78 - I love you

"The kindest words my father said to me

Women like you drown oceans."

― Rupi Kaur, Milk and Honey

. . .

I felt him. On me. In the middle of the night.

"Little one." His lips brushed on my neck. I was on my stomach, my eyes wide as I felt his large body on top of mine. "Did you miss having your pussy fucked this past week? It's your birthday, Little one." He kissed the back of my neck after pushing my hair aside. "Why don't I make you limp the whole day?"

His one hand sneaked under my shorts, under my panties. I was wet.

His two fingers rubbed me. I moaned into the mattress, hips squirming as he continued running me.

"This sweet pussy." He rubbed me harder. I moaned, hands clenching into fists. "It's too pretty to not be played with, don't you think, little one?" That's when I smelled it.

The alcohol in his breath.

I tried to get out of under him. Yes, I wanted him. But he was drunk. It wasn't fair to him. "A-Ashton, stop." I tried to get out but he kept going, his fingers continuing their work but no longer did it feel right. "Ashton, get off me."

He kissed the back of my neck. "Mine."

"Ashton..." I winced as he put two fingers inside of me. "Chocolate," I whispered.

He froze. Then, he got off me. "I-I..." I turned, looking up at him. I sat up.

He looked horrified with himself. His hair was messed up. He was dressed in sweatpants, his strong torso on display. His eyes were bloodshot. He hadn't been sleeping and now, he was too much drunk.

"I-I'm sorry," he whispered. I had never heard his stutter before. "I'm sorry, Olivia." He walked out of the room, slamming the door shut, and then I heard it - the cracking sound of his first colliding with a wall. I flinched, clutching the blanket to my chest, my heart beating violently.

After a few minutes, I walked out of the room.

He was sitting on the ground, his head was in his hands. "Ashton."

I kneeled in front of him. He didn't look at me.

"Did I fuck it up?" His voice was a hoarse whisper. "Did I ruin it?"

"Ashton," I whispered, taking his hands in mine. His right-hand knuckles were busted. He didn't look at me. His eyes were fixed on the ground. "Look at me."

He shook his head. "No."

"Ashton..." I cupped his face with one hand, running my thumb on his cheekbone. He didn't look up but some tension left his body. "I'm not mad."

"You didn't like my touch."

"I always love your touch," I whispered, shifting closer to him. He still didn't look at me. I squeezed his unhurt hand with mine, trying to make him look at me with the other but he didn't.

"Look at me, please."

He looked at me. His eyes were filled with tears. My heart broke.

"Don't cry." I cupped his face with both of my hands. "You are drunk. I didn't want to do it when you are like this."

"I always want you." He shrugged as I wiped his tears off. "Drunk or sober."

"It's not your fault," I whispered, pressing a small kiss to his lips. His body eased further. "Okay? You didn't mess anything up."

"Really?"

I set my forehead against his. "Really. Come on." I tugged at his hand as I stood up. He followed me inside the room. I closed the room and led him to the bed.

"We need to manage your knuckles. They don't need stitches."

He nodded as I set him down on the bed. I grabbed a first aid kit from the kitchen and when I came back, he was sitting at the same spot.

He sat me on his lap as I bandaged his knuckles, pressing a kiss to the bandage which made him smile.

"We can cuddle." "Cuddle." He nodded.

"Are your contacts out?" I asked him.

He nodded. "My eyesight is better than yours." "Mean."

A small smile came on his lips. "You love it."

We laid down. He pulled me into his arms and pulled the covers on us. I put my head on his chest, closing my eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"Do you like this mansion?" I nodded. "It's beautiful."

He hummed. "We used to live here as kids. We lived here till Zavier and I were fifteen."

"And then?" I asked.

"Here and there. I always loved the mansion. I just hated everything that came with it."

"Like?"

"Dad. Screams. Blood, so much fucking blood. Once dead bodies piled up in the basement, the smell didn't leave the mansion for days. I couldn't sleep here, I couldn't breath here."

I held him tightly. "We don't have to stay here." "We do," he said. "We need you safe."

"I need you sane." I looked up at him. He looked down at me with those beautiful green eyes of his.

He smiled at me. "Sane," he murmured. "I haven't been that in a while, little one."

"I know," I murmured back. "No one sane would read that book you are reading. How many pages does it have, a million?"

He rolled his eyes. "Little brat. You need a regular spanking, you know that?"

I blushed. "No, I don't."

"Yes, you do." He kissed my lips softly. "I'm your daddy, Little one. What I say goes, remember?"

I bit my lip. "Let's sleep."

"Sleep can't get you out of it." He kissed me again and I set my head against his chest, closing my eyes.

"Mean."

"Always."

. . .

He wasn't sleeping. I could hear the change in his breathing. So, I looked up and he looked down at me.

"You never sleep when you are with me." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"I'm not tired."

"Yes, you are. You look tired."

"I can make you tired in a minute."

I huffed. "Threaten me when you don't have bloodshot eyes."

"I will do a lot worse than that when I don't have bloodshot eyes."

"You have an answer to everything," I grumbled. "Sleep. I won't sleep until you do."

"I'm not tired."

I kept looking at him. "I'll try."

And he did. He slept and I didn't sleep until he did. When I woke up, he was still sleeping.

I kissed his jaw. "I love you."

. . .