by Amy Rose
The email correspondence alone didn’t fully reveal the amount of money that I had been left, except that it did advise I was also left several properties, all of which had no mortgage owing on their bricks and mortar anymore. My grandparents had put every single penny into their property portfolio, and in the last few years of their life they finally owned everything and were able to enjoy the money that they received in income from renting them out.
Knowing that Dylan had tried to hack his way into my bank account didn’t sit well at all with me, knowing that somehow, he was trying to take what was mine, behind my back and without even asking. I mean, we were planning on getting married in a few months’ time. What was mine was also going to be his. So why would he try to access it without my knowledge, and then instead of owning up to it, try to make me believe he was innocent, saying that he had just been checking his own emails?
When he came out of his bedroom with just his boxers on, his wet hair evidence of the shower he had told me he was going to have. I looked closer at the man who I loved. Really, I should have pretended I knew nothing, changed my email passwords, and left it at that, but I have never been the type to leave well enough alone. “Why were you looking at my emails, Dylan?” The slightest flash of uncertainty flew across his face, knowing that he had been caught. As soon as it appeared, he concealed it with one of the smiles that normally melted me.
“I wasn’t babe, I told you, I was checking my own out. Maybe you forgot to log out last time?” He wandered towards me, his arms outstretched, wanting me to run into his muscular arms, something I would usually do with a bounce in my step. Not that day, though, not before I knew the truth, no matter how hard it was going to be to hear.
“I always log out of my emails, Dylan, and I sure as hell never leave my banking information up on an unprotected browser. What were you doing?”, pre-empting his excuse of needing money I cut him off, “and don’t tell me you need to borrow money. I have already paid your rent this month and fed us both. What’s going on?” Instead of a look of guilt, a mask appeared over his features. He wasn’t going to tell me what I wanted to know, was he?
“Why haven’t you told me about your inheritance, Angie? I thought we promised to always be honest with each other. When something happens to you, it happens to me.”
“I told you that the inheritance was still being settled, there isn’t anything to discuss as yet,” purposely leaving out the part about the properties, trying to catch him out on his lies, claiming he knows nothing.
“So, the fact that you have inherited several properties, and who knows how many millions of dollars, doesn’t concern me? Is that how this is?” And with that very statement he just ensnared himself in my trap. Willingly admitting he knew about the email, knew about everything he claimed not to.
Pushing off the barstool, I stood in front of him with my hands fisted at my sides. “How do you know about any of that, Dylan?”
“That doesn’t matter, Angie. What matters is that you didn’t tell me. What’s yours is mine. You have my ring on your finger. I own you and I sure as hell own everything that you do.” His voice was huskier than I had ever heard it, malicious even. Claiming to own me. Nobody owns me. Nobody.
“You don’t own me, Dylan. Nobody owns me. And what’s more, how dare you breach my privacy like that!” I tried to push past him but his hand reached down and captured my wrist, holding me tightly, almost painfully. “Let me go, Dylan.” Even though I wanted to sound scary, it barely sounded any different from my usual voice.
He leaned down and snarled into my ear. “That’s where you are wrong, my dear, sweet, innocent, Angie. You are mine, and that means I own you.”
He straightened back up to full height, staring down at me. Normally I would run from a fight, but not this one, not with the man I have shared the past two years with. Not from the man who only a couple of months earlier had asked me to marry him. “What the hell has gotten into you, Dylan? You aren’t acting like yourself.”
A sadistic smile appeared on his lips, I didn’t breathe. This couldn’t be good. “That’s where you are wrong, I’m finally being myself. Here is how this is going to go, Angela. I’m not going to wait for the wedding for everything to be signed over to me. Every single fucking cent that is yours is now mine. Every property you own is mine too, got it?” His voice was so full of venom it scared me. I wanted to run away and never see him again.
