by W Winters
“You stole from me. There’s a debt owed and a corresponding punishment. I would never let someone else steal from me and live.”
“Just kill me then,” she says and her voice cracks although she’s quick to clear her throat. “Just kill me if that’s what you want.” Despite her shattered veneer she holds her head high. She accepts my glare and doesn’t falter, her eyes brimming with tears.
Before I can respond, she says something else. I don’t hear it though as I take a seat; I simply watch as she pulls herself back together. She’s damn good at it. At not needing me.
I take my time, giving her a moment to breathe. At the head of the desk, I grip the armrests, waiting.
“Did you hear what I said?” Her composure is back, although her breathing is ragged.
“You said you wanted an exchange. You want to change the details of our deal.”
Her doe eyes beg me to consider, and they hold a vulnerability that her tense curves fail to deliver. As she takes a step forward, I think she wants to sit in the other wingback chair, but her legs give out. She grips both arms of the chair across from me as her chest rises and falls with a quickened pace. She can’t hide the fear of coming back to this life. Of coming back to me.
As her bottom lip slips between her teeth, I note that she can’t hide the desire either.
“I’ve wanted this for too long to consider your proposal,” I tell her, spreading my legs wider and leaning forward in the wingback chair opposite hers. My elbows rest on my knees as I lean closer to her, only inches away as I whisper, “You know what I want. I want you.”
“I can give you something you want more,” she speaks clearly, although her last words waver when her gaze drifts to my lips.
Lies. There’s nothing I want more.
I would have told her that and meant it with every bone in my body, but then she tells me, “I can give you Marcus.”
Laura
* * *
What would he do to me?
Even as I reach in my satchel for the notebook, my hand trembles. I can’t imagine Seth hurting me. I can’t. Even as he looks at me the way he does. That’s not what scares me.
I’m scared to go back, back to him and all this shit he comes with. I don’t want this life. I’ve never wanted it.
A voice in the back of my head whispers: you’re afraid to fall in love with him again. I ache for him. So deeply. Agony shreds me when I see who he’s become. I want to cry more than anything. I don’t know how I’ll survive this. All I have to cling to is a collection of photocopied pages, as if they’ll save me from this.
“You’re lying,” he says and his voice is firm.
“I’m not; I haven’t lied. I can give you information on Marcus.”
“Yes you have,” he bites out quickly and for the first time since I’ve been in here, I see a flash of sadness in his dark cobalt gaze. I can’t respond to him. Not even when he turns away from me, leaning back and tapping his index finger on the desk again. He’s so broken. I didn’t do this to him. It’s not because of me. With the notebook of photocopied pages between my fingers, I lie to myself again: I didn’t do this to him.
“There’s a patient at the Rockford Center. She’s been in and out of there for years although she’s not a resident currently,” I explain as I hand over the notebook. It’s a hardcover, black and nondescript, of her first collection of memories. Holding out the bound pages, I can’t look in Seth’s gaze. I can’t and I won’t, but he doesn’t take it. He doesn’t accept it and with every long second that passes, it only hurts more. “She’s been with Marcus. She knows about him.”
“Many people work for—”
“Been with,” I interrupt him to emphasize, “she was his lover.”
His fingers graze mine as he takes it. A hot and longing need for him is threatening to consume me. With my eyes closed, I try to ignore what the rough feel of his touch does to me. It’s like a sparkler, hot and brightly lit, yet quickly extinguished. A part of me yearns to move forward, to light my entire body. I’ve always been weak for him. My soul in love with his, needing his. I keep my eyes closed even when I hear him turn the pages.
I left this man years ago but in this moment, it feels like I’m leaving him again. Simply because I refuse to give in. It feels like I’m running although I’m merely standing still in front of him.
“She wrote detailed descriptions of every location he took her.”
“We have intel on his habits and the locations of his businesses.” Seth speaks calmly, as if the information gathered in front of him is nothing new. With my eyes widening, I finally look at him, and then my body jumps when he tosses the heavy notebook down on his desk. The slap ricochets through my body.
“Like I said,” he says and my gaze falls to his throat, watching the cords tense as he swallows and adds, “you’ll do everything I say.”
“There are more,” I tell him quickly, ignoring his statement and even I can hear how begging my tone is.
I’ve fallen for this man once. If I do it again, I’ll cross the point of no return. I’m sure of it.
His gaze is hungry as he exhales with disdain. “Give me all of them,” he commands.
“I don’t have them with me.”
“You’ll bring them next time then,” he says. He’s bossing me around and telling me what to do.
“I’ll do what I please,” I bite out, remembering who I am.
Seth smirks at my response, appearing not at all flustered.
“It will please you,” he tells me and his tone is different. His cadence caresses every inch of my skin. Leaning forward, he rests his hand on my knee, and damn does my body respond to him. “I will make sure of that.”
“Seth,” I breathe his name.
“There are other things that need to be done first. I plan on taking my time.”
Seth
* * *
Hearing her whisper my name like that…
I want her more than I will ever admit. Just like I’ll never admit how dire the situation is with Marcus. I don’t have this information, but she’ll give it to me.
I burn for her to give me many things before that happens.
