Claw 2 Page 7

  When she was done her panic had her near hyperventilating. The jagged result looked like she’d hacked at it with a steak knife. Dear God help me. It was still too thick at the edges. She eyed the clippers wondering if she could somehow use them to thin it. What if she gouged? She’d better try the scissors first.

  Fifteen minutes later, she fought the sobs as tears poured down her face. She looked horrific. Like a two year old had gotten into her hair.

  She remembered a lady at church telling how she’d layered hair. Wiping her eyes quickly, she combed her hair all forward like the woman had said to do. Wait, was it straight above her head or to the front? She was pretty sure she’d said like a narwhale. Or was it a unicorn? She went in between the two, hoping the compromise didn’t ruin anything. God she hardly had any hair left to cut!

  She held tightly to the little ponytail, her hand trembling as she aimed the scissors at the pitiful remnants of her long hair. Was there an angle for this cut? Oh God, please let this be the right angle if so.

  She began cutting through the hair, each zzz-zzz-zzz-zzz feeling like she was cutting through her intestines. She finally made it through the final bit of hair and let it go. “Oh Jesus!” she gasped. It stuck up and out, and Rin smashed it down, clawing at the strands in an effort to make them longer!

  When there was nothing left to do, she stared at herself. She looked like a boy! An ugly, weird, boy!

  Oh God, Dante was going to be so disgusted with her now. She fought for air as she recalled the way he’d ran his fingers in her hair. Oh no, what if … what if he didn’t want her cutting her hair!? Why God, why didn’t she think of that?

  Because she was thinking of their situation and-and the whole change thing, the doing something different. She wasn’t thinking of the other stuff; she wasn’t thinking of what Dante would like.

  He wouldn’t like this!

  She grabbed the hair color box up. He liked the red hair? That was all she had left. She wiped her eyes and read through the directions again, stifling the sobs that burst free every few seconds. Putting the gloves on her trembling hands, she mixed the solution and shook it for the required time. Then she began to apply her last hope until it was all in, exactly as instructed.

  Shit, she needed to time it. Thirty minutes.

  She stared at the door and opened it slowly, barely a crack. “Can you tell me when it’s been thirty minutes? For th-the color?”

  “Got you. How’s it going?”

  “Good,” she called shutting the door and locking it.

  “Can’t wait to see it,” she barely heard him say.

  She sagged against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor to wait out the time, feeling like her Cinderella dream would all end in thirty minutes.

  The dreaded moment came when he called, “Times up.”

  “Thank you,” she yelled back as she turned on the tub water and set the temperature. Leaning over the side, she rinsed her hair till it ran clear, as instructed. She should shower.

  She climbed in the tub and stood in the stream of water, praying. She suddenly looked down and paused in alarm at seeing her feminine hair between her legs. A gush of dread shot out of her as realizing it was not only a different color than the hair on her head, but it was nearly longer!

  That sexy book Dante had given her to read suddenly sprang into her mind. The woman in it was shaved down there. And the man, the man loved it because he could see her beautiful pussy he’d said.

  Would Dante like that? Oh God, what else was there, she couldn’t leave it like this. Maybe it would at least distract him from the disaster on her head.

  Rin got the shears and cut the hair on her privates as short as she could. Maybe she should just leave it short. No. Cut it all.

  She got the clippers next and removed the guard, shaving till she saw glowing white skin. Her stomach was in knots at what she was doing. She was shaving her privates. What was becoming of her? God was it supposed to feel like she was using tweezers to pull every hair? She gasped and winced, stretching her folds tighter to help the process.

  She couldn’t see all of it. Putting her leg up in various positions, she fought to get at all the angles of her second disaster. Getting at the hair around her clit was getting very tricky. The tip of the clippers were wide and where the U turn happened, the overheated metal hit her clit making her gasp over and over.

  Why couldn’t something go right? She needed a razor.

  Visions of bloody nicks covering her vagina nearly panicked her. No way. She couldn’t risk adding more tragedy to her last minute, stupid idea.

  When she was sure there was no more hair, she showered again, using the soap to feel for any stray hairs. Having random long strands remaining would be beyond embarrassing.

  “You almost done?” Dante called at the door when she shut off the shower.

  “Getting out now,” she called back.

  She dried off and finally looked at the end result. Leaning her upper body over, she stared in shocked dismay. Christ in heaven! Christ in heaven! That was not attractive! She had a fat child’s vagina!

  She jerked up and stared at her hair in the mirror, trying to make it lay in a remotely attractive way all while the clock struck midnight, ending the impossible Dante dream come true.

  Just go out. It’s only hair, he said so himself. And if he loves …

  Loves? He’d never come out and said he loved her. She swiped at the tears falling, resisting the sobs of defeat. Stupid idiot. Why couldn’t you just dye your hair? She looked down at her bald vagina again and paused. Were the lips different sizes?

  “Rin?” Dante called softly at the door. The sound in his tone said he knew something was up. And was worried.

  Oh he needed to be. He really did. She fought to answer him, but the sobs rushed up and she held her breath.

  “Rin,” he called softly again.

