Sirens blare around me. The strobing red and blue lights from the emergency vehicles dance across the tress lining the rural road. The smell of burnt rubber and smoke mingles together in the crisp night air. Shattered glass and debris litter the pavement beneath my feet.
Blurred silhouettes of EMTs and firefighters dart past me in their frantic rush towards two mangled, hunks of metal a few yards away.
The first vehicle appears to be the remains of a SUV. The front end and its mechanics resemble a crushed aluminum can with the engine cavity having been pushed nearly into the cab of the vehicle. With that amount of damage, this vehicle had to hit the other head-on at an excessive speed.
My attention is drawn to the other vehicle in question as the majority of the workers flock to its side. Unlike the first, the second car was struck square on the driver's door. The collision causing the car to flip multiple times before settling on its roof in a ditch. The workers hack and pull against the vehicle, struggling to create a wide enough opening in the torn metal to free a lone occupant.
Even though the car is practically unrecognizable from the wreck, something about it sparks a feeling of familiarity. I can't explain it, but I feel as if I know that car, that I've ridden in it before.
I hesitantly take a step forward to get a better view of the vehicle through the congested mass of workers. They appear oblivious to my presence, not so much as batting an eyelash at the sight of a civilian approaching an accident scene during a rescue.
Before I reach the wreckage, something catches my eye. In the grass a couple of yards away from the scene is a purse with its contents strewn over the area. It must have gotten thrown from the summersaulting car.
I spot a canister of breath mints, a shattered cell phone, and a makeup bag – items that you would expect to find in a women's purse. However, a wave of recognition flows through me once again, as it did upon first seeing the car.
Puzzled, I bend down next to the purse and rifle through it for anything that could explain my current feeling.
Ah ha – a wallet!
Expired gift cards and worn receipts are tossed aside until my fingertips graze the plastic edge of a driver's license. I hold the card up, squinting in the darkness to decipher the name.
Elizabeth Rachel Owens.
The flimsy plastic rattles in my trembling hands as my eyes travel from that to the upside-down car, where firefighters have finally managed to force open the vehicle and remove the bloodied body of a woman.
My mother.
Time slows as I jump to my feet and sprint towards the growing circle of medical personnel surrounding my mother's unresponsive form.
Despite my pace, I just can't seem to get to her. It feels as if there is a physical force holding me back. I fight against it with all my strength, practically crawling on the ground to reach my mother, but invisible arms lock around my torso, holding me in place as her image begins to slip away from view.
"Mom! Mom!" I screech into the darkness. Reaching my arm forward in a desperate attempt to get to her, even though the distance begins to grow between us. Her lifeless form eventually fading into the darkness.
"Nooooooo!"
My entire body violently jerks, the tail end of the scream still on my lips.
The ear-piercing sirens have been replaced with an eerie silence. My sight, no longer blinded by the rhythmic, flashing lights of the emergency vehicles, scans my surroundings to gain a sense of orientation. The overwhelming darkness doesn't do much in aiding my endeavors.
Am I still dreaming, or is it finally over?
I hold my breath, waiting for the nightmare to continue, expecting to see my mother's broken body reappear before me. For the madness to resume.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Relief washes over me at the realization that the reality-mirroring nightmare was no more.
The feeling is short lived upon feeling an unknown force tightening around my torso, slightly pulling me back. My arms and legs flail in panic, attempting to escape its clutches.
Shit – I'm still dreaming! Whatever this is, it's still trying to prevent me from reaching my mother.
The more I fight, the more the invisible hold increases at subduing me.
I blindly jab my elbow towards the direction of the unknown aggressor, feeling the point of the joint connect against something hard. The blow stuns them enough to release me, allowing me to roll away in the opposite direction. I'm startled when the ground suddenly disappears from under me, giving me the sensation of free falling for the slightest of moments before landing hard on the ground.
I've nearly gotten to my feet, ready to flee, when a wave of light floods the space, blinding and disorienting me on the spot.
"Motherfucking Christ! What the fuck!" Negan hisses. His voice hoarse from sleep.
Once my eyes adjust to the light, I notice that I am crouched next to Negan's bed, and not in the middle of an accident scene as I had previously thought. Negan sits on the side of the bed from having turned on the lamp, hand rubbing the side of his temple. His face contorted into a painful grimace.
