by Sweet, Izzy
Adam nods his head. “Of course.”
Then he goes back to playing blocks with David.
Rubbing her fingers against her knitting needles, Mary looks at me, the smile on her face fading. “Come here, Abigail.”
Closing the door behind me, I walk over to Mary and sit down on the chair she nods at with a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach.
She thanked Adam, even smiled at him, yet I get the feeling she’s still mad at me.
“Since you’re here, you might as well help me with my project,” Mary says, her smile completely gone now. “It’s time you learned a useful skill… one that will keep your idle hands busy.”
Intimidated by the hard glint in her eyes, I gulp and nod my head.
Reaching over, she gives my hands a little pat before she leans down and plucks another pair of knitting needles from her basket.
Pushing the needles into my hands, she picks her own up and starts to instruct me on the proper way to hold them.
I struggle to copy her, the needles too big for my hands.
Not caring one bit and ignoring my trembling lip, Mary makes me sit beside her instead of letting me play with Adam and David.
It’s a punishment, I determine, after I fail for the tenth time to correctly cast my yarn on and hear her sigh of disappointment.
I don’t know if she’s punishing me for sneaking off, despite accepting Adam’s fib, but I must have done something wrong, because knitting is the most boring, most awful thing to ever be invented.
“No, no, not like that,” Mary almost snaps at me as my eyes drift wistfully towards Adam as he stands and walks over to the art area. I wish I could get up and walk away. “From behind, Abigail. Behind.”
“Sorry,” I mutter and look back down at the mess of yarn wrapped around my fingers and knotted along the needle.
Mary sighs again, a long, deep sigh, then she reaches over and helps me untangle my hand. “Perhaps this is too complicated for you right now.”
“Perhaps,” I agree eagerly, hoping she’ll let me go play instead.
Mary nods her head as she unknots all the yarn along my needle. I’m so eager to escape, my toes start to push against the floor. Ready to jump up.
Glancing up from the needle, Mary smiles at me. “I’ll do the casting on for you and we can work on stitches.”
Sinking back down in my chair, I swallow a groan.
Mary’s smile grows as she quickly and easily does what I could not then pushes the needle back into my grasp.
We begin to work on stitching which requires me to use both needles and all my concentration. It’s easier than casting on, but still incredibly boring and tedious.
Time drags on. I manage to do eight perfect stitches and I’m working on my ninth when there’s suddenly a loud crash.
Baby David squeals with delight.
I nearly jump out of my chair.
“Oh my… what are you up to, you little rascal?” Mary says fondly, glancing down at him.
A pile of blocks surrounding him, David grins up at her and starts babbling nonsense while waving a pink lollipop in his hand
Mary smiles and nods her head, as if she understands what he’s saying, then her attention drops back to her knitting.
A second later, her attention snaps back to David and she scowls. “What do you have there?”
Setting her knitting down in her basket, she stands and walks over to David. Picking him up, she plucks the pink lollipop from his hand.
“Where did you get this?” she asks, looking back at him.
David babbles some more nonsense.
I recognize the lollipop right away. It’s my favorite kind. The kind Adam keeps in his pockets.
“Oh no, you’re all sticky!” Mary cries out in alarm as David grabs at the front of her dress, his little hands sticking to the fabric.
He seems to find great joy in patting his hands against her then peeling them off again.
Mary swipes her thumb across David’s pink-stained cheeks then frowns at her thumb. “You need a bath…”
Scowling, Mary glances toward me, then as if remembering something, she turns toward the art area. “Adam.”
“Yes?” Adam asks, stepping out from behind the easel he was working on.
Hefting David up until he’s sitting on her hip, Mary says, “Keep an eye on Abigail for me while I give your brother a bath.”
Adam’s green eyes flick toward me then he nods his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
Looking to me, Mary says, “Be good for Adam, Abigail. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Before I can get my mouth open fully to respond, Mary coos down at David about being a dirty boy and carries him out of the room.
I’m left gaping after her.
Be good for Adam?
Closing the door after Mary, Adam turns to me. “You can stop knitting now.”
Snapping my jaw shut, I glance down at the knitting needles in my hands then I look back up to him.
Did he do this?
I haven’t spoken to him since he told me I wasn’t allowed to play with Charlie anymore. Not after telling him he’s not my boss and he can’t tell me what to do.
But I have to ask, “Did you give David a lollipop to get me out of knitting?”
Adam smiles as if what I just asked is funny and shakes his head. “No, of course not.”
Feeling silly for thinking that, my cheeks warm with embarrassment. “Oh.”
Smile disappearing, Adam looks me in the eyes. “I did it to make Mary go away.”
Confused, I frown at him. “Why did you want her to go away?”
“Because I want to give you something.”
The way Adam stands in front of me, so serious, so still, like he doesn’t have so much energy flowing through him he has to be in constant motion, it’s easy to see why the grownups treat him like he’s one of them.
The suit and tie certainly doesn’t hurt, as well.
“What do you want to give me?” I ask warily, afraid it might be a trick or something.
