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“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
She looks at the rope on the floor. “You’ve done this before?”
I pick up the rope and coil it neatly. “Yes. I’ve always had this … need. Craving. Fetish. Whatever you want to call it. I tie up all the women I fuck; I always have. But a lot of that was just for fun, and didn’t touch on the serious aspects of the lifestyle. I’ve never actually been in a true D/s relationship full-time though. I’ve always wanted to, but I never found the right person that I thought I could try it with. It’s complicated.”
“But you do with me? Some random girl you met in a cemetery?”
“Yes,” I reply. “Without a doubt.”
“I really don’t know much about any of this. I’m not going to be a slave.”
“Fuck no, I don’t want that either. I’m friends with this couple. The woman is president of a corporation. She has a ton of responsibility and stress—it’s fucking crazy. Like, she’s in charge of everything that goes on in that company, and she’s great at it. But when she’s home with her partner, she’s submissive and he’s the Dom. She needs that with him, because she gets to let go and relinquish control to someone she trusts and loves. She doesn’t have to make the decisions, or tell people what to do. And it feels good for her to be told what to do, to be controlled.” I study her face for a reaction or some glimmer of understanding, but she’s just tilting her head at me, listening intently, much like a child does when hearing a bedtime story. Like Katie did. “I know it’s hard to understand. Every relationship is different. It’s a total give and take.”
She nods. “That makes sense. I understand that.”
“Some people, they’re into the pain, and degradation. Like you mentioned, they want a slave, or want to be a slave. For me, it’s a mix of things.” Taking her hand, I stand and guide her onto the bed with me where it’s more comfortable. “I think what started this is my childhood. I was abused when I was young. I was beat up by my adoptive father a lot. He liked to belittle me and put me down, and not let me have anything or be able to do anything. He liked to lock me in my room alone. So I think I have a need for control now. I also hate to be touched, so I started tying girls up during sex when I was younger so they couldn’t touch—”
She interrupts me. “You don’t like to be touched? That’s kinda strange. I thought the fun part of having sex was to be touched.”
“For some people. But it’s also an incredible rush to fuck someone who can’t touch you, and on the flip side, to have sex with someone that you’re restrained from touching. Tell me, how did it feel to suck me with your hands tied behind your back?”
Her cheeks redden, and she looks down at her small, pink-tipped fingers clutching the blanket.
“Tell me,” I coax. “I need to know everything you’re feeling.”
She takes a deep breath before answering. “It was scary … but also exciting, in a really weird way. You’re gonna laugh at me for this, but I’ve always hated giving oral because I thought I was doing it wrong, or not good enough, and I had a fear of swallowing and choking.” She peeks at me from under her long, dark eyelashes. “But with you kinda demanding it, and having my hands tied, I didn’t have the chance to back out. It made it easier, as backwards as that sounds.”
“See?” I smile at her. “Giving up control and fears can be good. And it made me happy as fucking hell.”
“Did it? I really made you feel good?”
“You made me feel way better than good. I never get off that fast. You just looked so fucking beautiful, and provoking me to chase you down pushed me right over the edge.”
I’m treading on delicate ground here. Getting involved like this hadn’t been part of my plan. Not that I really had a plan. I just knew I couldn’t stop thinking about her after seeing her, and I just had to get closer to her. Feel her. Hear her. Be part of her. I wasn’t expecting to actually like her. Or to want her so fucking much. Or the possibility of her liking me. I’m fucked.
Standing, I go to my walk-in closet to get some clothes. When I return she’s staring at the wall, not blinking. A lot like Sterling does.
“I’m gonna run out for a little while.”
Her head snaps up. “You’re leaving me here?”
“Yes.” I don’t want her with me in case I run into someone who recognizes me, and I’m not ready yet to tell her I’m in Ashes & Embers, or that I’m the guy who crashed into her.
Her eyes fly to me wildly. “When are you coming back?”
“Relax. I’m just running to the store. I’m going to grab some things I need, and some clothes for you. What size are you? Little?”
