You'll Answer To Me

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  Voices and moaning on the second floor…? The sounds made sense to her now. Had the two been a couple all along? Stunned by a disturbing pang of jealousy, she burned with anger, feeling mad enough to shout from the rooftops, Go ahead and take him! if she’d been more bold. But even her jealous rage seemed like a hollow emotion after what she’d been through that night. Her world was quiet now and she liked it that way. No sneers, no catcalls, no demeaning putdowns. No smarmy hands lighting flames in her sexual body. For just a little while she could forget the treachery and the humiliation, she could forget that Luke and Ashley were screwing around the master bed she’d shared with him the last few months. The world around her was at peace, and none of what had transpired earlier seemed important now.

  She looked out the window toward the winery, seeing the glow of evening in the shadows cast by the security lights. She saw the moon and the stars, and the light in Bo’s window still lit. Her heart suddenly took notice, and refusing to listen to her own wise council, she dashed barefoot into the night, disheveled hair and all, and raced to the small cottage behind the winery building that Bo called home.

  He answered her knock, holding his guitar in one hand and the door handle with the other. Peering into the dark night, he stepped back in surprise seeing Alexa standing before him looking nervous and forlorn.

  “Oh Bo!” she exclaimed, and before he could think to speak, she collapsed against his chest. After carefully setting the guitar next to the wall at his side, he wrapped his arms around her, and for nearly five minutes, they remained that way with Bo’s beautiful energy flowing into her like a soothing balm. He stroked her hair and ran his hand gently down her back, while she drank in the warm, rich, and distinctly masculine scent of his earthy body.

  “Hard night?” he asked.

  “If I let myself think about it, it’s terribly unsettling, all of it,” she replied wearily.

  Pulling out of the close embrace, Bo let her into the cottage. “He knows you’re here?”

  “Not unless he saw me through the window, but I very much doubt he cares where I am right now.”

  Bo eyed her suspiciously, though her eyes pleaded with him not to probe.

  “You mind that I’m here… I know it’s awfully late…”

  “No, I don’t mind, have a seat.” He moved to the couch, grabbing two hefty stacks of magazines that he deposited on the floor. Then he doused the light, leaving just one lone candle burning. For a moment, Alexa watched its smoky flame dance in the drafty air and make spooky apparitions on the walls. Bo’s surroundings had hardly changed in the six years since she’d been inside the house. The living room, dining and kitchen areas were all in one big room, with the bedroom and bathroom behind the kitchen. Two walls in the main room were lined with bookcases, each one of them packed tightly with record albums, sheet music, recording equipment, amplifiers, books and magazines. The one living room wall without bookshelves was covered with framed photographs of Bo – on stage in concert, jamming with friends and in close-up shots with members of his band, the pictures spanning his life, from his teens to the present. In some, even recent ones, were sexy, young females, ‘groupies’ hanging all over him, putting a sly smirk on his rugged face and leaving Alexa to silently wonder if they’d just fucked…just as she’d wondered the same thing six years before whenever such an image caught her eye. The usual clutter littered tables – mostly sheet music, scribbled song lyrics and junk. This was his studio, and though the place looked unkempt, there was an order to his things that Bo understood and no one messed with. As chaotic as it seemed, there were no dirty dishes, fast food containers and refuse common in similar settings.

  She wanted to smile thinking of the many times she’d drunk herself into a happy stupor while listening to Bo play for her, or jam with his friends while she stayed on the fringes listening. She wanted to smile and remember those good times, but she was nervous. She needed a place to collapse and let go of the night’s memories that were still passing through her thoughts. But she was nervous with Bo, with his masculine pheromones bouncing off the walls and her hungry crotch clamoring for more sex. How could it ache for more after so much use? Was it like food? Some fills and satisfies, while some leaves you hungry for more?

  She sat down on the sliver of the sofa where Bo cleared space, feeling immediately uncomfortable. She felt too fidgety and too tired to say much.

  “I guess you don’t want to talk?” Bo finally had to ask.

  “Maybe, but not yet. How about you just play, like you used to play for me?”

  He nodded, seeming happy to oblige, then he sat back on a stool before a music stand holding his latest songs and began to pick effortlessly through a long obbligato before his gravelly voice began to croon the words and melody of a lonely tune about love and loss.

  She listened, one ear on Bo’s music, the other tuned to her scattered emotions. If only she could fall asleep to the sound of the delicate notes and craggy tone as she did those other times. Now, she just wanted him and everything about him – his jumbled house, the textured voice, the force of his hefty cock and the burst of freedom that comes from needing to care about nothing but the precious moment.

  She wouldn’t dare fall asleep in Bo’s house, as she had no idea what trouble it would cause – or if it would be trouble at all. Luke had given Bo free access to her, had he not? That had been months ago, no telling how he’d feel now about her and Bo together. Too weary to take chances, she knew that before the night was over she would be back in Warren’s house, and that her respite from the house and Luke, his rules, and his hedonistic friends could only be brief. So for a moment she listened, letting her mind drift and her sagging spirit be buoyed by lyrics – he seemed to be making them up on the spot… about glittering eyes and a wounded heart…despair too deep to talk about … He was speaking of her.

