The Gentlewoman

by Lisa Durkin

  “You looked so sexy in that dress, baby.” He ran his lips from her mouth to her neck. “I’m such a lucky man.” He cupped her ass. “I want to fuck you right here and now I’m so turned on from watching you in those dresses.” He placed one hand on her breast, running his thumb over her distended nipple, visible through the satin.

  “You’re going to have to wait ’til we get home,” she whispered, lowering her hand in between them to brush over his crotch, feeling his heavy erection straining against his slacks. “So let’s get going,” she added before he took her lips again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  He held her tightly by the throat as she struggled to breathe, pinned by his weight. She listened to the pulsing and ringing in her ears and wondered why she couldn’t feel the pain of her arm anymore.

  She felt him tear away her pantyhose and push into her, she marveled at how it felt the same, only more overt. It was surreal as she stared at the ceiling and followed the cracks in the paint; she followed the biggest crack over to the line where it met the wall.

  She felt him thrust between her legs and looked up at his face. This was the face she’d looked into as they made love for the past two years. Slightly different, his angular features so brutal and dark, filled with hate and anger. She knew the face and body pushing into her, but it was a stranger looking at her through those eyes with disgust and loathing. A familiar stranger causing her fear and pain.

  She watched this happen to herself. She separated and watched from the other side of the room. Very mechanically and in slow motion, she felt his erection slam in and out of her, heard his grunts and felt his breath on her face. All very physical elements of something happening to her, yet she felt detached and disassociated.

  He stilled and stared down at her with disgust before jerking away and fastening his pants. He walked to the other side of the room and poured himself a drink. She turned slowly and lay on her side, tentatively pulling her knees up to protect her abdomen. She held her arm and stared at him, not daring to move as he downed another shot of whiskey.

  He was sweating and breathing heavily, his face contorted with anger. He was highly agitated, shaking his head and rubbing his face with his shaking hand. He took another swig and she noticed that his left hand was devoid of his wedding ring. How odd, that it struck a chord in her. The memory of slipping that ring onto his finger flitted through her mind, and was divertingly absurd next to what she was experiencing at this moment. He turned and set his glass heavily onto the bar and a new surge of panic raced through her system at the sight of a pistol tucked into the back of his waistband.

  “I thought I could make this work. That was my fault. I knew what I was getting into, and I’m to blame for thinking that you were smarter.” He turned and glared at her. “Roan knew. He told me that you and your father were bad news, that this wouldn’t be good for business…but I argued with him. I told my brother I was sure this was the perfect way to ensure our expansion into the States.” He began walking toward her and all her muscles tightened. He stopped in front of her, looking down into her bloodied face. “Roan told me not to use a piece of ass like you for anything more than the whore you are, but I didn’t listen.”

  He grabbed her hair and jerked her up. He held her body against his, one hand holding her hair, the other grasping her breast. “But we did have some fun, didn’t we?” He broke into a hard fit of laughter.

  “Where is my father?” Her lips were split and so swollen she could barely speak.

  She cried out at the hard blow to her abdomen. “I’ll be asking all the questions, bitch, and I’ll tell you when to speak. That’s what owners do with their animals.”

  “Wake up!” Rory woke to Jackson hovering over her. Her eyes shot open and she gulped and sucked air into her empty lungs. Her heart raced and she clenched his hand tightly. She stared into his eyes, disoriented.

  “God, baby,” he muttered when he could see she was finally awake. “Are you okay? You were crying for help.” He brushed the sweat-drenched hair from her face.

  Rory lifted her shaking hands to her face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered breathlessly. She tried to compose herself but still felt the terror she had experienced in the farmhouse. She covered her face and wept.

