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"Next time, I won’t explain anything because it has nothing to do with you, princess," he announced, staring daggers at me. He shot a quick look to our almost-entwined fingers and continued. "You’re not my wife or my girlfriend, so don’t stick your nose into my family matters."
His words felt horrible, and for a moment, I actually believed that he meant them, but then, for a second, I saw the pain behind his angry mask. I saw a man who was afraid to trust someone, who was scared of losing control. He was afraid to show that he was hurt because, as a ruthless businessman, he couldn’t show fear. He was raised like this, and he became a machine who only turned into a human being when he was safely hidden behind the walls of his home. My dad once told me a very useful thing: when a person tries to push you away because of pain or sorrow, that’s the time they need you the most. And as time passed, I realised that his words were true. Some people just didn't know how to ask for help.
"What are you doing, Mr Thorn?" I asked, holding his gaze. "Do you think you’re able to hurt me enough that I run away and cry? Or what?"
"What is—" h started, but I needed him to listen. We had no reason to argue. He was angry, and I sympathised. I wanted to help him, but at this moment, I couldn’t. He had to calm down first.
"Sir," I addressed firmly, trying for a normal tone. "Please remember that I’m not some naive teenage girl who you can scare, and I’ll hide in the corner, crying my eyes out." He gave me a slightly confused look, and I took a quick breath. "I’m here because I chose to be here, I chose to sign the contract, and I care for you, so I’m asking what is going on." I reassuringly squeezed his hand, and I came closer, putting my other palm on his face. He didn’t push me away, but his eyes were still full of all the wrong emotions.
"I know you’re hurt," I said, much gentler than I intended to. "I understand you need to ventilate that anger and frustration, but please, if you don’t want to bend me over that table again and fuck me into oblivion so you’ll feel better, at least don’t use me as your punching bag. Don’t forget, we both agreed to our ‘exclusive relationship’ and your mean behaviour affects us both."
I got up on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. I didn’t want to leave him alone, but he was old enough to know what he needed. And he didn’t stop me when I pulled away and walked out of his office. I could only hope he would call me if he wanted to see me.
34
An Apology
Bastian
Afterthefourthdrink,I’d had enough. I didn’t want to end up wasted and come to Electra looking like some desperate drunk who didn’t know how to handle his childhood trauma. According to my therapist, it was the right term for the uncontrollable rage I felt every time I thought about my father. I couldn’t forgive him for what he’d been doing to my mother during their entire marriage. What kind of man betrays his wife and children and then abandons them to fuck another woman, only to return home, pleading and promising never to do it again?
Leonard Thorn was a pathetic excuse for a man. He only cared about money and the young whore by his side. His wife was at the absolute bottom of his list. And since he’d finally retired from his position, he would probably die of a heart attack while fucking some expensive, barely eighteen-year-old slut.
"Do you want another one?" the very attractive brunette waitress, maybe in her thirties, asked with a wide smile on her face, but I shook my head no. She leaned over the bar, showing me a pair of medium-sized breasts pressed in a tight blouse, and touched my forearm. "Or would you like something else?" She seductively licked her lips, and my insides twisted with disgust.
I was used to women hitting on me. It came naturally with my huge frame, manly face, and the fact my clothes and accessories literally screamed money at everyone around me. But the worst part of it was that many of those women were married, exactly like the one in front of me. She put her hand on my arm, and when I looked down, she had a wedding ring on her finger. I almost threw up in her face.
I stood up, and without another word, I left. I wasn’t in the mood to look at someone who made me nauseous. For the entire time I was alone at the bar, I was thinking about Electra and her words. She was correct; I'd turned her into a punching bag because she'd showed up at the worst possible time. And to top it all off, I only wrote to her to take out the butt plug, and since then, I had kept radio silence.
Sarah and her stupid, disgusting face were something I couldn’t overcome with breathing exercises. My parents' fragile relationship was almost ruined by her. Mom had been sick, and those things hurt her very much.
I held Sarah responsible for my mother’s early death. She couldn’t digest her husband’s other infidelity after she’d found out about his illegitimate son. One would assume she’d be used to it, and she shouldn’t be surprised by an out-of-marriage child, yet it was the final nail in her coffin. She’d died three weeks after finding out.
Memories of my mother always hurt more than I was able to admit. I felt responsible for not helping her, but I’d begged her to leave that bastard. She’d never done it; she’d always stayed. My therapist said, "you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped," and he was very right.
With a heavy heart and dizzy head, I entered my apartment. It was dark and quiet in the living room; only the red book was lying on the coffee table. Electra’s diary and her pink pen were staring at me, and with slightly knotted eyebrows, I took it. I sat down and opened it.
26th of May 2022
Work - plugged and licked into orgasm—amazing!
Mr Thorn - playful and adorable, then furious and hurt—a great day turned sour after one meeting : (
At home - alone and bored, I’m going to bake.
I was smiling while I was reading her quick notes about the day, and I closed the notebook, thinking about her last words. Was she baking something? At eleven o’clock?
I fished a small rectangular velvet box from my inner pocket and placed it into my pants pocket. I took off my jacket and walked into the huge kitchen. The smell of something sweet hit my nose, and my mouth instinctively watered. I peeked from behind the corner, only to see Electra dancing, humming some song with two dirty empty plates before she put them into the dishwasher. I was sure my housekeeper should have done it before she’d left, but for some reason, my princess was playing the role of a maid and cook.
I hungrily watched her as she bent over, and my white T-shirt, which she wore, rolled up, showing me her green panties. Instantly, my mind was flooded with images of her shaking under me when I was ramming hard into her. I traced the line of her round ass as she swayed her hips in a rhythm that only she heard as she straightened back up to take empty glasses.
I couldn’t help but admire the curve of her neck, and I wanted nothing else but to hug her from behind, press her against my chest, and inhale her scent. I needed to feel her, to know that I wasn’t too much of an asshole and she could forgive me for my immature behaviour.
I didn’t have a clue how long I’d been staring at her when she noticed my presence. Immediately, her cheeks reddened, and a small, shy smile appeared on her lips. My already half-hard member hardened like a stone. My pants suddenly felt slightly uncomfortable.
"Good evening, sir," she greeted me. Her tone was soaked with relief. She was scared I wouldn’t come home, and I felt like a piece of shit for doing this to her. She didn’t deserve any of this. She didn’t sign up for my problems. That was one of the reasons I’d hesitated to have an exclusive relationship with her. I was a mess, and next time, my anger episode could hurt her much more.
"Hello, princess," I said, and her smile widened. She loved it when I called her that. "Why aren’t you in bed? It’s almost midnight." I wasn’t barking at her or anything, but she still bit her lower lip, avoiding my eyes.
