“I won’t hurt you if that’s what you’re asking. I would die for you. You are the only person who makes me feel. Even if you weren’t with me, at least I would feel something for you. I wouldn’t let you go so easily though. I would never just let you walk away. I would try a helluva lot harder than that pussy, Rick.”
“Taylor…” I scold.
“Just a fact. I won’t let you go. You have always been mine, you never belonged to Rick. Even he knew that.”
“Then I guess you’ve always been mine.”
“I never said I wasn’t. That’s also why I know you won’t betray me.”
“I don’t know what to say…”
“Shy, it’s okay to feel special. Most people are idiots, most people are assholes. Most people pretend to give a shit, pretend they have some code of ethics, and then they will stab you in the back and betray you as soon as you conflict with something or someone they deem more valuable. They may torture themselves with regret, as if that makes what they did better, because they feel badly about it. Regret is an excuse to do wrong. It’s an insurance policy. It’s like taking credit to pay for your actions later. It stops people from taking full ownership in the moment. I always snicker when the legal system gives leniency for remorse. As if that somehow mitigates the harm a person did. No, most times remorse is for cowards Shy, people who lack conviction in their decisions. You made a decision, have the balls to stand by it without apology. You did what you did because it felt good, because you wanted me, not Rick. He didn’t do what he needed to do when he had you. Fuck guilt. After seeing how pathetic he was on the staircase today, you should be celebrating that decision.
“With me, you know exactly who you are dealing with. When I do something, I mean it. Who is more frightening? The person with a smile, holding the knife behind their back? Or the person who tells you they have a knife and will use it without question to protect you and keep you?”
“That’s quite a view of the world you have there, Mr. Holden.”
“It is the world.”
Chapter 29
“You are simply going to love this place!” Jill proclaims as her ankles wobble in the damp earth leading up to the ranch that she recommended as a possible venue. Her pink wedge snowboots slowly sink deeper into the mud with each step. A warm front has come in, melting nearly all of the pristine snow and leaving a sopping mess for us to navigate. “It’ll snow again next week. In all my years as a planner, I have never had less than a gorgeous wedding here in February.”
“The exterior looks beautiful,” I say, speaking for Taylor and me. Oh he’s here, but I can tell he is completely uninterested in the details; this is all about what I want. “Isn’t it?” I give Taylor wide-eyes, begging him to participate.
“Yes, it all looks great.”
“You are both in luck. The wedding that was scheduled on your date was cancelled. The groom cheated on the bride with her brother.” Both Taylor and I look at each other from the corners of our eyes and try to hide our smiles. “Well, at least that’s what I heard, another planner told me. I would never disclose such private information about my clients. Anyway, their bad luck is your fortune!” she says, trying to cover up for her snafu. “So, what do you think?”
She gestures to the grand entrance of the luxurious log house, once the vacation home of a wealthy newspaper magnate, that his descendants now rent out for events. “The massive windows would make the perfect backdrop to your ceremony. Just look at the beautiful forest out there. Can you imagine the snow falling as you profess your love for one another?” She leads us into yet another grand room.
The house is meticulously crafted. The ceilings, supported by huge log rafters, are as tall as trees, and the spectacular entry hall is paved with carefully-cut stones sourced from a nearby river. Elsewhere, hardwood floors add rustic character, while leather furnishings with a gorgeous natural patina add a homey feel to the grandly-proportioned rooms. A fireplace roars in nearly every room, adding warmth to the isolated location in the woods.
“I’d like to roam the property alone with Shy, if that’s alright.”
“Of course!”
“Why don’t we meet out front in a half hour?
“Certainly…I have a few phone calls to make so that’s perfect.” She exits the grand hall.
“Did you just dismiss our planner?”
Taylor leans in. “It was either that, or shove ice picks into my ears. She talks a lot.”
“I know. I guess you need that type of energy to do this job. So what do you think?”
“Let’s walk around a bit and you tell me what you think,” Taylor says, heading towards the staircase.
“We could rent out the whole thing. I could get ready upstairs, and you at your dad’s…” I follow him up the staircase to a hall holding several guest rooms.
“Pick one,” he says.
“Taylor, she’s right downstairs…”
“Pick one.”
“Okay…that one.” I point to the room furthest down the hall.
“Come on, we’ve got to be quick.”
“I cannot believe you,” I say, as he pulls me down the hall and into the master suite.
“Shhhhh. I hate winter. So many layers,” he says, scanning my sweater dress and knit tights. He locks the bedroom door behind him, then pulls me into the master bath, pushing me forward onto the vanity. “You better not be wearing underwear underneath these things.”