  Jackson lifted her naked body into his lap. He surrounded her, rocking gently back and forth, comforting her in a soothing voice. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here with you. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  They stayed that way awhile, Jackson holding her as she struggled to regain control of her emotions. He held her against his chest and she smelled his skin, such an earthy, manly scent she had grown so accustomed to in such a short time. It helped to ease the metallic taste of panic in her mouth. Eventually her crying eased and she could breathe more freely, the anxiety still present but no longer completely choking her.

  Jackson headed into the bathroom, returning with a wet cloth. He cradled her head as he wiped her face and held it to her nose and made her blow. He leaned back on the bed and tossed the washcloth into the bathroom.

  “Baby, you weren’t kidding when you said you were prone to nightmares.”

  She pulled the sheet around her and looked down. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  He reached out and pulled her chin up. “You don’t have to be sorry. I’m not sorry that I’m here with you.”

  She looked at him somberly. “You are too sweet… What time is it?”

  “Five. Do you want to go back to sleep?”

  “No…I don’t think I could, but you should.”

  He looked thoughtfully at her for a moment. “Rory, tell me about your dream.”

  She looked at him with renewed panic. “What? No!” she gasped, shaking her head.

  “Yes, tell me.” He grabbed her thighs, pulling her closer and sitting upright, their knees touching. The sheet snaked around her toga style and he was in nothing but boxers.

  “Obviously it’s about what happened to you, what your husband did to you. If you talk about it maybe it’ll stop torturing you.”

  “I…I can’t do that,” she stammered and looked around the room, avoiding his gaze.

  He put his hands on her knees and held tightly. “Look at me, Rory,” he ordered as he captured her stare with his own. “I’m here for you. I want to be here. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not afraid to hear what happened to you. I think you need to talk about it before it eats you alive. Now tell me what happened in your dream.”

  “I can’t,” she whispered.

  “Yes you can. Look, I remember the news reports. I know it was bad, but don’t be scared. That’s how it gets the power over you. Talk to me about it.”

  Rory sat paralyzed with fear. She stared into Jackson’s eyes, then dropped her gaze to the floor. She couldn’t respond. Moments passed, and she remained silent.

  “Tell you what.” Jackson finally broke the silence. “We’re going to exchange information, quid pro quo style.”

  “We are?”

  “Yes, we are.” He squeezed her thighs and took her hands in his. “I’ll go first. I’m going to tell you a bad memory that I have, and then a good memory. Then you’ll tell me about your bad dream, and then tell me a good memory.” Rory looked at him incredulously again. “It’s called sharing, Rory. You can do this. Besides, I think it’s about time you replaced some of those bad memories with good ones.”

  She really wanted to do this for Jackson. He was so caring and giving. She was torn between her absolute panic over talking about what had happened and the need to be close with him. Finally she gave him a tentative nod.

  “Okay, I’ll go first.” He clasped her hands, holding them snugly on his knees. “When I was thirty-two I worked Special Crimes and was gone a lot of the time. Ryan was four, and my wife, Lauren, was a full-time mother. My absences aside, we had a happy life. Three weeks before Christmas I was in Oregon on a dead-end lead, so I packed up and decided to go home early for Christmas. Lauren had been complaining that I was gone
too much so I wanted to surprise her. I hopped on the red-eye and made it home by noon the next day.”

  Rory was staring entranced into his eyes. “When I arrived at the house everything was quiet. No cars in the drive, nobody downstairs, so I figured they were out; Ryan was in preschool and Lauren helped out there sometimes. She did a lot of volunteer work with the Women’s League and Dorn Foundation activities too, so no big deal. I thought I’d drop my luggage in our room, make myself a sandwich and wait for my family to return home.”

  Rory grasped Jackson’s hands tighter. She could feel it coming, building in him. His eyes became distant.

  “I climbed the stairs, suitcase in hand, and opened the door to our bedroom. It took a minute before I could make sense of what I was seeing, but when I finally realized that my wife was fucking one of my closest friends, I just went crazy. I almost ripped that guy’s head off.

