Just for fun and because I'm curious...

First time readers, comment here:

Returning readers, comment here:

----------

"Hit me."

"What?"

"Just hit me, Emilia. I know you want to."

"I don't want to hit y—"

He shoves me back before I can finish. It doesn't really hurt, and it doesn't scare me. Cal is my protector. I know he would never hurt me. At least, not physically.

When I think about the girl that was just all over him, I realize he can hurt me emotionally quite easily. And it wasn't just tonight either. It's been one thing after another these past few weeks. The drugs. The stealing. The constant ups and downs of our relationship. It's exhausting.

Do I even matter to him or have I been fooling myself? Am I just his burden that he doesn't have time for anymore?

I'm feeling sorry for myself, and it's not a feeling that I'm comfortable with. Not anymore. I'm better than that now. Cal has made me better than that.

I shove him in return, surprising myself, and the arrogant ass has the nerve to look pleased. He also remains firmly in place as if my attempt to shove him was as weak as a summer breeze.

"C'mon, angel, that's all you got?" His words come out in a taunting tone, and then his hands rest against my shoulders. He gives them a quick squeeze. It's his subtle way of reassuring me; an unnecessary reminder that I'm safe with him just before he shoves me again.

This shove sends me stumbling back a couple of steps, but I quickly straighten my shoulders and take a step forward again. "Stop it, Cal," I demand through gritted teeth.

"Hit me," he says again as I walk closer. "I know you want to. It's written all over your face."

I'm about to deny it when he steps toward me and shoves me a third time. This time I am mid-step, and the force of his shove catches me off guard. I begin to fall backwards, but Cal grips my upper arm and jerks me toward his chest.

The whiplash of his actions causes me to fall into him, and the anger that has been simmering just beneath the surface for far too long comes erupting out of me like a volcano.

I slam my fists against his chest as I regain my balance, but I don't stop there. I continue to hit him. His solid chest has become my personal punching bag, and with every landed punch I feel stronger. More capable. I zero in on my target and lose myself in the adrenaline.

I don't know how many times my fists collide against his chest, but eventually, I move my gaze from where my punches are landing and look up at his face.

He's smirking. I'm hitting him with everything I've got, and he's just standing there with a stupid smirk on his perfect lips.

I want to slap that smile right off of his face.

It's only after I see his surprised expression that I realize I've done just that.

Knowing that I caught him off guard feels better than it should and fills me with a new sense of power. I take the opportunity to slap him again. 

His eyes flash with something I can't quite read, and I draw my hand back to slap him a third time. Before I make contact, he lifts an arm and catches my wrist in his hand.

Our eyes meet, and he holds my gaze. The fire burning in his eyes engulfs me. His grip on my wrist is verging on painful, but I welcome the feeling. It grounds me.

He reaches up with his free hand and cups the side of my face. As his thumb brushes my cheek, I become aware of my tears.

When did I start to cry?

I don't have time to feel embarrassed before his lips are crashing against mine. His palm smooths along my cheek to grip the back of my neck, and he pulls me closer as his tongue gains access to my mouth.

He groans when I stroke my tongue against his and pulls on my wrist which he's still tightly grasping in his other hand. I go along with the movement while he presses my hand against my side and guides it down my body. When we reach my waist, he pulls my hand away from my body to press it against himself.

He's already hard.

When I begin to stroke him through his jeans, he pulls on my wrist again to increase the pressure. His tongue leaves my mouth, and he nips my lower lip with his teeth before skimming his open mouth along my jaw to the spot just below my ear. He presses a kiss against the sensitive skin and murmurs in a low rumble, "You're upset that I'm not giving you enough attention."

I shake my head, but he isn't asking a question. He's making a statement.

"No." I don't sound convincing even to my own ears, but I don't want to admit how dependent on him I am, how needy, though I'm sure he already knows.

He pulls on my wrist again, stopping me from rubbing against his hard length, and moves my hand away to drop it at my side. I want to mourn the loss of contact, but then he's grabbing my ass and lifting me off the ground, pressing me against him where my body most craves his touch.

My legs wrap around his waist as he walks toward our four-post, queen-sized bed. He sits on its edge so that I'm straddling him, and I rock my body against him, causing us both to moan. I grind against his body a few more times, and then his hands grip my waist to keep me from moving.

"Yes," he insists.