“Never, Mr. Holden,” I purr.
He whips off my dress, so that I am naked except for stockings and ankle boots. “Mmmm…” he says, like he is about to devour a treat. “You are the best mid-afternoon snack.” I motion to pull off my tights, he grabs my hands. “No, keep them on,” he says firmly. He rubs his hand over my pussy, dampening the spot on my pantyhose.
“Fuck,” I whisper as he bites my neck softly, his warm breath caressing my collarbone. The cool fabric of his dress shirt tightens my nipples, the scent of his skin mixed with his soap and cologne heightens my arousal.
“Something about you keeping your stockings on makes you look like you’d do whatever I would ask.”
I nod, letting out a sigh. He picks me up and sits me on the vanity. “Rub yourself over your stockings.” He takes a few steps back against the wall, unzipping his pants and pulling out his rigid erection. His eyes narrow as he focuses on me; he bites his lower lip as he strokes himself. I follow his command, rubbing myself with one hand. “Lick your nipple,” he says. I grip one of my breasts, pushing it up as far as I can, meeting the peak the rest of the way with my tongue, giving myself the type of pleasure I thought only someone else could. He glances at his watch, then takes a few paces towards me, rubbing the tip of his cock over the wet spot on my tights. I throw my head back in anticipation.
He grabs my face savagely, and plants a passionate kiss on my lips, then runs his finger tips softly: past my collarbones, the soft skin of my breasts, my sensitive stomach, the waistband of my pantyhose, and then to the dampness in between my legs. He raises an eyebrow knowingly and then rips the crotch of the tights open. I gasp at the sound of threads ripping and wrap one of my hands around his neck, trying to pull him towards me, but he resists, keeping control of the encounter as he takes hold of his cock and slides the swollen head up and down along the warm, inviting entrance. His teeth chatter as he tenses up, resisting the urge to thrust in immediately. “You are going to come twice. First with my mouth, then with my cock.” He gives me a sinister look as he lowers himself, kissing my stomach on the way down, making me shiver, then running his plump lips along my inner thigh, biting the tender flesh softly here and there. I have gained back some weight over the past few weeks, and my curves have returned so that I feel svelte but feminine again. I can feel the difference when Taylor grabs a hunk of flesh when he takes me.
He pulls open my lips, running the tip of his tongue softly along the entrance, so softly the tiny sparks make me clench at the shower wall on one side, and palm the mirror behind me on the o
ther. He peppers my pussy and clit with soft, wet kisses. Even though he is patient, it’s the softness that builds to a much faster and violent crescendo. He gently tugs on my pussy lips, letting them bounce back to their place. Every part of my pussy receives his full attention, so that by the time he lays his mouth on my clit, his sucking, the sound of his mouth on me, filling the quiet air of the bathroom, makes it erupt with pleasure. I gyrate my hips onto his face as he squeezes the soft flesh of my hips with his strong, large hands. Gasps and moans erupt out of my throat, as every muscle in my body clenches and then releases with one large gasp of air. And yet, she wants more. She is still sensitive from Taylor’s skillful mouth, but my pussy wants her counterpart, Taylor’s thick, rock-hard dick inside of her.
“Come here,” Taylor says as he pulls me by the back of my knees to the edge of the vanity, effortlessly sliding into me as we both collectively gasp. “Uuuhhh…” he moans, as my soaking pussy wraps around his cock. I clench tightly around his girth, wanting to possess him as much as he possesses me. He pulls me up and away from the counter, finding his way on to the closed toilet seat, and sits on it. It is the perfect height for me to comfortably ride him. He takes my hands and crosses them behind my back, exposing my breasts helplessly as he bites and sucks like a hungry beast. I snake my hips over the fullness of his cock, throwing my head back as I surrender everything to his touch.
The wetness has spread to the inner thighs of my stockings, no longer contained to that single spot between my legs. “Fuck me. Let go,” he commands. “Fuck me like I am yours. Fuck me like you don’t care about me. Fuck me like you hate me.” My hips move faster, but it’s not enough. Taylor wants to pull something out of me from deep inside. “I said, fuck me like you want to hurt me,” he snarls. He grabs my face with his hand, still keeping my arms crossed behind me with the other. He slides his thumb in my mouth as he clenches my jaw and I suck and mouth on it, like another cock. “There you go, fuck me. Fuck me like a bad fucking bitch.”
I moan louder as every part of my insides touching him lights up and tightens. “What do you want from me?” I scowl, getting frustrated as he insists I get angrier.
“I want you to let go. I can tell you still hold back.”
“Not here,” I insist.
