by West, Sinden
I lay it down carefully and reached behind my back to pull at my bikini strings and then at the ones at my neck.
“What are you doing?” Aaron asked, no surprise in his voice as my bikini top fell away and my breasts were freed.
“Trying it on.” I slipped the dress over my head and pulled it down. It fitted perfectly. It was sculpted tight to my upper body while the skirt was floaty and loose. I did a twirl so the skirt flared up. “It’s beautiful, thank you, Azalea.”
“I did it for Aaron.” She calmly sipped her wine, unfazed by my little strip show.
“I know,” I said sweetly. “Anything for Aaron, he’s a stellar example of a man, isn’t he? Good looking, wealthy… it’s just a shame that he’s as crazy as fuck.”
Again, there was no unsettled reaction from the red-haired woman; just her unfaltering cool gaze.
Aaron gave a small smile. “You’ll need to excuse her,” he told her.
“Do I?” Azalea asked. “Why are you with her? She’s a child. She acts like a child. You need an equal, Aaron,” she said softly. I should have been annoyed at being spoken about like that, but I wasn’t. After all, it wasn’t far from the truth, and I was interested in their dynamic together; the way they held each other’s gaze was like I were no longer in the room. I wondered if I slipped away if they would make love right there, a mixture of black and red on the white carpet.
Instead, I took a sip of my wine and gestured between them. “How long have you two been screwing anyway?”
Aaron slowly tore his gaze from her to face me, but before he could speak, Azalea got in first. “I’ve known him since Luca first took him under his wing, when he was little more than a teenager. I helped to shape him into what he—”
“You’re taking liberties,” Aaron told her coldly. “Don’t make us screwing into something more than it was.”
She frowned, and bit her lip.
“Was, or is?” I asked. “Have you two been screwing while I’ve been living here?”
Aaron lifted an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t care?” he said sarcastically.
“I don’t.” I casually sipped my wine. “I just like to know who your dick’s dipping into for safety’s sake.” I looked at Azalea who was staring down at the floor, a frown on her face. I nearly laughed, Aaron’s words had torn her in two and he didn’t even realize it or care.
“Oh, don’t get so down, Azalea,” I told her. “Don’t worry, we can share him if you like. I know he may act like a psychopath but when it comes down to matters of the flesh, he’s just another man with a very ferocious appetite.” I sat down beside her, close enough to touch. She took a large gulp of her wine as if it could mend her heart, and was careful to keep her eyes from me. I gently took the glass from her and set it down on the coffee table. “We don’t want that spilled now, do we?” She still wasn’t looking at me, and I remedied that by cupping her cheeks in my hand and turning her to face me. “C’mon, Azalea. We both know the best way to a man’s heart. Besides, I’ve been to some of the parties that Aaron and his ilk go to. They always get off on the most perverted stuff.” I leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “That’s what he wants.”
“Rachel…” There was a warning in Aaron’s voice, but he made no movement from where he sat in the armchair with his glass of Scotch resting on his knee.
“What’s the harm? You screw her, I screw you…it’s like we’ve already been together.” I turned my eyes back to Azalea, whose face I still held in my hand. Her large beautiful eyes were glued to me. It was a simple thing to lean in and kiss her. This wasn’t like the times with Nora where I was powerless and weak. This was different. As my tongue snaked into her open mouth, a sense of control ran through me. There was something sadistic rising in me at having this vivid, beautiful, successful and bitchy creature beneath me, in my hands, her pleasure riding on me. She kissed back, like I knew she would. She had the man she wanted as her lover watching, and like so many women, she was stupid when it came to men.
She tasted like wine and lipstick, and after a slight hesitation, she kissed with abandon, not caring that her lipstick was smearing or how hungry and desperate she was acting. Her dress was a complicated, wrap-around garment secured by a knot at her waist. My hand fumbled with it and with a sharp tug, it came loose and I pulled it free triumphantly. The dress just fell away after that, and I could feel her lacy bra under my hands as I swept them over her breasts. Her own hands were working on pulling up my dress, and if I wasn’t careful, she would be the one in control. Her desperation to put on a show for Aaron was apparent in the urgency of her mouth on mine. Her hands gripped at my bikini bottoms and attempted to tug them down, but I placed my hands over hers as I pulled my lips away.