  She rocked back and forth to the lazy rhythms, with her eyes glistening as she took in all of who he was – hating parts of him that defied her needs, but loving the rest. By the time the tears were streaming down her cheeks, she couldn’t stay sitting any longer. She moved on him rapidly, wanting to yank the guitar from his hands and throw herself into his arms; their one embrace had not been enough to heal her. Not hardly enough, and she sunk to her knees at his feet, grabbing his thighs and looking up pleading.

  He paused and looked down at her kindly, laughing softly to himself. “I didn’t think this would be enough for you…” he said.

  She wanted to laugh, too, to think of this moment in the same sweet way she thought of ‘Bo moments’ in her previous life. But that would be impossible under the circumstances.

  “So, what’ll it be, Lexa? Savage or sweet?” He put down his guitar and pulled her upright on her knees.

  Her heart was pounding and her stomach queasy – she couldn’t recall when she’d eaten last. But the savage grinding in her loins was far stronger than any need for food. She couldn’t answer the question truthfully because she didn’t know her own desire, and was too mixed up to know what she needed. “How about you decide?” she offered.

  His brows lifted. “A coward’s way out…hum?”

  Something about the way he said ‘coward’ made her want to sock him in the jaw. “I am not a coward!” she shouted. “I’m not! I swear I’m not…I just can’t…” and her voice trailed off, “I need something…something…” She hung her head, slumping into his lap, hoping he would come to her rescue.

  He pried her face from his leg and made her sit up and look at him. “But you don’t know what it is, do you?”

  She shook her head like a sad little girl.

  And he shook his, apparently still amused. He brought her with him as he moved to his feet, and then stood close enough that she could feel his hot breath on her neck. Pausing briefly, he turned away and hit start on his CD player. With a steady drumming behind the music, the haunting sound of bluesy vocals caressed the air as he caressed her. He lifted the t-shirt making her naked, to point out the
disparity of their station. Inside Bo’s house, she was as surrendering as she would be in Luke’s; the years between had changed nothing about that. Though this was where she felt her submission most dearly, where she loved it best, where there was no Sword of Damocles ready to take her out. All her incarnations came together here; everything was easy and her submission natural.

  Bo’s hand ran down her naked belly to her crotch, as his lips kissed her neck, and that hot breath made her tummy flutter with excitement.

  “You’re still horny,” Bo stated

  She shuddered deeply, and blushing she looked up and nodded. Then she bowed her head again as his hands continued to rove about her steamy flesh, shocking places where he slapped hard, while igniting flames of unbridled need where his hand barely grazed the skin. She lifted on tiptoe. She swayed uneasily, then rocked back and forth, but always certain that Bo’s strong hands would keep her from falling.

  She felt a soft slap against her cheek. “Look at me,” he ordered, his voice dropping a decibel or two to make a serious point.

  She hadn’t realized that her eyes were closed, and when she opened them, Bo’s greeted her with a scowl.

  “You’ve had a rugged night. You sure want to start this now?” Just the implication of his message sent a thunderous jolt through her body, followed by a wave of erratic orgasmic spasms she tried earnestly to tame – why, she wasn’t sure. Strangely, she didn’t want to appear too easy, but even she could see that was laughable given their history. Maybe he was offering her the option to stop, but his hands had not stopped their caress, or the stunning slaps that sent her body reeling once again.

  “Start now?” she came back smartly, “I started hours ago and haven’t stopped.”

  “But you didn’t get what you needed, did you?” and his hands continued their slapping, caressing fest. He pinched one nipple while grabbing at her crotch, letting the continuous stream of pain arouse her till she came again, his fingers jamming into her wet cavern like a hard cock. She fell against him writhing.

  “No, Bo, not at all what I need,” she whispered so softly, she couldn’t be sure he heard.

  “Then there’s no reason to stop…” he seemed to say, but she couldn’t rightly tell if he actually spoke the words or she just imagined what she heard.

  To whatever he said, she replied with a heated moan, her body thrusting against him; her breasts and cunt begging for more. The bluesy music became more discordant, the key a heavy minor, the song like a Leonard Cohen ballad, though it wasn’t Cohen’s but Bo’s music and Bo’s voice lifting her away from the madness of Luke’s house to the mad sanity of Bo’s world.

  He began to strike her pussy with the palm of his hand in steady, measured smacks. She squirmed and vented and swore like crazy.

  “God fuck, that hurts,” came her terse whisper.

  “It’ll get worse before I’m done,” he said. But even Bo couldn’t prevent the explosion that fired off between them. She felt the force of his desire suddenly sweep her from the center of his cluttered living space. She was in his arms, lifted away and taken to his bed where he laid her down and climbed on, discarding his clothes as he did. His hard body was unchanged in six years, his erection as she remembered. She wanted it in her mouth, where her lips would suck the hefty stalk, while her teeth nibbled the flesh enough to earn a stern rebuke.

