by Dani Wyatt
His hand lifts from between my legs to gently caress my tits, moving back and forth between them as I lay spread and supine for him.
I know I’m head over heels in love with him – I have been for a while. I think I was in love with him after the first couple of times he came into the shop. But I’m not ready to return the words, not yet. I’m just not quite there. But it doesn’t seem to matter to him, he doesn’t even falter.
My hand drifts to the muscles of his back, stroking the hard flesh as the cloth warms me between my legs.
“I have something for you.” Daddy reaches down under the bed and my eyes light up.
“I love surprises.” I’m giddy when I see the big pink bow that adorns the white box. Immediately I’m thinking clothes. It’s the right size. Maybe a cute t-shirt or more underwear.
“I’ve had this for you for a while. But I was too big and stupid and waited, but here it is. I hope you like it Angel.”
He hands me the box, I don’t waste time getting the bow off and throwing the top off the edge of the bed. Warmth covers me, my heart is in my throat.
“This is...” I can’t find the words.
I pull the dark leather bound book out from the neat tissue paper cover. It smells wonderful, like an old library. The dark front is embossed, I flip open to the cream colored pages, tipped around the edges in a hint of brown.
I don’t know what to say. I’ve never gotten such an amazing, thoughtful gift.
“It’s the first edition in English. I didn’t think the French would be as easy for me to read to you. I don’t think either of us speak French.”
I’m speechless and his smiles lights up the dark hair of his beard.
“Come here. Let’s get you snuggled in and I’ll read you a chapter, how’s that sound?”
I’m in heaven, Daddy reads me the first two chapters because I begged him to keep going after he finished the first. It’s perfect, I lean into this chest, his lips periodically kissing the side of my head or my cheek as he goes. When he takes a breath at the end of chapter two, my stomach roars. A loud growl that makes us both laugh.
“I’m going to go get you something to eat.” He closes the book and sets it on the comforter next to my hip. “You need your nourishment. So just lay here and keep that cloth between your legs a little longer. The medicine will help ease the soreness. I’ll come get you when I’ve got food ready.”
Before I can answer, my stomach growls again in response.
“I guess Daddy knows best.” I mumble on a sigh, grabbing the book and clutching it over my chest.
I smile as Magnus rises from the bed to full height, and his cock does the same right along with him. I’m happy he doesn’t seem at all self conscious about his foot anymore. Not since that first time. I’ve helped him take it off and put it on a couple times now, I think he likes how I kiss him there. I want him to know I love that part of him as much as everything else.
“Don’t you forget it, babygirl.”
I watch as he retreats out the door of the bedroom, a deep sigh falling from my lips and the butterflies fluttering around in my belly. I’m so happy right now, I don’t want this moment to ever end. I just wish my mom could see how happy I am, how things have turned out for me.
I’m almost drifting off to sleep when the sound of my phone breaks through the silence.
Daddy brought my things into the great room when we arrived, and the beeping sound of a few more text messages pulses against my ears. Someone is texting, over and over, all in a row, and I figure it must be Andrea wondering if I’m okay. She probably called the shop to see how it was going with just me and Eddie there, and who knows what he told her.
With a grimace and slow, tentative movements, I manage to get myself off the bed. I tiptoe into the massive great room and hone in on the sound. I can hear clattering and clinking of plates and dishes, food being prepared, coming from down the hall where the kitchen must be, and it makes my stomach turn over again.
Having someone worry about feeding me will be very welcome.
I find my purse on a sofa table and flip the canvas flap open, digging around to find my old flip phone. I may not be up on all the technology, but it works. I get texts, I can call people, even send and receive pictures and it’s only fourteen dollars a month, which is still at the top range of my communication budget.
I’m humming as I walk back toward the bedroom with the phone in my hand, bringing up the messages to see what Andrea has to say.
