Need (Finding Anna)

by Hayes, Sherri

  “Can I ask you something?”

  That got her attention. “You can ask me anything,” she said sincerely.

  “Yesterday . . .Cal, well . . . he looked at me. Stared at me, I mean. And . . .” It still felt odd saying his name. “Stephan stared at me, too, but . . .”

  “But . . .” she encouraged.

  “But it was different. I mean, it didn’t feel the same when Cal did it.”

  “I see,” she said. “And how did it feel when Cal was staring at you?”

  I thought about it for a minute. It was hard to put into words. “Like . . . like he was trying to find something wrong with me.”

  “And Stephan?”

  “It made me feel uncomfortable, too, but not like with Cal. And I felt . . . warm? I don’t know how else to describe it.”

  “So did you not like Stephan staring at you?”

  “I don’t know. It’s . . . I feel like he’s looking at me without clothes on even if I’m fully dressed,” I whispered.

  She laughed. “And do you ever look at him that way?”

  I blushed. “I’ve only seen him without his clothes once.”

  She smiled, obviously happy with that news for some reason. “I guess that would mean that you do,” she replied with a wink.

  I hid my face and blushed again, only deeper this time. I could feel the heat in my cheeks. “Maybe, sometimes.”

  At four o’clock, the food was ready and the table was set. All we were waiting on was Stephan. I took my apron off and went to wait by the door.

  The lock turned and the door opened. I kept my head down as he walked straight past me to Lily. I knew she wouldn’t interfere with any punishment he gave me.

  My heart sank when he didn’t greet me. He really was mad.

  “Lily,” he greeted. “How is everything?”

  “Good,” she answered. “Did you need me to do anything else? I need to get home and call Logan.”

  “No. I think we’re fine here. Oh, and I called Logan to let him know what was going on. Thank you, Lily.”

  “Anytime,” she replied as she began moving toward me. She hugged me, but I didn’t respond. I was too nervous. “I’ll see you later.” I heard her heels click across the floor and the door close. I knew that the time had come to face my fate.

  He was moving around behind me, but he didn’t speak. I stayed where I was. There was more movement, then a chair scraping across the floor. “Come eat, Brianna.” Stephan’s voice was sharp and crisp, but still even and calm at the same time.

  I made my way over to my chair and slowly sat down, keeping my head lowered. He put food on his plate and began eating before I served myself.

  Dinner was tense. We didn’t always speak during meal times, but this was different. I knew I’d done wrong, and I just wanted him to punish me and get it over with, but that wasn’t my decision. I knew that.

  When he was finished, he got up and went to his chair, leaving his dishes for me. I tried to finish, but without him there beside me, the food seemed tasteless. After a few more bites, I was done. As quietly as I could, I cleared the table and put the food away. The door to the dishwasher clicked shut, and I set the timer.

  “Bring your phone when you come.”

  His voice came out of nowhere and I jumped a little, startled. Quickly, I grabbed my phone from the counter where I’d left it earlier and went to his side.

  Instead of opening his arms to me as he usually did, he motioned to the floor. “On your knees, Brianna.” I complied and put my head down. “Give me your phone.” I did as he requested, and sat there waiting. He flipped the phone over in his hands a couple of times before hitting a few buttons. He set it down on his leg. “It appears to be working properly. I see no reason why you couldn’t return my phone call today in a timely manner.”

  “No, Sir.”

  “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “There is no excuse, Sir. I should have picked up the phone when you called, or called you right back.”

  He sighed. “I’ve told you more than once that communication is the most important thing between us. If you don’t tell me what is going on in that mind of yours, there is nothing I can do to help you. I’m not a mind reader, Brianna.”

  I felt the weight of his disappointment in me.

  His gaze burned through me even though I couldn’t see it. I just wanted to be in his arms again.

  Stephan handed me back my phone. “Starting tomorrow, for the next week, you will text me at the top of every hour while I’m at the office. It will be no more than five minutes early and no more than five minutes late. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “If you miss one, Brianna, there will be consequences,” he said pointedly.

