Rage is the residential psycho of the club. Tormented by his own demons he lives in pain and agony, a constant state of rage. Everyone knows him as the Hellhound of the Riders of Tyr , known for his cruelty and the joy he gets from causing pain. To...
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Iris
With a deep breath I open my eyes. And that is the best wake-up I ever had. Rage is sitting on my bed and he has his blue eyes on me. He studies my face as if it is an exotic land and the moment he meets my gaze he doesn't back away as he always does. He just pins me with a piercing, demanding gaze that sends sparks to my whole body, igniting the place between my thighs. I like these new, strange feelings that take over and fluster my soul.
"Good morning." I say.
He replies nothing, his eyes still roaming my face. He seems tired but he is awake and alert and I wonder how much sleep did he have the night before. I dispatch my eyes from his face only to realize that he is shirtless, his soft inked skin so close to mine. I am tempted to touch him, run my fingers over the wolf tattoo that takes up most of his chest. He is stunning, every inch of him sculpted to perfection and I will never have enough looking upon him.
"You have to eat now." his words always a harsh command but I can sense the softness underneath.
I get up slowly and sit up on the bed. My back is still hurting but I said the truth last night when I told him I had been through worse. Rage brings a bowl up to me filled with fruits and yogurt. I grab the bowl and our fingers touch. Sweet Jesus. Electricity surges throughout my body by that simple touch and I wonder how it would feel to be closer to him, flushed up against him, skin on skin. My cheeks betray my thoughts as I feel them burn and he shifts on the bed still not withdrawing from my touch.
"Doc said you should get a lot of fluids." he finally looks away releasing my soul "Eat to get your pills. And I got to check the bandages."
I know there is nothing in those words to make me happy but I am. My body wakes at the thought of him touching me again. I never thought that a man's touch could be so soft and gentle and I can't wait to feel him again. All I knew of men were those that came to be with my mother and then Daultrey. That made me think that men are cruel, harsh beings, their hands and fingers weapons ready to scar me. But not Rage. He won't hurt me. His touch is soft, light, caring.
"Did you eat?" I ask.
He didn't. I have seen Rage while I was working in the bar. He was drinking all the time and he ate whatever was there. I take a spoonful on yogurt and fruits and move it to him. He leans away scowling darkly.
"We share." I say and nod reassuringly.
For a few seconds he keeps his distance and I feel like a fool holding the spoon in the air. Then he leans in painfully slow, his eyes narrowing. He opens his full mouth and his tongue cradles the spoon softly. I swallow hard seeing his thick tongue move. Then he closes his lips around the spoon and I am so mesmerized by this sight to the point I lick my lips openly. We repeat the same ritual over and over again and the torture of having him so close is the most painful and sweetest thing I have ever experienced. When we are done, he gives me my pills.
