by Ann Grech
“Go home. Let’s talk more tonight. I have a few ideas for you. I can set up a studio in my office that you can use to paint or draw. We can look at places you can sell your art too. You can work from home.”
“You understand you’re trying to keep me prisoner, don’t you? No, Timmy. I won’t agree to that. I’m not going to let someone dictate what I do and don’t do with my life. You have no say in that. I won’t let you control me like that.”
“Chloe,” Timmy growled again in warning.
“No. Not gonna happen. Rake, I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll get my hours from Dakota.” Chloe dropped the takeaway bag she was still holding and spun on her heels. She began walking out when Timmy grabbed a hold of her around her waist. He hoisted Chloe over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold as she struggled against him, carrying her into the kitchen before dumping her unceremoniously on the counter top.
“What the fuck, Timmy?” she yelled, her anger out of control. She felt vicious. She wanted to hurt him, only partly because he was being an arrogant prick. She was more upset by his broken promise than his attitude. How can I trust him if he lied?
Timmy didn’t answer her, cutting off her tirade when he crashed his mouth down onto hers. Pinning Chloe’s hands behind her back, he tugged off his belt and wrapped it around her wrists, immobilizing her. If she kept squirming, Chloe knew that she’d land flat on her ass on the floor, but that didn’t stop her from pulling away from him. She struggled, trying to close her legs, which he’d pried open and now stood between. Timmy grabbed Chloe’s chin hard and turned her to face him, smothering her protests in his kiss.
Chloe was angry, so angry, but this side of Timmy was so damn hot that her body was instantly aflame. She fought him, but with every passing millisecond her resistance weakened. With every swipe of his tongue and every press of his denim-encased cock against her core, her defenses came crashing down. She knew she had lost the battle when he ripped her strapless dress down, exposing her hardened nipples through her lace bra. Leaning her back, Timmy latched onto one, licking and sucking on the tight nub through the fine material. “No, no,” she moaned, tossing her head from side to side. “Not here.” Chloe fought against him hopelessly, Timmy’s grip on her hip and the back of her neck tightening to keep her in place whilst he tormented her with passion.
“Safe word and I’ll stop.”
She whimpered as fire raced through Chloe’s veins, her pussy throbbing with desire as Timmy manhandled her. She shuddered in pleasure as the rasping denim made contact with her clit. “Fuck, Timmy,” Chloe hissed.
Timmy lifted her clean off the counter and tugged her dress up at the same time. The cold of the stone benchtop against her bare ass made her gasp as he dropped her back down. Timmy froze momentarily before turning her chin toward him again and devouring her mouth with his. His fingers teased her folds, both of them moaning when Timmy spread her wetness down toward her puckered hole. Chloe couldn’t fight him anymore. She couldn’t deny that she wanted him to take her in whatever way he wanted. Her body was his to mold and sculpt into whatever sexual vessel he desired. If he wanted her ass, she was be powerless to stop him. She knew she could use her safe word; he’d always respect that, but in that moment, she was utterly his to control. The shackles tethering her to the ground fell away as Chloe submitted to him, setting her free as she floated away from the earthly plane she usually existed on. Sex like this – hard, dirty, raw – sent her into a space that almost felt otherworldly.
The rasp of Timmy’s zipper sounded a moment before he slammed into her, pumping hard and fast. She hadn’t even had a chance to accommodate his wide girth within her. Chloe screamed at the intrusion as fire raced along her inner channel. Timmy grunted each time he fucked into her. Sensation shot through her as Timmy’s teeth closed down on her nipple and he sucked harder than he ever had before. She shot off the edge into orgasm when Timmy’s thumb pressed hard into her ass, fucking her little hole at the same time as he possessed her with his cock.
“Take it, Chloe. Take my cock. Strangle me with your pussy. Milk me dry.” Timmy’s movements never relented, even as he pushed his thumb deeper into her as he pulled his cock out to its head before slamming back in. He fucked her even harder, Chloe’s head falling back on a moan as the kitchen units shook. His satiny smoothness stimulated her engorged tissue as Timmy moved in her, his lunges tapping out on her cervix each time he bottomed out. Timmy twisted his thumb around in her, sensitizing the nerve endings even more as he dragged her toward another screaming O.