“This isn’t you at all, Dyl. C’mon, it’s me you’re talking to. I know you. Tell me what has changed, what has happened to make you talk to me this way?” He didn’t reply, only cocked an arrogant eyebrow, daring me to defy him, and then I replayed what he said to me, not wanting to wait till the wedding to own everything I did. Was he using me? He had to be, what other reason would he need to get what I had, he came from nothing, I didn’t. I came from money, and now I had plenty of my own, way more than anyone else I know. He wasn’t going to get any of it. Not. One. Damn. Penny.
“You’re not getting anything of mine, ever again”, I reach down with my free hand to my captured wrist and pulled my engagement ring free from my ring finger, holding it up to him. “You can have this back. I never want to see you again.” He didn’t make any attempt to take it from me, not at all. With my temper starting to get the better of me, I pulled hard and he let go of my wrist, I threw the diamond across the floor and turned to grab my handbag.
I didn’t get there, I felt his hands on my hair and he pulled, hard. A scream left my lips. “Where the hell do you think you are going? You’re not leaving me. You’re mine, Angela, and I am about to show you what happens to what’s mine.”
I kicked my legs out in front of me, trying to somehow try to get some sort of footing underneath me as he dragged me into his bedroom. No, surely he wasn’t going to do that, he knew how I felt about sex. I couldn’t, not now, not like that, him taking from me without my permission. I couldn’t let this happen.
My hands flew up behind me and I scratched and pinched as much as I could to Dylan’s firm grip. He didn’t relinquish at all. I then tried to punch his hands with my own. As soon as we crossed the threshold of the bedroom, he slammed the door shut and I heard the lock engage on the door. He picked me up as though I weighed nothing and he threw me onto the bed. “I had hoped that you would just give it up to me, but no, you had to be a totally frigid bitch, didn’t you? Doesn’t matter. I don’t mind you fighting me while I take what is mine.”
I scrambled up the bed, trying to get my hands on the bedside lamp. I felt it with my fingers and I reached to wrap my hands around the neck of the lamp. Before I got a chance to swing it, I felt a punch to the side of my face, black dots appearing in front of my eyes. Did he just hit me?
I felt his fingers on my chin as he jerked my face to look at him. “Try anything like that again and I’ll hurt you worse. You hear me?” I shook my head trying to get free of his grip, without luck. He was just too strong. “Spread your legs for me” he commanded.
“Never,” I spit back at him,
“Open your fucking legs. I won’t ask you again, bitch.” I tried my best to press them together; he released me and pushed off the bed, ducking down. Within two seconds he was back standing, with his baseball bat in hand. I scooted off the bed, trying to get to the bedroom door. That’s when I felt the crunch of my leg bones. He had swung the bat and connected just below my knee. I fell to the floor, and felt the agony in my thigh, I looked down and saw a bone protruding above my kneecap, my leg bone had been broken and forced its way through my skin. I screamed. God, I screamed.
“Help me, somebody please....”
My screams were silenced by his hand covering my mouth. “Shut the fuck up and spread your goddam legs.” He pushed me onto the floor and spread my legs and positioned himself between them, preventing me from closing them, even if I wanted to. I didn’t have the strength anymore, pushing my yellow sundress up my legs and above my hips, he reached down and stroked me where no one had done before, t
he apex of my thighs.
Knowing what was coming I tried to beg, “No, no, please don’t do this Dylan. Please don’t do this!” His laugh sounded from above me, his fingers continuing to touch me, before ripping my lace underwear and placing his fingers directly in contact with my virgin pussy.
“Ah, hallowed ground at last. Let’s change that shall we, Angie?” Without any warning he pushed into me, I felt the scrape of nails, his fingers, the pain was horrific, the shock even more so. How could he do this to me? I felt warm, wet tears cascading down my cheeks from my closed eyes. I didn’t want to see this. I didn’t want to see this. No, I actually couldn’t see this. I felt him shift above me, and then just as quickly I felt his presence again. He finally removed his fingers from me. “Open your eyes, Angie, I want to see your face when I take what’s most sacred to you.” I squeezed my eyes shut even more, his hand removed itself from my mouth only to reappear around my throat, squeezing, taking all of my air. “Open your fucking eyes,” he roared above me. Without meaning to I do, and then I felt him enter me.
