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For the first time in forever, I feel like I belong. I feel like I’ve found a real home. Matthew is my home. It’s so easy to see how our future would play out. Except for my past still looming in the background, waiting to snatch away my happiness. I’m not naïve enough to think Mr. Perfect has given up. He’ll come for me sooner or later. For now, I’m determined to enjoy my time here.
I’ve gotten closer to Hannah. She’s taken me under her wing, and we’ve become fast friends. Slade and Kisten have both taken on brotherly roles. Slade is never far from my side unless Matthew is around. Matthew is the only person trusted to keep me safe without Slade’s back up. Even though I suspect Kisten is more than capable of keeping me safe, Slade won’t leave me my side.
Unfortunately, things haven’t heated back up between Matthew and me. Even though we are constantly touching in some way when we are in the same space, he’s barely kissed me since the day Damon came to the club. Every time we do kiss if things start to heat up, he pulls back. It’s frustrating. I feel guilty for being frustrated, though, because he’s not withholding his affection. We hold hands anytime we walk side by side. If we are sitting, he either pulls me into his lap, or he keeps a possessive hand on my thigh, but nothing else. It’s infuriating. I had a brief taste of what a healthy physical relationship could be, then it was snatched away.
We eat almost every meal together. Which I love. Especially since he prefers to feed me from his plate. I feel taken care of and treasured. It’s one of the many ways he shows me how much I mean to him. Everything in this new life of mine fits into place… except for the dark shadow that’s hanging over my head.
No matter that Slade is always close to my side anytime I leave the penthouse, I’m constantly looking over my shoulder, just waiting for Mr. Perfect to catch up to me. The stress has my anxiety at an all-time high. Despite how happy I am to be here with Matthew and how much I love what I’m coming to think of as my new life, I can’t shake the anxiety.
I know it’s taking its toll on Matthew. This last week he’s hardly let me out of his sight. My nightmares have persisted, and we are both exhausted. He has asked what I dream of, but I just can’t talk to him about it. He already won’t touch me. What would he see when he looks at me if he knew that my dreams are plagued with memories of being raped and abused?
I hate that he’s so worried. The guilt of it eats me alive. I found out yesterday that Black Rose isn’t just one club there are actually two other locations, one in Vegas and one in Los Angeles. Matthew was supposed to travel to the U.K. last week to look at some property to potentially open another club for the members that travel overseas, but because of me, he canceled his trip.
Of course, that just piled onto the guilt. Matthew’s business is being impacted by my situation. I tried to tell him to go, but he wouldn’t hear of it. I’m grateful that he didn’t listen to me because the thought of him leaving me for any length of time is terrifying. Apparently, my selfishness knows no bounds.
I let out a tired sigh as I look through the ridiculous amount of clothes on my side of Matthew’s closet. Well, one of Matthew’s closets. Part of my new extensive wardrobe is here at the club for the nights we stay here instead of going back to the penthouse. I flip through half a dozen dresses, jeans, blouses, and more feeling disgusted with the waste.
The only real argument Matthew and I have had has been over this wardrobe. I insisted that he return things. He spent an ungodly amount of money on me, and it’s completely unnecessary. I’m used to having one or two outfits and a single pair of shoes. Between the two closets, I could wear a different outfit every day for two months and still not run out. Don’t get me started on the shoes. Who needs ten pairs of high heels?
I spent an entire day ignoring Hannah and Slade because they are the traitors who purchased everything. Apparently, Matthew had told Slade to buy not only the things that I tried on and liked but everything I showed the slightest interest in. Ridiculous! I’ve been wearing the same five outfits and two pairs of shoes as a silent rebellion. I know it’s wasteful, but I can’t get over the cost even though I’ve been assured a dozen times that I couldn’t spend all of Matthew’s money in five lifetimes and to just enjoy being spoiled.
I pull out a brand-new dress and slip it over my head. Even though my back is completely healed, I avoid wearing the pretty bras that Hannah picked out for me. I wasn’t allowed to wear one at Red House, and I just can’t seem to get used to the restriction. My breasts are small enough that it’s not really necessary anyway.
My phone dings with a text message. That’s another thing that I tried to tell Matthew was ridiculous. The only people I talk to are him, Hannah, Slade, and Kisten. I don’t need a cellphone to do that since I’m never truly alone. Matthew shut down my argument quick by threatening to take me over his knee and spank me into submission. He immediately apologized, thinking that he scared me… he didn’t.
After spending so much time at the club, seeing how devoted dominants are to their submissives, it’s hard to not want that level of devotion for yourself. Matthew gives me all the devotion a good dominant gives, but none of the physical stuff that goes along with that kind of dynamic. I don’t know if it’s that he’s basically cut off our physical relationship other than innocent kisses and cuddles or if it’s something that’s broken inside my psyche, but I ache for him.
On nights that I’m not haunted by nightmares, I dream of Matthew. I dream about the things I’ve seen at the club. Of being spanked, then caressed and brought to orgasm. I dream about him licking me all over before fucking me senseless. I always wake up from those dreams covered in sweat with drenched panties.
Luckily, Matthew just assumes I’ve had another bad dream. I wonder what he would think if he knew the truth. How would he react if he knew I was having erotic dreams about him?
The text is from Matthew. I’m going to be late for dinner. Go ahead and eat without me.
I shake my head. I’ll wait.
His response is instant. Stubborn.
I miss you.
I can picture him letting out an exasperated sigh but smiling because he likes that I miss him when we aren’t together. I miss you too, love. I’ll be up as soon as I can.
Take your time. xo
The penthouse is quiet. Today is the first time that I’ve been left alone. Hannah had a doctor’s appointment, and Slade refused to let anyone else take her. Not that I’m surprised. He denies it, but he’s just as obsessed with her as she is him. I debate on what to do while I wait and decide to use the quiet time to read.
Book in hand, I curl up on one of the plush sofas and cocoon myself in a fluffy blanket. Within minutes, I’m transported to a fantasy world full of sexy vampires and werewolves. I lose track of time while I read, and it isn’t until my phone rings that I realize the sun has set. I answer without looking at the caller id, only one person actually calls me.
“Hello, handsome,” I greet Matthew with a smile.
A dark chuckle meets my ear and goosebumps prickle along my skin. “Glad you still find your old man attractive,” Mr. Perfect says. “I’m disappointed in you, Tessa. Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been about you?”
I’m shocked speechless. I let out some kind of inarticulate noise, but as always, he doesn’t actually want a response to his question. In the back of my mind, I wonder how he got my phone number.
“Mr. Brown is willing to forgive your absence… for a price. You need to be smart and come back with me before the price is too high for you to pay.”
My breathing becomes ragged as Mr. Brown’s face swims in front of me. He’s the cruelest of all of my clients. The one who gave me the scar on my thigh, among others. To all of them, I was a toy to be played with then discarded once I was used up. Most of them were cognizant of how far they could take things without breaking me… Mr. Brown pushed those boundaries every time. Sometimes it took weeks for my body to heal after a session with him. Mr. Perfect never complained, though, because Mr. Brown compensated him heavily for the privilege of trying to break me beyond repair.
“It’s time for you to come home, Tessa.”
