Pyke — Chapter 37

Camila

“Babe, get some sleep,” Pyke coos. “It’s been a long day.”

“Good night, Pyke.” I slip back inside my blanket, feeling a little disappointed.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He must have sensed my dismay. Then he says as he runs his fingers through my hair, “I’ll be right here until you fall to sleep.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to go even if I fall asleep.” I feel a little bit needy and desperate, but I want Pyke to be by my side right now. “You’ve been far from me for a week. Please stay.”

“Are you sure?” he asks almost immediately.

My heart flutters to the thought of his excitement of staying beside me tonight. Heat spreads all over my body like a little spark could light up the fire that has been dead for a week.

I nod, close my eyes, and move to my side giving him my back. I hear shuffling of his clothes and clinking of metal, probably his belt. A moment later, my bed sinks on my back, and Pyke gets inside my blanket. Moments later, he snakes his arm under my head and around my waist, pulls me closer to him, and tangles his legs with mine.

“Night, Babe.” His warm breathing sends delicious goosebumps all over my skin, igniting my already tingling body, and anticipating for more of his touch. I wrap my hand around him and let the sleep takes over me.

“Hello, Camila. I’d like you to meet someone. I’m sure you two have been longing for so long. Please, come here Olivia, meet your daughter, Camila.” Athena opens my office door wider, allowing herself to get inside and the woman around my height with chestnut brown hair walks in with hesitation. Her brown eyes filled with mixed emotions. Her face has its beauty, but it’s already aging with wrinkles on her forehead. She’s wearing a cream cheap coat with a white blouse underneath. Her dark brown pants look baggy for her.

There is no doubt she’s my mother—the mother who sold me with one hundred grand and never looked back.

I don’t remember how did I get to my feet until my trembling hands press against the glass wall.

“Aren’t you going to say hi to your mother, Camila?” Athena smiles with her eyes glinting evilly. “Come closer, Olivia. Take a closer look at your daughter who’s worth million dollars in a few days.” She gestures her blood-red colored pointing finger at my mother who looks guiltier and in pain but doesn’t seem surprised to hear about money.

“Shouldn’t you two at least cry and hug each other, say sorry for the long lost times?” Athena continues while I’m still pressed against the wall tongue-tied.

My body shakes, knees wobble, and unable to stand up longer. My throat chokes, unable to speak, to breathe as I try gasping for air. Tears stream down my face as I look at Athena and my mother in horror.

This can’t be real. How did she find her?

“Get out! Get out! Leave me alone!” I yell at the top of my lungs over and over again until exhaustion takes over. I find myself sitting on the floor and let the chill seeps into my skin.

Still sobbing, I press my hands to my ear to prevent from listening to their voices and my own screams.

“Babe, it’s just a bad dream.” A faint of angelic male voice jolts me awake. “Shush, Babe. It’s just a bad dream.” Pyke wipes strands of hair away from my wet face.

“I-I s-saw my mom, t-that day. I saw her,” I stammer, still breathing heavily. My face is wet with sweat and tears.

“Let’s not talk about it now, okay? Do you want water, tea, or anything?” He cups my face with his worried eyes looking down my face, studying me. “Take a deep breath, Babe. Slow and steady. Everything will be alright.”

“No, everything will not be okay. I’m afraid to sleep again, Pyke. It’s been many nights this bad dream keeps coming back to me,” I able to speak after doing what he told me. My voice is still shaky though.

“Can you promise me one thing?”

I nod repeatedly not knowing what I’m promising to.

“Promise me you will see a therapist. I can’t see you like this, Babe. It’s killing me knowing that somehow I’ve caused this. We can arrange at least an hour per session or let her come to your apartment if you don’t want to visit her office. It’s your choice, just please consider it, Camila?”

“I’ll think about it, Pyke.” I look away, still gripping the blanket tighter into my chest.