"You care to explain why you're throwing elbows in the middle of the God damn night like it's the UF-fucking-C?" Negan slowly states through gritted teeth, shooting me an ominous look. "And it better be a damn good one."
I struggle to find words. Absolutely mortified that I had mistakenly struck Negan while in my disoriented state.
"I-I wasn't, uh. I d-didn't mean –."
"If you don't spit it the fuck out, I swear to motherfucking God…." Negan runs his hands through his already messy hair in frustration.
"I was having a bad dream and I thought that I was being grabbed by something. So, I started to fight back, but apparently, I wasn't actually dreaming like I had thought previously." I pause and take a deep breath from having rattled off the explanation at record speed. "That's when I must've hit you... I was scared and very much out of it. Please don't be mad." I advert my eyes, too afraid to meet his burning glare, knowing that he was livid with me. I can't fathom the punishment that will stem from this.
Negan considers my reasoning before releasing a sigh. He raises his hand and beckons me to join him where he is sitting with his back against the headboard.
"So, bad dream, huh?" Negan questions once I'm situated by his side. "Must've been some crazy shit for you to go all Jackie Chan on me."
"That's one way of putting it." I mumble. Still dazed and rattled from the nightmare.
"Why don't you come sit on my lap and tell me all about it?"
I disregard Negan's advance, keeping my gaze downcast.
"Come on. What was it about? I mean, is this going to be a nightly thing? Cause, if so, I'm investing in a fucking helmet."
In the back of my mind, I know that he will only keep hounding me for details until I give him something to work with. It's no point in keeping it from him. He would dig out the truth sooner or later.
"There is this one reoccurring dream that I've experienced since my mom passed away. What just happened was only another encore showing of the same painful shit." My hand brushes over my cheek, wiping away a lone tear.
Negan lowers his head. "Damn, I figured it was some heavy shit. You were screaming bloody murder in your sleep. I figured I'd be a good husband and try to calm you down, but you damn near knocked me the fuck out the second my arm got around ya,' he lightly chuckles, tapping the spot where I had struck him.
'Anyways, that shit is no fun. We don't have to say another fucking word about it if you don't want to."
I slowly nod my head in appreciation. I only wish to move on from the nightmare. Trying to explain to Negan the dream itself will only reopen the wounds. What's the point in doing that when there is already guaranteed anguish the next time that I have the nightmare? You get used to the pain after awhile. I would much rather reminisce on the times of joy with my mother than of the heart-wrenching reminders of her loss.
"You know," Negan leans into my personal space and gruffly whispers, interrupting my thought. "I can think of a thing or two that we can do to get your mind off things." His hand drifts towards my thigh, giving it a slow squeeze.
I stop myself from smacking his hand away, remembering his uncomfortable reprimand from the other night. Instead, I settle for a subtle eye roll. "Do you ever think about anything other than sex?"
"Well, right now I'm thinking about what it's going to take to get into your pants. Does that fuckin' count?" Negan raises an eyebrow. I feel his fingers dance dangerously close to my inner thigh, his actions serving as a nonverbal reiteration of his statement.
I involuntarily tense at the contact and shift my leg away from his touch. Again, I realize that sleeping with Negan is part of the agreement, I just didn't imagine that the moment would come so soon. His forwardness about the whole thing causes my anxiety to spike. Can I do this?
"You gotta give me something to work with, doll." His tone impatient. "Can I at least return the sneaky little peck that you gave me last night?"
A small grin flashes across my face. Of course, he was awake for that small show of appreciation. A kiss doesn't sound like much, especially when compared to what Negan is impatiently waiting for me to give him the green light on.
"One kiss? That's it?" I clarify, knowing that Negan has a way of finding a loophole in every situation.
"One kiss."
"Okay –."
I'd barely gotten my response out when Negan snakes an arm around my waist, effortlessly pulling me onto his lap. He situates me so that my legs wrap around his waist, our faces inches apart. One hand steadies me on my shoulder while the other gently caresses my hip, both holding me securely in place. A devilish grin is plastered on his face.
"What the hell, Negan?" My hands fly to his chest, trying to push him away and create some distance. The sudden invasion of personal space makes me uneasy. Our bodies are close enough that the warmth from each of his steady breaths breeze over my cheeks.
