Beware Falling Rocks

by Tymber Dalton

  “Don’t you dare tell me what to do. We’re not married.”

  “Exactly my point. Why are you here?”

  “You promised me you wouldn’t leave me!”

  “You also promised me you’d dedicate yourself to your recovery. Moving my shit out of the bedroom wasn’t exactly showing your dedication to our marriage.”

  “That’s beside the point.”

  “No, that’s exactly the point.”

  “If you don’t come with me to my appointment, it’ll be your fault if I hurt myself.”

  He pulled the door shut behind him, hoping Lynn hadn’t heard that part. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Sarah. Do I need to call 911 for you and tell your doctor you need to be Baker Acted for making threats?”

  “So you will talk to my doctor?”

  He closed his eyes and counted to three to give him time to swallow back the bellow of rage he wanted to unleash on her. When he opened his eyes, she still stood there, an expectant look on her face.

  “We’re divorced. That’s not changing.” Trying to be a nice guy was hard fucking work. No wonder some men became raging assholes.

  Maybe I should cut Jim a little slack if this is the kind of shit he had to deal with.

  “And I told you we could change that.” Her voice dropped, pleading. “I love you. I didn’t think you’d leave when I moved you out of the bedroom. I thought you’d fight harder for me. I miss you, and it’s not the same without you.”

  “I wish you’d felt like that while we were together.”

  “I made a mistake, okay? If you come back, I’ll start taking my meds again. I promise. I’ll go to meetings. Whatever you say.”

  “That’s not how this works.”

  “Then tell me what I have to do to get you back!”

  “There isn’t anything you can do, and this isn’t my problem anymore.”

  “You always wanted her more than me, didn’t you?”

  “No, see, that’s what you never understood. I loved you. When I was with her, I didn’t stop loving you.”

  “But you didn’t stop loving her when you were with me, did you?”

  “Would you rather I be a cold-hearted bastard who slept around and played with anyone?”

  “I’d rather that than you fall in love with someone.”

  “I’m not wired like that. I can love more than one person.”

  “Then come back. I’ll even let you play with her.”

  He actually laughed. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  She misunderstood because she eagerly nodded. “Really serious.”

  Ed had warned him that he’d seen a lot of divorces, a lot of nasty tricks, a lot of bad behavior. He’d warned Paul that he’d quit counting the number of people who’d started out wanting to try to “stay friends” with their ex and ended up hating them.

  Warned him that there was usually one instant of clarity where realization hit that staying friends wasn’t going to be possible.

  This was his instant.

  “Good-bye, Sarah.” When he turned his back to her he felt her grab his arm. He resisted the urge to move, to even pull away, knowing without another witness there it could quickly devolve into a nasty he-said/she-said with him being led away in handcuffs.

  “Paul, please!”

  He dropped into a low, dark, and dangerous tone of voice he hadn’t used in two years, and had never used on Sarah before. “Let. Go. Of. Me. Now.”

  She released him.

  Without looking back, he walked inside, slammed the door shut, and locked it behind him.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Lynn felt a panic attack threatening. She’d had a couple in her life, most of them coming after the finality of the end of their relationship, but she never expected to have one now.

  Especially not under these circumstances, and in her own home. She thought the bad days were past her.

  She turned, searching for…something.

  Her brain raced, pulse galloped—air rushed through her lungs, leaving her feeling dizzy.

  I need to leave.

  She grabbed her overnight bag and started packing, despite the fact that it was her home.

  She’d been there, done that, had a whole closet full of damn T-shirts.

  She wouldn’t go through it again.

  Terrie was right. Oh, gawd, was she right.

  She never should have trusted Paul. Never should have opened herself up to him, made herself vulnerable.

  This is what it got her, hurt and wounded and once again on the short end of the stick. She totally understood now why Tilly had ended up doing what she did when Cris left and she hardened herself, became snarky and closed off to all but a few.

  I should have done that.

  Unfortunately, it looked like she’d have that very chance now.

  She heard their voices raised outside and tried not to listen, tried not to hear. Didn’t want to hear.

  All she did was focus on packing, on getting out.

  On escaping.

  She wasn’t even sure where she’d go. Maybe to a hotel until she could calm down. There were a couple of decent ones just a few minutes away, meaning she wouldn’t have to be on the road long. She could—

  The front door slammed, making her jump.

  Fuck.

  Zipping the overnight bag, she left it in the middle of her bed and went into the bathroom to grab stuff she’d need from there. She could buy anything she’d forgotten. She needed to pack her laptop, her chargers, her notebook for her latest project, and—

  She heard the bedroom door open.

  “Lynn?”

  She froze.

  Paul.

  She didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe.

  This had to be a nightmare.

  She felt more than heard him in the bathroom doorway behind her. “Sweetie?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  Everything in her arms fell, hitting the bathroom carpet. When she wheeled around, she realized it hadn’t been a whisper but a scream, her throat already raw from it.

  “No!” She shoved him back and out of her way. “Not again! I’m not going through this again!”

  She struck out at him, shoving, slapping, pushing, screaming as he pulled her close, pinning her arms to her side while she sobbed and cried.