  “I understand.”

  “Good. Now go put your phone on the charger and come back.”

  I did what he said and returned to his side. This time he indicated that I was to sit in his lap. It felt so good to be there. I didn’t ever want to upset him again, although I knew I would.

  “Now, you said on the phone that you were afraid I’d be upset with you. Why?” Stephen asked.

  “Because of last night. I . . . I messed up.”

  He sighed. “You didn’t mess up, Brianna. Have I ever been upset with you before when you’ve had a bad reaction to something?”

  “No,” I whispered.

  “No,” he confirmed. “Then why would you think that my view would suddenly change?”

  I was quiet for a long while before I answered him. “I wanted to make you happy. I failed.”

  His hands surrounded my face, brushing the moisture from my cheeks. “You didn’t fail. This is a process. We set the pace. If we need to go slower, we’ll go slower.”

  I nodded.

  “Can you tell me what happened? You seemed to be enjoying my touching you, and then everything changed.”

  The next half hour was difficult for me. He’d not been satisfied with my skimming over details of my flashback. He wanted to know everything, from how often Ian’s friend had used me to how he found pleasure in shoving as many different objects inside me as he could find. It had become a challenge for him to see what strange and unusual item would fit inside me. Ian hadn’t cared, and even encouraged his friend’s game.

  Stephan listened in silence for the most part, comforting and encouraging me when I arrived at a difficult bit. I didn’t want to relive this, but I’d do it for him. I’d do anything for him.

  At nine thirty, he motioned for me to get up, get ready for bed, and meet him in his bedroom. The entire time I was in my room getting ready I was trying to figure out what he was going to do. I’d thought it was over, but obviously, it wasn’t.

  When I walked into his room with one minute to spare, he was sitting on his bed wearing nothing but his boxers, waiting for me. He indicated that he wanted me to kneel in front of him. I was visibly shaking.

  “Now to correct your behavior, Brianna.” His voice was calm. “For the next seven nights you will sleep on the floor, on that spot next to my bed.” I followed his gaze down to where he was looking on the floor. “It seems that I can’t trust you to tell me when you’re in distress. You will also be in the same room as I am at all times when I’m home, unless I say otherwise.” He paused. “Go to the dresser and bring back that blanket and pillow lying on top.”

  I moved quickly to retrieve the items and came back to kneel in front of him. He took the pillow from my hands and tossed it to the floor.

  “Do you understand why this is happening?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I said, not wanting to meet his eyes.

  Then he surprised me by pulling my face to his and kissing me. It was deep and passionate, and left me breathing hard by the time he let me go. “Good girl. Goodnight, Brianna,” he said with a smile as he climbed into his bed.

  I didn’t know if I should speak, but I decided to chance it. “Goodnight, Sir.”

  As I lay down on the floo
r beside his bed, I realized how stupid I had been in not wanting to tell him. He was always there for me. I shouldn’t have doubted him.

  Stephan

  I rolled over the next morning and looked down. To my surprise, Brianna was gazing up at me with wide eyes. The blanket I’d given her was pulled up to her chin, and I could see the apprehension in her eyes. “Good morning, Brianna.”

  “Good morning, Sir.”

  Although I’d not missed the ‘Sir’ she’d tacked on at the end of her sentence, I let it slide. I wanted to see if she continued to use it once she realized I was no longer upset with her. Her correction was still in effect, but I wasn’t going to chastise her again as long as she followed through.

  Flipping the covers back and sitting up, I saw her swallow nervously. Her eyes were no longer looking at my face. They were now focused on my lap where my morning erection stood proud.

  I chose to ignore her reaction and stood, stretching. “I’m going to shower. Fold your blanket and place it and your pillow back on the dresser, then go to your own room and get ready for the day. You have thirty minutes, and then you are to meet me in the kitchen.” Without waiting for her to respond, I walked over to my dresser, pulled out a fresh pair of boxers, and walked into my bathroom.

