I'm living my worst nightmare.
Not only am I stuck with Eric for God knows how long, but he has to be with me at all times. Meaning, when I go to work, he comes. When I go out for a walk with Mum or Gareth, he comes. When I venture ten houses up to my parents' manor, he comes.
He always comes.
We've barely spoken the past four days. A few words here and there about food, sleeping arrangements, and the dogs. However, it does seem that he's in a mood with me, dodging me, hardly even giving me eye contact.
I mean, I didn't do anything wrong.
Walking Skye and Diesel is a little less than painful, I don't need to attempt to have a conversation with him. I just hold the leash, enjoy the scenery of Winter while snow falls on and around the dome.
He tells Gareth to fuck off a lot.
He talks to Ainsley a lot.
He avoids me in the house a lot.
However, I don't mind the last one. I can lie on the couch in his bedroom and read a book, spooning Skye while Diesel is downstairs with Eric. He'll pop in with a bowl of food and a glass of water, tells me I better eat before leaving me be.
Then the nights come, and I can never seem to sleep knowing he's so close yet so far. Staring at the ceiling for hours, I'd contemplate numerous times if I should walk downstairs and initiate some sort of conversation to break the awkwardness between us. But I always give up on the idea and fall asleep, usually waking up to the dogs licking my face.
I can't seem to bring myself to use the shower, and I'm sure I can only have so many sink washes before it becomes unhygienic. I tried this morning; I stood in the doorway, staring at the bathroom, took a few steps in and recoiled instantly.
Stupid, isn't it? To be so afraid to walk into a room, to not be able to stand under running water in fear of history repeating itself and no one to save me?
Gareth is aware of my anxiety, I blurted it mid conversation, and ever since he tries to talk me into speaking to someone about it, or my parents, at least. But, in all honesty, telling someone I'm scared of a shower cubicle seems like the most ridiculous thing ever compared to all the other issues people are facing.
I had this type of fear before, back when I was in school. A girl hated me, bullied me so much that I was scared to go to classes, that I'd sneak to the gym room to hide until the bell rang. I felt anxiety when I woke in the morning, just knowing that I had to face her and her snide comments about my looks.
I mean, it wasn't a case of life or death compared to the shower incident, but the feeling of wanting to hide away is definitely the same.
It'll take time, I get that. But being in the now is driving me insane.
Walking downstairs, I stay as quiet as possible since Eric is working, always sitting at the table, his head buried in paperwork. If it isn't live holographic calls that consist of him yelling at his recruits, it's online training with them. Both seem to piss him off enough to open a bottle of beer and ignore me when I'd sit on the couch beside him.
The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, hair a mess from the number of times he's run his hands through it. I can tell from how loose his collar is that he's got a few buttons unfastened, revealing an inked chest.
He doesn't look up as I open the fridge and pour myself a drink, or when I grab a packet of crisps, and he stays completely silent when I tell him that Gareth offered to walk me to work tomorrow morning.
The last part is me trying to get some sort of reaction from him, but nope... nothing.
Falling asleep unintentionally with the dogs on either side, I wake a few hours later to someone raising their voice.
"No, you seem to be the one who can't fucking count. There are five of them here, what the fuck are you looking at to get seven?" Eric snaps each word. "If you can't play this properly then get out of my sight."
"Swear at me again, Osprey, and I'll flip this board and smack you over the fucking head with it!" I hear Ainsley say, threatening him as I'm pulled from my slumber, the room dark, the dogs no longer sandwiching me. "You're going to wake up sleeping beauty, so shut the fuck up, you cockend!"
"She could sleep through a rave," I hear Eric reply to her, and it sounds like Ainsley giggles. "Are you going to speak to her, or what?"
I narrow my eyes, getting out of bed and tiptoeing to the hall so I can listen more clearly. Placing my hand on the wall, I peek over the bannister to see Eric and Ainsley at the dining table, Scrabble set out, a bottle of beer each.
They're playing a board game and drinking together?
"She won't talk to me," she responds, and genuinely sounds gutted. "I've sent her ten-minute voice notes every morning then another at night, but all I get is one-word replies. I know she's going through a hard time, she hates to feel pressured into talking, so I'll let her come to me when she's ready."
My heart twists in my chest at her broken tone, and the way Eric gives her the faintest of a tight smile.
"She's a pain in the arse, though. There are ginger hairs all over my fucking house."
