something for me to ride and use to achieve my own heights. I moved at
just the right speed to bring me closer and closer to coming, and his fingers
curled up at just the right moment. I threw myself down against his chest and I
ground against him, hiding my face in the curve of his shoulder as moans
escaped me. My open mouth rested against his skin, and I couldn’t resist the
urge to bite him lightly as I came. The slight grunt that emitted from him may
have been a combination of his coming and the bite, and I felt smug in the
knowledge that I had forced at least some kind of reaction from him.

I
lay there breathing heavily for a few minutes, and it would have been better if
he had wrapped his arms around me, but he didn’t. Finally, I lifted myself from
him and rolled onto my back, running a hand through my hair that was now damp
from sweat. He wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were firmly on the ceiling. I
looked too, and there was nothing there but more of that perfect, untouched
white that seemed to glow in the dark.

Then
he sat up and ran a hand through his own hair, before swinging his legs over
the side of the bed and walking to the bathroom. I switched on the bedside lamp
just in time to see his back disappear through the door, and my eyes widened.

Crisscrossing
the well-muscled curves of his back, were stripes in all directions, twisted
scars that made my stomach turn. I still hadn’t recovered from the sight of
them when he returned, passing a towel to me as he got back into bed. I took it
and wiped at the cum dribbling out of me before tossing it to the floor and
turning the light back off. He still lay on his back, and I could tell that his
eyes were open.

I
moved slightly closer to him, tucking my hands close into my chest in case I
had the urge to touch him again. “Aaron?”

“Yeah?”
he said in the dark, his head didn’t turn toward me.

“You
don’t love me…if you did, you wouldn’t be so cold with me.” He stayed silent,
and I bit my lip before continuing. “But that’s okay. What I wanted to know
though,” I swallowed, my throat suddenly too thick and my tongue too clumsy,
“is do I love you?”

More
silence, and I felt my cheeks flush, but then his voice came through the dark,
clear and emotionless. “No, Rachel.” A weird disappointment surged through me,
and I was just about to turn my back to him and curl up alone on the cold side
of the bed when he spoke again. “You despise me. You try to tell yourself that
you don’t, you continually try to talk yourself into believing that you have
some kind of sick and twisted love for me to justify your actions, but it isn’t
true. All you have is hatred that you’re too scared to admit, because then
you’d have to act on it.”

I
cleared my throat, unsure of what to say. “Why do I hate you?” I held my
breath.

“Because
I’ve done bad things…I still do.”

I
wanted to know more, but I was also scared to delve any further. “Then…why do I
live with you? Why am I here?”

There
was a pause. “You’re lonely, and it’s easier to live with someone like me who
you hate and can readily admit is a monster, than to go back to that snake of a
mother of yours and pretend that she loves you and you love her.” He swallowed.
“That’s why you stay with me.”

I
kept my eyes on his silhouette as I took in his words that brought up more
questions and uncomfortable truths that made my head hurt. He knew what my
mother was, and that meant that he knew what I was.

I
shifted away from him, curling up into a little ball and hugged myself,
suddenly cold as my heart began to beat rapidly. Then I thought: fuck it. I
unwrapped my limbs and moved over to where he lay. My hand slid over his chest,
trapping him there under my arm as I rested my head next to his on the same
pillow.

After
a moment, he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Playing
pretend.”

He
didn’t respond, but I felt his chest move up and down in a rhythmic beat.

“Aaron?”

“Yeah?”

“Why
weren’t you scared of those guys today?”

He
laughed, and it was a pleasant sound. “They were pussies. They were all show
without the balls to do anything.”

“But
what if the gun had gone off accidentally? What then? You would have been
dead.”

“Everything
in life is a risk, Rachel.”