CHAPTER 3
I grabbed the marble top in my bathroom with one hand and bit my palm with the other, trying to stifle the buildup of my orgasm.
“Rowan please,” I whimpered as his tongue lapped at my folds, my body a frenzy of vibrations and silent sobs of pleasure.
Smack!
I heard the sound of my ass getting slapped all over the house.
“Celeste?” Claire's concerned voice rang out in response, shock and pleasure lighting up fireworks in my head.
“Mhmm?” I replied, my voice muffled out of fear of moaning loudly if I let my lips go — Rowan had sunk his fingers into my cunt and was fucking me rigorously while his tongue played a high piano set on my clitoris.
“Are you… are you alright?” She asked, adding guilt to the mix of intense feelings in my body.
“Yes!” I screamed out as my orgasm hit me like a bullet train, my ass vibrating from the force of my body having an out-of-body experience.
If you ever wondered why I keep letting a strange, invisible being take me in this way, it's because of this moment right then, it was so good I'd thought I'd do anything to keep having it. He didn't even stop afterwards, he kept licking the effect of his work, sucking all my juices with dedication.
It threw all of my common sense out of the metaphorical window.
The door handle began rattling, and I remembered Claire was terrified that something was happening to me.
“Claire you really do not want to be in here, the stench isn't best friend friendly,” I told her, trying to squeeze in a bit of humour into my tone.
“Please Celeste,” she begged, her voice gradually descending into tiny sobs, “if anything happens to you, I'll –”
I jerked the door open, half of my body behind the door, because Rowan just wanted to be wicked, and I saw my friend.
“I promise I'm fine, I just have a really stubborn, y’know,” I told her, my voice completely different from what even I was used to — strangled yet loud.
“Oh okay, I thought… you know,” she sniffled, wiping her eyes.
“I'm not going to die so quickly, I still have to prove to my parents I can survive without them,” I told her, the memory of them sobering me up a bit. “I'll be out in a bit and you can turn me into your human pillow as always.”
She nodded and turned around, the cute onesie she loves wearing in my house making her look ridiculously cute, going to bed in my studio apartment to lie back down.
I closed my bathroom door, quite pissed.
“You have to leave,” I whispered into thin air like a madwoman.
But he didn't make that feeling last long as he replied immediately, his voice a bit louder than mine.
He didn't like inconveniencing himself.
“SHE needs to leave,” He grunted, his tone one of finality.
I sighed in irritation. I hated when people made me have to stand my ground.
“Look,” I sighed, raking an arm through my 3b hair that I needed to take care of before going to bed, “you know what's been happening. We girls need to stick together; who knows where this serial killer is lurking? She's my best friend, we need each other.”
“I'm your everything now. Tell her to leave,” he ground out, more insistent.
It's the first time I'm saying no to him and he probably didn't know that I was consistently working on my resolve. I was done being a pushover.
“And I said no Rowan,” I insisted. “Before you appeared out of thin air, Claire had been here for me. And when you go back to wherever you came from, wherever that is, she'll be here too. This isn't a permanent arrangement anyway, I'm sure this serial killer situation would be resolved soon and we can go back to you making my neighbours wonder why my speakers are suddenly always loud.”
“Hmph!” I heard his last protest and then the cold absence of him.
I took in a shaky breath, hating the way I always felt whenever I stood my ground.
I used to do whatever everyone wanted, craved their approval, and feared the unknown behind my refusal.
Now, I didn't care how it made them feel; if it didn't align with who Celeste is right now, I'm standing my ground, even though it had my bones shaking and I felt like I was reaching for air.
But as usual, I reminded myself why I was doing this, why I was trying so hard to rebuild my mind from what it used to be.
I had something to prove.
I finished up, washing the remnants of Rowan's activities and a quick bath. Then I got into my longer pyjamas, rather than the lingerie set I got because of him and had been wearing a lot these days.
I crawled into bed, suddenly feeling tired, like I'd been running on external fuel for a while and now, I was out of it.
Claire, as usual,, rolled over, placing her head on my arms.
She did that with her mom when she was younger, then with me, and now her boyfriend always gushes in excitement every time she's sleeping over because she's in love with cuddles.
I sometimes still felt bad that no reasonable person wanted a proper relationship with me in all of Nevada, and I now had to be with a ghost, but whenever I got home, he made me forget all about my worries.
I felt a pang in my chest at the thought that I might have chased him away.
Claire stayed at mine for two weeks afterwards, and my clothes looked hotter on her as she found a way to turn my gothy clothes into a runway-worthy fit.
I didn't mind it, the entire time, I dressed better because of her, and I caught side glances that weren't filled with hate from the people in my community.
But Nevada's stroke of good luck wasn't a good one.
We'd had some sort of reprieve from all the dark news, security measures were relaxing and Claire was even planning on going back home.
But Friday night came and went.
And in its wake, another body, the girl's life taken without consideration for how much she had achieved in her twenty one years.
While we mourned her, asked questions, and parents held their children tighter, Tuesday rolled around and another young, twenty-three-year-old was found dead, with the familiar sunken eyes and no obvious cause of death saturating her body.
The town erupted.
Protests began.
A curfew was called and the police were patrolling everywhere, making movement really difficult.
The Saturday after that, another girl died.
I walked back from the laundromat. I didn't drive much because my job made me sit down a lot. When I got to my apartment, I saw Claire's Mom's car in our driveway.
I rushed upstairs, my heart beating.
I opened the door to see bags packed, mine too.
“What's happening?”
“I'm taking you girls out of here baby,” her Mom said, making my heartbeat fast.
How do I explain to them that I have a protector who would never let anything happen to me?