Inside the room, I catch a glimpse of myself in the long mirror that leans against the wall. I’m a mess. My hair looks like I’ve been riding along with my head out the window, and I have a sudden, strong urge to brush my teeth. After being so wild with him, so secure, I notice the thickness of my upper arms and the way the dimples show on the outside of my thighs. I bring a hand down to push inward on the pouch of softness under my belly button. I push in, then let go and it pops back out. I suck it in, standing straight, then breathe out. It’s no use.
The word ugly flashes through my mind. I don’t recognize the voice, but I know it’s not my own. It belongs to one of the kids at school, or one of the random people on the street.
“Don’t do this,” I tell myself, eager not to ruin the moment with self-loathing.
I bite the inside of my cheek and step away from the image in the mirror. My emotions are crashing, and I hate myself for hating myself. It’s a vicious circle that goes on and on.
When I get into the bathroom, I pull out the new toothbrush that is waiting there for me, turn the water on with one hand and flip open my phone with the other, ready to read what Andrea has to say.
But when I look down at the matchbook-sized screen, the toothbrush freezes in my mouth. I drop it, letting it clatter into the sink as foam drips from my chin, grabbing at the device and scrolling through the messages. My stomach is suddenly in my throat.
I wipe the back of a hand over my mouth, my breathing speeding up as I scroll down through the messages until I see a link. I click, and there is a picture of a newspaper article and the image of Magnus.
“Local Businessman Charged with Manslaughter.”
Chapter Fourteen
_______________________________________________
MAGNUS
“Angel?” I lay two plates of food on the bedside table, piled high with tasty, irresistible morsels. I want her to eat. She worries me constantly and I know she hasn’t been eating right.
The wind that rushed through the trees earlier is now whipping around in torrents whistling through the massive pines that surround the house. A late fall storm draws gray clouds across the lake, the sun no longer casting the amazing streaks of color there.
I smooth my hand over my head. The bathroom door is open an inch and I hear the water shut off.
Then I hear something else.
A sound assaults my ears and tears at my heart. My blood runs cold as I rush to smack open the door. I’m not even concerned at what state she may be in, I’m only able to focus on the sounds of her crying.
“Baby.” Barging through the door, my head swivels toward the sound and I find her in my white t-shirt, sitting on the floor of the shower with her arms wrapped around her knees, her head hanging. “Jesus, Angel, what the fuck is wrong?” I grunt out, already hot with rage. What the fuck has happened?
“Go away! I want to leave. I don’t even know you.”
My head throbs and there is a pressure behind my eyes, a ringing in my ears. I’m disoriented and there is this horrible feeling of pressure in my chest. It’s not coming from the outside; it’s more like lead weights have been chained to my heart and it’s pulling it down into my stomach.
“Baby, what is it? Christ. What the hell happened? Tell me, I’ll fix it. Whatever it is, I’ll take care of it. But you have to tell me.”
When she raises her face from its nest between her upper arms, I see such anger there that I nearly recoil, afraid of what she’s about to say. But instead I le
My Angel wrenches her head side to side, trying to dislodge my grip, but it’s strong as iron. I know better than to break the connection. Whatever is going on, we will get through it and move on. But we have to do it together.
She will learn, problems are just that, problems, but we are bigger than any of those.
“Who are you?” Her voice shakes as she kicks at my legs, her arms darting down to push at the floor of the shower, trying to get to her feet. But I’m not having that; she needs to tell me what’s wrong before I lose my fucking mind. “I knew this was too good to be true. I knew you couldn’t be what I thought.”
“Baby, I’ll answer anything you want, but just ask me a question I can answer. I’ll never lie to you, I’m an open book; I don’t know what in the fuck is going on, but it sounds like you’re scared.” The idea makes my stomach turn, but I have to name it. “It sounds like you’re scared of me. And if you’re scared, that means I’ve done something wrong. So I’ll fix it. Tell me what it is and I’ll fix it.” I hate that my voice falters on the last words. There is a burning in the bottom lids of my eyes. My mind wanders for a moment to all the things I want for her. All the ways I wanted today to be her day. Her perfect day.