  “Shh, pet,” he said, stern command returning to his tone. “I’m not going anywhere. I sent her away.”

  “How long?” she screamed. “How long before she pulls you back in and I get fucked over again?”

  He made her look at him. “She won’t. I’m not going back to her. I chose you, and I’ll always choose you unless or until you walk away from me.”

  Struggling again, she tried to pull free, to hit, to punch, to kick. Instead, he fell sideways with her, onto the bed, pinning her under him as the overnight bag rolled off onto the floor.

  “Let it out, pet. I deserve it, but I won’t let you harm me or yourself in the process. Push me away as hard as you want, but I’m not leaving you unless you leave me. Never again.”

  Closing her eyes, she sobbed, letting her head fall back against the bed as gasping gulps of air were ripped from her lungs and the pain flowed, hot lava fresh and unhealed from her deep well of grief.

  Had she thought she’d been doing okay?

  No.

  What a fucking lie.

  The simmering magma chamber inside her had simply formed a crust over the top, concealing the bubbling pain engulfing her soul. A major eruption had been inevitable. Only so much pressure could push up against that crust before it shattered again, as searing as ever.

  “You left me,” she whispered when she could finally form words. She wasn’t keeping her voice down because of the neighbors. She was keeping it down because of her raw throat. “You left me. I waited for you, and you left me. You promised we’d always be friends, at the very least, and you left me.”

  * * * *

  Fuck. He deserved all of this, and more
. It was all he could do not to puke over the heart-wrenching sounds coming from her. Like someone had grabbed his balls and twisted them, hard.

  When he’d ripped half his heart out and walked away from Lynn before, he’d thought she’d be okay, that she’d survive. She was a survivor, a fighter, a strong-willed person. Besides the promises he’d made and thought he could keep, he’d also weighed Sarah’s supposed fragility against Lynn’s and had thought Lynn would be the one able to move on and survive.

  To not kill herself.

  He was painfully aware of how thin she felt below him, how different her body was now.

  There were many kinds of suicide. Some of them immediate and final.

  Some of them long and slow and barely noticeable at the time.

  How she’d slowly been killing herself one day at a time. Then again, hadn’t he been doing that, too?

  It was his fault.

  It was all his fault.

  This was the kind of reaction he’d expected from her in Sioux Falls.

  I guess it had to catch up with her.

  “I know, pet. I tried to make the best decision I could at the time. I was convinced she was going to kill herself. I’m sorry, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. All of you were right about her. Everything everyone warned me about is exactly what happened. I thought I knew better because I knew her better than you all did. I thought I could make a difference in her life. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I can’t take the pain away that I caused. I can only hope that I can work back to a place with you where, one day, you can trust me again.”

  She weakly tried to struggle against him before dissolving into more sobs. Closing his eyes, he nuzzled the top of her head and breathed in her scent. She’d changed her shampoo from what she’d used to use. With her being a creature of habit, it wasn’t something he expected. In the years they’d been together, there’d been only one shampoo and conditioner she’d ever used.

  He’d started using it because it reminded him of her.

  He didn’t hate Sarah because that would mean that he still held a level of emotion for her in his heart that he no longer did. He would always love her a little because they’d been married several years, and it hadn’t all been bad. There were many good memories there. Sarah was not an evil person. But no, his trust in Sarah was gone, and he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

  Especially when someone else had paid a far greater price for it than he’d imagined.

  He’d chosen wrong.

  Sarah had been far stronger than he’d thought, and Lynn…not so much.

  That was guilt he would carry to the grave.

  This isn’t about me.

  This was about trying to convince Lynn, if she’d let him, that he wasn’t going anywhere. Never again, unless she wanted to walk away from him. The level of devotion and hard work he’d put into his marriage with Sarah, he would double that with Lynn.

  If she decided she couldn’t do it, if she decided to leave, then it would break his heart again, but he would understand.

  Until that happened, he would grovel, whatever he had to do.

  He also knew that meant standing there and letting Lynn take whatever pain-filled potshots she might aim in his direction.

  He’d deserve every one of them, too.

  She renewed her struggles as he relaxed his hold on her, and he once again pinned her under him against the mattress.

  “I’m not letting you up, pet, until you either calm down and get it out of your system, or you safeword. Either one. Choose.”

  If anything, that made her struggle harder, thrashing, a new surge of strength filling her. She tried to kick at him, and he had to finally roll her over onto her stomach, one of her arms wrenched behind her and pulled up for leverage, his other hand in her hair and pulling her hair back both to control her and so he knew she could breathe.

  Even with his weight on her, she still fought and bucked. He couldn’t help but think about the countless times they’d struggled like this before, in play, her working energy off, needing to feel him controlling her physically, a turn-on for both of them.

  The light bulb finally went on in his head and he desperately hoped he wasn’t fucking up even worse.

  Swallowing back his grief over what he’d done to her, he dusted off his full-on “Dom tone” from his arsenal and used it on her. “Pet, either settle or safeword. Because if you keep struggling, I will subdue you. Do you understand?”