Skye's head snaps to the side, her supersonic hearing must've heard me swallowing, or maybe it's my heartbeat racing that catches her attention. Either way, I edge back enough that I can still see them, but hopefully out of view from the dogs.
Ainsley nods and takes a swig of her beer. "Have you spoken to her yet, or are you still pussyfooting?"
My head tilts, watching Eric glare at her, slowly rolling his shoulders. "I don't need to."
"Shitebag."
"I'm not a-"
"Shitebag," she repeats, and Eric huffs.
I stand back until I feel the wall against me, completely out of sight, wondering what the hell is going on. They don't seem romantically involved, but... friendly?
I don't get it.
Eric hates everyone.
Deciding to clear my mind, I take my towel and fold out fresh clothes onto the bed. Taking a few deep breaths before making my way to the bathroom for my one-hundredth attempt of using the shower, I ignore the arguing downstairs of Ainsley not spelling a word correctly and Eric telling her he's fed up with her shit.
I need to distract myself by facing the shower.
What a strange thing to think.
There are only so many sink washes I can do before it's an issue in itself, especially when I try to rinse shampoo and conditioner from the mane. How hard can it be? Stand under the water, wash, listen to whatever playlist Eric has downloaded and ignore whatever thoughts rush through my mind.
Easy peasy.
Except it's not.
As soon as the bathroom door closes behind me, my heart already starts to pick up its pace, my palms sweating with my iron grip on the towel. I try to push it away, the feeling of the room beginning to shrink, the sound of my pulse in my ears.
Slowly, I place the towel down, my shaking hands causing it to fall on the ground, but I don't pick it up.
I play Eric's music, Led Zeppelin, low from the speakers. I try to smile when I see he has my favourite song on the list... The Cranberries -Zombie. But anxiety is beating me so bad that I can't form any kind of facial expression.
"You can do this, Danielle," I say to myself with a whisper, my voice trembling as I reach for the shower door and scan my wrist band to unlock it.
But my chest constricts, my breath hitching as if I can't inhale, and my knees slam down on the marble flooring.
Darkness starts to crawl into my soul, seizing me from reality. I struggle against it, screwing my eyes shut while my nails dig into the solid surface beneath me.
No... you were so close. Please, keep going.
Wheezing for a breath, I thrust my hand to my chest, gasping erratically as I scamper along the floor until my naked back hits the wall.
My mind is playing tricks on me, because in the shower cubicle, I can see two bloodied handprints, hear the crashing of water, the high pitch scream coming from the pressure building before-
"Dan!"
The discomfort at the side of my head, aching, trickles of blood down my face.
Pain.
Fear.
Death.
I feel a pair of soft palms on my cheeks, my blurred gaze glued to the cubicle as Eric blocks my view, his eyes wide. "Dan, breathe. Come on, just breathe. In and out... that's it. Copy me."
He wraps me with the towel and returns his hands to my face, cradling it.
My nails stab into my skin, tight fists, painful, before I choke out a sob and drop my head onto Eric's shoulder. "I can't... I can't do it... I can't."
He pulls me against him and drags me up into his arms as he stands, telling the dogs to watch out the way while he carries me from the bathroom, down the hallway. I attempt to regulate my breathing, muttering on repeat that I can't.
"What's wrong with her?" I hear Ainsley ask while I whimper against his shirt, my ice-cold soul against his warmth.
"Go home. She needs space, and you being here won't help," he answers as he slowly and carefully positions me on the bed, making sure the towel covers me, then moving my hair out of my face. "She keeps having panic attacks and passing out."
"Why?" she replies, but it's like a tremor in my ears, and I try to concentrate, to not let myself be pulled under.
Through my hazy vision and shivering hands, I can see Eric frown at her with his palm against my cheek. He's so warm, soothing, and I want to hold him or for him to hold me.
I want it so bad.
So, so bad.
"You better be joking," he snarls out the words.
She shrugs. "Danielle's afraid of the bathroom now?"
He shakes his head, walking over to his cupboard to snatch out a hoodie and a pair of shorts. "Fuck off before I throw you out."
She rolls her eyes and doesn't look at me while I try to lower my heart rate, to breathe, to calm my shuddering body. "Arsehole," she mutters under her breath and leaves the room. Seconds later, the front door sounds as it locks.
"Here, you wore this when I found you at the edge of the dome," Eric says, sitting on the side of the bed and helping me to the sitting position, pulling his hoodie over my head while he looks away, same with the shorts. "What else do you need?"