“Small. Why can’t I go with you?”
I shake my head and pull a black T-shirt over my head. “No. Listen to me. I’m going to trust you to not touch my shit while I’m gone. If I find out that you touched any of my stuff, I will fucking spank your ass raw. Come with me.” I head out into the living room and she follows me. “I want you to sit on this couch with the cat and not move, all right?”
She scowls at me like a child. “What is your problem? I’m not going to steal your stuff.”
I’m not worried about her stealing anything; I’m worried about her finding something with my name on it, and I don’t have time to go through the entire house to see what’s lying around. I keep this place really clean and don’t really have mail sent here, but I’m sure there must be something with my name on it somewhere.
“I know you’re not. I just don’t like people going through my personal things.”
She flops on the couch, pulls the cat onto her lap and picks up the television remote. “I have zero interest.”
“Do you need anything? Any kind of food you want?”
“No thank you. I barely eat anymore.”
“That’s changing tonight. I’m making us dinner.”
“You can’t make me eat. I’ll use the safe word.”
I roll my eyes. “You can’t use the safe word for dinner. That’s ridiculous, and not even funny.”
She shoots me a dirty look, and I suddenly feel as if I’m living with a teenager.
“I won’t be gone long,” I tell her, picking up my car keys.
“Should I expect any random women to show up while you’re gone?” she shoots back.
I smirk and cross the room to stand over her. “Were you jealous of Evelyn?”
“Who’s Evelyn?”
I want to spank this girl so bad I can taste it. She’s such a little instigator. She flip-flops from being quiet and depressed to sarcastic in about two seconds.
“You’re begging for a spanking, ya know.”
“Just go already.” She’s not even looking at me.
“Stand up.”
“Why?”
“Don’t question me. Just do it.”
She puts the cat gently next to her and stands up, twisting her hair around her finger and chewing her lip.
“Kiss me goodbye.” I soften my voice to ease her nerves.
“I don’t like goodbyes,” she says, her voice thick with sadness.
“I can understand that. Then just kiss me because you like me.”
She peeks
up at me beneath her messy bangs. “Maybe I don’t like you.” I know she’s only half teasing, but her words cut me and kill my mood. Which is really different for me, because I don’t like many people and couldn’t give two shits if anyone likes me. But I want her to like me, and even more than that, I want her to want me.
“Hey, I’m used to people not liking me. Join the fucking club.” And with that I leave, slamming the door behind me.
I take the car I keep up here instead of the bike because I can’t cram too much stuff into the saddlebags. On the way to the store I blast some music to try and raise my mood, but it’s not working. Maybe I should just take her home and stop playing with fire with this situation I’ve created. I should not be fucking around with the widow of someone I accidentally killed. It’s pretty much the most fucked-up thing I’ve ever done. Lukas would kill me if he knew, and Storm would have a goddamn coronary. Ash would try to ban me from the fucking planet. Self-righteous assholes.
But this girl … this little broken doll of a girl that used to smile and write silly status updates like “omg! This cookie is amazing!!” she has entranced me. She’s woken my desires and eased some of my pain already. I crave both her dark silence and her sensual innocence. I want to catch her smile with my lips, feel what she feels, see what she sees. I need her to be happy, because I believe it’s contagious and I want her to infect me with it. I don’t want to give her up.
I pick up a few grocery items, some small sweatpants, T-shirts and panties for her, and then wander into the craft store that is conveniently located next door. She’s way too delicate for my usual industrial ropes and chains. Instead, I want to bind her with silk ribbon and long strings of pearls, to tie her beauty within beauty, and then defile her with my ugly darkness just so I can undo it again.
As I drive back to the house, I play last night over in my mind. I’m surprised at how willingly she came with me, and let me touch her. I don’t think I misjudged her in thinking she’s a good girl that doesn’t sleep around. She turned me on like mad. I want to believe that she wanted me just as badly, but I know that’s far from the truth. It must be that she has reached a level of destruction where she wants me to ruin her and is using me to facilitate her own mental demise.