“You want what’s under there? I want you to beg me,” I told her. Something flashed through her eyes. Anger, perhaps, and I expected her to pull away and storm off. But she didn’t. Her lust surpassed everything. She swallowed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I gave her a bright smile and leaned back so I lay on the couch, legs bent at my knees and tantalizingly open. With my skirt pulled up, I began to trace light circles against my mound hidden under what remained of my bikini. “Just ask, Azalea, and it will all be yours,” I said softly. As if mesmerized, she leaned forward, following me; her eyes glued to my fingers that were beginning to pleasure me.
“I want—”
“Stop,” Aaron barked out, and Azalea froze. He got to his feet and grabbed her discarded dress, throwing it at her. “She’s making a fool of you. Don’t play her games. Get up, get dressed and just go. Don’t come here again.”
I started to giggle as Azalea’s cheeks flushed red, but then she straightened her posture, making her back rigid. Wordlessly, she gathered her purse and her dress and walked out to the entrance way, pulling her arms into the garment as she went, her head down. I still laughed as Aaron stood over me, staring down at me, his face like a stone wall. He didn’t move until we heard the front door close.
“What the fuck was that?”
“What’s wrong? Are you jealous? Me screwing your whore?” I stared up at him with a grin on my face.
“The only whore around here is you,” he said tightly.
“Oh, Aaron, that’s such a predictable answer from you.” I went to get up but he shoved me back down and within a second he had me on my back as he straddled me. My arms were pinned down painfully and I let out a slight gasp. He loosened his hold, but only slightly.
“What the hell do you want, Rachel? I can never figure you out. One day you hate me, the next you act like a kid if I ignore you. What is it you want? You want to go? Is that it?”
“I don’t know,” I blurted out, any laughter that had been in me before disappearing. “I don’t know what the fuck I want, all I know is I want to stop feeling like this.”
He let go of my arms all together but remained kneeling above me. “Like what?”
“Like I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. Like I don’t know what I want or how I feel about you. Sometimes I want you to start acting like my boyfriend, like someone who’s in love with me and adores me and is sweet all the time. But that would be a lie, so I don’t really want that either. And I want to stop acting crazy!” I breathed heavily. “I know that this should be the last thing that I want right now, but I want you to fuck me. Can you do that for me?”
He stared at me, then nodded. His hands went to his jeans, unzipping his fly and pulling them down along with his underwear. His dick was hard already; the little show that I had given him had worked whether he liked it or not.
He yanked my bikini bottoms down as I just lay there, and with no foreplay or seduction, he entered me. I was already wet from my little make-out session with Azalea and he slid in effortlessly. I gripped the pillow behind me, sinking my nails in deep as I stared at the ceiling. He made no move to kiss me and for that, I was glad. I didn’t need to be confused further.
“Harder,” I whispered to him. He complied, p
ushing into me so fast and hard that I gave a grunt, but then I relaxed, closing my eyes and lifting my hips to match his pace. This was better; this way I could pretend that he was faceless, that I was no one, and this was just about feeling someone inside me. The physical need began to take over all the turmoil inside me, washing it away as he continued to pound into me.
But then he ruined it. He stopped and I opened my eyes in surprise. He bent down to cup my cheeks in his hand. “Kiss me,” he ordered.
“No.”
He held my face firmly so that I couldn’t turn away and lowered his lips to mine, sucking on my lower lip and biting gently. “Kiss me or I won’t fuck you anymore,” he murmured after releasing my lip and before he started to kiss me along my jawline.
“No,” I panted, trying to move myself against him for the friction that I was desperate for. “Just fuck me like you used to, when you didn’t care.”
