There’s a sense of urgency in his movements; I sense it. We will not be engaging in lengthy foreplay tonight. He lacks Ayden’s patient caress, his finesse, but that’s okay. I can donate my body; it’s for a good cause. I’ll keep my mind and my heart under lock and key, out of reach and hidden in a place so deep and dark, even he won’t be able to reach it. Consoled by that thought, I prepare to gift myself to him, taking my first tentative step into that endless ocean that stretches out before me for miles and miles …
He makes his move, rocking and dipping his body into mine in a rhythmic embrace; his mouth finding my breasts and his fingers feathering my thighs. Wet kisses and hard pulls on my nipples have me groaning with pleasure and then … I become aware of something ancient and unbidden: it’s music unlike anything I have heard before.
From somewhere and everywhere in the room there is choral music; harmonic voices blending and floating about my head, wrapping themselves around me like a fog.
My senses are heightened, super-charged; I’m tingling from head to toe. I hear my own voice and it’s like the whisper of a helpless child. “What are you doing to me?” Before I lose myself completely, I ask again, “What’s happening to me?”
“You are becoming, Beth…” he growls, from just below my navel.
Through heavy breathing I ask, “Becoming what?”
He raises his head until our eyes are locked like glistening orbs. “Becoming mine.”
His stare is so intense it makes me shudder. Unable to turn away, I watch him descend; scraping his noise against my inner thigh, following through with a moist tongue, lapping at heated flesh like a primordial cat.
I call out between his groans and arch my back, wanting him to stop, yet urging him on, my hands fisting in his hair as his mouth seeks out the most sensitive part of my body.
Forgetting myself, I call out, “Ayden!”
He stops, acknowledges my cry with a devilish grin and dips his head, using his hands and tongue to take me to the point of orgasm. Without seeking permission, he shoulders my legs apart and proceeds to lick and suck at my clitoris until I am writhing with need.
The music increases in tempo, the thumping rhythm matching my heartbeat, propelling me until I am teetering on the edge. Without warning, two forceful fingers penetrate me, bending, teasing my sensitive internal flesh until I can take no more.
My orgasm hits me like a flash of lightening; a roll of thunder ripples through my stomach and explodes against his fingers making me jerk and spasm. I call out “Ayden!” loud enough to raise the dead; then simmer down one breathless gasp at a time. The earth-shattering brilliance fades like a comet and I hit the sheets hard, trembling and tearful.
But this is just the beginning …
He drags my limp and wasted body to the edge of the bed until my legs are bent at the knees.
Barely conscious I tip up my weary head and observe his mighty frame. He seems to have grown in stature; muscles are flexing and glistening in the half-light of a full moon. He’s inspecting my naked body, splayed out before him. Isn’t this what he said he wanted, me like this?
“Now you’re ready,” he snarls, more animal than human; alien eyes finding the light and flashing malevolently, filling me with terror.
He takes hold of my hips with both hands, fastening me in place, and then proceeds to raise my body off the bed until my groin is level with his. I feel the tip of his cock like bone against my saturated skin; he spreads me wider with his hips, taking his time to steady himself, building anticipation before lunging into me in one long, spearing intrusion.
I cry out.
I try to pull back but I am ensnared, overpowered, exposed. All I can do is count the seconds and pray they rush to form minutes …
When I look up at him the veins in his neck are bulging and his face is contorted, unrecognisable. Still gripped by fear I allow my body to fall limply until I am no more than an inanimate object in his hands - a fuck doll or a corpse.
His guttural groans lessen. Has he finished with me?
No.
“You’re not participating, Beth,” he reminds me, as if I needed to be reminded. “If you do not, we’ll have to keep at this for hours. You do realise that, don’t you?”
His menacing tone causes the air in the room to chill. As heat leaves my body, so does my belief I have the physical and emotional strength to handle this kind of humiliation.
“You’re inside me. Isn’t that what you wanted?” I whimper, managing to hold onto some fragments of my dignity by my fingernails.
“But that’s not true is it?” he pushes more deeply into me. “I have your body but your mind is elsewhere. This is a contact sport Beth, but it should involve cerebral engagement, darling.”
His final word leaves me icy cold. “You do what you want with me, Ayden.” I spit out my husband’s name, knowing I’m inflaming him further.
“A courageous invitation, but one I can’t accept.” He pulls from me roughly and takes a step backwards, still eyeing my trembling torso. “You are beautiful in your nakedness, you always have been.”
Always have been …
His knowing smile is that of a man who has seen everything, but learned nothing. He places his right hand between my legs. “Giving me this is only the start of our adventure, Beth. I want your body, of course, but as I explained, I insist on total compliance.”
“You mean obedience?”
He tips his head to one side. “Call it what you will. It’s your mind and your heart that escapes me, as yet.”
I snigger at my naivety. “Is there a single thought of mine you haven’t pilfered since our paths crossed?”
“I have heard everything.”
“So you lied …”
“I had no choice.”
I throw back his words. “You always have a choice, and you chose to lie.”
He laughs softly. “Touché. As your husband would say.”
I hate you so much right now.