He hasn’t been mean to me since I stopped talking to him, but he hasn’t been nice to me, either.
Frowning now, as if he’s unsure, Adam looks down at his pocket for a moment. “A present.”
“A present?” I repeat, even more confused now.
Adam slowly nods his head. “Yes. Father says the best way to apologize to the… to someone is to give them a present.”
Hope begins to flutter in my heart.
I’ve missed Adam a lot and it’s been hard not to talk to him.
“Are you saying you’re sorry for bossing me around?” I ask.
Adam quickly nods his head.
“And you’re sorry for breaking my flower? Because that was very mean…”
Adam frowns for a moment, like he’s possibly reconsidering it, before he slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a small black box.
Holding the box out to me, he says, “Yes.”
I look at the box, my curiosity dying to know what’s inside it.
Whenever my daddy gives my mommy a box like that, there’s usually jewelry in it. Real jewelry with gold and diamonds.
I’m not allowed to have real jewelry yet. It’s expensive and my mommy is afraid I’ll lose it. Even though I’ve promised I wouldn’t.
Setting the knitting needles off to the side, I stand from the chair and walk up to Adam.
Then I eagerly pluck the little black box from his hand.
I start to open the box when I suddenly remember something else.
Looking up at Adam through my lashes, I ask. “You won’t get mad when I play with Charlie now? And you’ll be nice to him?”
Jaw tightening and shoulders stiffening, Adam sharply nods his head.
Beaming up at him, I open the box, the lid snapping open.
Inside, resting against a bed of black crushed velvet, is a gold ring, the band encircled with a row of small, glittering diamonds.
I gasp
in surprise.
I was hoping it was jewelry, but I didn’t think it really would be.
“Is this real?” I ask in disbelief.
Chest puffing out and lips curving with a smile at my reaction, Adam says, “Of course. My father helped me choose it.”
I glance back down at the ring in awe.
“Do you want me to help you put it on?” Adam asks when I just continue to stare at the ring, expecting it to disappear at any second.
“Yes!” I exclaim, looking up at him.
I’m so happy, I can barely contain it. I start to bounce on my toes a little out of excitement as Adam takes the box from me and carefully plucks the ring out between his fingers.
I thrust my hand eagerly in his face and wiggle my fingers playfully.
Adam’s eyes sparkle at me as he grabs my hand and slips the ring on my finger.
We both stare down at my hand, at how well the band fits around my little ring finger.
“It’s perfect…” I murmur, marveling at the sparkles in the diamonds as the light catches them.
“It’s a promise,” Adam says, sounding serious again.
I tear my hand away from Adam and hold it up closer to the light. Spinning in a little circle. “A promise?”
“Yes, it’s a promise ring, Abigail.”
Tearing my gaze away from the ring, I glance over at him to see him standing stiff once again.
“What’s a promise ring?” I ask, wondering why that seems so important to him.
Green eyes meeting mine and holding them, he says, “It means you promise to be mine.”
He looks so solemn, so serious, I can’t help but laugh. Tipping my head back, I giggle and spin in another circle, holding the ring back up to the light.
“Yours? That’s silly,” I giggle at him. “Why would you even want that?”
Walking up to me, Adam grabs my hand, pulling it down.
My giggles fading, I frown at him.
Adam grips my hand tightly in his. “Because you are mine, Abigail. My princess. And one day, when we’re old enough, we’ll be married.”
My joy fading a little, I try to pull my hand back but he keeps a tight grip on it. “I don’t understand.”
“What don’t you understand?” Adam asks, his thumb rubbing against the ring, causing the band to feel warm against my skin.
Another giggle slips out of me, this one nervous. “You said you were giving me the present to say you’re sorry, and now you’re saying the present means we’re going to get married. Which one is it?”
“Both,” Adam answers quickly.
“Both?” I repeat, still confused.
“Yes, both,” Adam confirms with a slow nod of his head. “I am both sorry and wishing to get married. This ring is an apology and a symbol of my commitment.”
The word commitment causes me to giggle nervously again. There’s just something about it that’s incredibly silly to me.
“By wearing it, you’re also declaring you accept my commitment and set me above all others. No other boy will come before me.”
When I just stare at him wide-eyed, beyond confused and totally not comprehending what he’s trying to say, Adam sighs that big grownup sigh of his.
“It means you like me more than Charlie, and one day you’ll marry me and not him.”
I frown at that. “You said you wouldn’t get mad if I play with Charlie.”
Adam frowns back at me. “I won’t get mad, as long as you wear my ring and promise to like me more than him.”
I look down at the ring then back up at Adam.
While Charlie is nice, and I like playing with him, he’s not Adam.
He doesn’t hold doors open for me. He doesn’t keep sweets in his pockets for me.
He doesn’t make me feel like a real, special princess.
I’ve always liked Adam more than Charlie, so I really don’t have a problem with that.
Smiling, I say, “Okay.”
“Okay?” Adam repeats as if he’s surprised.
“Yes! Okay! Let’s get married!”
Giggling, I launch myself at Adam and hug him.