Her pain as I punish her. And her pleas for me to take her back.
One thing I’d planned to do since I moved back, one thing that has never deviated is sitting right behind her in the top drawer on the other side of the desk.
She watches me all the while and I wonder what she sees. What she thinks. What she feels. The drawer slides out with a creak and it’s the only sound in the office.
For a split second, I wonder if I should do it. If I should give it back to her. Laura needs to feel it though. She needs to know.
With the folded paper in my hand, I take a moment to clear off the left side of my desk, slipping a pile of folders inside the drawer. Now all that’s left is my laptop and a few odds and ends. The steel pen container is moved first. I set it on the windowsill behind me; clearing off what remains on the desk will take less than a minute. I want her ass right here, on this desk, once she’s done reading what I’m holding.
“This is for you.” I hand her the note, not going back on the promise I made to myself, although I know without a question of a doubt, that she’d get up on this desk right now with no hesitation. She needs that note first. I told myself for years that if ever I were to see her again, she needed to have it back. There’s dried blood on the edge of one side although it’s turned a dark brown now. There are other stains on the once clean paper as well. I can still see right where she’d cried and the paper took in her tears, seeping into the crisp creased folds and warping them. It’s harder to see it now though. It blends in with all the other evidence that the paper has existed for far too many years.
I watch her eyes as she unfolds the note. I watch her pupils dilate and note their glossy sheen as she rips her gaze away and looks anywhere but at me.
Her inhale is ragged and sharp.
“This isn’t for
me.”
“It is. It’s for you to read. I’ve read it enough.”
The paper crinkles in her hand. The creases are so soft; I didn’t think it could crinkle anymore.
She needs to be reminded that she told me she’d love me forever.
She promised me she would. She can read it and know it every day of her life like I have since she left me.
“I want you to read it every day. It’s only fair—it’s what I did for years.”
Her voice is raw when she answers the command with, “At least you had a note,” and then tosses it onto the desk. Like she doesn’t want it.
I didn’t want it either. It would have been so much easier without it. If she’d just left me because she hated me.
“Is this what you want?” she asks as a tear rolls down her cheek, unable to hide it any longer. She angrily wipes it away.
“Partly,” I admit out loud and shock myself. Her disgust shows and she grabs her purse this time, as if she’ll leave.
“Sit down,” I command as her ass lifts from the seat. She stills where she is. Debating maybe. “We aren’t finished, Babygirl.” I meant for the word to get to her. Not to me. But it settles in my chest, spreading the ache I’ve been doing my damnedest to suppress.
She’s slow to take her seat, but she does.
“Want to know what I missed?” I ask her although at this point, I’m just speaking my mind. No filter; I let it all out. “The way you say my name,” I say and close my eyes, focusing for a moment on the motions of my thumb. Tap, tap. “I missed it.”
Even with my eyes closed, I can feel hers on me. I swear my body knows hers. The vulnerability of it all wanes as I flick through the scenes of what happened when she left.
“I missed the taste of you,” I comment lowly and tilt my head when I look back at her. Her skin is a gorgeous blush color and her pale blue eyes are rimmed with a pink that matches her complexion. Desire dances between us. My cock hardens and her thighs tense as her inhale skips.
“I remember thinking one night,” I say and point to the desk, “as I read that note, is any pussy that good?” Hardening my voice, I remind her of the anger.
She needs to be punished. She has to be.
Her red-rimmed eyes fill with lust. There’s an undeniable heat.
“I want to taste you, Laura,” I say and then realize it’s not a command. She needs to be told what to do though. And every action reinforced.
Desire outweighs the rage. It outweighs everything. The image of her under me, her thighs parted, enters my mind. It’s all I can focus on. With my zipper pressing tight against my erection, I get up from the chair and tell her to strip. I add, “I want you down to nothing.”
I think, for a moment, there’s no way she’ll do it.
“Say please,” she retaliates, although it’s softly spoken and submissive, laced with a sadness too. A new roar of fire ignites inside of me.
“Please,” I say and my voice comes out deeper, from a raw place inside of me as I lean forward, “Get your ass up here.”
The hesitation in her expression is clear, but that doesn’t stop her from toeing off her heels. She’s quick to obey me. The hope that blooms from that knowledge is unwanted.
“I want you here,” I say and splay my hand on the space to my left I cleared moments ago. All but the notebook and my laptop, which I move now, keeping my head turned as I go and pretending like I’m not obsessed with the peripheral image of her doing exactly what I tell her to do.
The balls of her feet pad on the floor as she makes her way around to the other side of the desk, climbing on top of it. Her heavy breathing invades my senses and fuels the rapid pump of my heart. She’s naked, and I’m fully dressed. I swear if I were to move even a muscle right now, I’d take her, savagely and roughly on top of my desk.
Control. I grasp for it. I cling to it when her gaze searches mine for direction. I won’t be reckless with her. That’s why I lost her. Recklessness.
“Put your ass here and spread your legs.” My voice is even and she listens, bringing the sweet scent of her femininity closer to me. I don’t move, watching her crawl closer to position herself with her legs in front of her and her ass only inches from my hand on the desk.
