Love is Blind

24

Dahlia

He's pretty. His soft pink lips, those gorgeous eyes. His skin is fair and his hair, dark in sharp contrast. His eyes are haunting. Scary, if you look too close. But even that is beautiful.

Akira is always calm. He has a firm control of his emotions; if he has any. I debate sometimes. It's why I actually enjoy sucking him off. He can't help it. His brows knit, he bites his lip, trying to stifle his moans, any show pleasure.

His eyes on me, shuddering.

It's a high. But that was last night. This sun has risen, and he has risen with it. He's made breakfast, eaten set it aside for me, what's left. What he knows I'll eat.

I'm in the bed. It's the bed. Not the only bed in the house. Not his bed. Not my bed. But also...not necessarily...our bed.

Just...the bed.

But the pillowcases are satin in case my bonnet comes off the night and there are spares with different prints.

And my pads are in the bathroom.

Still, I call it the bed. The room.

"You're up earlier than usual," he says softly, his hair brushing his shoulders as he leans over the bed to hand me a cup of coffee.

I look at it and nod. 6 creams 6 sugars. He never forgets although I don't remember telling him.

Akira kisses my head. "So is your stomach feeling better?"

What is he talking about?

"For the plane," he explains.

Oh. I look away. "No. No, it's not. I can't," I trail off.

He raises a brow. "Maybe you need a hospital," his fingers brush my jaw, as he kneels in front of me, holding my face gently.

I pull away a bit. He holds me still.

"I will be...hm...unreachable," he says carefully, evenly, "For a few days."

He looks between my eyes. Drops down to my lips. Licks his. Back up.

Predictable.

"What does unreachable mean?" I ask, kissing his shoulder.

It's easy to charm Akira. A kiss here. There. Just...don't say too many concerning words a row. That stoic look gets on his face it's a warning.

He doesn't love questions.

"That you will not be to reach me. I will leave Ethan with you. He is...well...he is the only suitable replacement for me. So he'll be here in my stead."

"In your stead...for everything?" I smirk.

He stared at me. "Ethan is many things. He's also very loyal. He's been directed to gouge his eyes out if he sees you in a state of undress. I fully believe he'll keep his word."

Oh. I...don't even think he's joking.

I can never tell. Actually...I don't ever had joked about anything. All of his 'jokes' are just thinly veiled threats.

With no punchline.

"I see..."

He gives me a soft smile, content that I have yielded to him. He loves when I go soft. Hm...

Men are predicable creatures, really. You just have to know what to look for.

He wants me. All the time. Every day. When he looks me, he sweeps over my form. Takes a small breath. But very rarely initiates. He did at first. When I first got here because I wasn't a prisoner.

Now he's hesitant. He feels badly I think.

I thrive in his pity. It suits me for now.

"He also has access to the funds. Anything you need. And if he gets mouthy, and it's Ethan so he will, you can feel free to hit him. He kinda likes it."

I wrinkle my nose. "What is he your servant?"

"No. A friend who...thinks highly of me, is all," he says simply, glancing away. "In these funds, is enough to get you on that plane, if you decide," he stops, licking his lips. He holds me tighter.

Don't go. That's what his body language is saying—shouting.

Don't leave.

"I told you I'm just not feeling like a plane lately. Maybe it's a phobia developing or something." I shrug simply, laying back.

He hovers over me.

"Ship?"
"Can't swim."

He frowns. "You were born and lives on an island and you can't swim?"

I shrug again helplessly. He smiles, and bends down to kiss me. His lips press against mine firmly, his tongue slipping into my mouth.

He used his tongue like he wields that sword; with precision and skill. Soon, I'm thinking of nothing but his kiss, his touch, where his hands might travel, what he might say.

Will we have sex before he leaves? It's 9 in the morning and I'm ready.

Ready. Ovulation. My period.

"Wait, wait," I pull back, pulling out my phone. I swallow roughly. What the fuck is today?

My app says I'm supposed to have it twelve days. I'm ovulating. He frowns, cocking his head, brushing his hair back.

"Is everything okay, Dahlia?"

Akira's hair falls on my face, as he cocks his head staring hard at me like he's going to figure it out just by staring. He's so cute.

"I thought..." I shake my head. "Everything is fine. Where are you going?"

"Away."
"To where?"
"Another prefecture."
"Which prefecture?"
"You don't know the prefectures so it wouldn't matter."

I frown. Can't he just answer a fucking question for once in his goddamn life?!

He sighs seeing my frustration written on me face in lines and creases.

"Okinawa," he admits with a sigh.

"Isn't that like a little ways away."

He nods, clearing trying to make this into as little of a thing as possible. "Yeah. About 3 hours on a plane. So just a little."

I would ask what he's going to do there but I know he won't answer. I can't figure out if he's...military, government or...a criminal.

But I am heavily leaning toward criminal.

I trace the tattoos that cover his body. "What does this mean," I point to his sleeve.

He glances at it. "Had too much time on my hands," he leaves me. I watch him from the bed, my body bare against the high thread count comforter, as he grabs a bag I've never seen him pack.

"I'll be back this weekend," he calls from inside the closet.

"This is just so sudden."
"Hm," he agrees with a hum. He steps out of the closet with a gun in his hand tucking it his waistband.

A gun. I've never seen hum...

"It wasn't planned but it's happening now."

"Isn't that illegal here?"

He stared at me. Instead of answering, he kissed my lips. "Act like you have sense and morals while I'm gone please."

"But I don't. Im evil," I smirk.

He shoots me a backwards glance with a smirk to match. "Most definitely. But I said act. And we both you're good at that, dear." He shuts the door behind him.

I flop back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Maybe he's not as predictable as I thought.