“You really are a piece of work.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He grins, menacingly. “But I do have very particular tastes and demands which have to be met or …” He shrugs his shoulders. “…or this adventure may end quickly and tragically.”
I tell him with my thoughts. I hate you, you fucking bastard.
“Now, now. There’s no need for profanity,” he chides, tutting and shaking his head. “A sweet young woman like you has no need of that kind of language.” He places a coated finger against his mouth and spreads my seeping moisture across his lips, making me cringe. I watch as his tongue drags across glistening skin and turn away, repulsed.
“As I said, you are very sweet.”
Leaving me naked and chilled to the bone, he makes his way into the bathroom. I hear the sound of water and assume he’s showering.
I retrieve my clothes and dress hurriedly. When he enters the bedroom I’m standing in my underwear, illuminated by the fluorescent light shining from the bathroom. He stops in his tracks when he sees me. I’m not sure why.
With a muted voice he asked, “Are you going to shower?”
“Yes. I feel dirty.” I bundle my clothes together and attempt to walk around him into the bathroom, but, as I pass, he grabs my arm.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters.
“It’s a little late for that.” Freeing my arm, I push past him.
I place my clothes down onto the counter top and turn to inspect myself. My hair is a tangled mess; my eyes are lifeless, encircled with mascara. My throat bears the marks of his teeth and my breasts are tender and sore. If that were not enough, through clouded vision I settle my eyes on my hips; around them are bruises that start at the bone and keep going until they form the shape of two powerful thumbs at the front and fingers around the side like shackles. I lower my head and allow gravity to take charge of my tears. One thought is on repeat in my mind…
What did I do to deserve this?
In an instant, Ayden appears behind m
e. I flinch when I feel his hand on my shoulder and try to shake it off. It won’t budge.
I spin around. “Look what you did!” I gaze up into his eyes, seething breath leaving my nose in a snort. “You think that possessing my husband’s body allows you to do whatever you want with me? You’ll never be Ayden. He would never hurt me like this.”
He bows his head. “Turn around and close your eyes.”
“No! You can’t magic this away.” I try to reach around him for the shower controls. “Would you mind? I’d like to take a shower and cleanse myself of your stench.”
He takes hold of my hands and puts them together into a double-handed fist. “Don’t toy with me Beth. Let me explain.”
“Don’t bother. “
“I insist.” He tightens his grip on my hands. “The fault is mine. I had forgotten how fragile the human body is. It’s been a while since I made love to …”
“Fucked!”
“What?” He frowns, his eyes turning into slits that are unresponsive to light.
“You didn’t make love to me. You fucked me.”
“But you climaxed, didn’t you?”
“I’m not completely without feelings. I haven’t been intimate with my husband for six days. I missed his touch.”
“I sensed it.”
“You took advantage of it.” I confront him head on. “Why didn’t I feel you hurting me then? I hurt everywhere now?”
“I put you in a kind of trance so your senses were heightened but you felt no pain. Now I realise that was wrong.”
“It was shameful. You could have seriously hurt me.”
“I can heal you …”
“No. Take a long look at your handy work. You got off on hurting me.”
“That’s not true. I got off, as you say, on the intimacy we shared. If I’d wanted to hurt you, you would not be standing here asking me about it.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Of course not.” He’s shaking his head. “A simple explanation.”
“There’s nothing simple about it.” I wriggle my hands free. “You only know how to take. Anyone would think you had never loved …”
He snaps back, “I have not.”
“But surely you …”
He’s shaking his head. “No.”
I grab my bathrobe off the hook. “So what’s this? Another lie?”
“I wish it were.”
“I don’t trust you. You said you would take care of me, and here I am looking like I’ve been raped.”
He leans back to absorb the magnitude of my declaration. “But you have not.”
“No, but if I were to walk into a hospital right now and say I had been, they would believe me,” I state frankly.
“That would be a very foolish thing to do, Beth.”
I rest my hands on my hips petulantly. “I didn’t say I was going to, just if I did.”
“That’s not necessary. Let me heal you and we can begin again.”
“No. I want you to see what you’ve done and reflect on how long it takes for these bites and bruises to fade.”
“Are you attempting to punish me?” He finds the thought quite amusing.
“Not punish. Teach.” I pull my hair back into a rough ponytail. “I said I would go through with this, and I will. But I won’t let you spend six months with me and leave having not learned anything about love.” I hold my hand against my neck, drawing his attention to the bite marks. “What emotion is this? Can you tell me?”
He tips his head to the side, baffled by my question.
“Just so you know, this is cruelty.” I push him aside. “Now if you’d excuse me, I’d like to shower.”
He steps to his right. Only now can I see my husband in all his glory, naked and covered in perspiration, his hair untidy, his chin darkening with stubble. This is the man I love, and no amount of bruising will change that.
I toss my bathrobe to one side, unhook my bra and step out of my panties immodestly. My mottled skin begins to glow under the steaming spray. I tip back my head, close my eyes, feeling its full force on my face and the sting of it on my neck and breasts. In less than five minutes all evidence of my infidelity is washed away.
