But there she was, in front of me. Alone finally. So much had changed between us. The speech I had, my plan, no longer mattered. It did, but it didn’t. I hadn’t given up my plan, only put it on hold.
I spoke first. Maybe if I had let her go first, things might have been different. I’ll never know, and I’ve given up thinking about that. I’ve given in to Gillian’s belief that we’re all guided, either by the stars or fate or karma. What happened was meant to happen.
“You were a naughty girl with your horoscopes tonight.” I bring myself out of my reverie to address her, an equal mix of laughter and anger in my voice. I surprise myself with the tone I use. I’m still angry with her for revealing our secrets to her mother. I sound like my father even to myself, authoritative and strong. I’ve been gentle with Gillian before, but now there’s no denying that I’m demanding a response from her. There’s no denying that things have changed between us.
She’d remained standing, but her body language changed slightly. She flickered before me. That’s how I always thought of Gillian’s behavior, flickering, like a hummingbird’s wings on the wind. It was so quick and effortless, one long motion from start to finish but hardly visible in between. Or like a movie, one image would just merge into the next. I didn’t recognize it then, but I came to know the signs later. I came to understand so much about her later. But that night was just the beginning in so many ways for us.
“Mama done tol’ me I’s a bad girl.” Her voice is shaky, the fire crackling louder than her words. There’s an odd lilt to how she sounds too, as though the shame she must feel has an added effect of degrading her speech as well as her stance.
“Yes. You were bad tonight.” I sit up and lean towards her, my right hand held out for her to take. She shrinks away, her body bending at the waist, collapsing into her middle. She wraps her arms around herself and falls to the floor on her knees.
I push off the chair and drop to my knees as well, encircling her in my arms, trying to press her to my chest. She’s frantic and wild, trying to get away from me, backing into the fireplace, slapping my hands and grunting. “Gillian? … Gillian! … Stop!”
In an instant, she’s calm again, sitting back on her heels with her hands clasped in her lap. She’s the picture of an angel in prayer with the soft glow of the fire on one side of her. Light and dark. It’s just like that first time I saw her here.
I pull her face towards mine in a slow lift of my hand to her chin. “Gillian?”
“Yes, Miles?” Her voice is calm, airy.
“Are you all right now?” I know the answer can only be no. After all that’s happened today, how could she be okay?
“Yes.” She grasps my hand with both of hers. “I’ve misbehaved tonight, haven’t I?” I can’t really see her eyes, but I see her lashes blinking quickly, her lids rising and falling. I push her hair back with my free hand to better see her features.
“Why did you write those horoscopes?” I whisper this, almost sorry to give voice to the anxiety I felt listening to her earlier.
“Those horoscopes were written this morning.” She raises her voice and face, leaning into me more. “Before you arrived today, Miles.” She squeezes my hand harder. “Before you came to my room. I only read what was written for each of us.” I’m embarrassed at her mention of this afternoon, at what happened in her room. I know I should be the one making atonement to her.
“But you must have known that it would anger your mother…”
“Yes…” She ducks her head down a little in shame. “Did I anger you, Miles?”
I answer without thinking, a newfound freedom and power. “Yes.” And in this moment, I understand something that had been lost on me before. In the bedroom, Anya started the chain of events. She directed my hands, directed Gillian. She punished Gillian in front of me. I stood by and watched, but I also stopped her. I had said when Gillian had enough, and Anya had stopped without question. And when I pushed Anya back on the bed, she didn’t resist. I held Anya down while I had sex with her. I took control of Anya. She gave me control of Gillian. And I took it.
“Mother said you were angry with me…that I have to make it up to you.” Her little hands over mine squeeze once more before she lets go and rises on her knees more. She takes off her shirt in front of me, appearing just as she was this afternoon, nude and beaten. But now, it’s just for me.
Anderson Valley: Simon Lamb
“Watch how you talk to me, Grace. You’re dangerously close to pissing me off.”
“You are broken, aren’t you?” Her voice is challenging, but her eyes stay soft, questioning. I release her hands and smack her across the face hard, but not hard enough to leave a mark. I want her face to stay untouched, my marks hidden for only me to see. Her eyes cloud again, the softness replaced by the lust once more.
She doesn’t move, just leaves her hands in the same spot I placed them. She remains completely open to me, unfazed even by a second slap.
“What does it take to get to you, to crack through your ice?” I didn’t intend to say this out loud. My voice almost cracks with the strained whispering, but I see that my words have more effect than my hands. She turns her face to the side and brings her hands down to cover her chest. Her eyes squeeze closed, and she almost looks like a frightened child, trying to hide from what she fears.
I bring my hand to her face slowly, feathering the side of her cheek with the back of my fingers. My voice is gentle but strong. “Don’t hide from me, Grace. It’s no use. You’re not going anywhere and neither am I. I will break you. You’re mine.”
My words again have an effect, but not the one I thought they would.
With an animal cry that startles me almost as much as the fist she brings up to jab my throat, Grace moves quickly. I’m pushed off her with the momentum of her movements, not even trying to stop her, still in shock at her sudden change and violence.