Smelling him on the material, I inattentively release some of the pressure from my nails digging into my palms. I know if I glance down, I'll have red moon crescents deep in my skin, somehow painless.
I had no idea I was even still doing it.
"I... I..." Struggling for words, my face starts to contort as tears slide down my face again, and I shake my head in defeat, dropping back onto the pillow. "I can't...do it."
I'm sore. My head is bouncing, and there is a niggly pain behind my eyes. I'm so cold I reckon my lips are blue.
My fingers have pins and needles in them, tingling. I think my legs do, too.
I'm not sure if this is even real. I'm not sure. I don't know.
My thoughts are jumbled up as I search for words to thank him for pulling me away from the bathroom. All I can do is focus on how much my body is trembling, my teeth chattering, cold as ice. Lost.
I feel like a glitch.
I don't want to be a glitch.
Eric sighs and pulls the duvet up and over me, cuddling it at my shoulders. He leaves his hand there, stroking his thumb across the nape of my neck while little bursts of inhalations make my body spasm. "You've not used the shower since, have you? Is that why you keep washing your hair in the sink?"
I nod once, my lip curling. "How... Um, how did you know I was pa...panicking?"
He raises his wristband. "I have an alert that goes off if any of your vitals drop or spike. Your oxygen lowered and your heart rate had gone sky high."
"Oh..." Biting my lip, I glance up at him. "Don't... don't leave me." I gulp as my eyes water even more. "I don't want to be by myself."
He's silent for a few seconds, before kicking his shoes off, shifting to rest his back against the headboard. Absently, I move to lay my head on his chest, hesitantly pressing my palm to where his heart beats.
He's warm.
So warm.
I want to be as warm as him.
My breathing is starting to even out, my mind slowing down, the pain easing with each passing minute of silence. I'm waiting for him to shove me away, to grab my hand from his chest, to yell at me for trying to cosey into him.
But it's not like that at all. No, Eric stays still as a statue.
"She's your friend," I state, searching for a way to keep my mind off the hallucinations of water around me. "Ainsley."
"Not by choice. She's very... persistent," he replies, sounding each syllable of the last word. A faint chuckle has his chest vibrating against my cheek. "Trust me, she's more insufferable than you, and that's saying something."
I try to smile as a response, gathering the material of his top in my fist as more tears fall.
Just focus on his voice, Danielle.
"But I only tolerate her because of you. When you were in hospital after being trapped in the Neurock, we spoke a lot, and she was constantly asking me what you were doing." He shrugs. "She's a ballache most of the time, though."
I try to laugh, but I just blow out a few puffs of air from my nose, my lip starting to tremble again.
Why can't I stop crying? I'm safe.
It's quiet, only the sound of my faint sobs filling the room, his chest rising and falling. He shifts ever so slightly beneath me, and I release the material from my grip, thinking he may want to get up. After all, this is probably something he will complain about later.
I'll take what I can get in the meantime.
"Um, Dan. I don't want to be disloyal to Richie by comforting you this way, but I'll... I'll help you," he finally says in a hushed tone, one hand on my forearm, the other in my hair, massaging my scalp with his fingertips. "You just need to tell me what will keep you grounded, and we can work through it all." He dips his chin to look at me. "What helps? The stars? Music? Reading?"
I gulp, sniffing as another tear falls down my cheek and soaks his top, listening to the flickering of his heartbeat while I close my eyes, feeling a wave of calm set over me, relaxing into him. He won't like my reply, but I want to be honest.
"You," I admit quietly, falling asleep with him tightening his hold of my body, sighing my name.
_______________________________
It takes us a week to get me to walk into the bathroom to brush my teeth, instead of using the kitchen sink for everything. Eric has been patient with me, especially when I panic and run, catching me in his arms until I can calm down.
The fear has been getting less and less, but I still can't bring myself to close over the door in the shower. I refuse to speak to anyone about it, my new strange version of claustrophobia seems ridiculous to talk about.
Eric disagrees and calls me an idiot hourly.
If he's not walking me to work, standing around while kids get him to colour in pictures of princesses, he's telling Gareth to go fuck himself and standing quietly while I talk with the nurse about my health.
That one was awkward, I had to state that I'm not sexually active, nor do I plan to be anytime soon. Eric had stood silently while she examined me behind a curtain, then didn't utter a word to me until we got home, saying that if I'm shagging Gareth, that I shouldn't lie to the nurses.
