After yet another nightmare, I jolted awake, my heart racing as the familiar terror gripped me.
In the same dream I had been having ever since we had arrived in Malibu, I found myself behind the wheel, hurtling toward an unknown destination before a violent collision sent me careening into death's embrace.
The worst part is that I would witness my own fucking death. As in, I could see my body getting ejected from a car and crashing against a hard surface.
As consciousness flooded back, I reached out, expecting to find comfort in Zyran's presence, only to encounter emptiness. Panic surged through me, propelling me out of bed, my trembling legs barely able to support me.
Grateful for the single-story beach house, I stumbled forward, feeling a presence behind me, its breath hot on my neck. The world blurred into a frenzy of red, my senses overwhelmed as I collapsed, screams tearing from my throat.
"Make it stop!"
"Raya!" Zyran's voice cut through the chaos, grounding me as he enveloped me in his arms, coaxing me back to reality, I hoped it was at least. "Raya, I'm here. Try to calm down, please."
"Have you...Where...Zyran..." I clung onto him, tears cascading down my cheeks. "Sshh, it's okay, I've got you."
"Don't ever, please, do this to me." After a little episode, I would always have difficulties talking or expressing myself correctly. He didn't know that but he stood by me anyway, which I was very thankful for.
"I'm sorry, baby. I'm here now, breathe for me."
We stayed like this for an hour before going back to bed.
In his embrace, I found solace, grateful for his unwavering support even when I couldn't articulate my emotions. As we laid together, I realized the extent of my dependence on him, unsure whether it was a blessing or a curse.
******
2 days later
"Come on Raya, you've got to eat," Zyran said, his tone gentle as he handed me a bowl of cereal.
"I can't or I'll throw up," I retorted, frustration edging my voice at his persistence.
He rolled his eyes. "You only threw up yesterday because you ate a rotten apple. Not all food is poisonous," he explained, his frustration apparent too. Though he was right, I still didn't want to eat anymore.
Ever since the sudden episode two days ago, I'd been having this eerie sensation, as if a looming threat hovered on the horizon. I attributed it to my schizophrenia, but it persisted, refusing to evaporate.
When I refused to eat once more, Zyran pushed the bowl away, frustration evident in his actions. "I'm trying to take fucking care of you, but it won't work if you push me away like this," he blustered, his eyes narrowing at me.
"I don't need to be taken care of! You're my boyfriend, not my doctor. I need you to be there for me, not to tell me to take my meds or eat if I don't want to," I snapped, screaming in his face.
He scoffed before closing the distance between us, our noses almost touching. "I'm here for a reason, aren't I? What kind of shitty fucking boyfriend would I be if I didn't give a fuck about what you do or don't do? I love you, that's why I feel the need to take care of you. What part of that don't you understand?"
"Just know your fucking place, Zyran," I spat out, my voice dripping with fury.
His eyes flashed with hurt and anger, his jaw clenched. "Fuck this," he growled, shoving his chair back with force as he rose to his feet.
"Yeah, run away like you did two days ago when I actually needed you!" I bellowed from the patio. He froze in his tracks, and though I only saw his side profile, our eyes locked. "Fuck you, Raya," he seethed before storming off.
Excuse me, he said what?
"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" I yelled, my head was spinning and voice echoing through the house as I chased after him. I followed him into the living room, my anger still boiling.
But when he finally turned around, the look on his face stopped me in my tracks. The anger and hatred in his eyes cut through me, a sight I'd never seen from Zyran before. It shattered me, but I stood my ground, knowing I was in the right.
"I'm talking to you and your ungrateful ass," he spat, jabbing a finger into my chest. "Don't fucking touch me."
"Or what?" he challenged, leaning in until his piercing green eyes were inches from mine, his breath warm against my skin, his hair grazing my forehead.
I couldn't help but be drawn to him, even in our heated exchange. The intensity of his gaze and the sudden feel of his hands on my hips sent a shiver down my spine.