  But Bo wasn’t into typical foreplay or the usual course of making love. She was his for the taking, bound at the wrists to the head of the bed with her feet and legs left free. Submissive, yearning, her hunger for him overpowered any other thought that attempted to crowd into her beleaguered brain. He stabbed her pussy ruthlessly, then fell down against her body, naked skin to naked skin, and fucked her hard and fast while holding her tightly against his chest, his ferocity unlike anything she remembered. He wanted to roll her over and grovel from one end of the bed to the other as they had in the past, but he’d already tied her arms, making such a journey impossible.

  He was content, though. Content to fuck her as she lay.

  “Oh, Bo, please release my arms!” she cried, wanting desperately to hold him in her embrace.

  “Sorry, slut, you haven’t earned that yet.”

  The fucking resumed in a merciless way. Banging, drilling, lunging – as if tearing her sex in two. When he stopped, her troubled thoughts would come dribbling back to annoy her again, however for now, she could forget what life was like up on the hill where she lived with the boy and his fickle moods. Mind, body, heart, all were screaming in her mind for the rape to continue. Of course, it wasn’t rape at all, since she would consent to every second of the divine abuse. But she liked to think that she was being taken against her will by an ill-mannered brute – in many ways Bo could be just that. Being raped was the dirty little secret she kept to herself, the end result of so much humiliation, pain and mental anguish.

  She got what she came for from Bo, as she expected she would. His personality was unwavering, his character almost tediously dependable. Despite his fierce loyalty to the Tatums, which was truly annoying from her perspective, he was the one man in all the world who could deliver her to a place of utter peace when she needed the quiet most…when the fucking was over and it was time to head back. He’d saved her before; and he was doing it again.

  With arms fettered she reached for him with heart and soul; and though she couldn’t hold him as he held her, he would surely understand how much she needed him and how right she was in coming here.

  Coming from his first thrust to the grand finale, she relished every bit of his harsh command and brutal force. Unlike other men who used her in the same demeaning way, and enjoyed the fact that any woman could respond so enthusiastically to such abuse, Bo added a degree of empathy and affection she found rare in the men she fucked, as if he had a natural quality of compassion the others lacked – or just didn’t bother to reveal to her.

  “Fuck me, yes!” she screamed aloud. Her legs were splayed, her cunt raised and resting on the pillow Bo shoved beneath her ass before the real fucking commenced.

  “Fucking…that’s what you’re here for, bitch,” he yelled right back, adding a firm thrust of his organ to punctuate the fact; but then he was silent, other than the usual unbidden groaning, until his cry of climax rent the air. “God damn fuck!” The angry bellow stunned the air and satisfied her, then was followed by the usual rutting noises of his final thrusts.

  With his seed spilled inside her slippery sex, he rocked against her sweaty form, holding her snug to him until his erection finally dwindled and slipped out. After planting his lips on hers for a hungry kiss, he then backed away, leaving a trail of cum oozing from her slit.

  He freed her wrists, then they nuzzled together, not saying a word as they lazily drifted to sleep. An hour later, she had to pee, in the process of which the toilet seat banged down against the porcelain bowl with a sharp thunk. She winced, then tiptoed back to bed, snuggling back into Bo’s huge warmth. He was wide awake.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make so much noise.”

  “I’ll fall asleep again,” he said.

  She enjoyed his naked body next to hers, and the feral scent of his hot pheromones, and how when their bodies moved, the scent would rise up even stronger with its sour sweet perfume hanging like dust in the air.

  “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Bo…” she whispered vaguely, not even sure if he heard.

  “For about as long as you’re willing to put up with it, Lexa,” he came right back, having heard her clearly.

  “Right,” she groaned dryly, “as if I have any say in what Luke decides to do.”

  “It’s up to you to say when…”

  “Are you serious! He’s just going to stop because I say so? He’s going to forget the reason I’m here in the first place, put all that aside and let me go free…?”

  “Have you tried?”

  “I’d be a fool if I did.”

  “I can’t agree. You have power over the boy, yo
u always have. He’s just smitten, horny and confused.”

  She didn’t believe this; she didn’t want to. And now all the pretty feelings she’d been having in the aftermath of sex were gone. She resented how Bo could so easily assume that her fate was in her hands – as if she could break into the safe and destroy the incriminating evidence! The fact that Bo had brought her back to the winery in the first place still grated on her, even if he had no idea what Luke had planned to do with her. Her mind was once again filled with anxious thoughts, but with Bo’s warm body moving gently against hers and the affectionate, almost absent, way he stroked her heated flesh, her mind cleared of the troubled thoughts. Before she could roust up enough resentment to drive her from the bed, she was asleep, holding the gnarled fingers of his picking hand in hers.

  It was nearly 4 am.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Imagine finding you here.” Looking cross and strangely flustered, Luke stood over Bo’s bed looking down at Alexa. Her blue eyes widened in alarm. She was alone in bed, and understood how the scene would look to the boy.

  Before she could respond, she heard Bo enter the room in jeans and boots. He’d just shaved, and was toweling off. “I took you up on your offer and used the slut. Hope you don’t mind.”

  Luke turned, surprised to see Bo standing there. “No, no, not at all,” he said easily, although he sounded as if he’d forgotten having previously bestowed to Bo the ‘fucking’ rights to his slave. He was clearly bothered that she was in his foreman’s bed. “But if you’re finished.”