He froze with his mouth pressed to my jaw, then he lifted his lips from my skin. “Fine,” he grunted. His hand came up to wrap around my throat, the tight pressure pinning me down. This was better. Each deep thrust brought a pain that I was used to, and I started to giggle crazily. Time after time I had endured this with my mother’s boyfriends; urging then deeper and deeper into me as if I were just a doll that did not feel pain or hurt, like I was a toy to be played with this. They may have spoken pretty words of love, but there was no love or concern in them, not really.
Aaron gave a slight cry as he came, remaining hovering over me and breathing heavily. I didn’t touch him or move, and just lay there staring upward as he slipped out of me and I felt his semen dribble out to stain the couch beneath me. He grabbed for his t-shirt, wiping himself before tossing it at me. I still didn’t move or take any action to clean myself up. I lay there motionless, barely blinking.
Finally, Aaron picked me up and carried me to the downstairs bathroom, depositing me on the vanity while he began to run the bath. Steam filled the room and the heat began to make me dizzy. It was a welcoming feeling, almost like I was unconscious and lifting out of my body. The potential danger of fainting at any moment was liberating, as if I might escape consciousness and reality and go somewhere better.
When the bath tub was filled, he helped me in it before slipping in behind me. A sliver of blood escaped from me, tinging the water pink. “I made you bleed,” Aaron said as his hands drew me against his chest.
“You did what I asked,” I said simply. “I wanted physical pain and that’s what you gave me.”
He was silent for a moment, before saying, “You’re screwed up, you know that?”
“Yes.”
He kissed my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“For what?”
“Breaking you, hurting you, damaging you…”
His words were so unexpected that I found myself holding my breath and it was hard to expel it. My throat felt thick with confusion and I didn’t know what to say. Moments of silence passed before I managed to speak. “Don’t be. Broken dolls have sharp edges. We always manage to bite back somehow.”
There was nothing more to say after that.
We slept late the next morning. He didn’t penetrate me again that night, but he positioned himself between my legs and began to lap there where he had hurt me, as if he were a wolf licking a cub’s wounds. This bothered me. It was if he had the ability to heal everything, placing him yet again in the position of power. My irritation outweighed the biological pleasure that came from the pressure of his tongue on me.
“Don’t.”
He paused, and lifted his head to look at me. His hair had fallen over his eyes and for just an instant, he looked terribly young.
“Why not?” His voice was so soft that it was barely audible.
Part of me wanted to explain but I didn’t. “Just don’t.”
Slowly he moved away, stretching his long body out beside me. He didn’t touch me again.
Chapter Twelve
Aaron was up early and dressed in his predictable dark clothes by the time I opened my eyes. I caught him slipping his arms into a jacket that would cover the gun that he wore. A bag lay on the dresser, filled with his clothes.
“Where are you going?”
He didn’t look at me. “Antony’s going to come over and keep you company. Apparently, he’s missed you. I’ll leave the phone numbers for the nurse and the doctor with him just in case.”
I sat up, pulling the sheet against my body. There was a slight pain between my legs. “And where are you going?”
For the first time, he stopped and looked at me. “I’ve got work to do, Rachel.”
“How long will you be gone for?”
“I don’t know.” He zipped up the bag before scanning the room for anything that he might have missed, then he walked out the door. I sat watching the empty doorway for a few seconds before I reached for my robe and swung my legs out of the bed as I went in search of him.
I found him in the gym, the bag hooked over his shoulder, and he just stood staring at the unpleasant mural tarnishing the wall. His whole stance was tense, like he was ready for a fight. I waited for him to sense my presence and acknowledge that I was there. But he didn’t.
“Did you paint that?” I asked from the doorway.
He waited a few moments before answering. ‘Yeah.”
I took a step closer and then stopped. There was something about the way that he was staring at that tree and its creepy faces that sent a shiver down my spine. I had seen so many Aarons during my time with him. Sarcastic, cruel, the lover, the hater, the drunk…but this was different. He was staring at it as if mesmerized, or perhaps more correctly as if there were answers to be found in what lay there.