  “I’m … “ She put the heal of her hand on her forehead and shook it. “I messed up,” she barely squeaked out.

  “What?”

  “I said …” she called louder, making her voice stronger. “I kind of messed up.”

  “The color?”

  She shook her head and clenched her eyes tight. “No. I thought I would … you said we needed a change and we needed to look different. And you cut your hair and …”

  “Rin …” he said, dread weighing in his tone.

  “I’m sorry,” she gasped.

  “Open the door. I’m sure it’s fine.”

  She gushed a derisive laugh. “I look absolutely appalling!”

  “How much did you cut?” he asked.

  “A lot,” she wailed.

  “Oh fuck,” he muttered. “Open the door.”

  “No,” she said.

  “Rin, you have to come out some time.”

  “When you’re sleeping,” she said.

  “Princess, let me see.”

  “And that’s not all I did,” she said, wanting him prepared for a double disaster.

  “What else did you do?” he wondered, perplexed.

  “Right? What all could I possibly ruin? Well, I … I removed all the hair from my … my …” She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

  “Pussy?” he asked, sounding maybe hopeful.

  “Yes,” she said between shaky breaths. “Another catastrophe.”

  “How so?”

  “It looks … abnormal,” she squeaked. “Like an overweight toddler vagina.”

  He busted out laughing and she narrowed her gaze at the door. “God, it’s not funny!” she cried.

  “Open this door, right now. I have to see these catastrophes.”

  “Turn the lights off,” she begged.

  “Okay, I’ll turn the lights off.”

  “And get away from the door.”

  “Getting away from the door.”

  Rin wrapped tightly in a towel and used a second one to wrap on her head. She unlocked the door and turned off the bathroom light. Slowly, she opened it, look
ing to make sure he wasn’t there.

  “I’m coming out,” she warned.

  “I’m sitting on the bed, waiting,” he said, his voice edged with laughter.

  Rin made her way out and stopped at the corner. “The lamp,” she whispered, pained.

  “Come here.” The hunger in those rough words stole her strength, a fire mixing with the fear of what she’d done. The combination was nearly nauseating.

  She stopped before him, torn between which towel to hold tight to.

  “What do you want to show me first?” he asked.

  “Neither,” she whispered.

  “You’re letting me choose?”

  She shook her head.

  “I can tell you what I want to see more than anything,” he mumbled, his eyes on her private area.

  She quickly sat next to him, scared he might yank the towel off. She stared down, feeling his gaze on her now.

  “Let me see,” he murmured.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I should’ve just colored it.”

  “It’ll grow back.”

  At hearing the tenderness in his voice, she gained a little courage. Just face it, get it over with. She reached up and pulled the towel off her head. She sat with her head hanging, so ashamed. She didn’t even bother to try and make it look presentable, there was no helping what it was.

  “Say something,” she whispered after several seconds of nothing.

  He let out long sigh. “I am definitely going to spank … your pretty ass for cutting all your beautiful hair off.”

  “I’m sorry,” she gasped. But her heart raced at the sound in his voice. It wasn’t angry like it should be, it was … unsteady. With hunger and other things she wasn’t familiar with.

  “Stand up. Right before me. And drop the towel.”

  Oh God. She slowly stood and did as he said. But removing the towel to reveal disaster number two was so hard. The hair on her head was one thing, but what now existed between her legs was just seven kinds of abnormal.

  She finally let the towel fall, turning her face as far away as she could.

  “Hoooolllly fffffffuuuuuuck,” he barely whispered, his breaths coming in thick bursts. “I forgive you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  She gasped when he suddenly dropped to his knees. He shoved her leg up and buried his mouth inside her open folds. His hunger forced her fingers into his hair for a tight hold while he groaned, licked, and cussed all over her.

  Rin’s head fell back with shocked cries of Dante, God, and Jesus—all while he sucked her clit like a hungry baby suckled a breast. He thrust his finger inside her with a lusty growl and she came instantly, she came so hard, her body shuddering with the violent pleasure.

  His other hand splayed on her back and she tilted sideways. Before she could worry about falling, the bed was under her and he was kissing his way up her body, grabbing both her breasts tightly and sucking with that same ferocity.

  “Fuck me,” she whispered, raking her nails over his head.

  “No,” he gasped, sucking with a groan at her neck.

  “Please,” she begged, pushing her body into his hard one, fighting for more contact.

  His mouth was on hers now, devouring. “I can’t right now,” he gushed between kissing.

  “Why?” She held his face, fighting to taste more of him.

  “Because … I’ll fuck you.”

  The vicious tone in his voice made her burn for it. She wanted that, she needed that impossible passion. She needed to drown in it and die in it and be reborn in it. “Do it,” she said weakly.

  He growled and pulled off of her and the sudden disconnect drew her up on her elbows. She watched him pace near the bed while holding his head. “I won’t do it like that. Not like that.”

  She studied him and couldn’t stop her smile, torn between wanting him to fuck her and the joy that he wouldn’t. Well, the why he wouldn’t part. He wanted it to be special and right. Tender and soft and … what was that other word, reverent.

