Samantha's P.O.V.
Once we got home, I cleaned Alan up, making sure I didn't ask about it. He seemed pretty shaken up, but once I was done and he let an icepack sit on it for a few hours, he looked extremely better. The swelling had gone down tremendously and his bruises weren't as dark as before.
As soon as I was done and realized how bad he looked, I thought about how glad I was the wedding wasn't any time soon, but then I almost stopped breathing. The wedding was in three days. He immediately asked what was wrong and I told him, then he said the same thing had been on his mind.
We both decided it would be best to push it back, not because of his wounds, but because Danielle. I never go a second without thinking of what they are doing to her. Especially after they pulled out her fingernails. Who the hell even thinks of something so cruel?
I've been reading to keep my mind off of Danielle, the wedding, and everything that's going on, or at least try to keep it off my mind. I may have added some wine with the reading, but just a glass. Okay, a whole bottle...and a half. Two. It's bad, I know. It helps calm the nerve sometimes. The last time I drank like this was when mom died. It isn't a good idea for me, considering what happened last time when I smacked Dad for calling me an alcoholic.
"Babe, you ready for bed?" Alan asked, scratching his shirtless chest. My eyes grew wide, and I smiled, biting my lip. "Oh, no, I know that look."
"What? I'm not doing anything," I said as I played dumb. He's muscles flexed as he reached to pick up the empty wine bottles.
"Are you drunk?" he asked, slightly humored, slightly ashamed.
I held up my fingers, showing him just a tiny bit, and to my surprise, he laughed.
"Come on, let's get you to bed," he replied. I stuck out my arms wanting him to carry me. The house was too blurry to walk. "Oh, goodness, babe."
One of his arms wrapped around my back and the other around my legs as he carried me to our bedroom. I wrote Mrs. Alan Dusk on his bare chest with my finger. He gave me a look with a raised eyebrow and knew I was too drunk to remember any of this in the morning.
He put me on the bed and went to the dresser for some pajamas. Before he even shut the drawer, I was striped down to my undergarments, and once he turned around, his eyes widen and raked my body.
"Come on, babe. Stop toying with me," he said, but it sounded as if he was begging me to stop before he couldn't control himself. I shook my head. "You know I don't want to when you're drunk. I'm not going to take advantage of you."
"I'm not that drunk," I informed him, pulling him over to me by his hand. I pulled him down to my level and whispered into his ear, "Maybe I want you to take advantage of me."
"Stop," he groaned, knowing he wanted it, too.
I planted kisses all over his chest, making my way lower down his body each kiss. Just as I was about to kiss right about his boxer waistband, he pulled me up and crashed his lips onto mine.
Our lips moved in sync as I straddle his waist. My fingers were tugging at his hair as his hands were on the small of my back, supporting me.
Just as coldness took over the spot where his lips once were, a small whimper escaped my lips, and I could tell that he was smirking at me. But I was soon satisfied when he placed his mouth at the base of my neck, planting small kisses up and down it.
When he sucked the tender part of my neck -- more likely to leave pink marks in its wake, but not hard enough to make them last longer than a few seconds -- I bit my bottom lip in attempt to keep quiet, but the way his fingers dug into my hips drove me crazy.
"Alan," I moaned, flushing immediately.
As soon as I felt him smile against my neck, the sudden weight of embarrassment was lifted off of me, and I felt this burst of power over him. With this strength, I pushed him back with both hands, kissing him on his lips, hard.
Taken by surprise, Alan didn't kiss me back immediately, but when he did, he took back the control by flipping us over to where I was underneath him.
He pulled away from me, sighing, he said, "I can't do this."
"Why not?" I asked, curious and hurt.
"Sammie. This isn't right. It isn't fair to you or me. I mean, Danielle is all by herself somewhere and we are about to have sex for our own personal pleasure."
He has a point, but I wanted Danielle off my mind.
"Please, Al," I begged. "I want her off my mind. I don't want to think about what is going to happen to her or about the wedding. I just want you to make me forget for a bit. Please?"
I think within the short speech I sobered up a bit. I was seeing more clearly what he meant and I knew he was right, but I wanted this. I couldn't have Danielle on my mind for the next thirty-one hours.
He shook his head.
"Why? I mean, it's not me, is it?" I asked, knowing it will set him off if I asked if there was something wrong with our relationship.
"No, I just. I want to, believe me, but I don't when you're drunk and under these circumstances." He put his head in his hands and ruffled his hair.
I crawled over to the side of the bed where he sat and kissed his shoulder. Taking his hands in mine, I rested my head against his bare back and just breathed. He was completely right, I hated that he was, but he was. It wouldn't even be him taking advantage of me, it would be me taking advantage of him.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"Me too," he whispered back.
___________________________
I'll update once I do a quick proofread!
Shout-outs: harrenstyles, cheesefists, MaddyS3115, ohschist, Diksha_and_borkalita, and unicorn_ways
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