“Who are they?” I asked gently, cautiously, half expecting him not to answer.
“They were a family.”
Were? I swallowed. “Like Luca and Antony’s ‘family’?”
He shook his head, sighing and turning away from the mural. “No. It was before them.”
A thousand questions burned on my tongue, but I couldn’t make myself ask them, sure that I would not like the answers.
“Anyway,” he continued. “I’ve got to get going. Antony should be here soon, but the house is watched like I told you before so you’ve got nothing to worry about. Don’t open the door to anyone except him.” He moved past me and out the door. There was no kiss, no touch, not even words like normally. I waited there, listening, until I heard the door slam shut and a car start.
I took a breath and moved closer to the mural. From a distance, you saw only the tree, but once closer, the faces became apparent. They were so detailed and so intricate that countless hours must have been dedicated to their formation. Some of the faces had their mouths distorted as if in terror. The unsettling memory of the theatre masks hanging on a wall came back to me, or were they actually death masks? Either way, they could evoke the same creepiness. I reached out and touched one, it was a young woman. Her face wasn’t distorted in terror though, her mouth instead was set in a line, unhappy at being surrounded by the more horrific faces. She was pretty, her face set with delicate bone structure, high cheekbones and a curving chin. This girl, out of all the faces, evoked the least horror. He had taken the time to construct her features in a way that was incredibly beautiful and she was perfect in a way that no real person was.
The doorbell chimed and I jumped back from the mural as if I had been caught doing something wrong. I hurried down the stairs and saw the outline of Antony standing outside. He gave me a wide grin and I opened the door.
“Hey, beautiful. I brought you breakfast.” He held up takeaway containers to show me.
“Then you’re welcome. Come in.” I took them from him and led the way to the kitchen, pulling out plates and cutlery while he started to make coffee. “Are you my body guard for today?” I asked him.
“No, but I brought my own so I wouldn’t have to get my hands dirty.” He showed me his spotless hands to emphasize
the point. His nails were clean and perfect like he got regular manicures.
“Bodyguards? Really? I was joking. Has this thing got you really freaked out?” I asked as I dished out the pancakes. Then I paused. “I forgot about your friend dying like she did. I’m sorry. That must be terrible for you.” A cringing feeling went through me as I vividly remembered Fenella’s macabre ruined face. And here we were, eating in the same room where it happened, even though Aaron’s workman had remodeled everything so that you could never tell. I cleared my throat. “Let’s go eat by the pool.”
He gave a slight smile as if he were thinking the same thing, and wordlessly picked up his things and led the way. Once we were settled in the sun and eating at the outdoor table, I brought the subject up again.
“What did you tell her family? It must sicken them that there are no answers.”
He looked uncomfortable, and wiped at his face with his napkin before setting it aside. “Actually, all they know is that she had a car accident that disfigured her to the point that it wouldn’t be appropriate for them to view her.”
“Really? And they bought that?”
He gave a nod. “I paid out a lot of money to have that as the official version. The pathologist, the cops. We couldn’t avoid having the police here of course after the shooting because of the noise and mess, but everyone’s able to be bribed.” Then he gave a shrug and a sad smile. “What would you prefer if it were your child? That some nameless gunmen butchered your daughter with powerful weaponry, or that she died suddenly in a car accident where there was nothing malicious about it? As far as they’re concerned, it was just a dreadful accident that nobody could have prevented. They get to deal with their grief and move on, otherwise they would be constantly tied up in knots of hatred toward the person who killed their baby. You can’t move on if you hate all the time, Rachel. It’s not healthy.”
“So who do you think it was?” I asked him, watching him carefully in case he decided to lie.
“Truthfully? I haven’t got a fucking clue. All I know is that the house got blown apart but they didn’t storm in or bother to kill us all. And they took you and disappeared like they were fucking ghosts.”