“Jesus, fucking Christ you’re tight. So, you should be for a fucking virgin. Not that you are one anymore,” he teased me while pistoning into me. The pain is like nothing I had ever felt before in my life, he lets up the pressure just enough on my throat to allow me to suck in a deep lungful of air, never once slowing his punishing rhythm. “Ah, fuck Angie, I’m going to come,” is the only warning I got before I felt his heat fill me. I felt repulsed. I couldn’t get pregnant from this attack, I just couldn’t.
As he pulled out of me, we both hear the knock on the door. Not wanting to miss this opportunity I scream as loud as I can. “Help me!”
I heard the front door being kicked in. Dylan grabbed me and threw me onto the bed. “Arghhh,” I scream, the pain in my leg worsened by being thrown onto the bed, and then finally, the bedroom door came next, smashed inward, coming off its bottom hinge. I roll onto my back so they can see the damage I am in.
“You are under arrest for assault and battery.”
“He raped me, too” I managed to mumble out while the officer was talking.
He looked me over before continuing on with his speech, “for assault and battery and rape. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney and to have an attorney present.…”
I didn’t hear the rest of his speech as the blackness in front of my eyes took me with it, and I succumbed, gratefully, wanting nothing more than to escape the hell I was in and the excruciating pain.
~ Chapter Twenty-Two ~
Angela
The alarm on my phone sounds, breaking me free of my trance with Elliot. He still hasn’t said anything to me since my revelation.
I worry that I have broken him and that he has finally realized that this is too much. That I come with far too much baggage.
I let him go and take my leave, making my way to the guest house with my phone alarm signifying that our time together has come to an end. That I need to start getting ready for the airport. It was time to return home, without Elliot.
I throw a couple of items I still have out into my bag and pull the zipper shut then pull the travel handle out to full length so I can wheel it with me. Stopping at the front door I collect my handbag and open the door. Elliot is waiting for me only a few feet away, the Mercedes SUV idling. At the sight of me emerging from his house, he hops out of the vehicle and grabs my bag, walking around to the back and lifting it in.
I slide into the passenger seat and wait for him to resume his position beside me, but he doesn’t. Instead he opens the passenger door, grabs my upper arm, and pulls me gently out of the car.
“I’m only going to say this once, okay?” he says. I nod at him, showing I understand. He inhales deeply. “My feelings for you haven’t changed in the slightest, not one bit, so don’t get to thinking that for even a fraction of a second” he pauses. As much as I want to say something, I can see that his face is full of emotion. There is something else he wants to tell me, so I wait.
“Letting you leave today is the hardest goddam thing I’ve ever had to let happen. Knowing that I am going to be away from you tears my soul apart. On top of that knowing that I couldn’t just hold you, after what you just told me, I feel like half a fucking man. I’m torn Angie. I want to kill Dylan for what he did to you.”
The love of my life, openly admitting his feelings, is the most incredible gift of all. Complete honesty is always something I can rely on from Elliot. He never holds back what he is thinking or feeling.
“How long do you think we will be apart, my love?”
He looks into my eyes, and I see sadness. “A month at least. I have to go to England and finalize some things over there.” My heart sinks. “I do have some good news though. Work has already begun on Belle Meade, and it should be completed by the time I get home.”
I feel like someone bobbing around in the ocean, completely adrift with no land in sight. Elliot will be away for a month. That’s the same amount of time as half of our relationship up until this date. Sure, I will have work to keep me busy, as well as the renovation work at Belle Meade that will demand my attention. The separation, as much as a bad thing that it is, will also be a good thing, too. The month without him will give me the space and the clarity to see which way I am going to go. Whether I will ask him to move to Nashville with me or move to New York with him.
