Shared Passions Vol 2

POV Brooke Roberts

The putrid smell assaults my nostrils. I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel my captor’s hand sliding up the back of my neck, his fingers tangling around my throat to yank my head violently backward. The tears I thought had dried up burn as they force their way through my tightly closed eyelids.
No. This isn’t real. It can’t be. The thought is like an anchor thrown into the sea, sinking inside me and dragging me back to the real world where my tense muscles await.
I wake up with my heart hammering in my chest, my jaw aching, and I instinctively know that my subconscious held back the screams that so often try to tear through my throat. The strong arm wrapped around my waist, pressing my back to a firm body, tightens its grip, as if even asleep he knows I need him. I inhale deeply, letting Raffi’s woody scent purify the remnants of the nightmare.
I turn in his arms, his vibrant blue eyes finding mine, quickly scanning my face under the yellowish glow of the bedside lamp that now stays on at all times.
"Want to talk about it tonight, babygirl?" His voice is rough as he repeats the same question he asks every night we share a bed and I wake up from a nightmare—my new routine.
I hadn’t slept alone, not even once, since the guys rescued me. I didn’t understand how they decided who would sleep beside me, and I suspected it was some kind of game of luck because there was no pattern I could figure out.
"It wasn’t anything new," I murmur, wrapping one arm around his waist, my fingers exploring his warm skin as I drape one of my legs over his.
"Brooke..."
I slide one hand up his toned abdomen until I reach one of his nipples, a spot I’ve learned is extremely sensitive on Raffi, and tease it with my fingertips, circling before giving it a light pinch.
"I don’t want to talk about my nightmare. I don’t want to talk about what happened. I promised myself as we were leaving that place that I wouldn’t let him take up any more of my time." The lie mixed with truth slips easily from my lips, and I hope that if I repeat it enough, I’ll stop reliving those days, stop flinching at every shadow or sudden noise, stop waking in the middle of the night with my heart racing and a cold pit in my stomach. "I want to forget," I declare.
A mischievous smile forms on his lips as he rolls us over, bringing me with him. His hands glide down my back until they reach my ass and give it a squeeze, making my body heat up as I feel his cock hardening against my stomach.
"Then let me exorcise your nightmare, babygirl."
I tilt my head and take his lips, tasting that unique flavor that is all Rafael Martinez. His tongue explores my mouth with hunger, like he wants to memorize my taste before time runs out.
The kiss is ravenous, and we feed it with our lust and desire. It’s a full-body kiss—every spot where my skin touches his feels like a small explosion spreading through me, only to gather in my core that feels like it's melting.
His skilled hands rid me of my pajama shorts and panties quickly, only to return to my center, his thumb finding my clit and rubbing in slow, circular motions that make my toes curl as my moan is swallowed by his mouth still devouring mine.
Raffi thrusts two fingers inside me at once, without warning, making me gasp and arch my back. I brace my hands on his chest, riding his fingers as they fuck me mercilessly, exactly the way I need. He flips us over again and grabs a condom from the nightstand before filling me gloriously, ripping another loud moan from my throat.
"You feel so fucking good," he growls in my ear, starting to thrust, picking up the pace each time he pulls back. Raffi leans away slightly, his eyes trailing down to where our bodies are joined. "Look how your pussy grips my cock, babygirl. So damn tight!"
And then his mouth is on mine again, and lust takes over my mind, wiping out everything else. Each thrust brings me closer to orgasm and farther away from the horrors in my mind. In this moment, there’s only us, this room, and the pleasure we give each other.