I'd told him to get a life and that Gareth is more interested in Ainsley, but all Eric had done was smirk. He's been doing everything possible to get a reaction from me, maybe to keep my mind off everything else. I mean, when I'm not curling into a mental shell, I'm perfectly fine. I'm sitting with the dogs while he works for hours, cooking, cleaning, but that usually gets me a dirty look from him because he seems to like to do those things himself.
We are currently at my parents' place, and I've been chatting with Belinda and Mum while waiting on Eric gathering all the footage that's taken him over a week to get ahold of. He tells my dad that he'll get back to him in two days, giving him a nod as he tells me to hurry up.
Mum rolls her eyes the same time I do.
He's still bossy.
Cheeky.
Rude.
But when I start to lose myself, he becomes soft and gentle, allows me to pass out against him while mumbling that it'll take time.
But he's still rude, especially to Gareth.
Every time we have a voice call, Eric abruptly ends it and tells me that it's not authorised to have anything other than a professional relationship with the security team. He probably forgets that the rule also includes him.
He's not supposed to let me fall asleep against him, or run his fingers through my hair when I struggle to breathe. And he's definitely not allowed to sit in the bathroom, his back turned while I strip down and attempt to enter the shower.
Eric seems to make his own rules when it comes to the two of us.
Once we get back to the house and walk the dogs, I feel ready to try again. Eric is sitting with his back to the wall beside me while I keep my eyes closed, inhaling and exhaling, in and out, listening to his voice as he tells me I'm doing better, to pull my towel up before he sees my tits.
The last part is his attempt to make me laugh, but I just blush and tell him to stop looking.
With the towel wrapped around me, we both face the cubicle with the shower door slightly ajar, the water running, soft music playing. "I don't want to give up," I say confidently, taking a deep breath as I push off the wall to stand, looking down at him as I grip the material to my chest. "Will you stay here?"
He nods slowly, pulls his tablet out and starts tapping on the screen. "I'll sit here. I've got work I'm behind on, anyway. Do what you need to do."
He doesn't look up as I drop my towel, but I can see his eyes on the material bunched at my feet, and I wonder for a second if he'll let his gaze drag up my body.
He doesn't.
As soon as I close the shower door, the warm water pelts against my skin. I do my best to push away the bad feelings, the thoughts, the hallucinations that I'm drowning all over again.
My eyes are screwed shut.
Hands shaking.
I can't even feel the temperature of the water, just the feeling of it rising at my ankles.
Pressure.
The walls aren't closing in on me.
The walls aren't closing in on me.
The walls aren't-
"Breathe, Dan," Eric interrupts my repetitive thoughts, causing me to gasp and press my hands against the frosted glass that's separating us. A red glow shines from his wristband. "You're safe." He's on the opposite side, no longer sitting against the wall, but standing. "I'm here. Nothing can happen to you."
Resting my forehead against the glass, I try to rid myself of the rush of bad adrenaline, choking me like the water had before. Eric keeps talking, and although I have no idea why he's telling me about his army training, I feel myself relaxing into his voice.
"Keep going," I say with a croak when he stops. "Please."
Stepping back with closed eyes, I manage to put myself under the shower again while he mumbles about the dogs. That no matter what, Skye loves him more, and that I'm a terrible housemate who needs to learn how to cook properly.
He calls me annoying, a pain in the arse, and informs me that if he finds one more ginger hair on his clothes, he'll lose his shit.
I smile while I massage the soap into my skin, opening my eyes to watch Eric sit and lean against the glass. He's laughing at something he's just said, but I'm more focused on how much he's easing my broken mind.
He really is my new calm.
I just hope he doesn't eventually pull away and leave me to freefall.
_____________________________
Watching my favourite show with a bowl of crisps on my lap, wearing Eric's hoodie and my hair up in a messy bun, I try not to keep asking if he's found anything while he skips through the footage.
He's been at the dining table for hours while I fall in and out of sleep on the couch, watching episode after episode. After dinner, he had gone straight back to his arsehole self, which, to be honest, I don't really mind.
Soft Eric is easily dominated by his egotistical attitude, narrowing his eyes at me when I turn the volume up to hear the TV over his horrendous low singing.
Radiohead.
He has a good taste in music, I guess.
But I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here.
An addictive little song.
He tosses a pencil at me when I intentionally ignore him calling my name, then follows up by lobbing an eraser at my head.
Childish.