My head falls to the side as she places one heel to the left of my hand. I let my nose brush against her calf, then kiss the inside of her knee.
“Seth.” She calls my name as if she’s falling and I don’t respond. Not for a moment and then another. I’m waiting for that other heel to be placed and her thighs to part for me.
It takes her a long minute to do it, but she does.
She’s propped up with her hands bracing her. Her breasts are small but they fall heavy, swaying slightly as she breathes.
Bringing my hand to her heat, I brush my knuckles against her soft flesh and then higher up her body, until my hand is at her stomach. “Down,” I command, pressing against the base of her sternum and pushing her to lie on her back.
Her body burns under my touch.
“You shaved,” I comment as I move my fingers back down. With both hands, I spread her thighs farther apart and she doesn’t protest in the least.
“You shaved, you chose a dress and heels, but you came ready to bargain.” I’m barely conscious of my own words as I stare at her pussy. Her clit is swollen and she’s already glistening with desire. I run my middle finger between her lips, playing with her, toying with her cunt and watching goosebumps spread along her skin.
“You had to know I’d take you, didn’t you?” I ask her. The way I’m seated, I can’t see her eyes. I’m glad for that because it means she can’t see my expression when she gasps as I push my finger inside of her.
She whispers the words, “I missed you too.”
A painful recognition spreads through me, suffocating me, knowing it’s true; it hurts to hear her say that even more. I lean down and take a languid lick, ignoring the longing in her response and focusing on how her back arches.
She’s hot and sweet. I lap at her, taking my time, from her entrance to her clit. A strangled moan fills the air along with the sound of her nails scratching on the desk. As if she wants to grab hold of something.
Letting a low groan come from my chest, I enjoy her, drawing this out. Her thighs close in on me when she writhes on the desk and it’s only then that I pull back.
She won’t get off. I won’t let her. I want her to miss it. To miss how I would do this to her the way I missed it.
“You don’t get to cum. Not until I decide you should.”
Standing up quickly, I push the chair back just as it nearly falls. I turn my back to her and when I hear her draw in a sharp breath, I tell her to stay.
“Don’t you dare move.” My heart pounds against my rib cage; maybe it’s desperate to get back to her. A cold sweat lines my skin. “You do what I say and when,” I state, reminding her of our arrangement.
“I told you no to that deal,” she whispers, the desire still coloring her upper chest, throat and cheeks. She doesn’t move though. I watch her to make sure she listens. Her eyes are closed as I slowly pace, ignoring her comment about her telling me no. I grab her throat with my right hand, feeling the pulse of her hot blood as she quickly looks up at me, wide eyed and full of concern.
“I missed that mouth of yours,” I comment and then lean down, kissing her harshly. I expect it to be short lived, but when she parts her lips ever so slightly, even with the taste of her still present on my tongue, I deepen it. And she does the same.
There has always been a disconnect with us. Our bodies do one thing; our minds tell us another. With the fever of lust covering every inch of my skin, I pull away from her, although my grip on her throat is unmoving.
“You’ll stay with me,” I say absently, telling her without thinking and my mind plays tricks on me. It goes back years ago. If only she’d stay with me.
“No,” she answers weakly, a raw vulnerability lacing the single word.
“
You will and you’ll pay off the debt with your cunt.” I grasp for any reason at all for her to agree. To remember her guilt.
“Don’t be crass,” she bites out even as her voice trembles. She seems to come out of it, out of the haze of longing. Wiping the corners of her mouth, she stares back at me, not giving in to my demand. “I won’t do it, Seth.”
“Crass? Are you too good for that kind of language now?”
Even at my mercy, Laura’s strength shines through. I wonder what she looked like when she left me. I wonder if she cried. Derrick swore to me there’s no way she left without falling apart. I want to see her fall apart. I want to know what this version of her looks like when she does.
“I’m not yours anymore,” Laura tells me calmly, still lying spread on my desk. The taste of her is still present on my tongue.
“You owe me,” is all I tell her, firm and deliberate.
“You owe me too,” she whispers after a moment and the crack in her guard splinters. Suddenly, she looks all too familiar. I have to let her go. In an instant, the room feels colder. The ghost of her in my living room stares back at me. Cross-legged on the floor with the scent of smoke filtering through my lungs.
“I owe you?” I question with feigned disgust. She’s quick to sit up, to cover herself from me. The moment is lost. “What is it I owe you?” I dare her to answer me. To bring up her home, to bring up Cami. Fuck.
If she’d listened to me, if only she’d stayed close—I could have kept her safe. It could have been different. It didn’t have to end the way it did.
I’m so close to screaming the words. It didn’t have to end like it did. You should have listened to me. So close, I can feel them scratching up the back of my throat.
“I wish I’d never fallen in love with you,” she admits and scrambles to get off my desk. Stay still, I warn myself. Stay still. If I move, I’ll grab her. She reaches for her clothes, heedlessly throwing them on.
“You will stay with me. You will do everything I tell you to.” I give the commands as if all of her objecting will vanish. I still don’t trust myself to move. I swear I’ll lift her beautiful ass over my shoulder and lock her in a room.