by K Larsen
“What are you getting at?” I ask.
Nora grins. “Chaperone with me. You can go as a pint of ice cream.”
Mike bursts out laughing. Gasping for air, he says, “Liam Lockwood does not dress up for Halloween.”
Normally, I’d agree, but with Nora, I am glad to step out of my comfort zone. “I’ll do it.” Everyone at the table goes silent. When I look around, I am met with five pairs of wide eyes. “What?” Mike laughs again and this time everyone joins in, including Nora.
Nora
Lotte and I are at the store shopping for fall clothes. She has outgrown all her cold weather clothes from last year. Liam’s question has still gone unanswered. I don’t know if moving in with him is right quite yet and I wanted to give it adequate thought.
He’d laughed at me and said that was a very Nora-esque thing to do. While Lotte is trying on clothes in the dressing room, I walk around and look at the different housewares they have. Discount stores are my favorite. I love a bargain. I am drawn, as always, to the mugs and bowls. I have too many as it is but I cannot resist.
I pick them up and turn the smooth ceramic in my hand while inspecting them. I grin and put one of the mugs in my cart.
“Are you excited for the dance?” I ask Lotte, who is exiting the dressing rooms with an arm load of clothing.
She shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“All the girls are tittering over who is going to dance with which boy. It’s annoying. Their costumes are all about how pretty they look, too. I mean Halloween is supposed to be scary but if you’re not going to go gruesome, you might as well try and be original, you know?”
I regret asking the question. I school my features so that I don’t offend her with a smile or laugh and instead, just nod at her as solemnly as I can. She cracks me up.
“Well your costume is original, so there's that,” I say. She unloads her choices into the cart.
“Yeah, but no one will get it. I don’t care. I like the music. Dancing will be fun.”
“I am sure you will have a great time.” We head to the check out.
“I can’t wait to see Liam in a costume,” she giggles. I smile and agree.
I can’t say I look sexy dressed as a spoon but Liam and I have been told numerous times throughout the evening that our couples costume is hilarious. I watch Lotte as she jumps and shakes to some pop song that Liam said is popular and grin.
“She’s never going to be normal,” I muse. Liam pulls me as close to him as he can in his costume. “I told you what she said at the store the other day, right?”
“You did. But it’s okay, Nora. She will be fine. Look at us.”
“Mmm, yes, look at us.” I make a show of looking him up and down.
“Well, not literally, right now.”
“I know what you meant.” I laugh and he rolls his eyes at me.
“Our needs are different from most of society’s, yet here we are, together, happy. Or at least mostly happy,” he says.
“Mostly?”
“I won’t be entirely happy until I’ve got you under my roof.” I nudge his shoulder playfully.
“Speaking of that,” I say. I leave Liam staring at me quizzically, and jog to my purse. I pull out the wrapped box and return to him. “This is for you.”
He eyes it warily, which causes me to laugh. “Is it appropriate for a high school dance?”
I look around the poorly decorated gym before looking back to Liam. “As appropriate as it gets.”
He takes the box from me and slowly, torturously undoes the ribbon, followed by the paper. “Are you aware that you are tapping your foot?” he asks. I stop moving and look at him.
“I have no patience for gifts and surprises. You’re taking too long.”
“Christmas must be painful for you,” he says and winks at me. If he only knew. I hate the wait. I want the gratification of seeing the person’s expression when they see the gift.
“Just open the box,” I say. He laughs and does as asked. When he pulls out the mug, he looks confused. I pull the tissue paper from the middle of the mug. He tips it and looks inside. It says ‘Good Morning, Handsome’ at bottom. His eyes dart to mine. “Does this mean what I think it means?”
A slow grin spreads across my face. “Yes, Liam. It does. I will move in with you.”
He drops the empty box to the floor and with his newly free hand, his arm scoops around me and picks me up, crushing both our costumes. “I fucking love it.”
“I fucking love you,” I whisper into the shell of his ear.
Three Months Later
Nora
Aubry has outdone herself. I hired her to decorate Liam’s, our, house for our housewarming party. Since it is doubling as a New Year’s Eve party as well, I wanted the decorations and overall feel to be just right. I honestly didn’t give it much thought when I left her alone in the house to get done what she needed but when I came back from the grocery store armed with ingredients for all the appetizers I wanted to make for the party, Aubry’s face was flushed and she was quiet.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing, Nora!” I dropped the grocery bags in the entryway and followed her as she made a beeline for the dining room.
“Liar. What is wrong?”
“I couldn’t find my fishing line to string up the decorations, so I thought, Oh! Floss will work. Don’t kill me, Nora. I looked in the guest bath but couldn’t find any.”
I burst out laughing because I know exactly where she was going with her tirade. “So you went in the master bedroom bath?” I ask. Liam and I had a particularly fun night the night before and in my haste this morning to get up and to my meeting with the publisher, I’d not picked up our room. I blush remembering what he made me do to him. The way it made me feel. “They’re just toys. I had no idea you were such a prude, Aubry.”