***

It's already morning when I wake up again. I stretch in bed, and Raffi pulls me closer, his face burying in my hair. I feel him slide his nose along the back of my neck, sending a delicious shiver down my spine.
"It's still early," he murmurs sleepily.
I glance at the clock on the nightstand and realize he’s right—it’s not even seven yet.
"I know," I reply in the same tone. "But you don’t have to get up just because I am," I say, intertwining my fingers with his before slipping out of his embrace.
Raffi shifts in bed, groaning as he tries to find a more comfortable position.
"I’d rather sleep hugging you," he confesses, and I can barely make out his words, muffled by the pillow.
I get up and walk to the armchair in the corner of my room, grabbing the one-meter-long plush shark Olivia gave me the first time she visited me almost a month and a half ago.
"Hug Bruce," I say, handing it to him and kissing his temple, but he grabs my legs before I can step away.
"I want a proper kiss, Brooke," he complains, and I lean in to kiss his lips quickly.
"First you leave me alone, then try to leave without kissing me. Is that any way to treat a guy?" he grumbles, but when I come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, I find him hugging the shark and sleeping peacefully.
I can’t resist the sight and grab my phone from the nightstand, taking a photo of the over-six-foot-tall, tattooed man cuddling a stuffed animal. I'm tempted to send the picture to the group, but I think better of it and save it to use in the future when Rafael gets on my nerves. I close the camera app and see a notification in my email, which I choose to ignore. Last week, all the teachers at Greenbriar School received the new academic calendar. I sent in my request for a sabbatical year that same day. The principal was hesitant to approve it, especially since I didn’t explain my reasons—just said I needed the time. But I think she believes that if she keeps sending me informational bulletins, she’ll make me change my mind.
I kind of wish I could change my mind. I wish I could feel that rush of excitement at the start of a school year, prepare to welcome my students and spend my days surrounded by their bubbling energy. But I feel nothing. I feel hollow, as if the events at the start of summer had carved out a part of me that stayed on the floor of that warehouse with my captor’s body. I shake my head, trying to chase away the memory, but it's always there. A constant companion.
I head downstairs, finishing tying my hair into a ponytail, and the moment I step into the kitchen, Apolo and Cerberus appear.
"If your parents find out I’m giving you treats this early, they’ll scold me," I warn, opening the pantry and grabbing the snacks. "Again."
"As if we didn’t already know that." Seth’s voice comes from behind me, and I turn to find him smiling. His dimples are prominent, and he’s sweaty—I can tell he just got back from his run. My eyes trail down his body, and my mouth goes dry at how the wet shirt clings to his muscles. My fingers itch to touch his skin.
It takes me a moment to remember that I can now—to remember that Seth no longer keeps me at arm’s length like he used to. Not that our relationship had evolved into something more than make-out sessions or that one time he drove me to ecstasy with just his fingers. Still, I felt he was closer now, less guarded, like one of the walls between us had crumbled.
I close the distance in a step and wrap my arms around his waist, resting my chin on his chest, making him lower his head to look at me.
"Good morning, Honeybee," he greets me before giving me a peck. "Ready for your workout?"
"Almost," I say, stretching up to capture his lips, my tongue slipping into his mouth and falling into the rhythm that belongs only to me and Seth. One of his arms wraps around my waist while the other cradles my neck, adjusting the angle to deepen the kiss. The hand at my waist slides down to my butt, and the moment he squeezes it, a bark echoes through the kitchen.
"Sorry, buddy, I got distracted," Seth says to Banguela, who’s standing next to his empty water bowl. He kisses my lips and my forehead before pulling away to take care of the dog.
I watch him from the corner of my eye while I prepare two protein shakes—one for me and one for Seth—so we don’t train on an empty stomach.
I catch myself thinking about the two other men still asleep upstairs. Over the past two months, all three of them have been essential to my recovery—maybe too much. They were always there. Kyle constantly checking if I’d taken my meds, if I’d eaten, making sure I didn’t overexert myself. Raffi always felt like a breath of fresh air; whenever I started sinking into one of the pits in my mind, he’d say something or make a joke that brought me back to the present. And Seth—I don’t even know how to explain it. Even without saying anything, it was like he understood everything happening inside my head.
I still couldn’t define my relationship with them, but I knew I wanted them in my life forever. I just hadn’t found a way to say it yet.
And maybe the most important part was that, the moment I got the doctor’s okay, Seth resumed my training. Before I even had to ask—just as determined as I was to rebuild my strength.
Because amidst all the uncertainty in my life right now, one thing is certain: I never want to be at someone’s mercy again.
And I found unbelievable satisfaction and mental stillness in punching a sandbag until my arms went numb.
And lately, I’d been doing everything I could not to think.
The gentle touch on my hand pulls me from my thoughts, and I realize I didn’t even see Seth move until he was right beside me.
"Shall we?"