by Charles, Eva
JD makes no effort to hand me the container, and when I start to eye it, he holds it out of my reach.
“Got a glass of water?” he asks.
“No water in the main house?” The words are a bit snarky, but I smile to cut the sting.
“It’s a long trip from the main house. At least a half mile here and a half mile back. You don’t want me to get dehydrated, do you? I’d be ugly all shriveled up.”
I roll my eyes and step aside. “Come in.”
JD saunters inside and sits down on the sofa, making himself at home. “The water’s in the kitchen,” I tell him.
He leans back and stretches his legs, sprawling his arms out across the back of the sofa. “Why don’t you fetch me a glass, darlin’?”
“I’m not much of a fetcher, darlin’.”
His eyes glimmer, and there’s a small tug on the left side of his mouth.
“If you don’t need the water bad enough to get yourself a glass, maybe you don’t need to worry about getting dehydrated on your way home.”
“Smith’s away for the night and you just buried your friend.” He pauses for a few long seconds. “I spoke with Chief Parker, they have the autopsy results. Some of it will be made public in the morning. I wanted you to hear it from me before that happened.”
He pats the seat next to him on the sofa, and I sit my bottom at the edge of the cushion and face him. “Tell me. Just say it. Whatever it is.”
“Georgie was murdered,” he says softly. “Her skull had an indentation in it made from a blunt object. She could have fallen or something could have fallen on her, but the coroner believes because of the location of the trauma, it’s unlikely. They’re not making these details public yet. So keep them to yourself.”
Wade killed Georgie? I don’t believe it. I wrap my arms around my torso. This doesn’t make any sense, except— “Wade said he pushed her and she fell.”
“Mmhm. Most of his story doesn’t match up well with the facts. Sometimes that’s the way it is. But he could be lying.”
“Does this mean Georgie was unconscious during the fire? That she didn’t know what was happening?” Please, please say yes.
But he doesn’t. Not exactly. “Chances are she was already dead when the fire started, or at the very least, she was out of it. It would explain why she didn’t get out. But they’re not certain. There’s still so much they don’t know. Or at least a lot they’re not telling.”
I hold on tight to the idea that she had already passed when the fire started. It won’t bring her back, and it might not even end up to be the case, but I cling to it. I cling to it with every ounce of strength I have.
“I’m going to stay with you for a little while,” JD murmurs, rubbing his fingers over my leg. “We can watch a movie or a show. Whatever you’d like. I don’t want you here alone all night.”
Murdered. By someone she loved. By someone she believed loved her.
I start to cry. I don’t know why I’m crying now, the news wasn’t good, but it brought a measure of relief. I haven’t cried all day. Not even at the cemetery. But grief is like that. It sneaks up and digs its claws in when you least expect it. I don’t bother to fight it. I just let it come crashing down as JD pulls me into his lap and twines his arms around me. When I still, I feel his heartbeat and smell the faint musky scent of cologne and the bourbon on his breath.
He holds me for a long time. His fingers are warm and strong on my skin. I shift my body and feel the beginning of an erection against my hip. Not rock hard. Not impossibly thick and long. Just the beginning. I can’t help myself from wiggling against it.
I moan softly at the feel of his cock on me. I don’t know where the moan came from, but it’s filled with need. I hear it. His cock jumps with the contact and I wiggle my ass again.
“I didn’t come here for sex,” he murmurs into my hair. “Not tonight.”
But I want sex. I didn’t know I wanted it, but right now, I want nothing else. “I want it,” I whisper, sliding my hand over his growing erection. “I want to forget about everything for a little while. Murders and fires. I want you to fuck me. I want you to punish me. To degrade and humiliate me. Please,” I beg, sliding off his lap to take off my clothes.
I pull the faded T-shirt over my head and toss it on the floor. I’m not wearing a bra, and my nipples peak in the cool air. I shimmy out of my yoga pants and underwear together and kick them aside. I’m completely naked.
“We’re not having sex,” he says decisively. But his eyes say something different. “Put your clothes back on.” His tone leaves no room for negotiation. Classic JD.