“Toys? Toys imply fun and lightheartedness. Those toys evoke fear and pain. Ball gags? Whips, Nora?”
“It’s called a flicker whip.”
“I don’t give a hoot what it’s called. I mean it’s ... a lot to take in. Especially when my brain still thinks of you as this virgin book nerd who couldn’t even talk about body parts without blushing.”
“Okay, that’s fair. But you know I’ve changed and it’s not like I haven't seen your giant black dildo hanging around next to your bed.”
Aubry stopped, jaw slack and burst out laughing. “Touché, my dear, touché! To each their own. It’s just, you know, caught me off guard.”
“I get it.”
The dining room is decorated in gold and coral and Aubry incorporated so much glitter, at my suggestion, that I can’t help but smile. There are fresh cut flowers placed all over the kitchen, living room and dining room. Not only does everything look perfect, but the smell is remarkable, too. I do worry that perhaps Liam has spent too much money on this soirée. He does not have the income he did before his father cut him off. The day Liam quit Lockwood Enterprises, I knew he was worthy of my love. He left his father high and dry. There have been incidents where Mr. Lockwood has shown up to the house, drunk in the wee hours of the night to berate Liam, but together, we have been able to handle it. Liam is still trying to figure out what he wants to do now that he doesn’t work for his father. Of course, that’s been challenging, given he also lost his contacts and standing at The Black. He’s never had to stand on his own two feet in the working world and I know he will be okay, but it will take time for him to find his place. I know he has plenty of money socked away but still I worry when he so lavishly spends on frivolous things.
Liam spanks me as he walks by. My rear end is still tender from our play last night but I don’t mind the sting. It is now a happy reminder of my life.
Mike and Aubry are shamelessly flirting near the bar. Charlotte is with a few girlfriends from school in the kitchen picking at food. Dr. Richardson and Detective Salve and Agent Brown are congregated, drinks in hand to my left. Some of Liam’s
friends from boarding school have come, simply, he says, because they didn’t believe he had settled down and had to witness it for themselves. And Candy is here at my request. Liam was not pleased about extending an invitation to her but I wanted her to see us together. To understand that he is happy and that she can have a life outside The Black someday. Fucked up or not. Secretly, I hope she will end up in conversation with Dr. Richardson. A glint of metal catches my eye and I follow it.
Eve’s key ring. The key ring that is one puzzle part of three that I had made for Lotte, Eve and myself when I moved out. When I moved out, I deeded the house to them as a surprise. I had the key chains made so that when you put all three of ours down, they fit together to make a whole. As I watch Eve, I can’t help but smile. She is animatedly talking to Candy. Eve’s eyes sparkle. The excitement in her movements. The flush in her cheeks.
Liam brushes his lips against mine. His kiss is feather light. I nip at his bottom lip. “Don’t start something you can’t finish right now,” he says against my mouth. I am overwhelmed with emotion. I have found my people and I am surrounded by them right now. It is a striking revelation to feel such happiness and accept it.
Lotte taps my shoulder and Liam releases me. She hands me my Good Morning, Gorgeous mug with champagne in it and Liam’s Good Morning, Handsome mug to him.
“Happy New Year, Nora,” she says. I pull her into my chest one handed and whisper Happy New Year back to her.
* * *
I stand in front of the log cabin and a chill sweeps through me. I take a moment to gather myself. Even for me, this hits a little too close to home. I turn on the porch and glance around. There is nothing for miles. The last house I saw was a twenty minute drive back. Goosebumps breakout along my arms. I rub my hands over them. I’m surrounded by thick evergreen trees.
“Cherry,” he says. I spin around. He stands in the doorway like a wolf eyeing its prey. “Come inside.”
“I’m not sure I can do this one,” I admit. Liam’s hand darts out, capturing my wrist. He tugs me through the door, into the cabin. I lose my footing but land firmly against his chest. He looks down at me, expressionless.
“You can and you will.” I try to look around the cabin but his hands are tugging at my clothes. A ripple of fear hits. This place is too like before. His fingers grapple with my shirt, lifting it over my head. I shirk out of it and step away from him. He lurches at me, arms outstretched. He grips my upper arms so tightly, they will bruise. I inhale sharply at the sudden pain. He pulls me to him and crushes his lips against mine, forcing my mouth open with his tongue. I delight in the power struggle. His hands move from my arms to my buttocks and squeeze forcefully. Arousal settles in. I grip the back of his neck with a hunger no one else besides him understands. My nails bite into his flesh. I draw back when I taste blood on his lip from my teeth. He is smiling. Against the wall to my left there is a case. In only my bra and skirt I walk to it and open it.
I choose the eight tail braided flogger. I stroke it slowly before turning to face him. “Undress,” I say. With Liam, there is always a slight fight for power. Who will take who first. Tonight, given the location he has chosen, I am going to take charge. I want to feel my power before I’m made to feel powerless.