"You said that I could get a kiss. You didn't say that I couldn't get a little creative with it." He takes my arms and guides them off his chest, bringing them to rest around his neck. "There, now, they won't be in the way."
The new position has us perched even closer together. I squirm uncomfortably in his lap. The posture is too intimate. A position reserved solely for lovers, something that isn't even on the same spectrum as Negan and I.
Without another word, Negan leans forward, capturing my lips in his. One hand on the small of my back, pressing me into him, while the other rests under my chin.
I expect a rushed, forceful kiss, but Negan moves at a gentle pace, savoring the taste of my lips. His lips were firm, yet soft all at once – a stark contrast to his aggressive and domineering façade.
Negan's overgrown salt and peppered facial hair prickle against my upper lip and cheek as his lips move in a steady rhythm.
I force myself to do the bare minimum, sporadically moving my lips the slightest against Negan's. My lack of participation only irritates him.
"Pup…" He warns against my lips. The grip on my chin tightening to emphasize his point.
Heading his warning, I begin slowly matching Negan's rhythm, our lips performing a delicate dance. As anticipated, Negan takes the lead, bringing a hand to cup my cheek while his mouth explores mine. I try to mimic his movements, but they come across unsure and hesitant, a cheap imitation of Negan's. No matter how hard I try, I can't hide my forced, almost robotic movements.
Negan suddenly pulls away, leaving me breathless.
"Nope, it's like kissing my fucking mother. Have you even sucked face with someone else before? Locking lips with Lucille's sexy-as-hell barbed wire would have my man juices flowing more than what you have me right now!"
The truth? I had yet to do anything remotely like that with a man. There were a few guys that I had dated in the past, but it was never anything that serious. A kiss here or there. Maybe even a suggestive grab every now and again. But we never reached a point in our relationship where I felt comfortable enough to give into my desires. Either all that was on their mind was getting their dick sucked, or they happened to be a dick.
I'm not about to reveal the truth to Negan. That would only stroke his ego even more to know that he's claimed a 'first' from me, that being my first attempt at making out with a man.
"Yes," I retort, slightly offended. "But it's kinda hard to get intimate with the guy who has almost killed you on multiple occasions."
"Hey, but I didn't kill ya! Don't I get a few fucking brownie points for that?'
'There's your fucking problem – you think too damn much." He lightly taps my forehead. "You need to get over that shit because I expect more enthusiasm from my wife."
I remove my arms from around his neck, folding them over my chest in aggravation.
"Get over it? You think I don't know that? I'm fucking trying, okay? It's pretty damn clear what you expect from me. I can't help that it is taking me a bit longer to warm up to you considering all the shit that has gone down between us. All of that shit doesn't go away overnight, you know?' Negan opens his mouth to speak, but quickly closes it as I continue.
'I agreed to this arrangement and I'll be true to my word, but don't fucking berate me for my 'lack of enthusiasm' when I'm the one making the sacrifice and bringing new meaning to the phrase 'sleeping with the enemy.'"
I take a deep breath, feeling lighter after releasing a bit of frustration. That relief is short lived when I peer back at Negan. His cold, emotionless stare holds mine as he slowly nods his head.
"Okay."
Negan grabs my shoulder and unceremoniously pushes me off his lap. My arms catch my weight, breaking the fall before landing face-first onto the carpet. Negan yanks on the back of my shirt, pulling me to my feet. His grip remains as he pulls me along, walking with a purpose out of the bedroom.
We enter the living area where he shoves me towards the sofa. Landing half splayed over the piece of furniture, I huddle against the cushions in pure terror, as if pressing further into the couch would open an escape route, ridding me of this situation.
Negan pays me no mind as he shoves the coffee table and armchairs from the middle of the room, lining them against the wall. Thus, creating an open area where the furniture previously sat.
He takes a few strides across the space, getting a feel for the amount of room available to him for whatever he had in mind for me.
Satisfied with the area, he stops, and turns to me. His burning glare a heavy weight on me.
"Here. Now." His gruff voice barely rising above a whisper. Negan points to a spot in front of him.
I keep my eyes downcast as I sulk the few feet to Negan. A dark chuckle rumbles from his chest upon hearing the low whimpers from me, taking delight in my terror.
