Since Nate has taken control, we’ve had two suicides. It’s part and parcel of the commune, unfortunately. But the delicacy of the people residing at the ranch is also the reason as to why it exists in the first place. Blue Ridge is there to protect the people whose intelligence sets them above the Average Joe.
That sounds elitist, but in truth, the guys at the genius farm need the security the commune provides. It’s very rare for a year to pass without at least one attempt made at suicide.
It’s strange thinking I’ll be back there soon, if Nate agrees it’s safe for me to return home. I’ve left it in Uncle Sam’s hands for too long, I guess. The guardianship follows the direct line of Denison heirs. The only reason Uncle Sam can take care of it in my stead is because he’s a Denison. Really, my mother would be the best one to take care of Blue Ridge. She’s been there since birth and knows it from the ground up. But she’s in India at the moment. When my father died, she went a little loopy and now, she’s hooked up with a twenty-eight year old toy boy.
I don’t even want to know what the pair of them get up to!
“Yeah. It hurts to lose any of them.” I bite my lip. “It will be strange being back there.”
“Good strange?”
“I don’t know. Do you…” I have to ask the question, even though I really don’t want him to answer in the affirmative. “… do you think we should break up?”
He tenses up behind me and his massaging fingers pinch down. “Is that a weird ass way to test me or something?”
Pleased with the gruff answer, I settle back against him and rest my head against his shoulder. “No. I just didn’t want you to feel trapped.”
“Well, that’s a hell of a strange way to figure out if I feel that way or not. No, I don’t think we should break up.”
“Someone had to ask. Things will be different back at the ranch. We’ll be together a lot. We’ll be sharing the homestead.”
He snorts. “We’ll be doing a damned sight more than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll be sharing my quarters.”
“That’s very definitive. What if I want my own space?”
He chuckles. “Tough shit.”
“Who’s the tough man now?” I’m not too displeased by the idea of sharing a bedroom with him. Not that I’ve ever done that before. By the time Jimmy and I were married, he was in hospital. I slept on a cot in his private room. Hardly the same as what I’ll be doing now.
His fingers restart their massage on my hand. The water around us is silky and each faint movement has it curling about our limbs; I enjoy having baths with Nate. It’s like being in a cocoon. And at the moment, with the mafia breathing down my neck, a protected embrace feels way too good.
“You’ll get used to it.”
It’s my turn to snort but a faint prodding at my back has a smile widening my lips. He’s hard.
“Someone’s happy at the thought of having me on hand twenty-four-seven,” I drawl and wriggle my hips, feeling his cock butt against my lower back.
“It’s always happy to see you. Damned fool thing. You almost killed me in there. Shouldn’t be ready to go again until tomorrow, after that stunt you pulled.”
“I’ll have you know it’s called edging.”
“I’ll have you know it’s called torture. Making a man almost cum, then stopping and restarting!” He shakes his head; his stubbled chin rubs against the back of my neck.
“Get used to it. I’ve plenty more tricks up my sleeve.”
There’s another hopeful bob as his cock makes it to full mast. Laughing, I pull away from him and lean forward. The enamel against my knees is hard, but I’ll endure it for the moment. I crawl down to the foot of the bath and rest my hands against the side. Wiggling my ass, I look back and say, “Come on, tough guy.”
In the dim light, I can see his cocky grin. The water splashes to the side and over on to the floor as he sits up and maneuvers behind me. The bath is big, but with the two of us in it, it’s cramped. When I feel him nestling against my butt, I let my back droop a little so that the hot water caresses the tips of my breasts. His hands come up and rub my butt. My soft flesh gives way under his touch as he massages. His fingers slip down between the crevice of my sex and he inserts a single digit into my soft pussy with little to no preparation. I hiss a little, the unused tissues still feeling the strain from earlier on, but as his thumb glides down to caress my clit, I wiggle again as my body starts to respond.