Like the cat she so easily imitates, Grace springs to the door. It’s locked, an old fashioned door that needs the key to be opened. I watch from my seat on the bed. She releases another animal cry in frustration, turning to face me. My laugh is halted in my throat at the sight of her.
Naked and covered in my whip marks, Grace is beautiful, but her face is stretched into a snarl and her teeth are bared, snapping at me. Her eyes are predatory and darting around the room. Her body is hunched to pounce—a feral and fearless posture. Her breathing is harsh and nasal, a bull before it charges.
“I told you that you’re not going anywhere, Red.” My words are confident, but I’m not. She’s a caged animal and unpredictable right now. She’s tiny; I’m not worried about her hurting me, but I don’t want her to hurt herself. I don’t stop to appreciate the irony of my thoughts.
She ignores my words and circles towards the fireplace, keeping her distance from me. I don’t even move from the bed, just watch her. Too late, I realize my error. Grace grabs the fireplace poker and brandishes this as a weapon, holding it like a sword for fencing. She’s ridiculously poised with it, like she knows what she’s doing. Despite the crazed animal look still on her face, her stance is almost perfect. Her nakedness only enhances her elegance.
“Put that down before you get yourself hurt.” I slowly slide to the edge of the bed, not taking my eyes off her. Equally ridiculous, I realize I’m excited by this. My dick is uncomfortably stiff. I stifle a laugh at the image of our two swords facing off.
“Ya likes hurtin’ little girls, dontcha mister?” Her voice is deep and gravelly with a hint of a southern accent I haven’t noticed. Before I can answer, she attacks me.
She lunges at me with the poker aimed right for my stomach. I barely move out of the way to parry and shove her face first onto the bed, using her forward motion against her. She’s quick, but I’m quicker, straddling her back and grabbing her wrists before she can roll over. She lets out one more screech of animalistic frustration and anger as I squeeze her wrists, forcing her to release her grip on the poker. I shove it off the b
ed and move off her enough to flip her over, not letting go of her wrists.
I straddle her again, keeping her firmly pinned down. I’m amazed at her strength and the fury in her eyes. She doesn’t let up, trying to push and pull against me. “Grace, calm down. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. Calm down!” All I can do is push her harder into the bed.
It’s not all I could do. I know I could knock her out. I’ve done it before as a last resort for subduing a girl. But seeing her irrational fear and wild anger now, after she so calmly and hungrily accepted the pain of my whip moments ago, I’m thrown off guard. I feel an urge I haven’t felt in a long time, maybe ever. I want to calm her, comfort her. I’ve done that plenty of times—the equal parts of pain and pleasure needed to break a girl—but with Grace, I feel an urge to protect her too. I want to soothe her, to bring her out of this episode of craziness that has seized her. I want her to trust me.
I keep talking, trying to lull and ease her back to a calmer state. It’s not working, but she is tiring. Finally, her body and face relax. It happens so quickly, I don’t let up the pressure on her wrists right away, just stare into her blinking eyes. And they’re not blank, not filled with fear or lust, only pain—deep, dark pools of pain.
Yet another version of the woman I’ve become obsessed with stares back at me. A version that is more raw and hurt than I could ever make her with just my whip. A version that is completely open and vulnerable to me. A version that has me feeling unguarded and exposed. Fuck.
She turns her head to the side, and I watch one small tear slide down her cheek onto the bed.
Seattle: Miles Vanderson
I’ve judged myself for that day, that night. Many times, I’ve chastised myself the way anyone else would. How could I do that to my Gillian? How could I continue the madness from that afternoon, now that it was just the two of us, alone? How did I not find a way to end what was only just starting?
But I’ve given up those thoughts. I’ve seen the truth for what it was. The only way to get Gillian away from her mother, to free her from her abuse, was to take control. I saw a path in that moment when Gillian was kneeling and naked before me again.
I heard her words from her earlier predictions. She’d said that I was on a precipice, a point of no return, but she hadn’t meant that afternoon as I had initially thought. No, she meant that moment between just us that night.
I had a choice to make, and I made it. I would be her savior, but not in the way I had originally planned. I would take us down the path, the only path we had open to us. I would lead her and save her. I would keep her.
“You are beautiful, Gillian.” My voice catches with the lust I feel, the love I feel. Once again, she takes my hand gently, like that first time. Only now, she doesn’t bring it to her lips; she directs my hand to her chest, laying my fingers flat under hers.
“I’m yours, Miles.” Her heartbeat and breathing are so steady compared to my own.
“You are mine, and I’ll protect you. I’ll keep you safe from now on.” She smiles at this, her serene, soft smile. “I have a plan for us, my love, a way that we can be together always. Would you like that?”
She nods her head slowly, and without thinking, I move my hand across her skin. This wasn’t my plan. My plan had been to wait, but everything changed this afternoon. Anya knows about us, about me. I have to follow this new plan, down to the darkest depths if necessary.
“I’m sorry for making you angry, Miles.” Her soft, airy voice cuts into my thoughts, into the soothing feel of her skin against my hand.
“Did your mother tell you to apologize to me?”
“Yes.”
