talk about our lives. He knows everything I’ve been through now. The torture, rape, pain, and everything that’s ever been done to me. For some reason I can’t explain, Killer isn’t shocked by anything I tell him.
He’s the first person, other than my group, I’ve told my stories to. Honestly, I feel even lighter than I did when I talked in front of the members of the group I attend. I’m not sure if it’s because someone I personally know has heard the truth of my life before coming here or if it’s because Killer is the one who has heard my secrets. The deep, dark secrets I’ve been hiding for so long they fill me with dread and terror on a daily basis.
I’m the main one who talks while Killer simply listens. He wraps me in his arms and holds me tight while the pain pours out of me. Not only in my words but in the tears I shed. Killer wipes my tears away, places a soft kiss against my lips, and then takes me to the shower. He makes the water as hot as I can stand it before stripping me of whatever I’m wearing; usually something of his. Together we shower. He washes me and then holds me for a while before shutting the water off, drying me off, and then leading me back to bed.
When we head back to bed, neither one of us wears any clothes. Killer wraps his arms around my body and holds me close to him. I spend every single night with his washboard abs, hard cock, and muscled legs against my own. His hard, muscled arms wrap around me and keep the demons at bay. Even telling him what I’ve been through, my nightmares don’t return. Killer is the one who helps me fight them off and I’ll be eternally grateful to him for that.
My body always responds to his being wrapped around my own. I ache so bad for him it’s a constant pain. Knowing Killer, he’s going to wait for me to make the first move. He won’t do anything I’m not ready for and I don’t have the first clue how to let him know what I want from him. I can’t even put it into words in my own head so there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to tell him what I want.
There are only a handful of people I’ll be able to talk to about this; the ol’ ladies of the club. It’s not like I want them to know what I feel and want from Killer. I know they’ll keep my secret though. No one will know about our talk. Ever. The only thing they’ll do is help me figure out how to accomplish letting Killer know I’m ready for more with him. So, with Rich in the room he’s staying in and Killer out looking some more, I pick up my phone and make a call.
“What’s up, Gwen?” Sam answers her phone.
“I need help. From all the ol’ ladies of the club,” I say before I can chicken out.
“We’ll be there in ten. You called when we’re all at the clubhouse,” she says before hanging up the phone on me.
While waiting for them, I open the door to grab the mail. Killer moved the mailbox up closer to the porch so I can get it without having to go all the way to the road. Pulling out several envelopes, I sort through them until I find one with my name on it. setting the rest of the mail on the counter where I always put it for Killer to go through, I open it so I can pull the contents out.
There’s one single piece of paper in the envelope. It’s the size of an index card but a regular sheet of printer paper. Typed in the center of the paper is a message. It’s short and to the point.
I’m coming for you. No one can save you from me.
I drop the paper as if it’s on fire and burning the hell out of me. Rich comes around the corner and sees me once again trembling from head to toe while I want to throw up. Instead, I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down. He reads the letter and pulls his phone out. I don’t hear him talk on the phone as my thoughts swirl and jumble together.
At the same time, the ol’ ladies come through the door. They