He undid the belt from around her wrists and tossed it aside, picking Chloe up and laying her on the table so that her ass hung off it, his cock and thumb still buried deep within her. Chloe’s fingers instinctively curled around the edge of the laminated surface holding tight, as she let her legs fall open. Timmy slipped his thumb from her ass, but the relief from the delicious burn was short lived when he replaced it with two fingers lubed up with her natural juices. Chloe gasped as he filled her to bursting, Timmy’s thick fingers pistoning in and out of her as his even thicker cock fucked her mercilessly. Every thrust into her ground Timmy’s ripped abs against her clit but it wasn’t enough. Chloe was fighting to get to the peak, but it was still out of reach. Tears borne of pure frustration dripped down her cheeks, the need to come so intense that it eclipsed the burn, the fullness, the rough fucking Timmy was subjecting her to. Or perhaps it was because of it all.
“Timmy, please. I can’t. Please.”
“I know what you need, pretty girl. Come for me. Come now,” he growled as his thumb found her clit. All the pieces suddenly fell into place. Timmy’s words, his cock and his fingers made her shatter, her cry a silent scream. Timmy slammed once more into her and roared his completion, shouting out his release as he poured his hot cum into her. Pulse after pulse jettisoned into her as her pussy continued to clench around him, milking every spurt of semen he had. Breathing hard, Timmy slumped down on her, resting against the softness of the skin of her breasts, rising and falling with every rapid intake of breath.
Exhausted, Chloe’s muscles tingled and were heavy from their gymnastics. Timmy gently pulled his fingers from her ass as his softening cock slipped from her pussy. She felt the loss instantly and tightened her legs around him, needing Timmy close to her. Calling on all her strength, Chloe wrapped her arms around his broad back which was still heaving from his efforts. He sank into her embrace, holding Chloe close to him as she struggled with the feelings slamming into her. Physically, she felt amazing. Sated and relaxed she didn’t have the energy to protest being thrown down onto a counter top, tied up and fucked mercilessly in the kitchen of her workplace only a few feet away from everyone. She was too spent to care that she now had cum running down her ass crack and she couldn’t make herself worry about what Dakota, Rake and probably Timmy’s client would think of her completely unprofessional behavior. But emotionally? That was a different story. She was confused by her physical reaction to Timmy’s dominance. Her body responded fiercely, desire igniting in her so strongly that she didn’t have the willpower to fight even though she resented his words. Chloe was so angry at herself for succumbing to his seduction that the warm afterglow from her orgasm was quickly disappearing. What does this mean? Is he going to throw me down and make me submit whenever he wants to get his way with something? No, I can’t let that happen. I won’t.
“Get off me.” Chloe hated the hitch in her voice.
Timmy’s glassy eyes looked up at her and he blinked a couple of times before focusing on her. “Get off. Get off,” she demanded as she pushed against his chest.
“Chloe, baby, what’s wrong?”
“Leave me alone, Timmy. I don’t want this. You can’t fuck me into submission to get your own way. Please.” Chloe twisted, almost dumping Timmy onto the floor as she got up off the table. He stumbled and grabbed onto it, yanking his jeans back up from around his ankles.
“I need you to go with me on this, pretty girl. Please,” he begged
.
Chloe adjusted her dress and ignored the fact that she’d come here without panties as a tease to Timmy. She felt dirty. She felt like she asked for him to take her like this. The shame was enveloping her like a fog but she swallowed it down and fought through. She needed to clear her head. She needed to get out.