  Her stomach clenched when he stood next to the bed and began opening his pants. His eyes were hot on her breasts as he pushed them down, releasing his hard cock. The sight of it brought a ravenous hunger and she hurried to it, grabbing the thick hard silk in both hands and sucking with reckless abandon.

  “Yes, God fuck yes,” he whispered, his deep voice shaking with need. He choked on a groan when she opened wide, grabbed his hips and pulled him deep. She fought her throats need to shut, swallowing and feeling him, accepting his large cock. She wanted him as deep as she could have him, making her mouth tight the way he seemed to like it. The growl he gave shot hunger through her blood. She roamed her hungry hands over his stomach and chest, her fingers devouring every scar as she went. She paused to feel the hard tips of his nipples before racing back down his sides and around his back, onto his butt, onto those sexy muscles flexing with his thrusts.

  Her fingers made it around his hard thighs to his balls. She caressed with a curious eagerness that sent his hands onto her head in a tight grip. He liked her touch there. Her joy and desire poured onto his cock in the form of grunts and moans as she reached further between his legs. He opened for her and she didn’t deny her fingers complete exploration, raking the tight muscles in his butt now pumping faster.

  She forced a finger between the solid cheek muscles and drew it slowly and firmly to his balls, her nails raking the tight skin with the same hunger her teeth scraped along his cock.

  His orgasm hit and she focused on taking his essence in her mouth. She gave herself to the tight grip of his hands on her head, his rapid pumps and lusty growls but especially the head of his cock pounding perfectly against her throat.

  When the hot spurts subsided in her mouth, she licked and kissed all along him, like a child licking the cake mix bowl. “Rin,” he croaked, his breaths slowing. “I want to ask where you learned that and yet I don’t ever want to know.”

  She smiled a little and looked up, her eyes taking in his silky scarred muscles glistening with a light sheen of sweat now. She didn’t make it past his chest, mesmerized by the impeccable design of him. “You taught me,” she whispered.

  “Me?” he gushed, pulling his pants back up and fastening them. He lowered and kissed her so very tenderly, his fingers gliding along her jaw and neck as he moaned softly in her mouth. “How me?” He pushed her onto the bed and she smiled as he snuggled next to her, his face pressing into her chest.

  “How you,” she whispered, contemplating that. “I think … maybe you are the key to me? I feel … unlocked and free and full of life.” She passed her fingers through the silk strands of his hair over and over, realizing suddenly that her own hair tragedy was over. She’d been wrong about how he would react. Her Cinderella fantasy was still thriving and living and breathing and real.

  Emotions welled up inside her then. “I feel … like I’m surely the smartest woman alive to be here with you and yet … I know this isn’t the case.” She strained to talk around the tightness in her chest and throat. “So … I guess I really don’t know how I learned this? A miracle happened inside me," she gasped, then swallowed. "Is still happening, and I pray it never stops.”

  He lifted his head and slid his nose over her cheek, brushing it against hers. He then pressed a soft kiss onto her lips then propped his head on a hand. His blue eyes shone in the dim light, like a deep part of the ocean as he stared down at her.

  “What?” she wondered at the things she saw swirling in his gaze.

  “I … really didn’t want to involve you in this, Rin. But I don’t see how I can possibly keep you out of it.”

  “Keep me out of what?” she asked concerned, trailing her fingers along his neck and shoulder.

  “I just have to ask some questions, to help me understand things.”

  “Anything,” she whispered.

  He angled his head and eyed her for a few seconds, concern drawing his brows together and lining his smooth forehead. “How long … have you
been going to Daryl’s church?”

  Just the mention of his name brought a heavy darkness to settle inside her. “That’s my family church,” she said. “Since I was a young child, I grew up in it.”

  “And Daryl?”

  “Same,” she said, tracing the scarred designs on his chest, not wanting to talk about her and Daryl. “Why did you do all this to yourself?”

  He smiled a little and she loved the way his full lips tugged slightly to one side. “Bored out of my fucking mind, I guess. It’s like you only have so many things you can do locked up and when you find something you enjoy you do the hell out of it.”

  “You enjoy doing this?” she asked, fascinated as she contemplated the artwork.

  He gave a light shrug. “I think I loved it and hated it.”

  She raised her eyes to his. “Why?”

  He guided her fingers to one particular design to the left of his abdomen. It looked like a maze in the shape of a wheel. As he moved her finger over it, she realized it was a maze and he was moving her through it, toward the center where an eye waited. Staring out. “I guess I needed to make some kind of mark on something.” She felt the deep rumble of his voice inside her. “A man who doesn’t exist in the real world starts to have a need to mark something, I think. Remind myself that I existed. Evidence or a link or … maybe even a lifeline to the real world.” He led her finger out of the maze. “The real world was in constant threat of disappearing entirely. I could feel the pull of getting lost in there.” He brought her finger to his lips and kissed it. “What about you? What were you up to when I was stuck in prison?”

  “When did you get stuck?” she wondered, curious about him now.

  He grinned. “I got stuck at seventeen,” he said, laughter making his voice lighter.

  “Seventeen,” she whispered, saddened. “So young.” She realized she had no idea how old he was. “I don’t know what I was doing then. I’m twenty-seven.”