by Elena Monroe
His voice was calm, steady in ways I wasn’t when my knees buckled behind the island. “Then be honest!” I let the words stand up for me instead of myself because I was tired of this moment.
I wanted us to be able to be honest with each other, for better or worse, but instead we kept protecting each other from our demons and it wasn’t actually doing shit. It was making living with them even more exhausting.
Sitting upright, his eyes looked devastatingly beautiful—a clear night with a shade of gray and the gold flecks glowed the same way stars would. He had an entire sky in his eyes. “Who. Is. Elias? How’s that for honesty?” He paused only for a second for the relentlessness to settle in when he continued, “You left and Braeden died, nothing was the same after that. I got the joy of becoming a horseman instead of him. I got to go to Patmos. I got to take his place on some fucked up island where a priest decided that I was good enough to take my brother’s place as his own personal sex doll. It was a lot of fun getting drunk for the first time with the guy I had to see every Sunday for mass. Every other flaw came as an accessory to that demon, Eve. I can see it on you, you know what that feels like, don’t you?”
Everything in me sputtered until it stopped: my breathing, my heart, my weak knees, and my admiration for his nightfall eyes.
Everything hurt and stilled at the same time.
I did know what it felt like but nothing in comparison to his demons. Mine were dark lit. I only knew what being violated was like, being groomed, being forced to be a princess and not having anyone to turn to. We only had so much in common and yet I still felt like the stain on his life.
I felt like the ugly, damaged goods, staining his perfectly curated cruelty.
I was supposed to be the beacon of hope for him, all smiles and rainbows. How? I’m just as damaged. I was just as damning as a stain on a white couch—too obvious in his world full of secrets.
My mouth dropped open to respond when nothing came out. I felt like a fraud hearing how life was so awful for him. Feeling my eyebrows pinch and my eyes drop from his I let the silence swell instead.
He didn’t wait long before he stood and left the room like his secret pushed him out before they could traumatize him again. The rest of the night was just as silent and lonely, neither of us breaching the gap between us that we put there for our own safety.
Above all else we valued each other’s safety, even if that meant miles and years away from each other. Maybe they had it right to keep us apart. Maybe this much trauma can’t survive long enough to fall in love with a happy ending when you’re expecting a nightmare.
I fell asleep on the couch with Bowen’s copy of Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee in my hands trying to distract myself from the truths now keeping us apart as much as me being dragged to Denmark did.
This is why I wanted my truths to die with me instead of coming to the light.
A consistent sound I couldn’t place felt like it was shaking me awake when I wiped the back of my hand against the corner of my mouth, catching any drool that may have collected in my sleep. Rolling off the couch to my feet, I focused on the sound, following it until I found myself at a black door down the hallway with the downstairs bathroom.
An unused space but his whole house could have been chalked up to an unused space besides his blender, bar, and bed.
My legs trembled being on this side of the door wondering what the sounds were.
The dense and dull sound only reverberated through me with a panic thinking he was exactly how I feared—evil.
Whole heartedly expecting to see someone choking on their own blood while he pounded into them, I pushed the door open. I wouldn’t be able to sleep without knowing who was dying and why.
Relief washed over me, stealing my fragile legs when I saw Bowen shirtless in a pair of joggers while his wrapped fist jabbed into a punching bag.
Every muscle tensed with each hit, each clean punch that landed on the bag with precision. His body was toned, cut and defined, but still lean with abs on full display, the trails of sweat marking his skin instead of scars.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him as I massaged my lip with my teeth hoping this was the beginning of his workout and not the end.
Stopping, I watched his chest inflate and deflate quickly while his arms kept moving to keep himself active. He could have been made out of marble, something hard to shatter—he’s immaculate.
He saw me out of the corner of his eye when I offered up how I arrived down here. “I thought someone might be dying.”
He smirked and his eyebrows lifted, all in this way that said not impossible.
“In my mind, someone is always dying. This helps it stay imaginative. Wanna try?” He twisted towards me before bridging the gap between us.
Every time we were this close, it felt like a brush with death and a promise to be reborn as something stronger.
Bowen was a brush of death and nothing felt better.
“I don’t—what if I don’t want it to stay imaginative?” I was going to decline originally, but I stopped myself from lying. I wanted to hit someone; I wanted to kill them and anyone who threatened my happiness.
He bit down on the wraps, holding them there with his teeth, while his hands picked mine up and smoothed them flat between us. I watched his still wrapped hands carefully spotting the small spots of blood over his knuckles bleeding through.
There was this look in his eye that knew how much I wanted nothing more than to protect our happiness. Killing whatever got in our way, the same way he was prepared to do.
His fingers slowly laced through mine with the wrap, and I could feel his strength transferring over to me. I stood up straighter, taller, and all the empowerment spread through me like warmth.
I felt the taste of power for once in my life, and I was in control.
“I trust you to protect me, Bowey.” My voice was dull, slipping out as barely a whisper. I used to be the strong one between us. Always saving him in the midst of chaos and now he was saving me.