Liam’s green eyes penetrate mine with such intensity, I have to force myself not to look away as he strips bare. I approach him slowly, giving the flogger a test whip through the air. He reaches out and pulls me to him. One arm banded around my back and one hand between my legs.
“You’re so wet, Cherry.” His words titillate me to my core like a bolt of lightning. He fingers me harshly. My head lolls to the side and he goes in for the kill. Sucking, nibbling and licking my neck, while his fingers send white hot heat from my center to my nipples. I groan and pull away. I whip his belly fast and hard, earning me a groan of pleasure.
I whip him again and he smiles. Through hooded eyes, he pins me with his gaze. “I bought this cabin for you, Cherry. So, give it to me. Take your power back.”
I let out a wail. Only Liam would understand the sentiment. Only Liam would give so selflessly. He offers me his back. His skin. His pain and his love. Braids fly through the air. The crack that sounds when they make contact with his skin is something I’ve come to enjoy. When his back is marred with red welts, much like mine, I stop. He stretches, winces and turns to face me. His cock is hard and ready to claim me. The whip falls from my hand and makes a dull thunk on the carpet. My arms carefully go around him, avoiding the tender areas. He allows me to pull him to me and we kiss. Ravenously. It is in these moments where I cannot get enough of him. There is no way to be close enough for my liking. His hands cup my breasts and begin massaging. I shimmy out of my skirt and kick off my heels while he tastes me. When I pull back, the glint in his eye tells me that he’s ready for the chase.
“Catch me if you can.” I turn and make a run for it.
* * *
The End
Releasing 2018
Twenty-seven days doesn't sound like a long time but it feels like a lifetime. My shoulder blades ache and my nose drips. I can't do anything about it. My heartbeat and ragged breaths are all I can hear. I silently berate myself for letting my guard down. For all of us letting our guards down. Safety is an illusion at best. We are never truly safe. Why I ever believed I was, at this point, is beyond me.
Twenty-seven days ago, I was happy. My interior design business, AC Interiors, was just beginning to take off thanks to Liam Lockwood, Mike Chesterfield, and friends. I was thrilled. Thrilled doesn’t even describe what I felt looking back now. I wish I had Nora’s vocabulary, but I don’t.
Twenty-seven days ago, I went down to the docks to set up an incredible photo shoot for my website. I wanted to use the backdrop of the colorful graffiti wall against the clean lines of the décor I had in mind. It was going to be epic.
Twenty-seven days ago, the click of my camera shutter was the last happy sound I heard. Twenty-seven days ago, I heard a muffled scream. I turned around. That was my biggest mistake. I saw enough to make me a liability. Terror gripped me. My pulse pounded in my ears when they shoved the scantily-clad girl into a shipping container. I stood frozen when the men set their sights on me; nostrils flaring.
I dropped my camera and ran but I wasn’t fast enough.
* * *
Add it to your TBR
* * *
To see where it all started keep reading…
The Tutor
Copyright © 2017 by K. Larsen
Cover by: Cover Me Darling
Editing: Indie Edit Guy
Formatting: Integrity Formatting
* * *
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
* * *
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Click the lady for your
* * *
Newsletter
Facebook
Website
Twitter (@Klarsen_author)
All of them.
This is not a romance.
It will not elicit warm and fuzzy feelings.
Him
Not just any woman will do. I require a special woman. I honored the last woman by staying with her overnight. Outdoors in the woods. I am not a monster. Because she was so lovely to look at and at one point I had wanted her. I tried to make her understand me but she never returned my affection. I can still picture her begging me to let her live. She promised to do anything, if I just let her live. But she wasn’t worth savin
g. None of them are. No matter, though. I will find another. There is always another. I will keep searching until someone is worthy of keeping. They are easy to find, when you know what to look for.
A simple classified ad. A few interviews. Does she turn her body toward me in the interview? How about a wide open and innocent gaze? Does she bow her head slightly or sit with her shoulders rounded forward? Does she blush or become flustered at something I say? Given a compliment, does she dismiss the validity of my praise or laugh nervously?
All these little characteristics help me choose the right woman. A background check seals the deal. No family—or—no family that cares, and no older than twenty to start.
Not just any woman will do. She has to be the right kind and I am a master at finding them.
Her
I am a logophile. A lover of words. Perhaps it’s because of my namesake or maybe just because I’m quirky but since I was a child, I’ve loved words. I assign all the important people in my life words.
For instance, Aubry, is winsome, callipygian, multifarious and capricious. Just pronouncing those words makes my brain happy. Me? I’m demure, acquiescent, and a logophile. Words inspire me. Always have. Certain ones sound magical when said aloud. Aubry thinks I’m ridiculous but that’s because her attention to detail is evanescent. Without Aub though, I’d be a total outcast. She basically saved me throughout high school—socially that is. Aubry is my toran to others; her peremptory confidence paves a way for me and my slight self-consciousness.
“So, are you going to be ready when I pick you up tonight?” she asks.
I roll my eyes. “Aub, you know I hate parties.”