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When I’m done fixing my clothes, I bend over her to retrieve my tie. She wraps her arms around herself as she turns on her side. She grabs a pillow and hugs it to her chest, burying her face in it.
At that moment, the shroud of anger over my eyes vanishes. The fog of pleasure inside my head clears. A knot forms in my throat and I swallow.
What have I done?
Chapter Nine
Leah
What did I do?
The question bugs me as I sit on the beanbag at the foot of my bed with a glass of milk that’s gone cold. The room is dark except for the light coming from the TV in front of me, the volume low. My eyes are on the screen but my thoughts are far away.
What did I do to make Gavin angry?
And he was angry. I felt it in the hand that gripped my wrist as he dragged me to the library, that held my head still as he rammed his cock down my throat, that nearly ripped off my clothes. I saw it in his eyes as they held mine while he stroked me, teased me, in the mirror as he pounded into me mercilessly. Yes, my body responded and I came three times, but there was no pleasure there. That wasn’t sex. That was punishment. Discipline. A lesson in submission in the harshest, worst way.
I put my glass down and wrap my arms around myself to suppress a shudder as I remember how he made me feel- helpless, weak, miserable. And the words he made me say?
I close my eyes and shake my head.
I don’t want to think about them. I may feel better now that I’ve had a shower, a bowl of soup and a few scoops of ice cream, but I’m not okay just yet. Tomorrow maybe, but not now. I may have my clothes back on, but I still feel naked. I still feel like there’s something missing. I may no longer have his cum stuck to my face or leaking from between my legs, but the memories I’m left with are like a stain on my mind. I may not have any bruises, but my spirit is still crushed. If his intention was to make me feel like a slave or worse, some kind of mindless object, some toy for him to vent his frustrations on, he succeeded.
But why? All I did was try to cook him roast duck, which ended up in the trash because I left it in the oven for too long. I’m guessing the side dishes got thrown out as well. And told him we were having a candlelit dinner, and offered him a massage. That’s all. And I only did so because I wanted to thank him, to make him feel appreciated and less alone. What’s wrong about that?
Did he get angry because I was in the kitchen and I wasn’t supposed to be? Surely he didn’t think I’d burn myself alive or something. Or was it because I told Enrico he could go home? But he was sneezing every two minutes. Surely Gavin doesn’t want those germs spreading in his kitchen. Or was it because of my music? Does he have something against the Spice Girls, maybe? If only I knew the reason, I’d be able to make sense of what happened. I’d be able to put this behind me faster and feel better.
Once again, though, it makes no sense. All I can hope for is that he’ll realize he’s made a mistake just like last time, and that the next time I see him, he’ll be his nicer self, which I still believe is in there somewhere. Even the usual self will do- cold but not cruel. Anything but the Gavin I just saw. He wasn’t just angry. It was like he was trying so hard to prove something. It was almost like he was lashing out in pain.
Was he in pain?
That’s something I’ve learned over the years- only a person who’s going through something painful can hurt another person knowingly. That’s why we have family, people who we hurt without meaning to but who understand and forgive us. But Gavin doesn’t seem to have family. He doesn’t seem to have anyone.
Maybe I reminded him of his family by cooking dinner for him? Or maybe he thought I was trying to be his family?
I shake my head. All of this speculating is giving me a headache, so I’ll just stop. Whatever his reason, I just hope this won’t happen again. I hope he’ll be alright. I hope everything will be alright.
As I pick up my glass of milk, I hear a knock on the door. For a moment, I stiffen, thinking it might be Gavin. Then I hear Giselle’s voice.
“Leah?”
“Come in,” I tell her.