Like a predator cornering its prey, Negan stalks closer to me until we are toe to toe, the warmth from his body burning against mine. I don't dare retreat, though every muscle in my body protests to, fearing the consequences. He remains there for a moment, entertained by the tremoring figure before him. I freeze as he eases his head down, his lips ghosting over my ear. His steady breaths causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end as I wait for him to speak.
"Hit me."
My head springs upward. A look of confusion meeting his of absolute seriousness. Did I hear him correctly?
"What?"
"Fucking hit me." Negan backs away and extends his arms out from his sides, leaving his face and body vulnerable. "You obviously have some pent-up shit that you need to get off your chest. Now, I'm no God damn shrink, but I do know that hitting shit can take care of a lot of those issues. Why do you think I have Lucille? If that's what's stopping you from jumping on my dick, do whatever you gotta do to get this out of your damn system."
Mouth agape, I'm truly speechless. I had prepared myself for an unimaginable punishment after what I had said to Negan, never anticipating something like this.
"I can't –."
"Jesus Christ," Negan lowers his arms in agitation. "Don't tell me that you haven't wanted to punch my fucking teeth down my throat at least once since I've dragged your ass here. Hell, even my own men wanna pop a bullet in me from time to time!"
I take a step away from him. Shaking my head, leery of the whole situation. I can't help, but wonder if this is a trap. That the second I take him up on his offer, he would have a valid excuse to rain down his wrath upon me.
"No, I won't do it." I back away one more step. Negan responds by taking a threatening step towards me.
"Why doesn't this surprise me? You know, you're just like your fucking father – you pussy out when you get a chance to deal with your problems head on. See, he acted all high and mighty until I came a knocking. Then what? The bitch fucking rolled over when faced with the opportunity to stand up to me like a God damn man. And what about you, huh?' Negan steps forward, lightly jabbing me on my shoulder.
'I'm giving you the opportunity of a fucking lifetime to settle your grievances against me, and you pull the same shit as your daddy. Pussiness must run in the family. Like father, like daughter, I guess?" Negan sneers. He shoves my shoulder again, a bit more forceful this time, causing me to slightly rock backwards.
"Negan, stop!"
This is getting out of hand.
"Or what? You gonna do something about it, sweetheart?" Negan leans forward and places a hand on my shoulder, using most of his body weight to propel me backwards, sending me sprawling onto the floor.
I wince from the impact, having landed hard on my back.
"Stop it! I'm done playing your sick game!"
Negan crouches in front of me with a shit eating grin plastered on his face.
"You know, your dad said the exact same thing to me before he went MIA twenty years ago. You sounded just like him. Hell, you even give me the same God damn stink eye that he does! Damn,' Negan stares into space, appearing to recollect on the 'fond' memories with my father, 'it just tickles my balls to think that maybe it wasn't so bad after all that your pops skipped town on me all those years ago. If it weren't for that, I'd never become acquainted with your fine ass.' Negan pauses before leaning in closer.
'Then again, maybe I would've had an opportunity to shack up with the real Mrs. Owens if daddy had confronted me like a man decades ago. Shit, I would've gotten his ass out of the picture and Mrs. Owens would've been Mrs. Negan. Daddy might not have been able to keep his two girls alive and well, but I sure as hell would've. Fuck, you wouldn't have been an only child if I had hooked up with your mom –."
Smack!
Negan's head whips to the side from the impact of my slap, not expecting the blow. I knew that his cheek was stinging like a bitch because my own hand was throbbing from the force of the slap.
"You can talk shit about my father and I all you want, but you keep my mother out of it, asshole!" I growl at him.
His eyes are wide in surprise from the blow, but only for a brief moment. They quickly turn dark as a sadistic grin sweeps across his face.
Did I just fuck up? Part of me prepares for Negan to fire back with a blow of his own.
He only laughs in my face.
"Is that all you got, darlin'? I thought that you were some badass chick who could hang with the boys? Shit, I expected more from someone who enjoys watching men fight for a living." Negan stands to his feet and extends a hand to me. "Show me what you got."
He pulls me to my feet and ushers me back to the middle of the room, before resuming his position in front of me.
"That was a hell of a start, but I'd bet my left nut that there is more in the tank! Get every, last fucking drop of it out now." He extends his arms from his sides. "Think of it as the purge – for the next minute, you can punch, slap, kick, whatever the fuck you want. I won't move a damn muscle. I'm just your personal punching bag."