It felt appropriate to pay homage to that before I became strong again.
“No one will protect you like you can protect yourself, Eve. It’ll never be satisfying if you don’t quiet your demons yourself.” Finishing my other hand’s wraps, I felt my thighs rub together softly trying to simmer down the arousal I felt.
Every layer of Bowen was more beautiful, more complicated, and I was bewildered to discover just how much more I could love him.
Stepping behind me, I felt his hands square my hips, his fingers sinking into my hot skin fueled by how much I was turned on as he pushed me towards the bag hanging from the ceiling.
His fingers danced up my sides until I felt him guide my arms up to protect my face, and my fists closed under his hands. I could feel the wraps against my delicate skin trying to hold mine tight, and I had to swallow down the desperate need for him to fuck me on the bench of this room.
His lips found the shell of my ear, whispering so I could only hear, licking parts of me only he touched. “Now turn over your fist and jab, Evey.”
Pushing my fist into the bag guided by his, I felt this exhale bloom in my lungs, a kind of strength that I used to have reappearing, and the bag made a good doppelgänger for Elias. The sound of my wrapped knuckles filled the room with a denseness I imagined as bones cracking instead.
His hands moved from my fists down to my hips, holding them square against my movements, and his crotched pressed against my ass. He moved right along with me like a shadow even though I was so still all I heard was the throbbing between my legs pulsing for me to pay attention.
“Now use your left fist, same idea, only come from below.” It sounded dirtier than he meant it to until I felt exactly how hard he was when his length pushed between my ass cheeks only distracting me more.
I absorbed his words like a drug addict, I wanted more power and each punch seemed to be the key. The quicker I showed my strength the quicker I could break for him.
Landing a s
equence of punches quickly, I felt my lungs burn along with my arms when I dropped my hands to double over, pushing against him even more. His hand smoothed up my spine, comforting me and supporting my strength.
“You have to build up endurance first.”
I felt like he was daring me to keep up but not at these skills. He was daring me to build endurance for him.
Just as I stood up tall and managed to twist around to face him, his chest pressed into mine. Taking a big step towards me, he pressed my spine into the bag and plied my arms up until his grasp held up my wrists against the leather above my head.
I tried to gulp down new air unsuccessfully as our sweaty bodies pushed flush together, and our lips so close I felt the heat between my legs only getting worse. I watched his eyes as he followed a bead of sweat I felt running down my neck, and leaning forward, he slowly licked it away before leaving a kiss behind my ear.
He was so close to burning against the fire he started that I didn’t dare move.
“What does trauma-free look like?” My voice was barely a whisper, and I wanted to take it all back. I wanted to eat my words and the trauma right along with it for potentially ruining this moment.
The trauma I was still keeping from Bowen.
Every time Elias would stand outside my shower, watch me sleep beside me in my bed, choose clothes for me and watch me dress, shove his fingers between my legs under the table at dinner, strip search me every time I ran away just to get caught, every single time he felt me up when no one was around.
I was just as tragic as Bowen, only weaker because I did nothing about it.
I wanted to be as pristine as Denmark made me feel because now I understood why they forced me to be that person. If I was that person I wouldn’t feel like such a fraud, a stain.
“When we were kids, but I’m better for you now, Evey. I can handle whatever you went through. I’m stronger than when your butterfly died.” His hot breath soaked into the sensitive parts of my neck he loved so much.
He was already perfect when my butterfly died.
I pushed into him, letting my hips grind into his hoping he’d give into me the way I wanted. Whispering between us, “What if I make you weaker? What if I’m nothing but damaged goods? What if I ruin you?”
His hands dropped from my wrists and my hands followed until they were resting on his shoulders. His still-wrapped hands grasped onto my hips, pinning me in place from the friction I was creating.
“Whatever you’re thinking… it doesn’t matter. I’m never going to see your demons as anything more than company for my own.” There was this look in his eye, a brooding kind of desire I wanted to satisfy. His lips found my neck again, causing my body to go slack under his hands as he smoothed them down my arms to the backs of my legs and in one swift motion picked me up, wrapping them around his waist.
Around Bowen it was hard to not feel powerful, to feel invincible and perfect the way you were. It didn’t matter how powerful you felt when those little voices in your head shout you aren’t good enough.
Wrapping my legs around him tighter, I bit my lip feeling every solid inch of him pressing against me, driving his words home. “I’ll ruin you the way you’re afraid to ruin me…” I said it even though he validated my ugly.
He’s too good for me to be true.
“You’ve already ruined my inhibition, Evey. Let’s call it even.” His hands held my ass perfectly, and I let my robe fall down my arms onto the dirty floor. I wanted nothing more than to celebrate my ugly with Bowen buried between my legs.
“I won’t hold back if you don’t, Bowey,” I said it with a smile tugging my lips and a little bit of nerves not knowing what that truly meant.
Dropping me down to a bench carefully, I kept my legs around him, keeping him close while my hands fumbled around the band of his boxer briefs. He was staring down at me with lust clouding his eyes. “What makes you think I’d hold back with you, Evey?”
