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The anger receded as if he’d emptied himself of rage instead of come. Caleb stilled. Opened his eyes.
He expected to find her face turned from him, but Jessica hadn’t looked away. She still watched him, her lips parted in shock. A tear slipped from her eye and disappeared into the hair at her temple. Her pupils were wide and black, her mouth wet and red.
Caleb pulled from her body and got up to back away from the bed.
He buttoned his pants and snatched up his shirt from the floor before she’d closed her legs. He scrubbed a hand over his head in an attempt to erase the vision of her beneath him, watching as he tried to hurt her.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said as he stuffed his shirttail into his trousers and tugged up his suspenders. “Remember, you’re not to entertain anyone else.”
She didn’t answer. She only pulled the blankets over her naked body.
Caleb shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed his coat. He escaped into the dark hallway and didn’t look back at her face aglow in the night.
Chapter 7
‡
She’d been too tired to do anything but move weakly downstairs to bolt the door before washing herself and pouring one more shot of whiskey. Then, head swimming, she’d climbed back to the second floor and fallen into the twisted covers of her bed.
She felt just as weak in the morning. Strange and muffled. Not from the drink, but from the shock. The night with him hadn’t been what she’d expected.
Staring up at the dawn light that filtered through her curtains, Jessica tried to puzzle it out. Caleb had done the things she’d known he would do, yet none of it had felt normal. Or rather…none of it had fe
lt awful. Even when his face had turned fierce and angry and his cock had bruised her from the inside out…even then it had felt like something she’d needed.
And before that? Oh, the prelude had been torturous. Knowing what they were doing was wicked and filthy and wanting more of it. More of his mouth on her breast. More of his hand between her legs. More of him stroking his cock like he was taunting her with a weapon.
Heat grew between her legs at the thought. It pressed into her¸ urging her to part her thighs for him again. Instead, she squeezed her legs tight together, but just that sparked remnants of the feelings he’d created with his fingers the night before.
She’d been wrong about what happened between men and women. Wrong the first time, and wrong again. It was neither the sweet, sacred poetry she’d once imagined nor the bullying violation she’d experienced a few months back. With Caleb it had felt…primitive. Something flowing beneath the surface of her world that she’d never known was there.
Jessica had thought herself thrust into whoredom by circumstances, but perhaps it was what she truly was, because last night she’d spread her legs and pushed her hips up for more, wanting him to do it.
Until last night, she’d never really looked at a man’s member. She’d only caught glimpses and hadn’t wanted even that. But with Caleb… She’d looked at his hard, thick penis and she’d felt fear, but something deep inside her soul had said yes. Every stroke of his fingers across her private parts had been an affirmation. Yes, yes, that, inside me. She’d been empty and he’d filled her, and it had been as simple as that.
But it hadn’t truly been simple, because he’d punished her as well. He’d caught himself each time he’d been gentle and quickly called back his anger. And that had felt right too. She’d wanted that as much as the other. She hated what she’d done, and that bitter part of her needed filling too. Perhaps he could fuck that shame and hurt away for both of them.
He would come back tonight to try again, and Jessica would have to be ready.
She dressed quickly, choosing a work dress that was fraying at the hem. She’d need her better dresses for her evenings this week, which was a strange thought after all these months.
Melisande was at work in the kitchen, having used the hidden string Bill had hooked to the latch of the back door so they could let themselves in.
“How was your visit last night?” she asked as she slowly strained milk from a pail into a pitcher.
“Good,” Jessica said, her face flaming so hot she thought her ears might smoke.
“He left quickly,” Melisande commented.
Had it been quick? She supposed it must have been. There’d been no shared conversation, no tea and sweets. Jessica cleared her throat and got to making biscuits. It was one of the few things she was good at in this new life.
After listening to be sure there was no sign of Bill nearby, she cleared her throat again, and the blush returned. “Do you know any ways to keep a child from catching?” she asked. “I mean, I assume you’ve heard these things?”
Melisande eyed her for a moment. “Haven’t you?”
“No. I was just lucky.”
“All right. Well, for after the fact there’s parsley tea or rue. When did you last bleed?”
