Get Out

Both of them were so spent that they’d fallen asleep soon after the first question was answered.

Lucas could hear her little snores when they’d been quiet for a few minutes, and he chuckled.

“I’m more boring than I thought,” he whispered to himself.

In the morning, Layla found herself still curled up in his arms and Lucas—sensing her waking up—continued to talk.

“I went into the military when I was eighteen. I was still enlisted during 9/11…,” he was saying, but she wasn’t quite sure whether or not he was talking to her or to himself.

“I’ve seen things I never want to see again, Layla. They’ve been chasing me for years now, these memories. What about you?”

“Huh?”

“We’re not going to just talk about me,” Lucas huffed.

She knew that was coming. He’d definitely shut down if given the chance.

“How long has Paul been hitting you?”

Layla shuddered. She didn’t want to talk about Paul. If anything, she wanted to forget all about him.

“I really don’t remember.” She shook her head. “I guess it started as verbal conflict, and then he’d grab me or push me…”

She felt Lucas tense up, holding her closer than he had been before they started talking.

“I didn’t think he’d keep on hurting me,” she admitted. “It’s why I didn’t leave. Everyone can redeem themselves, but he never did.

“He just got worse and then…then he cheated on me. He wanted me to look different and be different and I did it because I loved him. I don’t even really know if I’m not in love with him anymore, to be honest.”

She kept talking because Lucas wasn’t interrupting her. Layla was sweet as honey, but she could talk someone’s head off if they allowed it, but it was her anxiety on full blast.

She stopped when she noticed Lucas was shaking. He let her go and got up, walking over to his dresser and pulling out a bottle of whiskey.

Chugging it, he slammed it on the top of the dresser, his chest heaving, his muscles flexing. Layla didn’t know what was happening, but it looked like Lucas was having a panic attack.

Jumping up, she rushed to his side.

“Lucas… Lucas, please talk to me. Do you have medicine? Are you having an attack? What can I do?”

Lucas’s heartbeat was pounding through his chest. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have a breakdown with her there. Not her. Anyone but her.

“I…just…need…you…to…go…”

Layla placed a hand on his arm. She couldn’t leave him like this. What would he do to himself?

“Let me help you. If you want me to be your sponsor, I have to know what’s happening.” Her voice was so soothing, so calm and reassuring.

Lucas had crossed the line. He never should have involved this innocent little hippie.

In a flash, Lucas whirled around and grabbed her by the arms, walking her back to the bed and pushing her onto it with such intensity that her body bounced up a few inches, but he was on her, shielding her with his hard, naked body.

“I don’t have time to play these games with you, Layla!”

“What game are we playing? What did I do?” Layla sobbed beneath him as he hovered over her, his body heat radiating over her soft skin.

“You never should have come into my life! You’ve made things too complicated.”

“Complicated? This is what this is?” She looked around the bedroom. “Is that what I am?”

Lucas lowered his head into the crook of her neck, the smell of liquor invading Layla’s nostrils.

He was so close to her, breathing in her floral scent, knowing damn well she might have been scared, but she wanted him.

“You need to go before I do something we’ll both regret.”

“Tell me what you need from me, Lucas.”

He stared into her eyes. Hints of fear and inquisition danced in her orbs, but also compassion and concern for him.

Lucas leaned into her, placing his lips tenderly on hers. He was desperate for that connection, but he would tear her in half if she gave him what he desired at the moment.

His hard, erect cock was jabbing her in the stomach, so Lucas inched lower as if on autopilot.

“Just go.”

“No!”

Lucas’s nostrils flared, and his emerald eyes darkened. He took one look at her and plowed his cock right into her dry pussy.

Gasping, Layla wailed into him, clutching his biceps.

“Lucas…it—it hurts…”

Lucas stopped, but he didn’t exit her. He dragged his hand to her clit, circling it violently until he felt her arousal dripping.

“Better?”

This Lucas was who they had warned her about, but she couldn’t stop him, nor did she want to.

A barrage of thrusts was all it took for Lucas to find his peak as Layla whimpered beneath him, not understanding what she’d done wrong and certainly not sure why she felt so good and so dirty at the same time.

Lucas shifted onto his knees, exiting her pussy and fisting his fat, throbbing cock while his other hand still fondled her sensitive clit.

Even with his own selfish rage, he catered to her desires. The minute she came, Lucas’s hot cum sprayed out in ropes across her lower belly and parts of her mound.

“Fuuuck!”

She watched as he milked himself empty, her pussy pulsating at his thumb still playing with her sensitive bundle.

“Go clean up and get the fuck out!”

Layla didn’t hesitate this time. She rinsed off, dried, and dressed. She didn’t even know how she got outside or how she made it down the road to her parents’ house, but she did.

The only thing that saved her from breaking down was the laughter coming from the den.

“Home early or late?” Ron teased as he looked up from his paper. Her parents were scheduled to be at a retirement party that day, and she was happy to have a little alone time.

“Both?” Layla smiled, shaking and so sore from her night and now the morning with Lucas Foster.

“Well, as long as you had fun!” Shelly called after her daughter as Layla ascended the staircase to curl up on her bed and sob.

Is that what he needed? Is that what she needed? She wasn’t hurting like that, was she?

She threw herself in the shower, scrubbing off what she could of Lucas Foster. He’d be back though. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot. Layla knew it wasn’t healthy, but she craved him. This certainly wasn’t going to end well.

She finally settled down with a cup of tea and her homework. Her body was so sore and weak, but her brain was fried.

After a few more minutes of trying to focus, Layla pushed her books off the bed and curled up, closing her eyes and shutting off her brain to drown out the world.

***

The flashback had come on so suddenly after he had asked her the questions about Paul.

Her truth raised his blood pressure. It was his rage that took over, but was he any better than the pipsqueak? He didn’t hurt her—or did he?

Was he hurting Paul, another enemy, or was he in battle again when he would zone out?

He had to go to work on the equipment at her parents’ house later on. Maybe she wouldn’t be there.

He shouldn’t have let her walk back alone. He could have driven her home, but he was in a state of complete disgust with himself, and he still had a bottle of whiskey to finish.

He’d seen her parents’ truck drive by before making his way to their house. Of course Layla’s car was in the driveway, but maybe she wouldn’t come outside.

He got to work, and it couldn’t have been an hour before Layla emerged from the house with Dinah. She briefly turned to look at Lucas and then took the dog to the front yard.

“Fuck.” Lucas grimaced, tossing the wrench he was holding on the ground and heading to her.

“Dinah! Here, girl!” Layla tossed a ball and Dinah chased after it. Lucas noticed that Layla was walking with a little bit of a limp, and he wondered if he’d hurt her.

“Layla.”

Layla turned to him and smiled faintly.

“Lucas.” She nodded. It wasn’t in her nature to be dismissive though. “Are you okay?”

“You’re going to ask me how I am after what I did?”

“What did you do?”

“You know what I did.”

“Fucked me?”

Lucas winced. “Yes, that, but…”

“You had an attack, Lucas. I’m not mad at you.”

Layla gazed up at him now. He was practically flush with her body, feeling her heat attacking his hormones once again.

“We’re going to get you taken care of, I promise. It really is okay.”

“It isn’t,” Lucas argued. “I could have broken you, hurt you badly, and that’s something I don’t ever want to do.”

Layla smiled. “Why is that, Lucas?”

His eyes darkened as he remembered so many of his past mistakes that he could never correct—a few he didn’t want to, if he was being honest.

His hands found her shoulders, but she didn’t flinch. Why was she not afraid of him? Hell, her touch alone was all too much for him to handle.

“Because if I ever did that to you, I’d never forgive myself.”