Pressing my forehead on to my hands at the edge of the bath, the warmth of the water and Nate at my back is an extra decadent touch. He slides his other hand up and plays with one of my breasts, tugging the nipple and pinching it. He ceases his play and trails his fingers around my side and up to my back. With the pads, he digs down the side of my spine and I moan under my breath at yet another massage. The dual workings of his hands have my blood gaining temperature and when he pulls his finger out of my sex and replaces it with the head of his cock; I know to be prepared for his penetration.
His thickness is almost overwhelming. Like being submerged under water. I bite down on my lip, tasting blood and knowing there will be a faint bruise there tomorrow. He works his way in, lodges himself inside and starts a slow thrust that takes him to the hilt.
He rests over me, pressing his front to my back so I’m surrounded by him. One hand reaches for mine and together we delve down beneath the water and with our bridged knuckles, start to rub my clit. A low, long hiss escapes between my teeth as he times his shallow but slow thrusts to the nudge of my clit. Within five or so pumps, my body is eager to welcome him and ready to join the party. Once I’m acclimatized to his sheer thickness, I thrill in taking every inch. It’s just a bit daunting, is all.
His thrusts become harder, as I start to back into him. My butt knocks into his thighs as I urge him into me, urge him to return, to fuck me, to make love to me, to complete me.
I hiss again as he pulls out all the way to the tip and then rams deep inside me again. A few more thrusts like that have me panting. He’s fucking me in earnest now.
His fingers pull away from mine and they shove my hands away. He settles his slick digits around the nub, surrounding it and then, in time to his hard thrusts, he pinches down.
A yelp escapes me, my body bucks at the rough treatment and the water splashes against the bathtub and cascades over the side. Four more times he jabs me with his shaft, four more times his fingers bite down painfully against my clit and sick witch that I am, a climax howls through me with the strength of the North wind as it sends cold bursts of air down my spine making the molten heat of my cunt seem all the more fierier.
Wailing with the strength of it, I grip the side of the bath with my one hand and arch my back and then, the piece de resistance. He nuzzles down against my shoulder and bites.
I feel my flesh give way to his teeth, not enough to draw blood, but enough to sting and another howl floods the room as he slams into me.
Now I’ve cum, he uses my pussy roughly. Impaling me on his shaft, sending my cunt into tingling overdrive. As his hips slam into mine, his cock wrestling through the clinging, pulsating walls of my sex, I cum again.
The back-to-back orgasm is a weird combination. It both drains and energizes me. My entire body feels like it’s soaring through the sky and as his cock shoots his load deep inside me, my hungry, ravenous self feels very much at a peaceful stalemate.
His hips jerk and twitch as he comes down from the high. The gentle rocking motion seems to be of his body’s volition and not his own. As he gently fucks me, my pussy milks his cock dry. Willingly accepting every drop.
With his lips, he soothes the area he’d just bitten. He tongues it, prodding it with the tensile muscle and I let him, keeping my eyes closed and my forehead pressed to my hand.
He grabs my hip with his free hand, the one that tortured my clit and rubs slightly. “Marina? You okay, baby?”
When I don’t reply, he shakes me a li
ttle. “Marina?”
I mumble sleepily and nuzzle deeper into my hand.
I hear his faint chuckle and a soft smile lifts my lips as I feel his gentle touch against my pussy. He washes me; I can feel the bar of hotel soap sliding down between the lips of my sex sending shots of painful pleasure along my limbs. A grunt escapes me, but he ignores it, intent on cleaning me up. I can hear his own faint grunt, as he tidies himself up and then, I’m being lifted out of the cooling water. Patted dry, I’m once again lugged into his arms before being planted on to the bed.
Nate doesn’t even have a chance to climb in beside me, before the lights in my head go out.
I knew Nate would do the trick.
There are no thoughts, literally not one, wriggling through my mind.
Who needs medication to get you to sleep, when you’ve a guy like Nate in your bed?
Six
I should have realized how deep my feelings for Nate were a long time ago. In fact, I’m kind of horrified at my ignorance. This last week, I’ve really been knocked off my pedestal, because I’m only just coming to realize how much of a dick I’ve been.