“No. No, I’ve agreed to submit to you in the bedroom, but I won’t agree to do it anywhere else. You want a doormat. I can’t be that, Timmy. I’m not some Stepford wife. I won’t let you control me like that. I won’t lose myself like that. I’m sorry, Timmy. I have to go.” The dam was about to break and she didn’t want it to happen in front of him. She knew she’d fall straight into his arms again if she did. Her attraction to him rivalled the gravitational pull of the moon. It was so strong that she could easily lose herself to him. Sexually, he was a god. He gave her what she needed before she even knew what those needs were. The stories Cleo and her other friends had told Chloe made her realize that her desires weren’t normal. It was crazy to be turned on by a guy who went all caveman on her in the bedroom. But in Timmy, Chloe thought she’d found a match. He’d promised her that morning she’d have the best of both worlds: a guy who turned her inside out in the bedroom, that took over and let her put all her heartache and worries aside for a moment, and outside of it, a man who valued her and respected her opinion. Accepting anything less would be giving up a part of herself that Chloe didn’t think she could do without. She couldn’t be submissive all the time. She’d resent Timmy very quickly for stifling her creative energy and her sass. For her own sake, she couldn’t back down. She knew who she wanted to be and agreeing to his demands would compromise that to a level she couldn’t live with.
“Chloe, no,” Timmy pleaded, reaching out to her as she raced out of the room.
Rake blocked her exit. She tried to force her way past him but he gripped both her arms gently. “C’mere sweetheart,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close. “Timmy’s done a number on you, hasn’t he?”
“I can’t, Rake. I can’t dishonor myself like that.”
“I know, I know.”
Timmy’s frustrated shout of, “Goddammit. Fuuuuuck,” spurred Chloe to try to push past Rake again. This time he let her go. “I’m here for you, sweetheart. Call me if you feel like you’re crashin’. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Yeah.” Chloe nodded and picked up Mo’s lead, sprinting all the way back to her Jeep. She managed to lock herself in before she broke down. Clinging onto Mo’s scruffy neck, she was powerless to do anything except let the sobs wrack her body. She’d given up the best thing that had ever happened to her. Again. Why does this shit keep happening?
Chloe wiped the tears that were still freely falling down her cheeks as she started her car and steered it through the short drive home. When she pulled into Claire’s drive, her heart sank. The front door was still boarded up. Why hadn’t it been fixed yet? Sheriff Peterson had offered to call the landlord for them to get a locksmith organized. Where was she going to go? They’d agreed to go back to Timmy’s and spend the night. There was no way Chloe was going to do that now. Cleo was probably out with Zane but she didn’t want to impose on them. Colin had taken Claire out on a date so his place was out of the question and she didn’t want to bring Jo into this mess. “Fuck it, I’m staying here,” Chloe muttered as she got out of the car. She locked it up and trudged to the back door. “Dammit,” Chloe shouted when she saw the back door boarded up too. Sinking down onto the stoop, the tears began again. Mo nuzzled close and in that moment, Chloe was grateful for Timmy being overbearing, overprotective and actually giving a shit about her. But as she contemplated that golden nugget of realization, she knew that it didn’t matter. If he was going to stifle her as a person, she’d never really find out who she was meant to be or what she could become.
It was only a small tattoo, probably four-inches high and six-inches long, but it was intricate. The guy wanted his kids’ names on him in negative; Timmy had designed the stencil so that the black and grey filigree background surrounded the skin-tone lettering. Lots of fine lines, details, tones, tints and shading. The tattoo was close to another, so Timmy had designed it to make sure that neither looked like an add-on or a cover up to the other. He applied the stencil to the inside of his client’s shaved forearm and freehanded in a few extra flourishes, accenting the background to highlight the simple lettering.
Dipping the needle in black ink, Timmy started the first line. His client sucked in a breath then chuckled. “You think I’d be used to getting that first line by now, wouldn’t you?”
“Some people find the pain cathartic. Others don’t get used to it, but they love the finished product. Think of the big picture.”
The buzz of the needle lulled Timmy’s thoughts into wandering. Chloe’s face appeared in his mind’s eye, not that she was ever far away from the forefront of his thoughts. He’d been able to think of little else since he threw himself on top of her and into her world. It would have been a good tattoo for Chloe to be involved with. She would have learnt a lot observing Timmy do the line work, the shading and the texturing. Holy shit, what was I thinking? The realization hit Timmy hard. He didn’t want Chloe locked in his house. He didn’t want to trap her. Yes, he wanted to protect her, but he wanted to make her happy. He wanted her to do the things she loved. And what could be better than doing them with her?