  “I left the house. I didn’t know where I was going, but if I’d stayed, I really think I would have killed them both.” He shook his head at the memory and took a cleansing breath. Rory wanted to climb into his lap and comfort him. She reached forward and put her arms around his neck and he pulled her the rest of the way. She reached up and rested her face in the crook of his neck, kissing his smooth skin, hoping to distract him from his bad memory.

  “That is one of the worst memories I have,” he whispered. “Now for the good one.” He untied her arms from his neck, kissed her and sat her back in front of him.

  His face transformed into a huge smile and Rory couldn’t help but smile back at him. “When Ryan was born. He came out screaming and he was completely red and covered with ick, but he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I cut the cord and the nurse carried him over to the little tray they put them on to weigh them and such. She began poking and prodding him, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was here, and he was my son. I turned to ask the nurse a question, then I looked back down and he had craned his little alien head around and was peering at me like he knew me. He was so alert and aware. The nurse said he recognized my voice. She swaddled him and handed him to me and I held my son for the first time. And he looked at me as if he’d been wondering what I looked like too.” Jackson’s incredulous, happy laugh brought tears to Rory’s eyes. “That was a good day.”

  She hugged him again and wiped away a tear. “That’s a great story,” she whispered. Jackson kissed her softly.

  “Now you. Quid pro quo. You can do it.”

  Her story was much worse than his. And she didn’t know if she had a good story to tell afterward. But worse, she didn’t know if she could put voice to what had happened. She didn’t want to put voice to her fear, her shame. She was quiet.

  “It helps when you say it out loud. I know that firsthand. Tell me about your dream.”

  After a long time, she breathed in and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to fail him. Her eyes frantically searched the sheet and their hands for something to say. Finally she spoke in a whisper.

  “I dream…about what happened to me…that day. About what he did to me, and…” She fell silent.

  “Keep going.”

  Her eyes swept up to his. They were compassionate and caring. She looked into them and found a helping of strength. “About what he did to me and my father.”

  Jackson urged her through her fear. “Go on. What were you seeing in your dream?”

  She looked at the wall just over Jackson’s shoulder. “He had beaten me and broken my wrist.” She grasped her left wrist. “He said he had my dad at the farmhouse and he took me there and beat me.” Her breathing quickened.

  “Tell me about it.”

  She looked back at him. “He…he was so angry, he was so different, and I knew he was going to kill me. I was so scared. He said he had Daddy. He beat me all the way to the farmhouse and when I tried to get away he broke my wrist for running from him. I didn’t fight again because I was worried about my dad. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Jackson took her into his arms, holding her tightly and cradling her. She was shaking again. “Of course you didn’t. Nobody would have known what to do.”

  “I remember that in my dreams, that I didn’t know what to do. It was so frightening. He beat me and raped me and all I could do was look around and wonder how to save my father before Aidan killed us all.” She breathed quickly, too quickly, and couldn’t fill her lungs. Jackson took her hands hard in his.

  “Steady, take it easy, baby,” he said. “Look at me. You’re safe here with me. Breathe with me, Rory.” He gazed into her eyes and forced her to match her inhales and exhales to his. After several minutes, she was much better off. They sat calmly for a while.

  “Now tell me about a good day.”

  Her mind drifted, searching. Her breathing had regulated, more or less.

  “I don’t have anything as good as your son’s birth,” she stated, regretting how much it hurt. “All my good memories have been tainted by him.”

  “That doesn’t matter. I want to hear a good day of yours.”

  She looked down, and when she finally looked back up, she had a silly half smile on her face.

  “The night I won the race for clerk of courts,” she said, beaming into his eyes. “My dad brought me the news.” She looked down again and shook her head, gave a little laugh.

  “My opponent was my father’s longtime rival for head of the party. They had some sort of falling-out years before. He was older than dirt and had been in the clerk of courts seat since before I was born, which, incidentally, was probably also the last time he had improved processes, but that’s another story.” She snorted and Jackson chuckled, looking into her eyes incredulously.