"You won't punish me for this later?"
"Nope. Now, hurry the fuck up before I change my mind."
I take a deep breath and raise my fists in anticipation for Negan's cue.
He waits until the clock on the wall flickers to a new minute before nodding his head.
"Go."
I cock my arm back and sling my fist forward, my knuckles connecting with Negan's jaw. Negan stumbles a few steps, not expecting such a forceful blow from someone my size. A smart-ass comment is poised to leave his lips when an uppercut plants him on his back, temporarily stunning him.
I storm towards his writhing form, straddle his chest, and grab a fistful of his cotton shirt.
"What the fuck…?" Negan's snarl alone should've been enough to stop me at once, but at this point, the adrenaline pumping through my veins caused it to fall on deaf ears.
"I still have fifty seconds."
I black out after that. My rage overtaking me as I unleash a barrage of blows to Negan's face. Releasing the mounting anxiety, frustration, irritation, and sorrow that I've kept inside of me for the past month. A violent collage of images flash in my mind, from my first encounter with Lucille, to all of Negan's own transgressions, as well as buried animosity towards my father for causing this.
After what only felt like a few seconds, Negan throws up a hand, blocking my fist that was on a direct path towards his right cheek.
"Time! That's enough! Get the fuck off me!"
I can't hide the smug grin affixed on my face as I rise off a cursing Negan. I lean over and place my hands on my knees, my breathing erratic from my frenzy. The exhaustion a satisfying feeling. The proof to Negan and myself that I put everything I had into each and every swing. I would like to think that I did as I was told, releasing every drop of frustration within me. However, I'll allow my throbbing fists and Negan's already bruising cheek to be the judge of that.
Once on his feet, Negan drags the back of his hand across his bottom lip, wiping away a bit of blood that had trickled from a small cut on his inner lip.
"If I had known that you swung like a fucking man, I'd limited you to thirty seconds." Negan chuckles, holding his jaw. "You look like a damn Chihuahua, but you scrap like a shitfaced Pitbull high on meth."
Though I'm still hunched over, trying to catch my breath, I can't help but slightly puff out my chest in pride at his compliment.
I glance up to see Negan walking towards the kitchen.
"Where the fuck did you learn how to fight like that?" He asks, genuinely curious. Negan rips off a section of paper-towels and presses the torn section against his lip.
I strut into the kitchen with a grin, jumping onto the island. Negan stands right across from me as he patiently awaits my response.
"I was practically one of the boys growing up. They treated me as such, even when we wrestled." My feet playfully swing in front of me. "I learned pretty fast how to take a hit, as well as how to properly dish one out." Nodding towards Negan.
"No shit." Negan displays the slightly bloodied paper-towel. The bleeding having stopped.
I watch as he grabs a glass from the cabinet and proceeds to fill it with water. He quickly rinses the metallic taste of blood from his mouth.
"Feel better?" He asks over his shoulder as he places the glass in the sink.
I nod my head. Negan's unorthodox take on a therapy session left me feeling liberated. Free from the suffocating mix of emotions that had overtaken me the past month.
"Glad to hear it." Negan saunters the gap between us. Only stopping when his thighs brush against my closed knees. He leans against the island, an arm on either side of me, supporting his tall frame as he hovers dangerously close. "How about we give things another go? Prove to me that you can do this now that your head is clear. Because if you can't, especially after the shit I just did for you,' his tone gaining a dark edge, 'then the deal is off –."
"No, I can do this."
I yelp in surprise as my chest crashes against his. Negan having grabbed me by my hips, pulling me to the edge of the island.
His lust filled eyes travel over my form, taking in every inch of me.
Negan lowers his head, his lips ever so lightly brushing against mine.
"In that case, show me what you got, baby." He seductively whispers.
Realizing that he's waiting for me to make the first move, I swallow a final, nervous gulp and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him into a deep kiss. I feel hands at once begin exploring my body. The unmistakable feeling of skin-on-skin contact as his hands travel underneath my shirt, hungrily roaming over the smooth skin of my back.
His ultimatum cycling through my mind is enough to prevent me from protesting the contact. I go numb, blocking out my own lingering discomforts to focus on the task at hand – keeping Negan satisfied.