I felt the lump in my throat only encouraging the stickiness between my legs at his promising words. Pulling off my satin slip I let it fall, sitting there on the padded bench in nothing but the desire to be ruined only by Bowey. Not demons, not Denmark—just Bowey and his perfect cock.
Slowly letting my legs fall open, showing him all of me, the ugly and pretty colliding the way I always knew it would.
“You’re always so good… even when you’re bad.” His hand dragged up my thigh as his tongue licked his bottom lip. Everything was slow even when it wasn’t.
“What if I only want to be bad?” Laying back on the bench, I let my knees bend while my hand slipped down myself until I found my own clit. Torturing someone who’s already so tortured was a victory that couldn’t be condensed into a trophy you could win.
He grabbed my ankles, pulling me down to the edge until my ass teetered off, dropping down to his knees in front of me. My legs fell open again just so I could see his sinister eyes begging me to be dirtier, uglier. Leaving one clean kiss on the inside of my thigh, I felt the shiver shoot down my spine.
His kisses trailed up my inner thighs until my back arched offering him more of myself. He was going to take all of me, offered or not. A long swipe of his tongue along my folds sent my head dropping to one side and a labored moan out past my lips. The way he felt warm against my wetness was lethal.
He was looking up at me when I pushed myself up to find out why the feeling stopped, and with a devious smile when he whispered, “You’ll never be bad, only ever mine. Nothing else matters when you are mine. Do you understand that?”
I nodded slowly, still mulling over the word mine and how it felt like a precursor to every good feeling he gave me.
Laying down more kisses, he avoided licking me again, torturing me back. “Now tell me what you want, Evey.”
My head was still spinning, my thighs slick with desire and he wanted me to put words together to form a coherent sentence. “Bowey, please,” I begged him to lick me again when I felt his hands come up around my legs and hold my hips steady.
“I want to hear you say it, Evey,” he spoke right into me, between my thighs and it made me squirm under the tension. My hips stayed pinned in his grip and my back arched so much I felt my muscles tense from my feet to my lower back. I was desperate for him.
My voice was strained when I pushed out the words. “I want you to kiss me.” I felt him push out a breath aimed at my pussy, tickling my clit.
“Kiss or devour you? Both very different.” His tongue took one long lick up my slit, and I shuddered for him. “Maddening isn’t it? You want to be devoured, Evey, I know you too well.”
His hand reached over me, laced around my leg and too timid to touch me when he was already stimulating me. Bowen’s mouth closed around my clit and sucked my bundle of nerves until I felt a silent scream get trapped in my lungs.
My hands found his, squeezing them until I felt stable while he tasted me in ways I couldn’t imagine. The moans sitting on my chest finally turned me inside out when I let myself moan his name while I came undone so quickly I barely got to enjoy him.
The tension was so thick it toyed with me first, making less work for Bowen but it wasn’t any less enjoyable. You had to be so pure that you didn’t even contemplate sinning to not enjoy Bowen Astor.
I enjoyed him, soaked him up like a bad habit and asked for more.
Bowen was leaving kisses on my thighs and hips while I came back from climaxing the way I only could at his hands. Sitting up I bit my lip. “Stand up.” I wanted to return the favor, and I was determined for him to let me.
He stood up, and I was faced with every hard inch of him just below the fabric doing a poor job of holding him back. Letting my hand smooth against his length, my fingertips toyed with the band on his boxer briefs peeking out of his joggers, teasing me with a good time that might chase away our confessions.
I wanted to say something comforting. At least clear up that whatever he smelled on me was nothing in comparison. I should have given
him the truth—anything but the silence lurking inside my mouth making me mute.
Just as I pulled the band away from his body, his grip crushed my small hands so hard I felt myself wince. “We aren’t doing that here… I don’t need your pity.” His words might as well have been venom.
It was well-deserved, my body screamed use me to bury the pain and my eyes were glazed over in sympathy. “Bowen…” I was trying to slice through the immediate anger cocooning him when his grip didn’t let up, still holding my hands too tightly.
He looked down on me like I personally insulted him in the least redeemable way. “It doesn’t matter how damaged you are when you look at me like that. It would have been easier to just sit pretty and be the wife I don’t want. No demons except me. Now there is nothing holding me back from making sure that fake halo is replaced with horns.”
Standing upright instead of looking down at me like a silly girl who couldn’t handle his demons, his fists clenched making the wraps get even more taunt around his hands.
My mouth was still gaping open but no syllables or sounds came out. Not one word while I watched him square up to the bag hanging in its place. “You always wanted to match.”
My eyes stung with tears, and I felt myself suck in my bottom lip like it was the key to holding them back.
Hitting a small remote in his pocket, music flooded his home gym, too loud to think or talk anymore.
Bowen’s fist drove into the bag over and over, making me flinch every time. I pushed him to be someone to me and didn’t take into account how skewed how my expectations were.
My expectations were soul crushing.