I don’t recall the last time I cried. If you count the tear I shed the first time I came inside my Angel, then well, not so long ago. But this is different. I feel it choking me. I think the last time I had a full on cry, was when Mom died, but I’m on the verge right now. Her tears are my tears, and more than that, they are my responsibility.
“I want to go home. I don’t want to be here with you.” The snap in her voice cuts me, but I see past it. I see her, and this noise is just that, noise. I need to find a way to calm her down, but that won’t happen if I push against it.
She pushes me over the edge when she slaps at me with one hand, kicking me with both feet.
“Baby, we’re going to figure this out.” Faster than a man my size should move, my hands dart out, around her waist and she’s up and over my shoulder in an instant. I’m beginning to like this, carrying her around while the caveman in me thumps his chest.
Angel squeals and gives me a few good kidney shots with her balled fists, but I’ve got three times the weight on her and there is not much she can do to physically hurt me. Of course, she could tear my heart right out, and cause me pain that no one else can, but if I stick to doing everything right for her, I just have to pray to God that never happens.
I stomp down the hall and into the great room. The scent of lilies and peonies hits me and even my babygirl stops her tirade for a moment, the scent is so beautiful and strong.
After a second of standing there, I start to feel her hands soften. Instead of knocking into me like little ball peen hammers, they come around the back of my waist so she can steady herself against me.
“Put me down. Please.”
I don’t know if the scent of the thousand white flowers has worked some magic, but I feel her soften and her words lose their edge. I hear a sad little girl, a scared little girl, and I know that’s what she was trying to hide with her tantrum upstairs.
She’s shivering, and that’s when the truth hit’s me. She’s terrified. I realize it in a moment of clarity and it cuts through me sharper than a knife.
“I will never hurt you, Angel. I’d never let anyone hurt you. I’d die first.”
She’ll learn soon enough that she doesn’t need all these theatrics to get my attention, but old habits will have to be undone slowly, I understand that. So for now, I just need to know what the fuck is hurting her, so I can fix it.
I guide her feet down to touch against the wooden planks that make up the floor, catching her under her arms and pulling her forward. The wide, winding staircase is a step behind me and I bend back to take a seat, dragging her onto my lap, facing me, so we are eye to eye. I settle her legs outside of my own, my hands looping around her waist.
“I don’t like tantrums, Angel. You can and you must tell me everything. Always. Every thought, everything that bothers you or makes you happy. I want it all. Don’t hold it in. But tantrums and this kind of drama won’t be tolerated. But, we’ll deal with that another time. Right this second, you tell me what’s hurting you, okay?” I kiss her bright pink lips, still a bit swollen from their use earlier, then kiss away what’s left of her tears.
As I do I hear her breath come out around us in a long sigh, hanging in the air like a sweet mist. I can’t help but fill with pride that she’s still naked. She’s so vulnerable, and yet she doesn’t think to cover herself. It just seals our connection, tells me she truly belongs to me. I’m her shield against all the bad in the world.
“I got a text. A few. They’re about you.” The cut is back in her voice, so I tip her face back and take her lip between my teeth for a long second.
“Daddy doesn’t like that tone, baby. Just talk to me. Don’t brat, okay?”
I love how she crinkles her nose and pushes out her bottom lip, her eyes on mine as she decides how she’s going to proceed. It only takes a second. Then with a quick look up at the ceiling, she pulls her pout to the side and continues in a soft, clear voice.
“Who’s Sarah Templeton?” Her voice banks in her throat with a little hitch, and my flesh goes cold.
Her eyes are pleading for an explanation, one that will make her feel safe. I see the little tears start to form in her eyes, but she pulls her lip between her teeth and bites down, trying to stem them from flowing.
I grip her soft hips, tugging her closer as I try to figure out a way to explain.
My heart is in my throat.
“Baby.” I lean my forehead in to meet hers, trying to draw strength from her.
