And then…
Then, the Hitachi.
How he held it pressed firmly against her clit, still turned off, as with his other hand he brushed the cane against her ass.
“Time to pay up, baby girl. Ask me for it.”
She struggled to speak through the effects of the vibrator and butt plug on her brain. “Please give me my five, Sir!”
“Good girl.” He clicked on the Hitachi, on high, and took the first swing across her ass with the cane.
She screamed, in pleasure and pain, as she came again.
He drew it out, knowing how she loved it, the short-circuiting of her brain as he combined each painful cane stroke with the overwhelming pleasure of the Hitachi.
When she’d taken all five strokes, he turned off the Hitachi and set it and the cane down before returning to her head.
She still shivered, the other vibrator inside her not letting her completely stop orgasming.
He unzipped his jeans again and she opened her lips without prompting.
“Such a good girl.” He stroked her hair as he fucked her mouth, going faster but careful not to gag her, his own groan joining with hers as his balls tightened, then emptied, and she swallowed every drop of cum he fed her.
How later, on Tony’s couch, Laura had blissfully curled up in a blanket, her head in his lap while he talked with their friends.
How they’d gone home and she’d fallen asleep in his arms.
He barely missed rear-ending a car in front of him, jamming on the brakes and forcing his brain back to the present.
What kind of monster am I to think about stuff like that now?
When she looked horrible and had barely begun to heal from the attack?
Now was not the time for those kinds of thoughts.
And if she didn’t get her memory back, he was all too aware of how those thoughts might be all he had left of their former dynamic.
Chapter Seven
When Rob returned to the hospital a little before six that evening, he found Laura and Shayla both sitting on the bed, cross-legged, side by side. Shayla had her iPhone in hand and was showing something to Laura.
They both looked up when he walked in. The nearly identical expressions on their faces made his heart ache. He and Tony had frequently joked with each other that the two women truly were twins from different mothers. Not just their mannerisms and how they talked, they even looked a lot alike.
“What’re you looking at?” he asked.
“Shayla was showing me the website for the shop and some of the articles I wrote.”
Why didn’t I think of that? He set the pizza boxes on the bed tray table. He’d grabbed three extra large pies, more than enough to feed them and the deputy on duty, with plenty left over to give to the nursing staff. He knew from experience they didn’t always get a chance to get a good meal. “Anything?”
Laura shrugged. “A little. I looked at pictures on the shop’s website. Shayla said I built the website?”
He didn’t miss how it was a question, not a statement. “You did. You taught yourself how to do it.”
“Oh.” She cocked her head as if she didn’t believe him, either. “Really?”
He smiled. “Really. You’re quite good at it.”
“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose as she sniffed at the pizzas. “That smells good.”
He felt the shift in her focus as surely as he could feel a shift in the winds on the open Gulf. Laura was now fully focused on the pizzas.
Part of him hoped that was just a side effect of the memory loss. His Laura would remain almost maniacally focused on one thing for hours on end. It was what made her a great writer, as well as a good teacher.
He moved the plastic bag containing the handful of paper plates, roll of paper towels, and several bottles of water he’d grabbed from the house after walking Doogie. Opening the top box, he said, “Extra cheese, mushrooms, black olives. One of your favorites.”
She peeked in. “The others?”
“One with the works, for me, and one with ham and pepperoni.”
Within a few minutes, the three of them, joined by the deputy, were all eating.
Laura wore a thoughtful expression. “Are you all right?” Rob asked.
She slowly nodded.
“Is the pizza okay?”
She nodded again. “I like it.”
“What’s wrong?”
She shrugged as she stared down at her plate after a quick glance at Shayla. “It’s like I told her. I don’t know if what I’m feeling is because I liked it, or because I’ve been told I’ve liked it. Does that make sense?”
* * * *
Laura looked back up at him, relieved when he nodded.
“I get it, honey. Believe me, we all hope your memory returns so that’s no longer a doubt you have to deal with.”
She felt a little guilty that Shayla had spent all day there with her. But after dinner, when it seemed like Shayla was trying to figure out how to say good night, Laura didn’t want her to leave.
“It’s okay,” Shayla assured her. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. I promise.”
“And I have to work a half shift tomorrow,” Rob said. “So that works out well. When I get off work at eight tomorrow night, I’ll come here. You won’t be alone.”
Laura nodded, sniffling away the tears that tried to break through. It annoyed her that she didn’t know if she was normally a tough person, or emotional and weepy.
Right now, her nerves felt as raw as some of the sore spots on her body.
Add to that the guilt over not feeling the same kind of desperation over when Rob left.
At least Shayla had alleviated some of Laura’s fears. According to Shayla, Laura had been madly and deeply in love with Rob…before.
That damned word again.
Boy, how she despised it.
Yet…
There was something. Like a missing link everyone else was privy to except her. She didn’t know if it was related to the attack or something else. Like a subtext she didn’t have the ability to understand. She didn’t feel like she was being lied to, exactly. She just…
It would drive her nuts if she let it. She decided to drop it for the time being.