“Did she tell you anything else?” I want to forget about Anya. I want to grab Gillian and run away together, but I know I can’t. I have to see my new plan through. It will work. It has to for our sake.
“Yes.” Gillian pauses, blinking at me. Her heartbeat is so strong and even, it’s almost like she’s sleepwalking. “But I don’t want to repeat her words.”
“But you have to tell me, Gilli. I need to know what your mother says and does. It’s important that you always tell me everything. The truth. I can help, but only if I know what your mother is up to. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“So tell me the truth.”
She pulls away from me, my hand dropping to my own knees. Her body crumples into itself again. Her stomach concaves, shoulders round, and she’s rocking back and forth. I can hear her mumbling, see her lips moving.
“Gillian! Look at me.” It takes just a moment, a blink of my eyes, for her to straighten up again in response to my sharp tone. She keeps her head lowered though, my angel in prayer.
“I’m to tell you that when I anger her, I’m to be punished. That if you won’t punish me, she will. She said that you’ll want to from now on.” She raises her eyes to me but keeps her chin down. Her straight-faced stare makes me want to cry. “Do you want to, Miles?”
“Yes.” I give this whispered confession without hesitation. “But I…I can’t.” I grab her face with both my hands, pulling her towards me. “I love you, Gillian.”
“I love you, Miles.”
It was the first time Gillian and I said those words to each other. How perfect that it was in the library. How strange that it was under those circumstances.
I pulled her to me for a kiss, our first real kiss. Only our lips had touched before in almost chaste kisses. The kiss I gave her then was definitely not chaste. I claimed her mouth as mine; I claimed her body as mine with my hands, touching every inch I could reach.
I’ve blamed myself. I’ve berated myself for not stopping, for not being strong enough to resist the need I had in that moment.
But I’ve given up those self-recriminations too. I’ve long since resigned myself to the fate I sealed for us. I’ve embraced the memory of her, me, us. I’ve allowed the dark twists of my thoughts to come to light. I’ve not hidden behind the small attempt to make myself more innocent in all that happened.
I claimed all of Gillian as my own that night, right there in front of the fire. And I did punish her. I knew it was the only way. I would be gentler than Anya would be should I refuse.
I won’t pretend that was my only reason though. I didn’t want to wait. I liked the control and power that was mine. And now, in the darkness alone, I can admit as I always do to myself that I liked punishing her. I liked knowing she was all mine, and only I would have her that way from then on.
She didn’t cry. She just submitted to me. I held her for hours that night in front of the fire. I enjoyed our peaceful end to a horrific day; it was a beautiful beginning to our lives together.
Anderson Valley: Simon Lamb
I wanted her tears. I wanted her screams. I wanted everything I usually got from a girl I brought here. But her one lonely tear is more than I can take, more than I can handle. “Grace…” I whisper. I don’t want to break her calm again. I don’t want to startle or scare her more. “Can I let you up? Will you be a good girl?” She only nods once, still keeping her face turned away from me.
I let go of her arms, noting my red finger marks on her tiny wrists. I don’t move off her though. I sit up more, taking my weight off her but keeping her between my legs. She doesn’t try to move, not even her arms which must be sore from fighting me.
I gently reach out and pull her face back towards me; she doesn’t resist. Her eyes are soft and lined with tears, but her voice is strong. She sounds sweeter, softer. “I’m sorry.” No seduction, no anger, no fear.
“Wanna tell me why you flipped out?”
She shakes her head but keeps her eyes on mine.
I smile. “I’m used to a girl being afraid or a little freaked out when I use a whip, not when I’m just talking.” She returns my smile; hers is more tentative and like a butterfly’s wings, spread wide for only a small moment. “Was it a delayed reaction to the whipping?” I glance down at her body. The marks are red and angry looking in spots. Her ni
pples are painfully erect still. She doesn’t follow my look, just stares steadily up at me.
“No. I didn’t feel the punishment.”
“It wasn’t a punishment whipping.” I correct her automatically. I decide not to expand on that just yet. “I thought you were enjoying it as much as I was.”
“Yes.”
I frown at her obvious lie. “You said it excited you.”
“Yes.” Another lie, but she was excited before.
“But now you say you didn’t feel it?”
“Yes.” Lying again? I don’t think so.
I put my hands to my face in frustration. I’m getting nowhere with her. I run my hands through my hair and push a big sigh out, looking down on her again. She hasn’t moved or changed expression other than the small smile. “I need you to be honest with me, Grace. I need you to tell me the truth.” Her face flinches for a moment, a shadow of the anger peeks through her softness. “Why did that just upset you? Can’t you be honest with me?”
“Have you been honest with me, Simon?”
I smile at this. “Yes. For the most part.” And it’s true. I didn’t lie to her about my intentions in bringing her here.
“What part haven’t you been honest about then?”
“You’ll answer my questions first, Red.”
“Please call me Grace. I like that name better.” She lowers her eyes to my mouth. “I like the way it sounds from you.”
I smile once more, and her eyes come back to mine. She doesn’t return my smile this time, just waits for me to speak.
We Were One Once Book 1 Page 11