“I understand, Elliot,” I respond, knowing that this isn’t the time to voice any negatives. It was already hard enough. “We will talk daily though, won’t we?”,
“More than once a day, baby. I’ll be chatting to you all the time. So much so, you will think I’m right there with you.”
Without even a moment’s hesitation, I take his hand in mine and I pull him through the front door of the guest house, and straight into the bedroom. I release him, and I lift my long-sleeved dress over my head to stand before him in my underwear. The same black lace ones that elicited the reaction before, I was after once again.
He stares at me, and pulls his shirt over his head, before pushing his pants down his thick, muscular legs, stepping out of them when they hit the floor, standing before me in only his Calvin Klein boxer briefs.
We stare at each other for a few seconds, before we step towards each other, one step at a time until we are within touching distance. I reach out and take his left hand in both of my own, and bring it to land on my breast, then let go. I reach out and grab his right and position it on my other breast.
Elliot’s eyes widen, “I need you to touch me Elliot. I need you to touch all of me”, I plead, and that’s all the permission he requires, he squeezes my breasts, tenderly at first, before his grip firms. He steps into me, so that my breasts are pressing against his naked chest, he reaches around and unhooks my bra, lifting his hands to my shoulders and slipping my straps down my arms, until my bra falls to the floor at our feet.
He pushes me back until I am lying on the bed, he comes between my legs and bends down, his lips finding my left nipple, kissing it softly, then licking, followed by the nip of his teeth.
“Ahhh,” I moan loudly, arching my back, pushing my breasts further in the air, into his waiting mouth. His hand comes up to take his mouth’s spot as he then pays attention to my right nipple, following the same lazy rhythm as before.
I reach down between my legs and feel his length. It’s hard like a rock. I palm him through his boxers for a few moments, before I tug at the waistband of his boxers, his mouth leaves my nipple. “Are you sure?” he asks, I nod in response, “I need to hear you say it, Angie.” He looks me deep in the eyes.
“Yes, Elliot, I want you, all of you.”
His groan is all the reply I receive, he stands up and kicks his boxers off, before leaning down and pulling off my panties and leaving them on the floor.
“Scoot up the bed”, he orders. Once I am in a better position, he se
ttles between my open legs. I feel his erection, in the warmth between my entrance. He kisses me slowly, passionately, his tongue slipping inside. “Are you sure?” he murmurs.
“Yes, Elliot, I’m sure. Make love to me, please.”
He brings his forehead down to rest on my own, “Look at me, Angie. I want to see into your eyes when I make love to you.” So, I do. Our eyes lock, and I feel his penetration, slow and gentle. My fingernails dig into his back, clawing at him, as I get used to the full feeling.
“Ahhh” I moan.
“Am I hurting you?” Elliot asks.
“No, baby, that feels good, really good.” He continues to push into me, to the point where I think I can’t take anymore, then he goes that little bit further, and I’m full, so deliciously so.
He bends down and claims my mouth, slipping his tongue in with my own, and they dance, while he withdraws and enters again and again, slowly, carefully, not wanting to hurt me. He continues this delicious rhythm, bringing me closer to the edge with each stroke. “More,” I moan, and he fastens his pace, “I’m so close Elliot, I can feel it within me.”
“That’s good baby, let it go” I hold on, wanting it to be at the same time Elliot lets go, too. “Shit Angie, I’m going to come,” he says.
“It’s okay, I’m on the pill. I trust you Elliot.” He withdraws once more and slams home, and I feel his release. His hot ejaculate warming my insides as I let go, a whirlwind taking me. I crash over the edge into oblivion, with the man I love.
~ Chapter Twenty-Three ~
Angela
I lay there, in the afterglow of our lovemaking, with Elliot laying heavily on top of me. Our breathing erratic. We had done it, and by done it, I mean made love, and it was amazing, and fantastic, and perfect and I wanted to do it all over again, as soon as possible.
I run my hands up along his back, up towards his unruly blond hair and begin to methodically run my fingers through the strands, their silky softness running through with ease.