Finally, after another series of hugs and good-byes and promises she’d return in the morning, Shayla went home, leaving Laura alone with Rob.
He looked like he wasn’t sure what he should do with himself.
Frankly, it relieved her.
She sat cross-legged on the bed and looked at him. “I’m sorry this feels weird.”
He leaned forward in his chair and took her hands in his. “Please,” he gently said, “sweetheart, stop apologizing. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
She stared into his eyes. Sweet, soft brown eyes she’d no doubt spent plenty of hours staring into before. Here and there, tiny little flecks of amber and green caught the light. His light brown hair hadn’t started going grey at the temples yet, although the occasional stray grey hair peeked through here and there.
He had a kind face, too. Paired with the feelings of love and safety she got every time she was around him, it made her want to fall into his arms and hide forever.
Except part of her still felt afraid to do that. The gaping maw in her mind kept her isolated on the other side of the chasm, staring over it at him from the other side.
“Was I a really fearful person?” she softly asked.
He tilted his head. “No, sweetie. Why?”
“I feel scared. About everything.”
“Do I scare you?”
She needed to think about her answer. “You don’t scare me,” she carefully said. “The situation scares me. Shayla told me how much I loved you before all this. I’m scared that what if I screw something up and you don’t love the new me?”
“Aw, babe.” He stood and slowly encircled her in his arms, waiting for her to lean into his chest before he held her close. “I will always love you,” he whispered into her hair.
“No matter what happens. Never forget that. I held your hand and begged you to wake up and come back to me and you did. I will never walk away from you. Ever.”
She let out a deep, relieved breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Okay.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Okay.”
* * * *
It was after eight when she started yawning and couldn’t stop. She knew sleep wouldn’t come soon, but something told her she’d reached her daily limit on close, personal interactions. She already felt emotional enough as it was, as if she’d overloaded and couldn’t absorb any more information.
She needed a break.
He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek. “You look wiped out. Do you want me to see if they’ll let me stay in here with you? I can run home and walk Doogie and come back.”
“That’s okay.” She offered him a smile. “I’ll be all right. You need to get some sleep.”
That seemed to help soften the blow. And when she let him hug her before he left, she sensed his reluctance to let go of her.
“Oh, here.” He pulled an index card from his pocket and put it by the phone. “Those are my phone numbers, and Shayla and Tony, and Carol, and a few others.” His brow furrowed. “Although I just realized some of the people you…” He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I guess some of them you don’t remember yet.”
She hugged him again, slipping her arms around his waist. “Thank you,” she whispered against his chest.
The feeling of safety returned as he wrapped his arms around her and held her. She could easily spend all night just like this, standing there anchored to him physically, if not mentally.
Once he’d left, Laura invited the deputy guarding her to watch TV with her. They spent more time talking than watching, with Laura quizzing him on local details.
“Do you know Rob?” she thought to ask.
“Carlton? I don’t know him personally. I’ve crossed paths with him a few times during work. Everything I’ve heard about him is that he’s a nice guy, though.”
“Did I know you…before?” She hated that word. It had quickly become the quantifier by which her life was now gauged.
He shook his head. “No. I’ve never met you before now.”
She let out a sigh as she turned to the TV again. “That makes two of us.”
* * * *
Det. Thomas scrubbed a hand over his face as he stared at the printouts on his desk.
Fuck.
He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt Rob Carlton had nothing to do with Laura Spaulding’s attack.
Unfortunately, the records of the text messages pulled from her phone account had just added a wrinkle to his case. One that, if it got leaked, could make life very difficult for the man.
Could even cost Rob his job.
It was half past eight when he picked up the phone and called him. “It’s Det. Thomas,” he said when Rob answered. “I need to speak with you tonight about Laura’s case.”
“Did you catch the fucker?”
Thomas stared at the printouts. “No. But I need to talk with you in person.”
“I’m on my way home from the hospital. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“That’s fine.” He grabbed a pen. “Give me your address again so I don’t have to look it up.” He quickly wrote it down. “I’ll be there in about thirty minutes.”
He ended the call and stared at the sheets of paper fanned out in front of him.
Her cell text records for the past two months didn’t give him any obvious leads about who attacked her. The majority of the messages were between Laura and Rob, and between Laura and her friend, Shayla Daniels.
Messages that led him to believe Rob and Laura had a BDSM-type relationship.
While his first and gut instinct had been to suspect the crime was a random attack, this added a new twist to the case. Whoever attacked her had done so viciously…
Sadistically.
Maybe he needed to look into personal connections they had in the local BDSM scene. He knew there was a group out of Sarasota, and another there in Charlotte County, both very active. Their members apparently kept their events under-the-table, took great cares to cloak their activities from blipping law enforcement radar in either jurisdiction.