  Inhuman growls escaped her as her struggles increased.

  He tightened the grip in her hair and pressed his cheek along hers. “Pet. Answer me, now. Do you understand? Yes or no?”

  “Yes, Sir!” she screamed, crying again, still fighting, still struggling.

  Okay, then.

  She’d once confessed to him that one of the things she loved about their primal play was the feeling that he could take her down, that he was stronger than her, that she trusted him not to harm her but she could physically vent without fear of hurting him.

  Something he’d desperately missed, being able to let his own demons out of their box, being able to engage in a rough-and-tumble, borderline violent level of primal play with her that she’d thrived on, needed, and he’d enjoyed as well.

  Struggle snuggles, they’d jokingly called them.

  The exact opposite of how he’d had to be with Sarah.

  Forcing Lynn’s head to the side, he bit down, hard, on the right side of her neck, letting loose a growl of his own.

  Like a switch flipped in her, the tension melted from her body, even as she continued to fight, renewing her struggles as a low moan escaped her.

  He wanted to cry as it felt like his Lynn, his pet, had fully returned. He pulled her arm up more, applying extra pressure and drawing another squeal of pain from her, which only made her fight harder.

  He released the bite on her neck and moved a couple of inches lower, to the juncture at her neck and shoulder, where the strap of her tank top easily moved to expose more flesh.

  Sinking his teeth into her shoulder, he let loose another growl, relief of his own rushing through him as old memories swarmed in, threatening to drown him.

  It’d been so, so fucking long.

  More cries from her, deeper, needy, her hips rocking back and forth under him, hardening his cock. He alternated between sucking hard and biting, shifting his legs a little so they were pinning hers down, completely immobilizing her.

  At least those extra twenty pounds I gained come in handy for something.

  They’d been close to evenly matched before. Between her weight loss and his weight gain, it gave him a slight advantage now.

  Releasing her hair, he reached down her side, feeling for the hem of her tank top and yanking it up, feeling it rip along the seam and not even caring. She tried to buck him off her, but he dropped all his weight onto her again, his teeth still clamped on her shoulder. It took him a minute and having to release her arm to get the shirt pulled up and around her neck. After getting another good, hard grip in her hair, wrapping it around his left hand, he pinned her head to the bed and released his bite so he could peel the now ruined garment off her.

  He sat up, putting all his weight over her hips, so he could reach down with his free hand and unhook her bra.

  The whole time she tried to struggle, flailing at him, unable to get any traction with her head pinned sideways to the bed. She scratched at his left arm, leaving bloody furrows a few inches above his wrist.

  “That’s five, pet,” he said, fighting to keep from dropping into that deliciously dark Domspace she always led him to when they played like this. By their old rules, if she deliberately drew blood from him, he got to give her strokes in return. “Settle or safeword. Otherwise, you know how this will end.”

  He rolled her onto her back, nearly taking a knee in the nuts from her as he did before dropping his weight back onto her hips. He got the bra off her and managed to pin her arms down between his thighs, against
her sides, as he worked his way up her body.

  Only then did he release her hair and sit up, meeting her gaze.

  Wild blue eyes he’d missed every fucking day. Beautiful blue eyes that had haunted his dreams and stayed with him.

  In them now, he saw that look, wild and hungry, already down in her feral headspace, the struggle the only thing in her mind right now.

  Well, at least I’m able to give her that.

  He unfastened his leather belt and yanked it out of his jeans, dropping it onto the bed next to him. “Safeword, pet,” he ordered. “Safeword, or I don’t stop.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Then it’s game on.”

  He grabbed her by the hair again, standing and avoiding another nut-punch by grabbing her arm, pulling her up and off the bed, spinning her around, and bending her facedown over the bed where he quickly sat on her back, facing her ass. She kicked her legs and struggled as he fished the knife out of his pocket, and he used the gut hook to cut her shorts down the back. Closing the knife, he tossed it safely out of the way, onto the carpeted floor, before peeling her shorts down and off her. He ripped her panties up the side seams with his bare hands, pulling them off, too.

  Then he grabbed his belt by the buckle and wrapped it around his right hand several times, leaving a long tail.

  “Five, pet. Count.” He didn’t hold back the force of the stroke, either. No warm-up. The first one hit her left ass cheek and down onto the back of her upper thigh, pulling a howl from her.

  “Count them, pet, or I keep doing it until you start counting. You know the rules. You owe me five.” He drew his hand back and was preparing to take another stroke when he heard her sniffle something.

  He paused. “What was that, pet? Say it again.”

  The barest of whispers. “One, Sir.”

  “Good girl.” He immediately brought his hand down, the belt cutting into her right ass cheek and thigh and drawing another howl from her, followed by a sniffled reply.

  “Two, Sir.”

  “Good girl.”

  As soon as he’d finished the fifth stroke, he dropped the belt and got off the bed.

  She didn’t move.

  He turned, unfastening his jeans and shoving them and his briefs down. She started to come up off the bed, but he grabbed her by the back of the neck and shoved her down, hard, nothing gentle in his movements.