Sorry for the long hiatus! I've been busy with other writing exploits… more to be revealed…
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Chapter 8 - The Virgin
Marie
Logan threw the feral man out before I saw his boots come to a stop by the edge of the bed.
"You can come out now, sweetheart."
I was still paralyzed with fear. I heard him sigh and the next moment he'd bent down to face me.
"It's a lot more comfortable on top of the bed, ya know."
I let out a snotty, tearful laugh. Of all things to find amusing. He held out his hand, which I took after a moments consideration and allowed him to pull me out. I winced as the cut on my head made contact with the bottom of the bed frame. It was extremely tender.
I leaned back against the bed, sniffing and wiping my nose on the back of my hand.
"Thanks for, you know…" I mumbled. Logan shuffled around next to me, his long legs splaying out.
"S'okay." He muttered simply.
Waves of delayed panic washed over me, like aftershocks, and helpless sobs wracked my chest. I'd been so intent on getting away from that creep that I hadn't had time for anything but gut reaction.
"Don't let him in here again, okay… I'll d-d-do what you want."
He reached an arm out and hesitantly wrapped it around my shoulder.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I really am."
Only then did I allow myself to curl into him and cry until I had no tears left. I managed to cover his t-shirt in snot, but he let me sob into his chest, rubbing my back with his free hand. Once I'd quietened down, he pulled me into his lap and examined my head.
"It doesn't look too bad. The stitches are still in tack. I think we should clean off some of this dried blood though. I'm surprised the medical team didn't clean you up a little."
"Maybe they thought a little muttie freak like myself didn't deserve the extra few minutes it would have taken."
Logan just made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat before tightening his grip on me and standing. He carried me to the bathroom and deposited me in the tub before angling the shower head against the wall and turning the water on.
"Shouldn't I strip off first?"
"It don't matter, they'll dispose of your clothes anyway."
He unlaced his boots and stepped into the shower with me.
"Erm…"
"The time for being shy is over, kid." He pulled his blood and snot stained t-shirt off over his head and angled his head under the spray. His naked torso was every bit as magnificent as I'd imagined. He was impossibly broad, his tall frame well-formed with the corded muscles of a greek god and flawless, caramel colored skin.
It wasn't until he pulled his pants off did I grasp what was happening. My head swam with dizzying realization, or was it just the amount of blows it had taken in the last twenty-four hours. I sat the other end of the tub, gaping at his perfectly sculpted ass-cheeks as I tried to work out how to move again.
Logan seemed to recognize the fear that mobilized me and turned to help me to my feet. I averted my eyes in anticipation of receiving an eye-full. It wasn't only that the idea of sex scared me in the current situation, the topic in general was a foreign concept. Taboo in my upbringing. Never spoken about.
I stared blankly ahead while he undressed me, his hands carefully skimming my skin, not out of fear of it, because obviously he didn't know what I was capable of, but out of some misguided sense of chivalry. Like he knew. But how could he have?
I manifested at twelve, which was about the average age I guess for mutations to show, but I learnt how to control it, and concealed it well enough that my parents didn't even know. But my older brothers friend, Cody, seemed to be able to sense it, the difference in me. He paid special attention to me, and at first, I was flattered. He was just coming up to senior year and as a freshman, I had all kinds of ideas about this beautiful boy I'd do just about anything to please.
He didn't love me. Not in the slightest. Not like I loved him. So when he pressured me into having sex with him, I'd tried to tell myself that it was right. That I wanted it too.
Telling my parents I was pregnant at fifteen was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do. And he made me do it alone.
It was one step too far over the line for my devoutly catholic parents. They said I'd shamed them and there was no room in their family for disgusting, sinful little sluts like me. If I wanted to be a whore, then I was more than welcome to make a go of it myself, out on the streets, making it clear I was no longer welcome in their house.
Obviously, the rough few months on the road took it's toll and my body was left ravaged by the elements, malnutrition and worry. It was no environment to grow a child. I'd lost it. The guilt was still there, deeply-seated inside me. Not only that but fear. Fear that I couldn't do it. That I wasn't strong enough.
"Marie?" Logan's deep rumbling voice snapped me back to the present. He was directly in front of me at eye level, and even in a crouch, I was only slightly taller than him.
"Hmm?" I muttered, wondering if he'd noticed my absence.
"I asked if you wanted me to wash you?" He held the bar of soap in his outstretched hand, an eyebrow raised questioningly.
"Sorry, it's just…"
"I know, you haven't done this before. Don't worry, I'll look after of you."
As his fingers made contact with my skin, I felt a phantom tingle just under the surface, like my body was trying to fight him. But I just stood there, limbs hanging under the warm spray that I hadn't noticed he'd directed onto me. He washed me throughly, almost tenderly while I let him, staring at his hair, darkened and slicked from the shower. I tried not to enjoy the way his long fingers, so different from mine, slide up and down and over every inch of flesh. Cleaning me, taking care of me in a way I'd never in my life experienced. Caressing me like I meant something.
When he'd finished, he laid the bar down on the side of the tub and pulled me against him, the water cascading over both of us. I felt him sigh, the layer of hair on his chest tickling my cheek. His head resting on the top of mine. I could feel his manhood pressing into me also, the proximity of out wet, naked bodies becoming increasingly obvious now I was coming back to full awareness. And with that brought a remembrance of what I had to do. What we had to do.
And amazingly, I still had tears left to shed. He picked me up and pressed my back against the tiles warmed by the spray. He bend his head and brought his lips down close enough to whisper over mine. The sensation sent tiny electrical impulses firing off all over my body. His mouth was gentle but feverish and spoke to some deep, primal part of me I didn't even know existed. Being kissed by Cody definitely couldn't compare to this.
"Please, forgive me." He rumbled, tracing a thumb over my cheekbone. I stared into his deep green eyes, getting lost in the tonal variety and lingering desolation I could just about make out before a new feeling almost took my breath away.
It was a heavy, blunt intrusion, stretching me wider than I'd endured before. Pushing into me slowly with a forced patience I could tell was costing him the earth. His mouth moved to cover mine again, to conceal the involuntary whimper. I was glad I hadn't looked because, my god, if I'd seen the battering ram he was armed with, I would have objected. Nothing could have prepared me for that.
Apart from Cody that one time, I was a virgin. That one time ought not to have counted. My internal muscles protested at the invasion, screaming with pain. It stung, even when he wasn't moving. His cock buried so deeply inside me, the tip smushed against a very sensitive part I wasn't even sure could have been reached.
I gasped with the pressure, the fullness, filling me up. And he must have taken that gasp as something other than what it was, because he flexed his hips and I saw stars. He moved again, face buried in my neck, a rumbling groan emitted from his throat. I started to feel panicky, there was just so much of him, caging me in, pressing into me. Heavy. Immovable. Unyielding.
He must have sensed it because he looked up, an enigmatic look in his eyes I didn't understand, and stilled, brushing a stray lock of wet hair away from my face. And then he pulled away.
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