There is no feeling comparable to the one, where I wake up beside Nathan Conroy. The quality of my sleep is ten times better than it is, when I’m alone and at home. The simple knowledge I can reach across the bed and touch him must do something to my insides. Why else would I feel so rested and replete this morning?
Sure, the orgasms might have something to do with it. But I burnt a lot of energy last night. Some parts of me should be flagging. Instead, I feel like I’ve been dosed with a syringe of caffeine. Vitality zips through me like an ant on cocaine but it doesn’t make me leap off the bed, instead I roll on to my side and touch him. I rest my hand on his flat belly and my skin tingles with the heat he emits. Hell, he’s like having central heating in the bed. Not the best of assets to have in a heat wave, but back home… in the middle of a snowstorm? He’d be all you need in a power-cut.
How long I sat there, just enjoying the peace of the morning with only the sounds of Nate’s breathing to break up the silence, I couldn’t really say. I just reveled in the nothingness of the moment. Somehow, that made it all the momentous.
I’ve been a hard woman for most of my life. I had to be. For survival. The IQ Commune, while a safe haven for geniuses, is a breeding ground of distrust, dislike and rivalry. It’s a community; we look out for each other against outsiders. But inside, it’s a different matter entirely.
Born to two parents who were more interested in their own genius than their daughter, it was self-defense to be caustic and distant from other people. I knew no other way. My mother didn’t come and kiss me good night as a baby. My father didn’t give a damn until my genetics and breeding started to shine through.
There was a brief phase in my life where I was anything near tender. But Jimmy’s death ended that.
I love Eddie and Mona. I’d kill for them and they’re the only reason I’m doing what I’m doing. Heading back to Blue Ridge. Only for their safety would I do that, because in Montana, lies heartache. My past is there. Like cancer, it’s waiting for me. I’ve been lulled into remission and it’s going to attack the instant my feet touch the ground.
Tears bite at the backs of my eyes and I shut them, hoping to stay the moisture, but it doesn’t work. A rough finger traces the wetness and I jump in surprise—I thought Nate was still asleep. My eyes open and my blurry vision takes in a rather clouded Nathan. He’s leaning over me, his face a foot away so I can see the frown marring his brow as he smoothes the line of my jaw with the damp digit.
“It’s the morning,” he says and the simplicity of his words makes my eyes sting even more.
I turn my head to the side and lift an arm to cover a part of my face. He grabs it, forces it down and just waits.
“I’ve been so stupid, Nate,” I whisper, keeping my eyelids shut. I can’t look at him, when I make the first ever admission that for the last four years, I’ve been running a brothel.
It’s weird, because I’m proud of what I’ve been doing. I’d consider it my highest achievement. I’ve taken two dozen women off the streets and I’ve given them a future, instead of a dead-end present. Yet, I must still be ashamed, because why have I never told Eddie or Mona? Why is it so difficult to tell Nate?
Papillon has been my dirty little secret for so long. Breaking it wide open feels like a chasm is opening up at my feet and Nate is on the brink of pushing me to my doom.
Melodramatic, maybe. But I can’t help the way I feel.
“I doubt that. You belong at the IQ Commune with the rest of them.”
The touch of his fingers against my cheek is both comforting and disturbing. It’s a connection I don’t want to lose and I fear the truth will be its destruction.
My lower lip trembles as I whisper, “Some people want to kill me.”
Nate’s stillness speaks for itself and then he sighs. “I’m going to assume, you’re joking?”
That it’s phrased as a question, tells me he’s hoping it is a joke.
“I wish.”
“Okay.” He sucks in a breath. “It’s not to do with drugs, is it?”
“No. I haven’t been that stupid.” Taking a leap of faith, I stare at him through tear-laden lashes. “It started by accident, Nate. I was just helping out and then, it exploded. We became a success. I never expected Papillon would do so well. None of us did.”
“Papillon?”
“Yeah. Papillon. My brothel.”