Apart from when my mind goes wild, Eric doesn't come near me, keeping his distance. I get why; he doesn't want me to get any ideas or think that his small acts are anything but a form of comfort for the damaged girl.
By the time the windows all start to tint a shade of black, and I've changed into pyjamas, Eric is still at the dining table, his head in his hands, muttering swear word after swear word.
He's got a beer in hand, huffing as I quietly grab a glass of water and give the dogs some treats. "Are you still watching the footage?" I ask, waiting for him to snap at me.
Eric sighs and runs his hand through his hair. "I'm going through the entire dome's feed to track Robert, but he's not left his place in two days."
"You think he would try to harm me?"
He drops both palms onto the table with a loud thud, turning to me. "Yes," he replies, matter-of-factly. "And as soon as I prove it, I'll personally chuck him out of here."
I try not to grimace at his words as I lean down to watch the screen, my hair over his shoulder. "You really don't like him, do you?" I ask, mouth next to his ear.
He's quiet for a good ten seconds. "No."
"Have you..." I stop, biting my lip. "Did you delete..."
I can't seem to bring myself to ask the full question, but he catches on right away and shakes his head. "No. But I will."
I go to bed not long after, and Eric doesn't reply as I say goodnight.
It must be around two in the morning when I finally give up trying to sleep and go downstairs. Still, he's at the dining table scanning through footage, the screen projecting a three-dimensional image of the manor in front of him as he lounges back on the chair, inspecting it.
He's topless, wearing nothing but a pair of dark shorts.
Jesus.
"You alright? You should be asleep," he says, his eyes finding me in the dark, only the glow from the holograph on his face and mine. His voice is deep, and it vibrates through me as I sit down on the couch.
"I'm okay, I just can't sleep. Did you find anything?"
He clears his throat, standing from the chair and making his way over to me, the image shining in front of him as he sits, leaning forward. "I've scanned through all the CCTV, except yours. I'm about to start it." He moves his fingers in the air, manipulating the projection to become larger. He sighs, lying his back against the leather. "It's probably easier if you watch it with me, you might recognise whoever it is."
"Okay," I reply, gawking at him for a long second.
He's been drinking, but not drunk.
His lashes are long and dark, side profile to die for, and the muscles on his arms, chest, and shoulder are tinted with ink and a natural tan. His bare skin looks soft, and I want to reach forward and feel it under my fingertips. But he'll most likely slap my hand away and tell me that I'm overstepping, and probably start reciting his oath to my dad.
I wonder how he would've been with me if there wasn't a death warrant above our heads. Would he tolerate the idea? Would he still have called me beautiful while I pleasured myself?
Maybe he enjoys the thrill of danger.
I guess I'll never know.
For nearly an hour, we sit in silence, watching, waiting for something or someone to appear. His brows are knitted together, and I think I may explode if his fingers graze my shoulder one more time.
He turns the volume up as the door buzzes, indicating that someone has entered. But he must've not realised it's himself as Eric, dressed in his slim fit suit, walks in, searching downstairs before huffing and walking upstairs.
So moody.
He drops himself onto my bed, sends me a voice note ordering me to hurry the fuck up before we're late, then engrosses himself with whatever is on his tablet.
"You have your shoes on my bed," I say, scowling at him. "You know I hate that."
"Get over it," he replies, trying to hold back his smirk. "Anyway, we can skip this part, maybe the person came while we were at the party?"
I halt his hand from skipping the footage, just as my extremely skimpily dressed self walks into the room, makeup thick on my face, tamed hair, wearing nothing but erotic lingerie and a pair of heels.
"Wait..." I watch as I make my way to the other side of the room, appreciating my dress, running the material through my fingers. "I looked like that?"
"Yep," he replies, looking down at my hand over his still. "We should skip it."
"Please put clothes on... Now, Dan."
My lips part, watching.
Eric is staring at me, not at the screen.
"Are you here to escort me?"
I gulp, watching as he stands from my bed, slowly walking up behind me.
"We really don't need to watch this," Eric says beside me, and I turn my head to face him, his pupils are already fully dilated. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."
I look at the screen again, eyes drawn to his hand sliding up my side, saying something quiet in my ear. "Is it strange that I want to watch?" I ask, licking my lips and removing my hand from over his.
Eric's blues blacken, swallowing, jaw tensing. "No. If it is, then I guess we're both strange."