In that moment, I couldn't decide what was more attractive: his anger or the sexual tension between us.
He pressed me against the wall, his hand tightening around my throat, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "What are you gonna do?" he challenged, his voice low and dangerous.
I met his gaze without flinching, a hint of amusement creeping into my tone. "What do you want me to do?" I countered.
"I want you to kiss me," he murmured, closing the distance between us until he towered over me, his presence suffocating in the most intoxicating way. "And," he continued, his breath hot against my skin, "I want to fuck your pussy until you apologise."
I stopped breathing for a second, or two.
"Yeah?" I questioned, feeling the tension crackling between us. Without hesitation, he wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling me closer as his lips hovered dangerously close to mine. "Yeah, kiss me," he breathed.
I seized his head, drawing him in as our lips collided in a fervent, passionate kiss. His nails sank into my hips, conveying his pent-up frustration as he unleashed his anger upon my body.
His teeth grazed my lip before he bit down gently, sending a surge of desire through me. As his hand trailed down, finding its way to my clit, I pressed my head against the wall, surrendering to the overwhelming feeling of his gracious fingers.
His lips trailed along my neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses, while his breath came in heavy, uneven bursts. "Good fucking girl," he murmured huskily, his voice sending electricity coursing down my body. "Ride my fingers just like that," he whispered before nipping at my earlobe.
His movements quickened, syncing perfectly with the rhythm of my body as I arched my back and bucked against him. His fingers found the perfect spot, eliciting a scream of ecstasy from deep within me as he plunged a finger inside, sending me over the edge.
Our bodies pressed together, the heat between us igniting as I began grinding against him, my muscles clenching around his fingers. "I'm gonna cum," I muttered, my voice barely a whisper amid the haze of pleasure.
His grip around my throat tightened, his voice low and commanding. "You better fucking apologize for being a brat then."
"I didn't—Oh! Do anything." I stuttered, interrupted by the overwhelming sensations coursing through me.
He placed a gentle kiss on my temple before chuckling. "Is that so? Well, I'm gonna keep playing with that clit, and you better hold that fucking orgasm in," he commanded.
As he moaned in harmony with me, the struggle to hold back my climax intensified. Every touch, every stroke, pushed me closer to the edge, but I couldn't let go, couldn't give in to the pleasure.
"Fuck. Get on the couch." He ordered.
A second later, I found myself flat on the couch as he penetrated me, his pace agonizingly slow, yet each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through my now sensitive body.
"Please. Faster," I pleaded, unable to bear the torturous slowness.
"Apologize, and I will," he teased, his voice laced with amusement.
His hand found my clit, his touch sending sparks of pleasure radiating through me. "That pussy feels so fucking good around me." He groaned. "Why would I rush a single thrust when you feel so good?" I could practically hear the smirk in his voice.
In no time, I was shaking and bucking uncontrollably, his relentless assault pushing me closer to the edge with every stroke.
"Okay, fuck. I'm sorry, Zy," I gasped, finally giving in to his demand for an apology.
"Fucking finally," he chuckled before flipping me over, his thrusts becoming more intense and unrestrained. "Be fucking loud when you cum," he commanded.
I did exactly as he asked, my body convulsing with pleasure as I clenched and screamed, my eyes locked with his as I reached my orgasm, coating him in my release.
A few final groans and harsh thrusts later, he pulled out and collapsed on top of me, his body trembling with the intensity of his own climax. "I'm sorry too." He apologised out of breath.
I gently brushed his hair away from his face, meeting his gaze with sincerity. "No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have screamed at you like that," I began, my voice soft with remorse. "I know you're taking care of me, and I really appreciate that. You make me feel normal, and I just want it to stay like that."
His hand cupped my cheek as he shot me a soft smile. "Baby, you having schizophrenia doesn't make you any less normal to me. You're perfect the way you are." He reassured before kissing me.
"I love you."
"I love you, Zy."
It's almost the end of the book so you know we gotta get to the real damn story...
(10/02/2024)