More silence and then, Nate rolls away from me and sits up. With his back to me, he stares into the distance. His spine is curved over, the notches surrounded by muscles that are tensed and straining with his silent contemplation. His silent fury.
Maybe I shouldn’t have blurted it out that way? I can’t take the words back and perhaps, it was for the best. Better out than in.
“You’re a prostitute?”
The very blandness of his question makes me flinch. At that moment, I feel for every single one of my girls. This is how it feels to reveal yourself, your job to a man. This is how Eloise felt as she divulged all to her Professor. And I haven’t even slept with a guy for money. It feels like a betrayal to them all, but I’m pathetically relieved I don’t have to make that admission today.
My relief and shame makes my retort sharp. “No! Of course not.”
“So you managed this brothel?”
This lack of reaction is making me nervous. When I thought about telling him, about getting his advice, I don’t really know what I imagined. Anger? Vocal disapproval? This seething silence is like watching a pressure cooker on the brink of explosion.
Why did I expect anger?
Well, the few girls to have told their partners about their occupation have always described the man’s wrath at such knowledge. Either they’d continue by slating them as whores and used goods, or like Eloise’s professor, they’d try to get them to stop.
In my case, it’s a bit different. But I think the difference isn’t all that minute.
No, I haven’t been sleeping with men for cash, but I’ve been facilitating others and helping them to do just that.
“The women weren’t underage, or anything,” I mutter, thinking maybe he believed I’d exploited my girls or something. If anything, I saved them from exploitation. But when I’m feeling a bit like dog crap on the ground, something nobody wants to look at or pick up, it’s difficult trying to explain myself.
It’s strange to realize how often Nate’s and my eyes connect. Eye contact is important for both of us. Until now, with his back to me, his refusal to look at me... it makes me feel like something beneath his notice. Undeserving of such a connection.
Meekness doesn’t sit well with me. I’ve done nothing wrong. Well, not technically. I didn’t run some two-bit whorehouse. My girls were clean, protected, loved. They were my friends and I cared for them. I provided for them. Not once did I take advantage. And it’s there that my self-righteous anger co
mes to save me.
Judge not lest ye be judged.
Yeah, I’m not the most religious of people, but I know my quotes.
As I climb out of bed, I shrug off the sheet that has tangled itself about my feet. Almost stumbling, I manage to right myself and stalk directly in front of him, so there’s no way he can’t see me. I won’t be made to feel ashamed of something I’m proud of.
“Don’t you dare judge me, Nathan Conroy. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“You helped women sell themselves,” he grits out.
“No. I saved them.” At his snort of disbelief, I glare at him. “Every single girl came to me for help.”
“And you think that makes it better?”
My hands form into fists so tight my nails dig deep into my palm. “Yeah, it does. Their pimps had beaten them, either that or nearly killed them. I looked after them. Made sure they had medical attention. Somewhere to sleep without fear of being beaten again or being murdered or raped in their beds. I got them clean; helped them quit coke or heroin or whatever the hell else their pimps had used to entrap them.”
“Does that make you feel good about yourself?”
His derision has me hissing, “I won’t let you make me feel as though I’m the bad guy.”
“You are the bad guy.”
“No! I’m not! They came to me ̶ I didn’t seek them out. It’s not like they weren’t able to make their own decisions; it was their choice to be there. I provided them with safety. If they had to do what they did, then they were in a controlled environment.”
He keeps his gaze averted from mine but stands, letting the sheet drop to his feet. It’s inconceivable that the pair of us are having this argument in the nude.
Talk about surreal.
But then, this entire situation is surreal. Whatever I’d expected from Nate, pleasure wasn’t one of them but neither was complete condemnation.
A part of me is reeling and the other is just wondering what the hell to say to make him understand.
I don’t want to explain myself. Don’t feel like I should have to, but with Nate’s disdain, huge cracks seem to be shattering the ground between us. I don’t want either of us to topple into it. Nor do I want to lose Nathan. Even if that appears to be a possibility.
A Bitch In Time (Marina: Part One: Naughty Nookie Series) Page 7