With fictional books about BDSM now topping worldwide bestseller charts, as with any phenomenon he expected more people to be attracted to it and network with people already involved in it.
It wouldn’t be beyond the realm of the improbable for a violent offender to join them and seek out victims.
Thomas arrived at Rob Carlton’s house a minute shy of his predicted time. Rob held back a huge, young-looking black Lab when he welcomed the detective into his home.
“He’s a handsome dog.” Thomas held out his hand for the dog to sniff.
Rob let out a snort. “Thanks. He’s a moose. He’s barely six months old.”
“Holy crap.” He stared at the dog. “He’s going to be huge.”
“Tell me about it.” He finally released the dog’s collar once he’d settled down. “You sounded pretty serious on the phone,” Rob said. “What’s going on?”
Thomas held out the sheaf of papers to Rob. He watched Rob’s face flash from enraged to a schooled neutrality as he realized what they were.
Rob looked up at him. “What do you want me to say? I didn’t hurt her. You know that.”
“Hold on. That’s not what I’m saying. Before I go blundering around and possibly costing you your job if this gets out, is there anything else you need to tell me about your relationship with Laura? Anything that might help me figure out who did this to her?”
Rob slumped down onto the arm of the sofa as he leafed through the papers again. “We’re a Dominant-submissive couple, okay? She wanted me to officially collar her as my slave when we get married. Got married.”
Rob stared off into space for a moment before shaking his head. “Fuck,” he softly said. “I don’t know if we’re even getting married now. I don’t even know how to talk about it. Do I still talk like it’s going to happen? How the fuck do I deal with this?”
“One day at a time.”
“I love her.” Rob held up the papers, anger contorting his features. “You can see that, can’t you? How much I love her? How much she loved me?”
He nodded. “It’s pretty obvious.”
“Is she even going to want me?”
Thomas sat in a chair opposite the couch. “If she doesn’t get her memory back?”
Rob nodded.
“Nothing?”
Rob shook his head and returned the papers to Thomas. “I was there most of today. Nothing yet.”
“I’m not a psychic or a psychiatrist. Although in my not-so-humble opinion, the two are sometimes so closely linked it’s hard to tell the difference.” He rubbed a hand over his face. Stubble rasped against his palm. “Okay, so back to this.” Thomas indicated the papers. “Have you told her about this?”
He let out a snort. “No. She doesn’t remember me. I…” His voice choked. “I called her ‘baby girl’ yesterday and she…” He shook his head. “It was her favorite pet name. I can’t even call her that now.”
“Anyone you know into this BDSM stuff that might want to hurt her?”
He let out another snort. “You mean besides me?” Rob’s voice held a bitter tone.
“I mean nonconsensually. Isn’t that what this is all about?”
Rob slid from the arm of the couch onto the seat. “We’re a close-knit group. We have a lot of really great friends who I don’t want to drag through the dirt. Some of them have a lot to lose if they’re outed. I can’t believe any of them would ever hurt her. I can give you her FetLife username and password, if you want it, to go through her account. I’m guessing your geeks didn’t go through her computer very carefully, huh?”
He ignored the jab. “You have it back already?”
“I’ll get her laptop.” He stood and disappeared to the b
ack of the house, returning a moment later with the laptop and a charger. He set it up on the table and Thomas walked over to stand behind him while he powered it up and logged into it. He brought up the browser and opened her FetLife account before standing and pointing at the screen.
“There. Knock yourself out. And yes, I already went through it just in case there was anything that might help. Her email, too. Nothing. Although your guys did that, too, and said they didn’t find anything.”
“Yeah.” Thomas slid into the chair and, with Rob guiding him, went through her private messages back to a few months earlier. “Did she have any other email accounts that you know of?”
“No. Just personal and for the shop, and they both filter to her iPhone.”
“Any other sites she’s a member of?”
He let out a snort. “How many? She’s a writer. She’s a member of a ton of different sites, from fishing, to diving, to writing, and even some dog and Labrador retriever sites now because of him.” He pointed at the dog, who was calmly lying on the floor and staring at them. “And she follows I don’t know how many blogs.”
He’d have to hold off on that. This was an immediate lead he had to follow through with. His gut told him whoever did this, she’d had up close contact with, not randomly on the Internet. And everything else he’d found out from both their computer techs and Rob told him Laura was super cautious about never giving out personal information online to others. The only contact info people had were her email or the shop’s info.
Unfortunately, as Rob had said, her FetLife account contained nothing other than banal, everyday chatter. “What if she deleted a message?”
Rob showed him how to access the archive. Nothing. She had no pending friend requests, either.
“Would she have had any issues and not told you about them?”
“I seriously doubt it. I don’t control who she can and can’t friend. She doesn’t need my permission to friend anyone, but anytime she has a creeper hit on her on the site, she immediately blocks them and tells me about it so I can block them, too.”
Pinch Me [Suncoast Society] (Siren Publishing Sensations) Page 7