He gets up and heads straight for the front door, not bothering to steal even a small glance at my naked body. JD has a hand on the doorknob when I realize I have about two seconds to change his mind. And I know just how to do it.
“If you’re not man enough, I’ll find someone who is.” I pause to let that register with him. “I might not be the most attractive woman in Charleston, but surely I can find a man who will be willing to spend one night fucking me into oblivion.”
He freezes with his hand on the doorknob. The muscles in his back contract. And for some time, I’m not sure what he’s going to do. But when he turns to face me, his eyes are dark, flaring with heat, and maybe anger. I’m sure now.
“You want me to fuck you?” he says, stalking toward me. “You want me to humiliate you? Punish you, so you can stop feeling guilty you didn’t die, too?”
I nod. So I can feel anything. I’m tired of the numbness that grips my soul day and night, muting my ability to feel real emotion in its depths. Even when I cry, the tears merely skim the surface, never emanating from deep within.
“Put your clothes back on.”
I hesitate. Put my clothes back on?
“Now,” he demands, his eyes piercing. I don’t know exactly what’s going on inside his head, but my first instincts were correct. He doesn’t like the challenge I threw at him.
I grab my panties and he immediately snatches them out of my hand. “Don’t bother with these,” he says, holding them to his nose before flinging them aside.
When I’m dressed, he tosses me over his shoulder like he’s a caveman and I weigh nothing, and pulls out his phone. I hear Smith say, yeah. “Gabrielle is with me. I’ll send her back when I’m done with her.”
There’s a kind of vulgarity about JD’s words and tone that I hope Smith doesn’t pick up on. It’s possessive and controlling. And I know I shouldn’t like it, but I do.
When we get outside, Rafe and Gus come racing over. “She’s not wearing shoes,” JD barks. “I’m carrying her to the truck. If you have a problem, call Smith. Get the fuck out of my way,” he growls, heading toward the passenger side of his truck.
“Gabby, you okay with this?” Rafe asks, following us. There’s concern in his voice, and I wonder for a moment if he’d actually take JD on.
I raise my head and nod. I should be embarrassed, but I shed that pretense some time ago. Rafe and Gus are privy to more about JD and me than I care to think about. “I’m not wearing shoes. It’s fine. Don’t worry.”
21
Gabrielle
We drive to the main house in silence. “I’m going to give you everything you asked for and more,” he says, helping me out of the truck when we arrive. “You better keep your safe word handy.”
JD carries me up the stairs and through his bedroom into the adjacent gym. He sets me on my feet in the gym and cradles my jaw, running his thumb over my bottom lip. “Take off your clothes, darlin’. All of them.”
He watches as I undress. His eyes travel over my skin, appraising every inch, like he owns me. My cunt is throbbing.
“Get on your knees and wait for me.” I lower myself to the floor as gracefully as I know how to do. He winds my hair around his hand. “Think about how much I’m going to make you squirm tonight. How long you’ll beg before I let you come.” He swipes two fingers over my pussy, then pushes them into my mouth. “
Suck,” he demands. “Like a dirty little slut.”
When he’s satisfied, he pulls his fingers out of my mouth. “Don’t move,” he cautions, grabbing my discarded shirt from the floor. “We’re going to have to improvise,” he murmurs, “most of what I need is at the apartment.” He ties the shirt sleeves around my eyes until I can’t see anything. “I’ll be right back."
Will he?
My heart is pounding. My pussy dripping with arousal. I’m going to give you everything you asked for and more.
The waiting is arduous. I listen for any sound that he’s returning, and I wait. It could have been a minute or an hour that passed before he returns. It feels like it’s been an entire week.
When JD returns, he unties my shirt, giving me back my sight. I blink several times to accustom myself to the light in the room. It’s not bright, but because I’ve been blindfolded, it feels like I’m staring straight into the sun.
