Restricted Release

by Sommer Marsden

  I opened the hutch and took the figurine out. Setting it on the table, I scanned the room. There over the mirror was a snapshot of Ireland. A place called the Cliffs of Moher. He hadn’t taken me on the trip because as he put it, “Only pretty people get to travel to exotic locations.”

  “How did you not see what he was doing to you?” My question to myself came out on a shaky breath.

  How had I not? How could any sane person let someone else treat them that way in the name of love? How broken was I that I let him break me more?

  My throat was unbearably tight and I blinked hard, pushing back tears that made me want to either cave in and give up entirely or rail and become violent. I grabbed the picture and tossed it by the badger. Then I lost it, racing through the house, gathering things as I went.

  A cardigan that I’d once loved. A deep-red color that made me feel cozy in winter. Until he told me that it was a good sweater for me because it covered my bulk. Next to it I threw an antique shaving kit he’d left behind. A belt. Several books, including one he’d bought me called Losing That Last Ten Pounds…Finally!

  The pile grew and grew and when I finally stopped to catch my breath and look outside it was snowing again. It had been quite a week for weather.

  I put it all in a big brown paper bag with handles. I was sure there was more but twice around the house had produced nothing else. I figured anything I’d missed I could get later.

  This was a purge. This was…victory.

  I rushed across my long backyard, through the hissing, gentle snow, to the fire pit I’d bought for him not long after we’d moved in. It was his technically but I considered it mine. I had chosen the inlaid tiles along the lip of the bowl. I was the one who usually built the fires in the pit. But I had also been the one who wanted to sit out in the dark night around the demonic orange-and-yellow flames and pretend. Pretend I did not belong to him.

  I put the bag down and built a small stack of logs brought out from the dry cubby under the porch. I stacked some kindling and lit a piece of newspaper with a kitchen match.

  When the fire caught I started adding items. I didn’t use the grate. The fire pit was fairly deep, allowing me to drop the sweater into the flames and watch them consume the cotton knit. Then a book. Every time the smoke billowed and roiled I backed up a step and watched it eat that bit of my past. It was like letting someone eat my heartbreak. Eat my pain.

  I dropped the picture of Ireland in and then another book. The shaving kit I fed to the fire one piece at a time. Knowing it wouldn’t consume the items but realizing I felt stronger with every item I dropped into the flames.

  This was symbolic. This was freedom.

  Finally, as my lips began to chap and my teeth began to chatter, I fed the paper bag to the pit and watched it curl and blacken as the flames consumed it. The fire warmed me until it burned down to a very low glow. Then I put the grate on and walked back to the house. I’d watch the pit to make sure that no live embers floated free but it stood in the very back of the property where no trees stretched overhead and nothing flammable sat too close.

  In the house I shook my hair out and stripped out of my sweatshirt. Slipping into a clean one, I walked the house slowly, feeling like it was more mine. Like he was gone now. Completely.

  The phone rang and without looking, I answered. “Yes?”

  “Feel better now?” Matt asked.

  “I do.”

  * * * * *

  She showed up just as I sent my final reports to three of my clients’ parents and schools. The doorbell rang and I turned my soup to low—a big warm pot of it sat on the stove in honor of the chill outside. I hurried through to the foyer.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Weren’t you supposed to be with Matt next?” I ask. I was confused but also excited to see Nadia. The sight of her always got my blood up. My reaction to her hadn’t escaped my notice.

  “I wanted to be here. And he’s more into me and you together than me and him. He’s a good boy, letting us girls have what we want.” She winked and pushed in past me. Her body brushed close to mine. Her nipples—hard from the chill—raked over mine, hard from seeing her.

  “Oh.”

  It was unnerving realizing that people who were not my longtime friends or my sister wanted to be around me. When they sought me out I felt confused. But somewhere in me I realized that was part of my damage.

  “Whatcha doing?” She unwound a long pink scarf from her trim neck and tossed it on my easy chair. The TV was murmuring softly just to give me noise. I hadn’t even been in here. I’d been in the kitchen working.

