Romance · Suspense

Skin Deep by A.J. Daniels

You don’t have to do this, Ashley, she tells herself. Just walk out the door and go to Kat’s. She’ll help you disappear. All you have to do is walk out the door and tell her everything that’s happened.

But out of fear Ashley doesn’t move from straddling Adam’s lap. Fear that he’ll never let her leave. Fear that if she did manage to leave he’d track her down and drag her right back here.

His hand runs up her thigh while the other snakes around her neck, holding her in the perfect position for him to kiss her. Hard. Empty beer and whiskey bottles and half smoked joints litter the floor around the espresso colored coffee table of their living room.

This has become a nightly routine for them; they drink, get high, and fuck. Adam likes to remind her nightly of how much she needs him. How she’d have nothing if it weren’t for him. She doesn’t ever correct him because he’s right. He’s created such a void that her family and friends have refused to speak to her until she lets him go. Except Kat and Alice. They’ve been the only constant in her life.

She hasn’t picked up a razor blade since they started seeing each other more frequently. Though, Adam, along with the drinking and pot, have become a replacement for the blade.

Adam slams back his shot of Jack Daniels and then the rest of his Coors Light before crushing his mouth to hers again. He tastes like whiskey and beer; it’s a combination she’s gotten used to over the last several months.

His grip tightens in her hair, almost painfully, pulling her head back, and exposing her neck to his roaming mouth. Adam’s teeth nip at her jaw. She moans and arches closer to him, urging him to go lower. She needs to feel his mouth on her breasts, but he doesn’t take the hint.

His hand continues roaming up her thigh and then circles around to squeeze her ass, bringing her body closer to his. She can feel his hard length against his zipper and suddenly she would do anything to have him inside of her. To live in the fantasy of the safety his arms would provide. But that’s all it would be. A fantasy. Because nothing about him is safe. The hands roaming her body are just a part of his arsenal of weapons; used to break her down physically until she’s compliant the way he wants. And the mouth trailing kisses along her collarbone and up her neck is the worst weapon of all; capable of making her feel like she deserves whatever punishment he deems fit. Right now, she tries to push that knowledge out of her mind because sex with him is the only way she knows how to cope with it all. The sex provides her with a high unlike any amount of pot would.

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