Her eyes drift, so I release one hand from her hip and lift my fingers to squeeze her chin, keeping her focused on me. This whole exercise is made nearly impossible because she is naked and her nipples are speaking in tongues, and there is a heat radiating from her open legs straight onto the carved wood in my lap that seems to never soften around her.
Her green eyes mesmerize me; it’s so hard to keep my breath steady as they dilate and narrow, her breath warm on my nose, our faces just inches from each other.
I drop my fingers from her chin, graze them down her neck and around the back where my hand grips, secure but soft.
“What about Sarah Templeton?”
My blood goes cold and I suck air through my teeth as I try to find my center, try to find the right words.
But it’s more than that. I used to pray that I could give my own life to bring her back. I know God wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t give me such an easy way out, but it’s still what I’ve prayed for, night after night, for the last year.
Until I met my Angel, that is, and realized that she could be a part of my life. Then I wanted so much to live.
My lungs burn as I fill them, preparing to tell her my shame. I have to come to terms with the idea that she may decide I am not safe for her. That she cannot live with a man that was responsible for someone’s death.
“We were demolishing a building.” I sit up straight, caressing the back of her neck, letting the sensation of her soft skin distract me from what I need to say. Memories I’ve tried to push away since I met her. “Angel, the short version is, I was in charge of the demolition. I was always in charge; it was nothing unusual. For weeks before it came down, we had the building secured so that I could analyze where the charges should be set, where the weak points were, how the structure would fall. I was also responsible for making sure no one would be able to get inside.” The last words crack in my throat, and time bends around me. I’m right back there in my mind, the initial thrill of the moment when the explosives go off is a rush like nothing else. I can’t explain it. Even after hundreds of jobs, that moment when it happens still feels as new as the first time.
Angel raises her hands, presses them to my cheeks. I close my eyes. I don’t deserve her love. I don’t deserve her kindness. Not right now. Maybe not ever.
“I did the final walk through myself. There was a break in the fencing, a point where it was tugged away and dug out like someone may have tried to get inside. I walked that building ten fucking times, I swear to God.” I harden at the sound of the words, then shake my head. It’s just excuses, nothing can change the fact that I’m guilty. “I missed something. I failed in my duty. I killed that woman as much as if I’d pointed a gun to her head and pulled the trigger myself.” My throat tightens and my gut grinds over on itself. I have to fight to hold back the shaking in my voice. My eyes are burning but I won’t allow myself to shed the tears. “I should have done more; it was my responsibility. I should have called off the demolition until I could get a team in there to check every corner of the building.” For the first time since that day, I let go of the fight, and the tears spill from my eyes.
My other hand comes up from the security of her softness and I press it against my forehead as if I might be able to wipe away the memories by sheer force alone. Then I press my fingers into my eyes, willing the tears to stop. I don’t deserve them.
I have to take a breath before I can continue. “I gave the all clear. I didn’t press the button, but it was my fault the charges were set off – my moment when the first boom shook the ground. It was then that I caught the movement at one of the doors on the ground floor. Impossible.” I look into her eyes, misty through the tears. “It was impossible; she couldn’t be there. I wanted to stop it, but it was too late. I charged out of the safety shelter anyway, trying to somehow get to her, get her out of there before it all collapsed. But I couldn’t. The building came down and I was too close. I only got as far as the fence before the whole thing tumbled. In my head it was like a house of cards, everything I’d built, everything I was proud of in my life came crashing down. I watched in horror, but I was too close. A piece of concrete came down on my foot, smashing it so badly it had to be removed. I remember thinking it was what I deserved, a constant reminder of my failure to save her.” I look down at my missing foot, the stump. My punishment. “I didn’t want to live any more, but I couldn’t die. I thought God had chosen my punishment, and I had to accept it. Money no longer held any meaning; I just wanted to give it all away. Until I met you.” I can’t meet her eyes. I don’t want to see her disgust. “Then I started to think, maybe, I’d found a way through it.”
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