I try to move against him again, but his hands hold me firmly in place. I've completely lost track of what we are talking about.

"Look at you, so fucking eager. You're not my shy girl anymore." He leans forward to rub his face against my breasts, and his teeth graze my nipple through the thin material of my shirt and lightly lined bra.

"I'm still your girl," I gasp out the words, desperately wishing he would release his hold on my waist so that I can press against him again. 

"Damn right, you're my girl." His fingers dig into the flesh above the waistband of my low-rise jeans as if reinforcing his claim on me. "I didn't say you weren't my girl. I said you weren't my shy girl. You're always going to be mine."

"Yes." I'm in complete agreement.

"I haven't been giving you enough attention." He circles back to his earlier statement.

"Yes." There's no sense in denying it now, not when I'm just about panting in his lap. He's been so absent lately. I've missed him. I've missed this.

He finally releases my waist so that he can grip the bottom of my shirt. He pulls it up to remove it, and I obediently raise my arms to make the process easier.

"We can't have that now, can we?" he asks in that sexy voice of his that he could use to convince me of anything.

I shake my head in response as his hands run up my back to find my bra clasp. He opens it effortlessly, and the straps fall down my arms.

When he eases me off of his lap so that I'm standing in front of him, my bra falls to the floor. His eyes roam over me like he has all the time in the world, and then he loops a finger from each hand into one of my belt loops and tugs me forward to stand between his open legs.

"I'll take care of you, baby," he tells me as he trails kisses along my lower stomach, moving from one hip bone to the other. "I'll make you feel real good. You know I'll always take care of you. Just like I told you, yah?"

Yes, I definitely remember that he promised to take care of me. I will never forget. Cal is the only person who has made that promise and then stuck by it, no matter what complications life hurdles in front of us. Though, when he told me, I had never imagined that he meant it in every sense of the word. That he meant my every need.

----------

Later that night, we lie in our bed with Cal's naked body pressed against my back. His fingers lightly drag up and down my arm, notifying me that he is still awake in spite of his silence. I turn in his arms to look at him.

"It wasn't..." I start quietly but stop when I notice his eyes are absently staring up at the ceiling. I've seen this look on him too many times. He can be right next to me and still seem a thousand miles away.

He tilts his chin down to meet my eyes.

Now that I have his attention, I try again, more boldly this time. "It's not just about the sex, or about wanting your attention..."

He closes his eyes, resigned. "I know."

"It's everything since we've gotten here. The stealing, and the fighting, and the drugs... Cal, it's dangerous."

He opens his eyes, and they narrow at me. "I gave you an out."

I hold his gaze, hoping my eyes express what I can't quite put into words. I've tried before. He didn't react well. "I couldn't... I can't. Not without you."

"'Cause you're my girl." He says it softly, and it seems to be more to himself as his eyes once again drift up to the ceiling.

There's silence between us. The bass of the loud music coming from the party down the hall is the only noise in the room.

When Cal speaks again, he sounds annoyed. "What do you want me to say? They expect certain things from me. That's why they took us in. That's why we aren't on the streets. You're taken care of. I'm doing what I'm good at. I don't see the problem."

Two loud knocks rap against our door, and a voice calls, "Hey, pretty boy, time to get going. Place isn't going to rob itself."

Cal swings his legs off the bed and stands.

I sit up. My eyes follow his movements as he begins gathering his clothes. "We can find somewhere else. You're better than this," I try to reason with him.

He steps into his boxers and then picks up his jeans. He pulls them on and fastens them, then finally glances back in my direction.

I wait to hear what he has to say as he walks to my side of the bed, but he only leans down and presses his mouth to mine in a quick, hard kiss. He then walks back around the bed and picks up his shirt. While walking toward the door, he puts his arms through the sleeves and pops it over his head.

I assume our conversation is over when he reaches for the doorknob, but he pauses after he grabs it.

"I'm not," he finally replies without looking at me. He turns the knob and pulls the door open, adding in a voice, void of all emotion, "I'm worse."

He steps out into the hallway and closes the door behind him.

----------
Author's Note:

I know. The relationship shown here is quite clearly toxic. But it is not my intention to condone or romanticize any type of toxic relationship. I hope that will be made clear as this story/series progresses.

In the next chapter, we will hit rewind. We'll go back to the beginning of Emilia and Cal, and we'll find out how the two of them get to this point. I hope you enjoy the ride!