  Contrary to my normal evening showers, the one this morning was quick. I addressed the throbbing between my legs by turning on the cold water. My focus had to be on Brianna today, and not in a sexual way. She needed me.

  Before I walked out into the main room, I glanced at the clock beside my bed. I’d taken my time getting ready to give her the full thirty minutes. Six twenty-five. Perfect.

  I tossed my suit jacket over my arm, and strolled out of my bedroom. My eye immediately went to the kitchen, but I didn’t see Brianna. Stopping to listen, I didn’t hear her moving around in her bedroom either. Glancing inside the open door, I noticed that both her bedroom and bathroom lights were off. She had to be here somewhere. Throwing my jacket over the back of the couch, I crossed to the kitchen and nearly stumbled over her. Brianna was kneeling, waiting for me, beside the island.

  Instead of saying anything, I reached out my hand hoping she’d take it. It took a few minutes, but eventually she lifted her hand and fitted it into mine.

  Once she was on her feet, I guided her over to the couch. “Why were you kneeling?

  “You told me to wait for you, Sir.”

  “Brianna, do we have to go through the conversation about you ending every sentence with my title again?” I raised one eyebrow in question, waiting for her answer.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Good girl. Now, explain to me how my telling you to wait for me in the kitchen translated into you kneeling.”

  “I thought . . . I thought that was what you . . . wanted.”

  She’d been looking down at her lap, but I wanted her eyes on my face when I spoke, so I lifted her chin up. Her gaze followed. “I promise you that I will be more than clear when I wish for you to kneel for me. You seem to be under the impression that I am angry with you. I’m not. Am I disappointed? Yes. Very much so. I thought we’d come far enough that you would tell me if something was wrong. Apparently, I was wrong.”

  “I’m—”

  The last thing I wanted was to hear she was sorry. “If you’re truly sorry, fix it.”

  She pressed her lips together. I knew there was something she wanted to say, so I waited. “How do I fix it?”

  “By not making the same mistake again. You need to tell me when something is bothering you. I can’t read your mind.”

  She nodded.

  “How did you sleep last night?”

  “All right,” she said.

  I waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. “You need to give me more than that, Brianna. Did you have any trouble falling asleep? Did you have any dreams? Nightmares? How did you feel about being made to sleep on the floor next to my bed?”

  She glanced back down at her lap before she answered me. “A little,” she shrugged. “I don’t remember any dreams or nightmares.” She pressed her lips together before she continued. “I . . . I don’t know how I feel about sleeping by your bed. It . . . wasn’t what I was expecting.”

  I chose to ignore the fact that she’d had some trouble falling asleep for now. That could be due to the stressful evening. Instead, I directed the conversation to her last few sentences. Those seemed to be weighing the most on her mind. “What were you expecting?”

  She shook her head quickly.

  Taking hold again of her chin, I stopped her motion. Her eyes were wide as she looked at me, but I waited.

  “I know you said . . . that you wouldn’t . . . but . . .” She closed her eyes. “Whenever I slept on the floor beside a man’s bed it was so he could . . . use me.”

  “And your fears wouldn’t go away.”

  “No,” she said. “They wouldn’t.”

  I scooted closer, closing the distance separating us, and pulled her into my arms. “Thank you for telling me. I know it was hard, but I promise you if you keep trying it will get easier.” Instead of answering, her fingers tangled in my shirt, and I heard the sound of muffled sobs. “Shh. There is nothing to cry over. You did well.” Even though she nodded, it took a few minutes for her to calm down.

  The rest of the morning was spent making breakfast and going over—once again—what I expected from her throughout the day. When she asked me what she was supposed to text, I smiled and kissed her temple before getting up and taking my plate to the sink. “I want you to tell me what you are doing, whatever it is.”

  She looked pensive, but nodded.