I put everything that I have into that kiss – matching Negan's movements tit for tat. He smiles against my lips, pleased with my change in attitude.
Having surpassed his initial expectations, Negan scales things up a notch, trailing a few kisses down my neck. The velvet of his lips paired with the abrasiveness of his stubble sends a wave of pleasure through me unlike any other. Before I realize what I'm doing, I angle my neck back as Negan progresses down my neck, giving him easier access.
Fuck. This is what I was afraid of.
"You like that, darlin'?" Negan hums, slowly kissing his way up the other side of my neck.
My teeth sink in my lip, not wanting to reveal the ugly truth.
Negan takes my silence as a challenge. Dipping his head into the crook of my neck, his lips part and press against the sensitive flesh, forming a tight seal. His cheeks hollow as he sucks on my neck, gently at first, then increasing in power until the overstimulation of his lips, along with the massaging hands on my back, causes me to emit a not-so-quiet moan. Negan repeats the movements, eliciting the same response to his delight.
"Someone is enjoying this more than they're letting on…" Negan croons in my ear.
I blush in embarrassment that Negan was able to garner a reaction from me with such little effort.
"This is supposed to be about getting you off, not me." I try to divert his attention off me. Not wanting the lines of my own pleasure and Negan to cross.
"I'm not some selfish asshole-of-a-husband who's gonna leave his bride all sexually flustered like that. I'm gonna make sure that you get plenty out of this too, darlin'. Besides, those sweet sounds of yours is already making my dick twitch. I definitely need more of that."
Negan situates his hands under my hips, lifting me off the counter.
"Hang on tight."
I do as I'm told. Arms clutching his neck and legs wrapped around his waist. Negan effortlessly carries me into the living area, towards the couch. I'm eased down until my back sinks into the cushions with Negan above me. I'm still clung to him, our bodies moulded against each other. I should've released him by now, but the lingering shock factor of having Negan draped over me, hips pressed against mine, has me slow to respond.
"Now, where were we?"
I try and keep my expression neutral, showing that I don't care for his tactics, but my wide eyes stare back at him dumbfounded. I feel my body react on its' own to his soft, elicit touches. My body arcs slightly as he gently trails his fingers across my curves. Negan grins as he slips his hands under my shirt and touches the bare flesh, causing me to give a long moan as he strokes my curves encouragingly. Another moan nearly escapes my lips but I pull it back in time and disguise it as a cry of pain rather than pleasure. However, my poor attempt goes noticed by Negan who smiles as he continues to kiss me.
His tongue is dancing in my mouth. It runs along my teeth and touches my tongue, enticing me to play along. I kiss back, darting my own tongue in his mouth and caressing his tongue. I notice that it's considerably easier to kiss him this way than it had before.
My hands travel across his still clothed back. Even through the material, the heat coming off the man was near burning. A hand travels up and runs through his hair, as if it had a mind of its own. I moan as I try to shift again, Negan takes it as a moan of pleasure and places a hand on my waist, stroking and teasing gently. The other had going through my hair and pulling at the roots in pure lust. My lower body shifts as he positions himself between my legs.
I feel oddly disembodied as my body act on its own, like I'm an outsider looking in. My mind protests every touch and kiss I return, while my body ignores these warnings completely.
I bite my lip hard as his fingers press gently against my legs, trailing up my thighs and curving into the groove between my legs. I felt my toes curl instinctively at the sensations and touches. Negan's fingers slip over the waistband of my shorts and boldly straight down, sliding along my smooth bare skin.
My breath hitches in my throat as I could feel him slowly pull down my pants. The cool air rushing like waves over my hot skin. I shake my head, no...no he's going too fast. I squirm slightly trying to get out, but instead his grip tightens, Negan probably thinks that it's all part of it.
"S-stop." My shaking voice is barely over a whisper. I could feel my mind connect with my body slowly.
Negan presses his lips against my neck, his face buried as he shimmies my shorts down to my knees. I give him a firm shove, nearly knocking him over the edge of the couch.
"I said fucking stop!"
"God fucking dammit pup!" Negan shouts as he gets off angrily. His hands push into me slightly making me wince. I prop myself up off the couch, quickly pulling my shorts up to my waist and watch to see Negan pace like a caged animal, even without Lucille over his shoulder, his dark expression was true. He then stopped and directed his glare straight at me.
