Life With HIM: Rennillia Series Prequel (Companion Novelette) Read Free Page B
Author: M. Sembera
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time.
Listening to Henley’s footsteps to his room before he slammed his door, I laid there. My father’s voice echoed in my head, saying, ‘When you wake up on somebody’s floor it’s your own fault.’ Sitting up, I pulled one of my knees into my chest, wrapping my arm around it. Resting my head on my knee, I looked at my other arm and leg. Both with long red streaks and strawberry bruises forming, I wished I could go back and tell my father he was right.
Sitting in the middle of the living room floor, I started to cry. The pain from my arm and leg were nothing compared to the internal pain of regret.
I didn’t notice Henley step back into the room until I heard him say, “Come to bed.”
Shaking my head, I allowed my tears to continue falling. Feeling him carefully sit behind me , I tensed up. He slid his arms around my waist as his legs rested against the sides of mine. Flinching when he brushed against my hurt leg, I felt his breath at my ear.
“ I was afraid you weren’t coming back,” he whispered.
Sniffling, I asked, “Then why weren’t you happy when I got in bed?”
Dragging his lips down the side of my neck, he said, “ You can’t leave me.”
“I’m not,” I cried, still not sure what happened.
Pulling my head to the side, he assured, “I’ll make it up to you.”
Closing my eyes, I nodded , unable to control the feeling I had as he slid his hands from my waist to my thighs.
~L~w~H~
Henley did make it up to me and then some. There were flowers, new clothes, bubble baths and extra special attention every night.
~
Sitting on the couch, I waited for him to get home. I knew he would be late getting home from visiting his uncle but it was really late and I was starting to panic. When he finally arrived, I jumped up ready to fuss at him for having me so worried.
Taking one look at him, I frowned, asking, “Are you ok?”
Shaking his head, he walked past me and into his room.
Following close behind, I stopped him in the bathroom, saying, “Henley.”
Looking at the floor, he shook his head.
Without thought, I knew exactly what he needed. He needed me.
Reaching up , I ran my fingers through his hair before sliding my hands down his shoulders.
“I’m a disappointment,” he shared.
Gathering the bottom of his shirt in my fingers, I whispered, “Not to me,” before pulling it off over his head.
Folding it neatly, I set it on the bathroom counter. I ran my finger from his chest down to the middle of his stomach to the button on his jeans. Grabbing my wrist, he swung me around and pressed me against the door.
“ Mine,” he growled, letting go of my wrist and grabbing my hips so hard, I knew he would leave a mark.
~
I laid on top of him in the bathtub that was full of warm soapy water. Lifting strands of my hair before wrapping them around his finger, dropping them and repeating the action, he appeared content. The fury and aggression that he took out on me not even thirty minutes ago was gone. Even though it was rough, I knew he needed it to be that way. I was the only one that could make him feel better, made it more intense.
I knew I was going to be black and blue from the way he handled me , no amount of soaking in the tub would prevent that but I was hoping I wouldn’t be sore in the morning.
Sliding me up to kiss me, he said, “I like knowing your mine.”
“I am,” I swore, pressing my lips against his.
Pushing me to a sitting position, he brushed his fingers against the marks he left on me, saying, “I like seeing where I’ve been.”
Tilting my head to the side , I asked, “You like hurting me?”
“I like knowing you’re mine,” he repeated.
All I could say was, “I am.”
And I was.
~L~w~H~
Time slipped by as everything but Henley slipped away. I still met Emerson for lunch once a month but most times we just ate in silence. Each time Jackson came home to visit, he joined Emerson and I for
Listening to Henley’s footsteps to his room before he slammed his door, I laid there. My father’s voice echoed in my head, saying, ‘When you wake up on somebody’s floor it’s your own fault.’ Sitting up, I pulled one of my knees into my chest, wrapping my arm around it. Resting my head on my knee, I looked at my other arm and leg. Both with long red streaks and strawberry bruises forming, I wished I could go back and tell my father he was right.
Sitting in the middle of the living room floor, I started to cry. The pain from my arm and leg were nothing compared to the internal pain of regret.
I didn’t notice Henley step back into the room until I heard him say, “Come to bed.”
Shaking my head, I allowed my tears to continue falling. Feeling him carefully sit behind me , I tensed up. He slid his arms around my waist as his legs rested against the sides of mine. Flinching when he brushed against my hurt leg, I felt his breath at my ear.
“ I was afraid you weren’t coming back,” he whispered.
Sniffling, I asked, “Then why weren’t you happy when I got in bed?”
Dragging his lips down the side of my neck, he said, “ You can’t leave me.”
“I’m not,” I cried, still not sure what happened.
Pulling my head to the side, he assured, “I’ll make it up to you.”
Closing my eyes, I nodded , unable to control the feeling I had as he slid his hands from my waist to my thighs.
~L~w~H~
Henley did make it up to me and then some. There were flowers, new clothes, bubble baths and extra special attention every night.
~
Sitting on the couch, I waited for him to get home. I knew he would be late getting home from visiting his uncle but it was really late and I was starting to panic. When he finally arrived, I jumped up ready to fuss at him for having me so worried.
Taking one look at him, I frowned, asking, “Are you ok?”
Shaking his head, he walked past me and into his room.
Following close behind, I stopped him in the bathroom, saying, “Henley.”
Looking at the floor, he shook his head.
Without thought, I knew exactly what he needed. He needed me.
Reaching up , I ran my fingers through his hair before sliding my hands down his shoulders.
“I’m a disappointment,” he shared.
Gathering the bottom of his shirt in my fingers, I whispered, “Not to me,” before pulling it off over his head.
Folding it neatly, I set it on the bathroom counter. I ran my finger from his chest down to the middle of his stomach to the button on his jeans. Grabbing my wrist, he swung me around and pressed me against the door.
“ Mine,” he growled, letting go of my wrist and grabbing my hips so hard, I knew he would leave a mark.
~
I laid on top of him in the bathtub that was full of warm soapy water. Lifting strands of my hair before wrapping them around his finger, dropping them and repeating the action, he appeared content. The fury and aggression that he took out on me not even thirty minutes ago was gone. Even though it was rough, I knew he needed it to be that way. I was the only one that could make him feel better, made it more intense.
I knew I was going to be black and blue from the way he handled me , no amount of soaking in the tub would prevent that but I was hoping I wouldn’t be sore in the morning.
Sliding me up to kiss me, he said, “I like knowing your mine.”
“I am,” I swore, pressing my lips against his.
Pushing me to a sitting position, he brushed his fingers against the marks he left on me, saying, “I like seeing where I’ve been.”
Tilting my head to the side , I asked, “You like hurting me?”
“I like knowing you’re mine,” he repeated.
All I could say was, “I am.”
And I was.
~L~w~H~
Time slipped by as everything but Henley slipped away. I still met Emerson for lunch once a month but most times we just ate in silence. Each time Jackson came home to visit, he joined Emerson and I for