Chapter 111

MADDISON

I’ve been daydreaming about my homecoming since the night I left Asher alone in bed. The one thing that’s been on my mind?

Sex.

It’s odd, really. Before, sex was a chore, something expected of me. I never hesitated to give it because I was trained to be a slave to every man I met.

But now, I haven’t had sex since my last encounter with Mr. Fennick, and I’m craving it. I fantasize about sex a lot. Carmen thinks I need to control myself, or I’ll spiral into a world of promiscuity.

Apparently, that’s a common reaction to childhood sexual trauma—using sex to regain control over past experiences where I had none. But I won’t deny that I did have control over some of my encounters, especially with Jonathon and Mr. Fennick.

Even if it was minimal, I had my terms. I’ve changed so much in the past few months that I feel like a completely different person. The girl who was fighting to survive is gone, replaced by a girl filled with anxiety and self-loathing.

I killed two men… Even if they deserved it, I didn’t deserve to live with this guilt. I wasn’t thinking that night.

I was barely aware of my thoughts, let alone my actions. Nightmares haunt me. The shock and anger in my father’s eyes as I shot him, not once but twice.

Or the way Mr. Fennick’s lifeless body jerked on the floor as I fired the third bullet. Sometimes, my shoulder still hurts. The memory of the gun’s recoil is what haunts me the most.

I took two lives—and I’m still free. It’s almost inexplicable. It’s horrifying to think that I, capable of such actions, am walking around free.

I should be in prison, serving life sentences for the lives I took. But Asher’s dad, Callum, took the blame. He told the police it was him, that they attacked me, and he shot them to protect me and his wife.

That night, I listened to him repeat our story while waiting for the police to question us. He showed me that a well-crafted story can sway the police. Apparently, guilt is shown in inconsistencies, among other things.

Back then, I was so numb from shooting two people that I managed to recite the story perfectly five times to two different officers who looked at me like I might break at any moment. Maybe I would have.

I clearly wasn’t in my right mind. Anyway, dinner’s over, and we’re sitting at the table, avoiding eye contact. It took a lot of persuasion for me to come home to Asher.

I had planned to go to one of Violet’s halfway houses. I wanted to get a job, make friends—spend time with girls who’ve been through what I have.

But I kept thinking about Asher and the longing deep in my gut. He’s been visiting me every week for months, and I’ve looked forward to each visit.

We’ve gotten to know each other as much as we could in the limited time we had. But now we have all the time in the world, and the next few weeks will determine the future of our relationship.

But tonight? Tonight feels like a homecoming. Tonight will show me if this intense pull toward him is real or just in my head.

I stand up from my chair, the silence pushing me to move. To keep myself busy to stop the flood of memories behind a fragile wall of sand. It’ll crumble, and I’ll have a breakdown, only to rebuild it again.

But I’m stronger now than I was before, and it’s been weeks since my last slip instead of days. I start washing the dishes and pans left in the sink, losing myself in the routine that keeps my mind occupied.

Asher’s hands encircle my waist, startling me. His touch sends my heart into a frenzy, only to be calmed by the familiar scent of him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you… I’ll speak before touching you next time,” he murmurs into my neck.

“It’s okay; I was just lost in thought,” I reply.

I abandon the dishes on the counter, reaching for a towel to dry my hands after pulling the plug from the sink. Asher spins me around, his hands on the counter trapping me in.

“I want to take you to bed, Maddy…”

“Then take me to bed,” I whisper.

His eyes flicker between mine in a way I’ve never seen before, and then everything shifts. He leans in, kissing me with one hand cradling the back of my neck.

The kiss is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. It’s passionate, intense. He lifts me up, guiding my legs around his waist.

As if I weigh nothing, he carries me through the apartment and into the bedroom. His lips never leave mine. It’s like a scene from one of those romance novels I used to read.

Everything feels like a fairytale. He lays me on the bed as if I were precious, moving my legs aside to settle between them.

He continues to kiss me, holding most of his weight off me with one arm. His other hand explores my arm, shoulder, and down to my breast.

He moves slowly, as if memorizing every curve of my body. His hand continues its journey, stroking under my breast, over my stomach, resting at my hip as he pulls away for air.

“Don’t stop…” I plead in a voice I didn’t know I had, with a desire I didn’t know I possessed.

I want this; I’ve been yearning for this. I need to connect with Asher like this, because if not him, then who?

I know I shouldn’t be thinking like this in such an intimate moment, but I need this. I want sex. And with him, it’ll be safe.

He cares for me, and I care for him in my own way. I hope that my feelings for him are deep…genuine, but only time will tell.

Carmen’s warned me about the need for sex and what it might mean for me. She also cautioned me about my feelings for Asher, that they might not be what they seem.

But then why do I feel this intense attraction toward him? Asher effortlessly removes my clothes, leaving me bare beneath him in an instant.

I reach for him, pulling his shirt over his head. My nails scrape down his back as they descend to his waistline. His body is a landscape of taut muscles, and his buttocks are no exception.

The firmness of his ass is just as enticing as the rest of him. Things progress quickly. His kisses trail from my lips down my sternum as he positions himself between my legs.

He looks up at me, his eyes framed by long lashes as he kisses my pubic bone.

I wince, realizing I hadn’t prepared myself for this, but my untamed hair doesn’t seem to bother Asher. His lips explore my most intimate area, kissing me as if he has all the time in the world.

I yearn for him to taste me, but he doesn’t. He moves up my body as quickly as he had descended. He lifts my leg to the side, settling between my legs and pushing past my resistance—entering me.

He makes love to me gently, slowly. So slowly that it’s both endearing and frustrating.

His urgency only comes as he nears climax. His movements become rapid, his finger rubbing my clit.

I’m pleased to say we climax together, both reaching the peak of pleasure before floating back down to the bed in silence.

At some point, he moves down the bed again, resting his head on my stomach.

Once again, we’re met with silence, but it’s not long before sleep comes knocking.

Some might label it a satisfied quiet, and I’m perfectly okay with that.