“The sooner, the better, Babe. You can’t go to sleep scared knowing the nightmare might come to you every time you want to sleep. This is not healthy. If somehow, you care about me, about us, please consider this, for the sake of us, for the people who care about you, Camila. They’re all worried. Hell, it’s breaking me knowing you’re screaming at night.”

“I need a hot shower.” I sit on my bed, releasing the blanket that I’m clutching the whole time. I stand up and ignore the heavy sigh he releases.

***

Pyke pats my body dry with the soft and fluffy white towel. Then he helps me wear my red silk robe and allows me to sit in front of my ivory Barocco vanity dresser. I silently watch him dries my hair and brushes it carefully. Then plugs my dryer and blows dry it like a pro.

We stay silent all the time and I just listen to the humming of my dryer. The humming seems to relax my body, but I feel knots in my belly when I think of how lucky the woman who got his first blow-dry. I bet that’s the witch who ended destroying Pyke.

“You’re the first woman I dry a hair, Babe. I watched how Mom did her hair when I was a kid.” He rolls the cord to the handle of the dryer and places it back inside the drawer.

How can he read my mind so easily?

“Hungry? Thirsty?” he asks.

“I want to go back to bed. Thank you,” I mumble and stand up.

“Anything for my Babe.” He cups my butt and lifts me up like I weigh nothing. My legs instantly wrap around his waist and bury my face in the crook of his neck. I find myself inhaling his scent and kissing his neck softly. He hums, I feel him thickens and hardens pressing against my core. My inner muscles clench to his reactions. Heat creeps on my face with embarrassments of how I’m easily turned on to a small touch.

He puts me down the bed, caging me with his strong arms. “I really want you right now, but I can’t just do it every time you feel vulnerable. Sex is not always the answer.” He kisses my lips softly and quickly.

“Please?” I cup his face.

“Babe...”

“Please, Pyke, I want you. This nightmare will not vanish even if you will make love to me tonight, or even if I will see a shrink tomorrow. It takes time, might be days, weeks, months, or even years.”

I find myself closing the distance between our faces. He sighs and finally gives in— kissing me like I’m the most precious thing he possessed—like I’m the most beautiful thing in the world, like his life depends on me. My eyes shut close and let myself lose into the sensations of his kiss—to the way his tongue devours me, the way he tastes, and the hotness of his fingers tracing my already flaming body.

My hands are clutching his hair for life as his fingers find my wet and swollen folds. He deepens the kiss, plunges his tongue in and out of my mouth as I press my hips to meet his talented fingers as he thrust into me at a slow pace stroke.

I want more…

I let myself lose in our world leaving the bad things behind and just feel the heat of our flaming body presses together.

“Babe,” Pyke deep husky voice warns me.

“Please?” That’s all I can say when I find the tip of his boxers, pushing it down to his thighs.

I open my eyes when he doesn’t move. I meet an affection and lust-filled molten blue-gray eyes looking at me.

“I-I.”

“Please, Pyke.” I kick his boxers down his feet and hold his warm, soft yet hard length and guide it to my wet opening.

He gasps and hisses.

“I’ll make love to you because you are the most precious thing I own in this world.” Taking my hands, he interlaces them together beside my head.

I suck in a sharp breath when he thrusts his way in slowly, until he’s all inside, filling me, stretching me with his magnificent length.

“Babe.” He kisses me with each thrust he does.

A whimper escapes my lips as he nibbles my earlobe and moans when he sucks my nipples with his hot and skillful mouth, and I cry of pleasure with his bites.

I wrap my legs around his waist, taking him deeper—taking him beyond he can get in me. Deep into my soul.

“Oh, Love.” Calling him love is just like he deserves it.

I can’t fight these feelings anymore—whatever these feelings I have—the attractions and connections between us are undeniably real and constant—strong and bonded.

I want him.

I need him.

And if this is love, then be it.

He’s my strength, my everything.

“Let go, Babe.”