  I shrugged, watching her. She touched her boot toe to a seam in the hardwood floor, drew a pattern, swept her strong leg back and forth like a ballet dancer, waiting for me to answer her.

  “I was making soup.” I cleared my throat. “Then I was going to eat the soup…” I laughed. Mostly at myself. “And watch some TV. Probably fall asleep in front of some show about baking or ghosts or travel.”

  “The powers of cable TV.” She grinned, white teeth flashing, making me think of a wolf. It sent a quiver through my belly, made my toes tingle.

  “Exactly. Did you want some…” I pointed impotently. “Some soup?”

  There was a weird vibe coming off her. When she stepped toward me, my blood quickened.

  “A little birdie told me you were out burning some bad memories today.”

  I waited, licking my lips nervously. She came toward me again and my pussy took up a rapid-fire pulse, blood rushing wildly through my lower half.

  “Yeah. I was. I needed to…” I shrugged. “Clear out some bullshit juju.”

  She laughed softly, trailed a finger down the shallow V of my sweatshirt. Her fingers dipped between my breasts and I felt my face grow hotter. “Good for you.”

  “I guess.”

  When she leaned in to kiss me, the smell of her perfume, something spicy but floral too, filled my nose. It made me feel high and dizzy. “What’s that soup set on, chickie?”

  “Simmer.”

  “Are you feeling braver now that you burned some bad shit?”

  “Yes and no.” The breath in my lungs seemed so solidify as she took a step closer and pressed the length of her lush body to mine. We stood there frozen, eye-to-eye and belly-to-belly. The blazing heat of her seeped into my bones and I felt a rush of cold before feeling almost overheated.

  Her hands wound around my waist, pressing us closer together, which I’d thought impossible. She squeezed just a bit. “Do you want to trust someone?”

  “Yes,” I blurted before I even knew it was my answer.

  “Do you want to trust me maybe?”

  I nodded, chewing my lip until she kissed me to make me stop. Her tongue was bold against mine and when I slipped my tongue against hers, she sucked it roughly once, twice, three times. The tug in my pussy sounded through my pelvis and my belly.

  “Yes, I do. I want to trust…again.”

  “Good.”

  She surprised me by breaking our connection. I waited as she retrieved her scarf. “Why don’t you go turn that soup off and put a lid on it? Let it stay warm. I bet we’ll be hungry after.”

  I hurried in and turned the burner off, plopping a lid on the soup. My heart pounded. I had to suck in a great breath to try and calm down, but nothing would calm my nerves.

  “Did you run away?” Nadia called from the living room.

  “No.” My voice was barely a breath. I hurried past the window, seeing that lemon square of light from Matt’s house made me long to hear his voice. See his face. Have him tell me that I could do this.

  He’d already found a way into my heart and it scared me.

  She stood there in a white wife-beater and green boyshort-cut panties and striped socks. “I thought maybe you changed your mind.”

  I shook my head.

  “You okay?” Her hands feathered through my hair. She brushed my bangs back and leaned in to kiss me on the mouth. The intent brush
of her lips, light but firm, was enough to make excitement scurry under my skin.

  “Fine,” I said but it was a sigh more than anything. When she petted me that way, with sure hands and a kind touch, my body seemed to melt.

  “I thought maybe you would let me tie you up. Maybe touch you. Other stuff. If you can trust me. I know trusting people isn’t at the top of your to-do list lately.”

  I nodded once. I was a lot turned-on but also a lot fearful. My body had gone into defense mode. I was mildly numb and somewhat shell-shocked. I put my arms up easily when she asked me to raise them, my body puckering with goose bumps and my nipples seizing up to hard points when the chilly air hit my skin.

  “Such a pretty girl,” she said. Her lips delivered a searing kiss on one nipple and then the other. Nadia dropped butterfly kisses along my torso and stuck the tip of her tongue into my navel so I jumped.

  “Wait, aren’t we supposed to let him watch?” I realized when I said it that my pulse jacked up even higher when I said ‘he’. Referring to Matt.

  “Breaking the law…breaking the law…” she sang, dropping to her knees and popped my button. Her lips slid teasingly along the skin that had just been covered by my waistband.