When I have towelled myself dry, and some of the steam has cleared from the mirror, I inspect myself. The bite marks have disappeared; my breasts are untouched and my hips are smooth to the touch and the colour of tinted alabaster. I am healed and, if I’m honest, very relieved. Surely I’ve endured more physical and emotional pain than any one person deserves in a lifetime, haven’t I? To be able to rectify the former is miraculous but … the latter? That’s a different kind of hurt. Only I can repair those scars and that process will begin tomorrow.
***
Mack is standing by a stray dining chair, looking up into a loft opening, assessing whether a woman of Elise’s size could reach up into it to retrieve three boxes. He climbs onto the chair and reaches up. The low ceiling makes it possible for him to rest his elbows on the edge and peer inside. To the right, poking out of a black bin bag is a large Christmas tree, beside it a box labelled decorations, to the left he sees two suitcases and nothing more. He sighs, realising Elise had few mementos. Her past would appear to be contained in three small boxes that have been hidden away, out of sight. He wonders if that’s a reflection of her life.
Lying around on the bedroom carpet are discarded clothes - jeans and a white blouse - covered in more black dust. Wardrobe doors have been flung open and cosmetics thrown into the sink.
This was a woman in a hurry, he surmises. ‘But what woman would be in such a hurry to die? Maybe one who had nothing, or no one left worth living for?’
He leaves her apartment, slamming the door behind him, more determined than ever to find answers to questions he has yet to devise.
12
Still stinging from the emotional and physical savaging that was tonight’s encounter, I resist the temptation to speak softly to Ayden as he sleeps peacefully by my side. I turn off the bedside lamp, run my fingers through his hair, say nothing, and leave the room. It’s only 10.30p.m. and there’s something I must do while left “unsupervised.”
Settling on the sofa, I boot up my laptop, seeking a private place to hide my heart and to keep my love alive for my husband.
I download the software for a digital scrapbook, planning to record the events of the next six months. If and when he - in all his infinite wisdom - returns Ayden to me I don’t want him grappling with out-of-focus memories of our first year of marriage. The thought of being no more than a ghost scares the hell out of me. I’ll help Ayden to re-live this time; to see it with my eyes through a camera lens, and through my words and music. It will seem to him that we were never apart. I listen to Daughter singing Still, picturing the night’s events and reliving the nightmare. Through tears I type and relive our day …
NOVEMBER #1
“Boldness be my friend.”
Shakespeare: Cymbeline
Today we took a stroll around The Tower of London. The tour guide tried so hard to entertain us, but had you rolling your eyes and checking your watch after 30 minutes. Ha!
I dragged you away to Balthazar’s in Covent Garden and we had a delicious meal. Of course, you intimidated the hell out of the waiter and took seven long minutes to choose the wine. But I was happy to wait and watch.
In a couple of days, you’ll be whisking us off on our honeymoon to Hong Kong, and The Great Barrier Reef. I can’t wait!! (Pictures to follow!) Having you all to myself for a week will make up for all the craziness we’ve had to deal with.
I love you Ayden.
Beth. X
To this first entry I attach a stock photo of the Tower and upload a photo of a menu from Balthazar’s to add context. I save and shut down; close the laptop lid and lean back, contemplating my next move.
I’m not accustomed to duplicity, but that doesn’t mean I can’t exhibit it in one form or another. I must play my part to perfection and count down the days u
ntil my body and my thoughts become my own. Hopefully, this scrapbook will make serving my time a little easier. Doing what I must will be the biggest challenge of my life, but it’s not insurmountable. To save Ayden’s life, I must give the performance of my life.
Last night passed without incident. I’m awake early: it’s only 6 a.m. As I turn, I notice Ayden is lying on his back. I have my chin propped up on my left palm, caressing him with my eyes; dark wisps of eyelashes sit motionless on smooth sweeps of skin beneath his eyes. Sculptured cheekbones catch the light and his mouth … oh how I long to trace the shape of that perfect pout. I lick my lips reflexively and close my eyes. When I open them he’s awake, looking back at me quizzically.
I’m no longer startled by his presence; I half expect it now. “You’re back?”
“I am indeed. Why are you awake so early?” he asks yawning widely.
“To wake you up. You have to go to work today,” I remind him.
He huffs, rolling his eyes with incredulity. “I don’t have to do anything,” he reminds me.
“If you want to be accepted as Ayden, you have to be him in every sense of the word. That means running his business, and attending functions – all of it. You’ve picked yourself a handsome guy who is a media mogul and a well-known face in the press. You need to keep up appearances or people will think something is wrong.”
“I don’t see why I should have to burden myself with that. I’m sure there are better ways to amuse myself - and you too for, that matter.”
“You mean like visiting more tourist attractions?” I ask sarcastically.
He gives me a disapproving look. “Distain does not become you, Beth.”
“I’ll keep that in mind the next time you try to complicate things more than they already are.” I jump out of bed, naked, and reach for my bathrobe. “Look. I’ll come with you if you like, to help out.” I turn to face him. “I can’t say fairer than that.”
TouchStone for ever (The Story of Us Trilogy) Page 12