I stand so I can get a better view of the event unravelling, my eyes widening as he pulls my dressing gown off. My breath catches as I recall the feelings I had gotten. The thought has something warm and pleasuring running up my spine, my neck, heating my cheeks as he drops onto my bed beside me.
I look good. Well, dismissing the fact that I'm caked in makeup, the underwear certainly works. Maybe that's why he couldn't help himself?
My cheeks heat more, chest rising and falling as the present Eric stands from the couch, warm mouth to my ear a second later. "Does it turn you on?" he whispers, both of us watching the screen, whimpering moans sounding around us. I stay silent, and his hands find my hips, his touch under my top sending ripples of electricity everywhere. "I know it does, you don't need to answer me."
My pulse races in my neck, and I know Eric can sense it. He's moving his wet lips against my sensitive skin, prompting me to tilt my head to the side so he has better access.
Delicate and soft, his mouth travels down my throat before nipping me with his teeth.
"It does," I manage to finally say, seeing my back arch against the mattress, remembering how I was feeling in that moment and desperate to feel it again. I try not to wince as he stops kissing my skin. "What about you?"
My eyes widen as he thrusts himself between my slightly parted legs, running the tip of his nose up and down the shell of my ear. "You tell me."
Against my better judgement to make this situation even worse for the two of us, I arch my back, pushing into his hardness, causing him to groan and tighten his hold of my hips.
"You've no idea how destructive you are to me," he says, reaching his hand up to snatch my jaw, twisting my face to look at him, eyes dropping to my mouth. "But I like to take risks, Dan. And one taste just isn't enough."
Heat swirls between my legs, aroused and needy. "Then... risk it."
He groans, his hold on my jaw isn't soft but it's not painful either, turning to the screen to watch myself writhing beneath him. With his other hand taking mine directly between my legs, I close my eyes and part my lips as he applies pressure, causing my palm to push against me.
The back of my head meets his chest, heart skipping as my breath hitches.
Between my fingers, I can feel his, both swiveling on my clit. He has to wrap his arm around my waist as my legs instantly shake from the overwhelming stimulation.
Jesus, I can't even string a sentence together in my head, never mind out loud. But there are two words I can muster up as his lips press to the juncture between my neck and shoulder. "You too," I say hastily and quietly, knees shaking. "You too."
He stops and retracts his hand from between my legs.
"Lie down," Eric orders me as he pulls away, and the warmth suddenly vanishes around me. I look at him over my shoulder, confused and panting. "On the couch," he continues. "Trust me."
I do as I'm told, and as soon as he lies down to face me, he wraps my hair around his fist and pulls it back, elongating my neck. He traces his fingers down my throat with his free hand, his pupils are completely blown.
"Good girl. You're such a good girl for me."
Eric smirks as he hears his own words echo around us, and I feel a tension between my legs, begging to be relieved.
"Fuck. I'm so fucked. I'm so fucking fucked."
The other version of me is moaning considerably loud, and we're lucky that the windows are blacked out and soundproof.
"Eric..."
He gulps, his fingers now travelling down my side, over my ribs, my hip, stopping at my knee so he can curl them around the back and hike my leg over him.
I gasp as our hips connect; his hard cock shoved against me, friction that has me wanting more, needing more.
He's... large. I think I was far too in the zone of my orgasm before to notice just how massive he is.
Jesus.
I remove his hold on my leg, placing his hand directly on his impressive bulge.
He narrows his darkening eyes at me. "Your turn, remember?" I say with a grin, my teeth dig into the corner of my mouth. Shrugging a shoulder, I release my lip, glancing down with a raised brow. "It's only fair."
He doesn't hesitate to dip his hand under his waistband, keeping his eyes on mine. "You do it as well, then," he demands, his gaze dropping between us then back to me.
His shoulder lifts with each stroke, and I comply with a gasp as I reach beneath my pyjamas, my underwear already soaked with arousal. I move them aside and moan, rolling my eyes at the skin to skin contact while I circle my sensitive clit.
"Oh, God," I blurt out, clutching his hair at the back of his head, bringing our bodies even closer.
I now know why he couldn't take his eyes off mine while I did this before. It's fascinating and so... intimate to watch.
My clit slides between my fingers with each roll of my hips, my wetness making it easy to glide down my slit, teasing my entrance before returning to my most delicate area. It's almost unbearable how much I want him to do it.
We breathe the same air as our worlds temporarily begin to collide. Foreheads touching, sweat mixing, his hold on my hair drops to the nape of my neck while he mutters curse words.