  I walked to the couch to retrieve my jacket, and she followed me as she always did. Gathering her in my arms, I gave her a lingering kiss on the lips while trailing my fingers over the hickey I’d left on her neck two nights ago. She’d not said anything about it and neither had I, but I couldn’t deny how much I enjoyed seeing it there just inches below my collar.

  Her gaze followed my hand, and she blushed. I smiled and skimmed my fingers down her arm before stepping back toward the door. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  Brianna

  I couldn’t believe how fast my day went. It was hard to get involved in anything for too long because I had to stop and text him. A few times he texted me back and asked me a question, like when I said I was fixing lunch he asked what I was making. Every time I sent a text, I could feel the weight of what I’d done. Or not done.

  He’d said he was disappointed in me, and if I was being honest, I was disappointed in myself as well. I had to do better. Talking wasn’t easy, but I’d do it. He’d done so much for me. I could do this for him.

  As I cooked dinner for us, I finally let my mind drift back to last night and how it felt sleeping on the floor beside his bed. I couldn’t make the fear completely go away, so I’d woken up several times during the night. I’d wake, eyes wide, waiting, then my brain would kick in, I realized where I was and that it was Stephan in the bed, not Ian or one of his friends.

  I couldn’t help my reaction when I saw his erection pressing against his boxers. I wonder if that added to his disappointment. He’d told me repeatedly he wouldn’t do anything unless I asked him to. Why was that so hard to accept?

  As soon as I asked myself that question, I knew why. Stephan was very different from the men I’d met over the last year. Whenever I saw their physical excitement, I knew what was coming. With Stephan, he never did what I expected. He always kept me guessing.

  When he walked in the door, I was still in the kitchen putting the final additions on the food I was making. I was happy he was home. Even though I was sometimes confused about my life with him, I always felt better when he was near.

  He smiled when he spotted me, and walked to where I was standing. Without any words, he pulled me against him, and buried his face in my hair. “Good evening, Brianna.”

  I hugged him back. He felt good, warm. I tried to remember what he’d said to me this
morning . . . he wasn’t angry. He wasn’t angry. I needed to keep reminding myself. “Good evening,” I said, although it was muffled since my face was partially covered by his jacket.

  He held onto me a few more minutes before tilting my head back and kissing me. It was soft, and I wanted it to last longer, but before I knew it, he pulled away. “Is dinner ready?”

  “Yes. I just have to bring it to the table.”

  “Nothing will burn for the next few minutes?”

  “No.”

  “Good,” he said. “I want to get this jacket and tie off before we eat.”

  He turned and walked toward his bedroom. Halfway there, he paused to glance back at me expectantly, and I remembered I was supposed to stay with him at all times now that he was home.

  I left the kitchen, and rushed to his side. He didn’t say anything, but I thought I might have seen a small smile tug at his lips. I liked when he smiled.

  Just as he’d said, he walked into his room and removed his jacket and his tie, placing them both on a hanger. I stood by the door trying to stay out of his way since I didn’t know what exactly I was supposed to do.

  He walked to the bathroom, and I debated whether or not I should follow. He stopped at the door, but didn’t turn. “Wait here,” he said, pointing to a spot just outside his bathroom door.

  He left the door open, but I didn’t look. I could hear everything, though, and it brought back memories I’d rather not remember, making me shiver. Would I ever be able to see and hear simple things without panic?

  Closing my eyes, I recited my mantra. Stephan. Not Ian. Stephan. Not Ian.

  Slowly it began to work. I could feel the panic lessening. When he walked out of the bathroom a few minutes later, my breathing was only slightly labored, but my eyes were squeezed firmly shut and my head tilted toward the floor.

  I felt him beside me, his hand cupping my face, raising my chin. I still didn’t open my eyes.

  “Number?”

  I thought about it before I answered. Two minutes ago, the number would have been higher. “Four.”

  “Tell me why.”

  Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked at him. His face was full of concern. “I was . . . remembering. Things.”