  I tried to breathe like I wasn’t suffocating, but the feel of her mouth on me and her hands on me was making me weak.

  Nadia chuckled, popped my button and tugged my pants lower. My panties got dragged down in the process and when she pushed them down around my ankles and told me to step free I did it.

  She rocked back on her haunches and studied me. Not touching me or kissing me or anything. Simply looking. Her gaze felt tangible and I wanted so badly for her to put her hands on me so that I could think again. At the moment my brain had short-circuited and I was muzzy-headed.

  “Pretty, pretty…” She leaned in to kiss first one hipbone and then the other. She started back on the left and dragged her soft lips along the swatch of skin that ran from jutting bone to jutting bone. Her fingers reached for me, seeking, but then gently squeezed my outer nether lips once before moving away.

  My clit thrummed needy and neglected, a white-hot button of flesh.

  “Come now,” she said and rose. Taking my hand, she led me to my own easy chair. “Sit.”

  I sat, wondering briefly if I’d leave a wet spot on my pretty chair. I was that wet between the legs. I needed to worry about such things.

  Nadia ran the long pink scarf through her elegant hands. “I think you’ll look very pretty tied in pink. Are you nervous?” she asked, putting my arms on the stuffed armrests of the chair. I left them there without her telling me to. I knew she was positioning me to tie me with her scarf.

  Just the thought of her binding me had my skin prickling with anticipation. “Yes,” I answered.

  She gave me one sharp nod and said, “Fair enough. What word would you like to use?”

  “Word?” I felt utterly out of my element and a little jittery as we moved forward.

  “Safeword. Pick a word you will remember even if you panic. It should be easy and accessible to your memory.”

  My eyes roved the apartment and settled on a crow painting on my wall. Which made me think of the magnets on the fridge. And my sweatshirt painted with black crows. Easy.

  “Crow.”

  She smiled. “Good choice. And a visual reminder,” she said, pointing to the painting.

  “Exactly.”

  The scarf was soft and fluffy but narrow. Nadia circled one end around my wrist and tied it in on itself. “How did it feel to burn that stuff?” she asked softly, sliding the scarf beneath my chair. She walked around to the other side on her knees, smiling at me when I laughed at how silly she looked.

  “It felt good. I felt good. But it was scary too. As if hiding behind what I became after Richard isn’t going to be enough anymore.”

  She nodded once, dark, dark hair sliding in her eyes before she brushed it away. “Maybe that’s what you’re ready for.”

  No judgment or prompting or pressure, just a statement.

  “Maybe.” My voice died down to nothing as she looped the other side of the scarf up around my arm. I wasn’t bound to the chair arms. Just tethered, from beneath my seat, each wrist confined in cotton-candy-pink knit.

  “Maybe you’re ready to be strong.”

  I shrugged again, feeling the soft bite of the scarf against my skin.

  She pushed between my legs, her hips banging my inner thighs, her fingers skating along the skin near my hips. I jumped from the gentle touch and she laughed, bending her elegant neck to suck my nipple into her mouth. The tiny knot of flesh had gone hard, and puckered when she stroked my upper thighs.

  My sex was wet and swollen, clenching hopefully around nothing but my anticipation that she would get me off soon. When she stood, I caught the scent of her. Flowers and spices and aroused woman. The smell of her juices reminded me of the taste of her. The feel of her wet offerings on my lips.

  She barely moved toward me when I craned my neck to try and get to her. She put one dainty knee up on the right chair arm and then balanced herself by putting her other knee on the opposite arm. This brought her sex to face level and I allowed myself a great inhalation of her before pushing my face between her legs to gather her moisture with my tongue.

  I gasped when my tongue slipped between her folds as if I were the one being pleasured. Finding the pebble of her clit with my lips, I sucked her fast and hard and Nadia growled.

  I made sure my mouth was not too hard but not soft either. I tried to keep her right on edge. The way she seemed to work me. The way Matt had worked me before. Nadia thrust her hips toward me and let me fully seat my mouth against her nether pout. I sucked her gently at first, drawing on her there until she made a frustrated noise and then I drew on her harder.