"What the fuck?" he shouts, his arms raising then falling, emphasizing his disbelief at my reaction.
I opened my mouth ready to speak, but it closed just as fast. I look at the ground as my knees draw to my chest.
"I-I'm sorry...," I whisper, though barely audible. I unconsciously shudder as I could still feel faint traces along my skin, as if his fingers are still lain against my skin.
Negan glared at me. "What the hell is going on? And don't you fuckin' lie!"
"It's not you Negan, I swear," I say giving him an apologetic look. I try to explain, but he cuts me off.
"I ain't deaf sweetheart," he said, the lustful look returns in his eyes. "I heard those pretty moans, I had you like fucking putty in my hands. You wanted more and I gave you more. So why the fuck would you shut me down like that, right when we were gettin' good?"
I swallow. Drawing in a deep breath, I knew that this was something I could never get away with. As soon as Negan had told me that sex was a part of my 'wifely duties', I knew that the truth would eventually come out. I had tried to play through it, but it was hard, harder than I had expected it to be.
"I'm a virgin."
Silence. I swear that you could hear a pin drop on the other side of the room.
Negan stood there, slightly taken aback by my sudden honest. He rubs the back of his neck trying to speak, but would then close. He resumed his pacing for a few steps before stopping and turning back to me.
"A virgin?" he questions, "seriously? Fuck, you were kissing me like we were a fucking lost couple not too long ago! And damn those fingers, you were playing me better than the guitar!"
"Making out isn't a problem," I respond. "That...that's fine...It's just the next step, having sex, that's a bit...difficult for me."
Negan looks at me. I could feel the intensity of his eyes, and suddenly I felt as if I were back on my very first day in front of Negan. Small, embarrassed and above all, defenseless. For a brief moment, I thought that he was going to berate me, start hurling his usual insults and eventually call the deal off. That was, until he sat beside me and started to rub my back.
"Damn wife," he says, his voice was back to it's usual smooth coolness. "You really are just chuck full of surprises ain't ya?"
I don't respond. My arms still wrapped tight around my knees as silent tears fall down my face. I could feel his other hand stroke my cheek, wiping my tears in the process.
"So that's it then? I'm gonna be the first!" Negan exclaims, a large smile on his face. "What a fucking treat!"
I don't know whether to slap or punch him. This time hoping to knock him flat on his ass and out for the next few hours, if that's what it would take for some peace. Instead, I settle for saying and doing nothing, not wanting to wake what lied underneath.
Negan sees my crestfallen expression and continues to rub my back soothingly. His hand alters between small and medium circles.
"You have to understand sweetheart that this is part of the deal," Negan reminds. "A deal that you agreed to nonetheless, and in exchange my generosity towards your father is tenfold. Virgin or not, this is sure as fuck not up for debate. Now I understand you're nervous, and that's natural, but you're gonna have to open up those pretty smooth legs for me."
I remain silent after Negan spoke. In my mind, I knew that I was never going to get out of it. The only way was to revoke my 'choice' and that would mean my father having his body broken by Lucille.
"Think about it as ripping off a band-aid," he continues. "Gettin' it over and done with all nice an' easy. I promise, as a gentleman, to be gentle and I will ensure that you will enjoy it as well." Negan watches as my expression shifts. It's more than enough for him to fire another round at me. "And if you do this, that collar will be able to come off."
My eyes widen, and Negan grins clearly enjoying my stunned expression.
"Fuck yeah!" he says to my silent disbelief. Negan reaches up and strokes the collar. "Honestly, I'll miss watching your cute ass walk around with it on, but if you have sex with me, I swear to take the collar off."
He gently lifts my chin so I look into his hazel eyes.
"And you know me for being a man of my word, right?"
I nod.
"So what do you say darlin'?" Negan asks, his hand travelling to the waistband on my shorts.
I drew in a breath.
"Okay"
Edited by Spitfire47.
I hope that chapter 16 was worth the wait! Thank you for being patient, guys. I wasn't able to find much time to write over the past few weeks due to work and starting two summer courses.
Any thoughts? I'd love to hear from y'all! Your reviews and input mean a lot and truly aid in developing the story.
Stay tuned for chapter 17. I can't say for sure when it will be out, but I promise that I will update ASAP. Love you guys!