“Ah fuck,” Timmy muttered.
“What’s up? Can it be fixed?” His client, Dale, cracked open an eyelid and frowned at Timmy.
“It’s okay. There’s no problem with your ink. Sorry, I was thinking out loud.”
“Problems?”
“You’ve got no idea.”
“I’m a good listener if you feel like talking. Don’t have anything better to do while I’m sitting here.”
“Nah man, don’t want to trouble you with my crap.”
“Okay.”
Timmy looked at his client sitting on the chair. Even with his eyes closed again, he still looked tense, waiting for Timmy to reapply his needle. The guy was a suit, still wearing the dress pants he went to work in. Tattoos had become acceptable in popular culture, even fashionable, but this guy didn’t seem to be too worried about what the latest trends were. Some of the tattoos further up his arm were older, bearing the faded signs of age. Timmy struggled again to pull his thoughts back on track and continued with the line work on the scrolls he’d designed.
“She’s pretty,” Dale murmured after a while.
“Huh?” Timmy asked, looking up at him. Who is he talking about?
“Your girl. She’s pretty.”
“When did you see her?”
“I walked in as Rake was saying goodbye.”
“Oh.” Blowing out a deep breath, Timmy confessed, “Dunno if she’s my girl anymore. Wish she was, but I’ve screwed things up. Again. She’s probably gonna come to her senses and tell me to go to hell. Can’t believe how badly I made a mess of things.”
“Do you know how to make it right?”
“I’m not sure,” Timmy said, shaking his head.
“What makes her happy?”
“Tattooing, art, her sisters, me, hopefully. But in my idiocy, I tried to take her career away from her to protect her. She wants me to train her and I told her she should stay at home. She keeps calling me a Neanderthal. No fucking wonder. I’m not exactly portraying myself as the reasonable type. I’m not normally so bad, but with her… shit, she sends me into a tailspin. What I feel for her scares the fuck out of me.”
“Have you told her that? How you feel?”
“Nah, man, we only started seeing each other recently. I’ll frighten her away.”
“But you might have already lost her. I’ve got a shit-ton of experience winning women back. Wasn’t always the right thing to do to get my ex back, but I always managed to do it. I think you need to talk. Grand gesture wouldn’t go astray either. Unless you think she’s better off without you, better off
in the arms of another man who could take care of her better than you can.”
Timmy’s eyes flashed as he bit down his anger and tried to calm himself down enough that he didn’t stab the guy in the eye with his machine. “What, someone like you?” he grated out.
“No, by the looks of how upset she was when she left, I’d say she’s already given her heart to you. And it’s pretty clear how much you like her. There’s nothing that the two of you couldn’t work through if she’s the one. Go get her back. Well, after you’ve finished my ink anyway.” Dale smirked and Timmy nodded, losing himself once again in the buzz of the needle and the art of turning his sketched design into indelible art.
Timmy wiped down Dale’s tattoo and applied a salve to it before wrapping it in plastic wrap. There was no bleeding, but plasma was seeping through the freshly tattooed area. He ran through the aftercare instructions making sure Dale understood them before handing him a slip of paper that repeated the instructions and a tube of the salve he’d applied. Dale was happy and Timmy felt like he’d created something unique. The detail in the background of the tattoo was exquisite, the flourishes and tiny fleur-de-lis bordering the simple lettering created layers, depth and shadows. Light against dark. The same way that Chloe lightened his darkness.
“Thanks for listening, man.” Timmy held out his hand to Dale and shook it.
“You gonna win her back?”
“Yeah, and I know exactly how to do it.” Timmy grinned, pulling the package out of his rolling drawers, which he’d picked up in Chloe’s first week of work. He placed all of the items in the gift box he’d purchased at the same time and tied the ribbon into a bow. As Timmy locked up the studio, he had a spring in his step despite it being nearly midnight. He was exhausted and his back and shoulders ached. All he wanted to do was slide between his sheets and wrap his body around Chloe’s, but he had something to do first. If she’d waited up for him. I can apologize properly if she did.