He pulls me off the floor and over to a metal frame at the edge of the room. It’s at least eight feet high and resembles a squared-off U that’s been turned upside down, so that the short end is at the top. There are yards of rubber tubing and exercise bands hanging from the hooks on the sturdy structure, and a barbell seated near the bottom. He ties my hands together with one of the rubber bands and loops it across the top of the frame securing me in place.
“Is this what you want?” he says in a low rough voice, fingering me while I dance on his hand. “You want me to treat you like a dirty little whore? You want me to make you beg for it?”
Yes, yes, this is what I want. Just like this. I don’t say it because I’m afraid he’ll stop. But after he has me at the edge, he stops anyway. I whimper when he pulls his hand away and he slaps my ass. “Not a word. Unless I tell you to speak.”
This is going to be a long, excruciating night. I shiver in anticipation.
I watch him go over to a bench and pick through a pile of things he must have brought back from the bedroom with him. He comes back with two leather belts and a sleeping mask—the kind they hand out on overnight flights to block the light. I can’t take my eyes off the belts. I don’t say a word, but I’m afraid now.
“What’s your safe word?” he asks.
“Wilderness,” I gasp.
“Good girl.” He presses his lips to mine and assaults me with his tongue until I’m panting. Until I know nothing but him. “Don’t you ever threaten me with another man again. This pussy belongs to me.” He pinches my mound. “I say when it gets fucked. How hard. How long. And by who.”
I gobble mouthfuls of air as his fingers slide between my thighs, long and short strokes until they reach my swollen clit. “Don’t you dare come,” he warns.
I’ll try. I’ll try to be a good girl. I do everything I know to stop from drowning in the waves of pleasure that are beckoning. I think about mountains of lima beans which I detest, train my focus on the weight rack across the room, and I pray. When my belly is clenched into a tight fist, when I think I can’t hold out for a second longer, he pulls his hand away.
I cry out in frustration. In agony. The wail erupts from deep inside. And I can’t keep it in.
“I told you not to make a sound,” he whispers menacingly, folding the belt in half, before he lets it fly across my bare ass. The pain is searing, but I don’t whimper. I don’t dare.
JD knees my legs apart and attaches my ankles to either side of the metal frame, spreading me wide. The cool air tickles my hot center. I squeeze my lips to keep the gasps inside, while my body arches away from the cloying sensation.
“I’m fucking you everywhere before I’m through tonight.” He tugs my hair back so I’m forced to look at him. “And when I’m done, if you’ve pleased me, I might let you come.” He leans over, his mouth against my temple. “But you are going to suffer until then.”
My skin is already burning when he takes the flogger to it. Snapping the silk ribbons over each nipple. My body jerks in response. “Is this too much for you, darlin’? Maybe we need to cover your eyes.” He ties the mask at the back of my head. Moving my hair so it doesn’t pull in the knot. It’s that gentle act that reminds me he’s not going to hurt me. At least not beyond what I can handle.
I hear the snap of the flogger before it hits my belly. It’s made from a silky fabric and doesn’t hurt. The ribbon stings pleasantly, making my flesh sing everywhere it touches. I squeeze my eyes tight, they’re the only part of my body I can control right now.
“Your skin is so pink, Gabrielle. So pretty.” I hear the loud snap of the flogger again and the silky ribbons are like fingers striking my pussy. I scream. A muffled scream that catches in my throat.
“Not a sound,” he commands, letting the devilish flogger lick my pussy over and over. My mind and body are no longer connected. I’m adrift among the gauzy shadows where there is no pain. The flogger kisses my clit once more, and I come spectacularly, twisting my hips from side to side. The orgasm rips through me. It’s piercing and so divine.
JD unbelts my ankles first, rubbing each one vigorously between his hands as he frees it. Then he untethers my wrists from the frame and pulls off the mask. I’m sweating and his arms feel hot around me.
“You came without permission. Did I tell you that you could come?” he demands. I can barely keep my eyes open, but I shake my head.
“No, I did not give you permission. Do you know what happens to little sluts who come without permission? Do you, Gabrielle?”