"We should stop," he says, but keeps going.
I want to touch him.
I want to be the one who makes him feel this way.
I want to be the cause of his moans and eye rolls.
"I don't want you to stop," I reply, tilting my head, so our mouths are inches apart, his top lip brushing against my bottom, both swallowing each other's groans.
"I can't kiss you," he says, yet his actions speak differently as he takes my bottom lip between his teeth until it snaps back into place. "We've already taken... fuck... taken this too far." His eyes rolls, jaw tensing. "If I do, there's no more holding back, Dan. You'll be mine, and you have no idea who I really am." He nods, as if agreeing with whatever thoughts run through his mind. "We should stop. Fuck, I can't."
"I can't either," I moan as my hips roll against my palm, surprising myself as I reach between us and under his waistband to curl my fingers around his.
He nearly loses it, lowering his head to my shoulder as I move along with him. Thrusting into both our palms, basically on top of me, he does the same by reaching into my underwear to press against my hand.
With my mouth to his ear, I moan and tighten my grip around his cock, pumping quicker. I wince every time I feel his fingers against my clit, stroking, circling, until I eventually pull my own hand out of my underwear and hold him against me.
Eric's head leaves my shoulder, hooded eyes on mine as he too releases himself. He takes my fingers into his mouth, bites down lightly and cleans them with his tongue.
With his hand in my hair, gripping, I moan his name as all my nerve endings set aflame.
He thrusts into my hand while I jut my hips against his, both forgetting the footage playing behind us. Eric shifts beside me so he's hovering above, parting my knees with his, opening my legs so he has more access to my core.
"You're dangerous," he says with a groan, foreheads pressed together, our lips close again as his finger work faster. His mouth ghosts over mine as he grits his teeth and lowers to my ear. "If I kiss you, then you're mine. Not Robert's. Not fucking Gary's. Mine." I gasp as he eases a finger inside of me, my spine twisting so my body arches against him.
"Oh, God," I moan, eyes rolling to the back of my head, feeling myself already starting to climb.
Adding a second, I'm no longer able to move against him from the mind-numbing sensation taking over me, so he moves himself. "Such a good fucking girl," he says through gritted teeth. My body shakes with how fast he's finger fucking me, my moans strangled, words lost. "So perfect and consuming, every part of you," he continues. "You're going to get me killed, but I don't fucking care."
I feel it, the second my orgasm hits. A loud moan is pulled from my throat as my walls close around his fingers, causing him to blurt out several curses and praises. His own thrusts into the hand wrapped around him become sloppy, desperately chasing the feeling, the high, hitting its pinnacle for us both.
Warm against my wrist, Eric finds his release just as I become blinded by mine, pulsing and throbbing against his fingers, my nails digging so deeply into his back, they'll leave marks.
It's not sex, but it feels like we are connecting in such a sensual way that my heart may burst with... excitement? Maybe a touch of happiness? At the same time, a surge of pleasure smacks me so hard, I see stars behind flashing lights.
Panting against my neck, Eric slowly retracts his fingers from me, and I wince, letting go of him.
His cum is all over my hand and wrist, and my glazed eyes find him as he shifts to lie down next to me again, breathless, glistening fingers against his chest.
"Yep, we're fucked," he blurts out, running his free hand down his face and staring at the ceiling. "Fuck's sake."
My heart is racing, sensitive between my legs, staring at the stringy fluid between my fingers. "Eric?" I say his name, so his eyes meet mine just as my tongue runs up my middle finger, tasting him like be did me.
"I hate you," he says while watching, sitting up as I suck on my finger. He shakes his head, raging at me. "Now that's all I'm going to fucking see. Well done, Dan."
I don't answer though, my eyes are narrowed at the screen, Eric's arousal over my hand long forgotten as I feel all the colour drain from my face.
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Thoughts?
Also, this fucker is over 6.7k words long, so there are probably errors because editing longer chapters makes my eyes burn. So, if you see any mistakes, let me know!
I seem to forget how to write smut, so let's thank the lord they aren't fucking yet 🙃!
Make sure you follow me on Instagram (darkxromantic) to see posts of when I'll be updating, teasers, and other shit.
I'm massively behind on replying to comments, I promise to catch up soon!!
And lastly, I've now fully updated the Trapped Series. It's an old version with errors, etc. But you are welcome to read it or wait until the remake.
Stay safe!