Adam stiffens in my arms at first as if he’s surprised but then he relaxes and hugs me back.
Unable to stay still for very long, I pull away from him and spin in another circle. Holding my ring back up to the light to admire it.
I can’t seem to stop admiring it.
It’s just so pretty, and I’m so happy Adam and I are friends again.
And one day, we’re going to get married just like my mommy and daddy and live happily ever after.
Today has been the best day.
I spin in so many circles and make myself so dizzy, Adam has to catch me when I start to fall over.
Seemingly as happy as me, he chuckles as I giggle and nearly knock him to floor.
We’re practically hugging again when my mommy steps into the room and says my name, “Abigail? Sweetheart?”
Seeing her in the doorway fills me with even more happiness.
I tear away from Adam.
“Mommy!” I cry out and run up to her, hugging her middle.
“Oh my,” my mommy says and giggles a little herself as she reaches down and returns my hug. “Did you have a good day?”
Tipping my head back, I exclaim, “Yes!”
My mom beams down at me. “That’s good.” Then her eyes drift over my head and her smiles fades a little as they land on Adam. “Hello, Adam.”
“Ma’am,” Adam says, stiffening.
Unable to keep all my happiness to myself and wanting my mom to share it, I thrust my arm up and show her my hand. “Mommy, Adam gave me a ring! Isn’t it pretty? We’re going to get married!”
Eyes widening, my mom’s gaze snaps down to my hand and she gasps, “What?!”
The Bad Man
James
I’m a playboy, a slut, and a manwhore. I’d even call myself a fuckboy.
Shit… maybe I should back up my thinking on that.
I’m not any of those things anymore.
Now… I’m a monk. A celibate monk who wakes up wrapped around a pillow, sweating his ass off from another dream about chasing after a girl.
All the stories in all the books start the same fucking way.
There once was a girl, and the dumbass who fucking craves her follows after her…
Looking down at my wristwatch as strobes of lights flash in sync with pounding bass music, I want to let out another loud sigh, but I refrain.
Barely.
My eyes do roll though.
I fucking hate night clubs. I hate them with a fucking passion.
I hate all the dancing women, too, but that’s the new normal for me. I want nothing more than to be out on the floor, dancing away with them. Rubbing my thick cock up against their shiny vinyl-covered asses. I want to run my hands up from their stomachs and cup their full breasts. I want to bite down on their necks.
I want to do all the things that I used to do before I met her, the one woman in my life I can’t seem to shake from my mind. She’s out there dancing, too, with a couple girls she knows from college.
But I don’t watch her.
I can’t watch her.
If I did, my poor brain would finally shatter and give into the dark urges I feel day in and day out now.
I’d take her away from here. I’d chain her to a bed and do things…
Things I’d regret.
She’s not mine though.
I can’t touch her.
She’s one of the pure ones, the untainted.
She’s brushed against my world full of filth and refuse. She was terrorized and almost sold on the black market.
But I saved her from that life.
And I keep saving her.
She doesn’t know it. I’ve made sure she isn’t aware of the fact that the one person she doesn’t see is the one who keeps her safe. The only time I haven’t been in direct control of her safety is when she drives a car.
I’ve developed acid indigestion because of her driving, it’s like she learned to drive at a clown college or something.
A light feminine cough beside me pulls me from my brooding.
Holding out a tray, a little blonde waitress says, “Martin wanted me to bring this over.”
Looking down at the tumbler filled with amber liquid, I say, “No thanks. Just bring me another Diet coke.”
Frowning at me, the waitress says, “Martin wants you to drink. He says you’re bringing down the mood up here, and since you’re the only guest in the VIP room…”
Glancing over my shoulder at the manager who’s wedged himself behind a table in one of the booths, I give him the finger. Fucking greasy asshole’s been getting on my nerves tonight.
Lucifer owns this club, therefore when one of us is here, he should know better than to open his fat fucking mouth about anything.
“Diet coke,” I say and pull a hundred out of my pocket, dropping it on her serving tray.
“Yes sir,” she nods her head before turning her little ass around and heading back to the bar.
Turning to face Martin for a moment, I aim my pointer finger and thumb at him like a gun.
Grinning, I make a shooting motion.
The way the man cringes and then quickly rips himself out of the seat gives me a brief moment of happiness.
I’m fucking dying though. Sophia is killing me slowly each and every day.
Turning back to the dance floor, I watch the crowd around Sophia again. She’s moved closer to the bar, more than likely going for water. She drinks a lot of water while she’s here clubbing with her two friends Stacey and Bree. She won’t drink any alcohol though. She hasn’t had anything harder than soda since that night at Johnathan’s bar.
She’s all too aware of what alcoholic beverages can lead to.
Watching as she squeezes through the crowds of people, I smile as she turns to the side, allowing a drunk asshole to stumble past her.
Just this little view of that tight ass of hers has my cock begging for a release of some sort.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up though when she finally reaches the bar and some asshole starts chatting her up. That’s not an odd occurrence. Lots of douches try to talk to my baby, but she always rebuffs them.