  “It was a long campaign. It was hard, as you can imagine, a young, untested candidate trying to unseat the longtime incumbent. Toward the end we were neck and neck and, although we tried to run it clean, it got dirty. He accused me of running on name recognition. I answered those accusations, as anybody should. The media hit it hard and had a field day. My dad was right there with me, helping me, guiding me. He wanted me to beat that bastard so badly he could taste it. I could taste it.

  “By the time the polls closed and numbers started adding up, I needed to be alone. We were at the Mason Hall and I was hiding in the back office, away from the crowd. I was wondering how I was going to face my father if I didn’t win, how I would face all those people. After a while, Dad came and found me. He sat down across from me. He knew what I was thinking, I guess. He knew the pressure. I looked into his eyes and I knew I had lost.

  “He started asking me questions. ‘Rory Elizabeth, did you run a good race?’ I told him I felt I had. ‘Rory Elizabeth, are you proud of your hard work?’ I was proud that I had tried hard to serve the people. ‘That’s all that matters to me, lassie,’ he said. And then he stood and asked me for a dance. We could hear music through the door, but no cheering, so I knew I had lost. But Dad held his hand out and I went into his arms and he spun me around and we danced.

  “After a couple minutes, he said, ‘Rory Elizabeth, you best come make a speech’. I started for the door and he stopped me and said, ‘and you best put on your lipstick, lassie, the TV cameras are here and want a shot of their new clerk of courts, Rory Morgan!’ I screamed and ran into his arms, and he hugged me tight. I couldn’t believe it. He was so proud of me, but he wanted me to know that it didn’t matter that I beat that old bastard, that he would have been just as proud of me anyway.” She stopped and looked away, tears in her eyes. “That was a really good day.”

  Jackson beamed at her. “That sounds like a great day.” He leaned forward and kissed her full on the mouth. The kiss deepened and Jackson rose over her, pressing her back onto the bed, his large body covering hers. He pulled back and gazed into her eyes, wiping away her escaped tears.

  “Thank you for sharing that. You did a great job. You put your fear in its place.”

  Rory looked up at Jackson and thought about the exercise they had just gone
through. She had to admit, the fear and anxiety had dissipated and she felt better, almost peaceful, with the good memory of her father remaining forefront in her mind. She smiled as she reached up and cupped his cheek. “Thank you for that.”

  Jackson kissed her again and found it difficult to hold back. He didn’t know if she was into it; the morning had been so emotional and he didn’t want to push if she wasn’t comfortable. But his cock was so hard for her he thought it would explode. She was an addiction, a drug he couldn’t get enough of.

  He parted her legs with his knee and groaned when she wrapped her legs around his waist. Their tongues and hands stroked as he bore down on her with his hips.

  Rory was the one to pull back. “Take the boxers off,” she breathed urgently, pushing on his chest.

  Jackson reared back and removed his boxers in one fluid motion. He tossed them on the floor and, bracing himself over her, tore the sheet away from her naked body. His lips came down hard, his cock resting at the entrance to her sex. He was surprised when she shifted her hips up quickly.

  “Oh God, Rory, you make me so hot for you.”

  “Then take me. What are you waiting for?”

  She cried out as his long, thick cock slammed into her, bearing down inside her. “You’re so tight, Rory, did I hurt you?”

  “Oh God, no… please, fuck me.”

  Her words fired through him and he reared back, plunging into her. He knelt back, grasping her rear, her knees tucked into his armpits, and lifted her as he slammed into her. He felt her muscles squeeze his cock and she screamed and clenched the sheet as she came. A moment later, Jackson shouted as his release tightened every muscle in his body. He collapsed onto her after the tension eased, breathing heavily.

  “God, I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard. Was I too rough?”

  She smiled into his face. “No, you weren’t too rough, not by a long shot. Why are you worried about hurting me?”