  “God yes,” she said. Her fingers found my hair and she shocked me into gasping again when she pulled hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.

  When I pushed my rigid tongue into her slick pussy, she came. I felt the tiny bits of her spasms around the tip of my tongue, but she was moving too much for me to feel more.

  “Christ, I’m going to fall,” she said and her knees slipped down from the arms to land on either side of my thighs. She leaned over, her warm breasts grazing my lips before brushing my chest. When she kissed me she licked the evidence of herself off my mouth.

  My pussy clenched again. Wanting her. Wanting Matt. Wanting something.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I don’t know what I expected, but she walked away from me and found her bag. When she came back, she held a small blue-and-brown box. I recognized it by its polka-dotted ribbon. Claudette’s Bakery. Just a few blocks away but I’d never gone. I was too fat and too unseemly and too all the things that Richard had always told me I was to visit Claudette’s.

  Once a client had sent me a box from Claudette’s because I’d turned her son’s grades around and helped him pass on to his final year of high school. I’d taken the time to smell and admire and even touch the cupcakes. They were as beautiful as they were tasty, so I’d heard. The scent of them, sugar and butter and good spices, had filled my head.

  Then I’d dumped a bottle of hot sauce on them, flipped them over and covered them with salt before throwing them away. Ensuring I would not crack and seek them out to eat them later.

  That little box she held was the emotional equivalent of a hand grenade, but it also inspired shame. Shame that I hated myself so fucking much. Or had hated myself. I was working on it.

  She came toward me, naked, untying the tiny dotted ribbon. “Do you know what tastes good as an orgasm-chaser?”

  I said nothing.

  “A lemon raspberry cupcake from Claudette’s.”

  The ribbon hit the floor and she peeled back the box lid. When she lifted the cupcake up and out of the box, a swarm of emotions came over me. Ridiculous really for such a small confection.

  I felt fear instantly. Self-loathing. Hunger. Lust. Rage. I twiste
d a little in my seat, accidentally pulling the scarf so it was taut. But where did I plan to go? Was I going to run from a cupcake? Or my new lover? What was wrong with me?

  So much was wrong and yet, part of me felt nothing was wrong. I was a broken human trying to heal. I was trying. That was the point, right?

  And then Nadia was straddling me again. Filling my head with the scent of her body and that luscious sugary treat. She pouted out her lips and kissed the frosting, drawing back with pale-pink whipped sugar clinging to her mouth. She kissed me and the sugary smack of the cream hit my tongue. Blending with the salty-sweet musk of her pussy, it made me feel lightheaded.

  She licked some more and kissed me again, using her tongue this time. “Good, right?”

  I could only hum against her mouth as she kissed me some more. Her bare nether lips pressed to my mound as she relaxed against me. Her inner thighs brushing and squeezing my outer thighs. Her breasts poking playfully and sensually at mine. She was smooth and warm everywhere and I felt like I was spinning or falling as she licked my lower lip. Then she tore off a bite of cupcake.

  “Open your mouth.”

  I admit it. My first feeling was fear. My second self-hatred that I—fat pig that I was—was even considering eating something as decadent as a cupcake. My third was that if Matt and Nadia could want me, see goodness in me, appreciate me for my inside beauty and outside beauty…how fucked-up was I that I couldn’t even try to do the same?

  I parted my lips and she grinned. “Good girl.” Nadia skated the icing-coated bit of cake along my lips, painting me. When the heady summer flavor of the cake hit me, she popped it in my mouth and I chewed.

  She squirmed on my lap, drenching my skin with her juices and the wetness of my saliva still between her thighs. My heartbeat pounded restlessly in my breast and my cunt. My fingers curled against the padded arms of my chair.

  Nadia tore off another piece and pushed it past my lips. I chewed. Swallowed.

  “Good girl,” she whispered again, snaking down my body. Her lips, hot and bold against my skin, kissed between my breasts, making my nipples ache for her mouth. When her knees hit the floor and she was wedged between my legs she set the half-eaten cupcake on my smooth, shaved mound. “Here. Hold this.”