“No,” I manage.
“You’re about to find out, darlin’.”
He carries me over to a leather massage table across the room and sweeps a pile of folded towels to the floor before draping me over the side. Only my toes are connected to the ground. “Hold on, right here.” He adjusts my hands so they’re gripping the far edge of the table. “Don’t let go, or I’ll use that belt on your ass until you can’t sit for a week.”
I’m floating still, in and out of ethereal shadows, it’s airy and sublime. Nothing can touch me there.
He pushes my legs apart with his. I feel his cock resting on my lower back as he reaches over me for the lube. It’s heavy and thick, and I imagine it leaking glistening pearls of cum onto my skin.
“You don’t deserve my cock, but I want your pussy.” I cling to the edge of the table for support as he slides into me. I clamp down hard around him. “Gabrielle,” he hisses, between clenched teeth. I feel triumphant, but the glorious feeling lasts only seconds, until the cold lube drips between my ass cheeks.
I arch off the table as he works the lube inside me first with one finger and then two. “I’m going to fuck you here,” he murmurs, twisting his fingers in and out, preparing me for his cock. When he tries to add a third finger, my body rebels. It won’t allow him to breach the tight muscle.
I’m too full—his cock—his fingers—it’s too much. But he’s patient, working the reticent muscle skillfully, cajoling my body to accept him. And it does, while I rub my cheek against the smooth leather, turning my head from side to side, elating in the cool surface while his giant cock fills me.
He slowly pulls out of my pussy and I hear him reach for the lube. “We’re going to make my cock nice and slippery for you. It’s going to feel so good.” His fingers leave my body, and suddenly I’m empty and lost. But he knows what I need. He always knows, and slides his cock carefully into my virgin hole. “Relax. You’re doing great. Breathe.”
I do all the things he demands, and it starts to feel good. And when his hand finds my pussy it feels amazing. “You can come whenever you need to,” he whispers into my shoulder. “As often as you need to, darlin’. You feel so good. You’re so hot around me. Yes, baby, come. That’s it.”
I squirm into his hand, rocking into the nimble fingers until waves of pleasure surge through me. Until the only word that tumbles from my mouth is, “Julian.” Over and over.
His body tightens behind me, and he roars his release. I’m certain I hear it before I fade away.
* * *
When I wake up, I’m in my bed at Smith’s. There’s a glass of juice on the nightstand and a half-eaten piece of toast. But exactly how I got here is a little fuzzy. I was with JD last night. I look out the window into the pitch black—it’s still night.
I was so tired. Wrung out. There was sex. So much sex. It all seems like a dream, but I’m sore. Sore in places that I don’t want to think about right now.
There’s a light under the door. Smith must have come home after all. I get up, grateful that there’s a bathroom in the room so I don’t have to face him yet. Oh God. I’m sure he heard all about JD carrying me out of here.
I wash my hands in the bathroom sink, avoiding the mirror entirely, and troop back to the bedroom. JD’s sitting at the foot of the bed. “What are you doing here?” I’m surprised to see him. “It’s late, you should go home.”
“I didn’t want to leave until I was sure you were okay. I was rough with you.”
“Hmmm. Yes, I’m painfully aware of how rough you were.”
JD smirks. It’s arrogant, but not mean.
“I remember asking for it that way—well maybe not for everything. There are some things I’m quite sure I didn’t ask for.” I slide between the sheets and pull the quilt up to my chin.
“Beg for, you mean. What did you expect after you questioned my manhood and goaded me? Finger sandwiches and sweet tea on the porch? A gentle Southern breeze to make you comfortable? You got exactly what you wanted. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“And they say chivalry is dead.”
He stretches out on the quilt beside me, and rolls onto his side. “You were right. You needed last night. Getting you out of your head was a challenge. Only something you’d never done before was going to do the trick.” He smooths my hair back. “You okay?”
“I’m not complaining.”
“I should hope not.” He smirks at me again, with those blue eyes shimmering mischievously. He is so full of himself. “That would be disingenuous.”