“Here,” he growls, biting my neck so hard, it awakens something in me. One of my arms free and I try to I don’t know what—slap him? Pull his hair? But he grabs it and pins it back again. He is asking me to do something I feel requires dominance, but he is holding me down physically. It’s bewildering and frustrating as fuck.
“What do you want?” I whisper angrily, realizing we are running out of time.
“I want to see that side of you. I know it’s there.”
“Dammit Taylor,” I hiss through my teeth, rocking back and forth on him violently. Swallowing for air as I reach closer and closer to climax. The man has used a gun as a sex toy on me, but it’s here, when we are supposed to be innocently looking for a wedding venue, that I feel more uncomfortable than I ever have. It’s like he’s trying to antagonize me or even worse, trying to corrupt me.
“Fuck you. Fuck you!” It’s not a sexy fuck you, it’s a frustrated one, an I am tried of playing your fucking games one.
“That’s all you’ve got, huh?” he snarls.
“What kind of sick fuck are you?” I say partly playing into his game, and partly serious.
“Who’s the one sitting on my cock?”
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” I say helplessly, stopping, melting from my powerful position on top of him and looking down.
“What?” he says, stunned at the sudden and sharp change in mood.
Then I look up, like a woman possessed. “You pussy. Are you really that easy to manipulate?” and I slide my hand out again and at grab his hair as hard as I can. I don’t know what I was thinking, but he wanted me rough, and so he got me rough.
His eyes flare, and my breath hitches as he grabs my hair by the roots and yanks it so hard I squeal in genuine fear. “Don’t start a battle you can’t fucking win. I am the dom. You are the sub.”
He brought me there just so he could break me again, remind me who’s who in the bedroom, that son of a bitch. He continues his firm grip on my hair, pulling so hard that my chin juts up towards the ceiling. He twists the arm still behind me painfully and I wince. But if he is a sick bastard, I am a sick bitch, because I love it. I love that he took back the dominance. I don’t want it. I am most comfortable when he is the leader, when he guides us. Gripping me by my hair and arm, now he guides me up and down as I ride him.
I come so hard, I forget where I am. “Shut the fuck up,” he whispers into my neck as I wail, but I know he loves that he makes me lose control. Though I have reached climax twice, he is still hard and unfulfilled. “Suck my cock,” he says as I get on my knees and take him to the back of my throat like a good little slutty fiancée would. “Swallow my cum. Every last fucking drop.” I suck his firmness as ferociously as he fucked me, and he clenches my hair at the roots as he lets out a deep moan and twitches, spilling his ejaculate inside me. His grip softens and he slides his hand away from my head, resting back against the toilet tank with his legs splayed open.
I stand up abruptly, feeling immensely sexually satisfied, but conflicted. I am sort of pissed at him for doing this here and now. Also, my stockings have a huge hole in the crotch and they’re soaking wet. I petulantly try to reassemble myself and I huff when I get a quick glance at myself in the mirror: smudged makeup, frayed hair, and all.
“What’s wrong?” he asks lazily in his post-sex haze.
“What’s wrong? Why did you do that?”
“You didn’t like it?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Taylor laughs to himself, clearly not taking me seriously.
“Why can’t we just be like a normal couple with a few humps and then done? Nooo…you have to make me scream with Effie Trinket floating somewhere in the house!”
“You don’t want normal.”
“Why did you do that? Make me angry? I could just…ugh!”
“Because I wanted to. I was in the mood.”
“You are crazy,” I say, sliding on my dress. “Look what you did! She is so gonna know what we were doing.”
Taylor lethargically stands up. “Come here.”
“No.”
He pulls me towards him anyway and kisses me. “I am sorry I chose this venue to get so intense. But I had to have you, in that way. Maybe you should apologize to me for always giving me spontaneous erections.” He wraps his arms around me from behind. “Take a deep breathe with me.” I close my eyes and we both inhale and exhale together. “If we could go back thirty minutes and do it over, would you have?”
“Yes,” I say begrudgingly.
“By the way, I have an idea. Remember the farm I took you to? Well, drove you to, where we fucked on the car hood?”
“How could I forget?” I reply, softly swaying side to side in his arms.
“There’s a farmhouse there. It’s quaint, pretty and inauspicious. It belongs to our family, it’s private. Why don’t we just do it there? It’s close to home, and probably less stressful for you to arrange things with Jill. Don’t get me wrong, this place is nice, but I think you’ll love the farmhouse. And I know you are taking doing lion’s share of the decision making with Jill while I pop my head in for the occasional venue visit. There’s a huge barn we could use for the reception. It’s all up to you of course, but I sense you are a bit overwhelmed and this could make it easier.”
“Oh, really?” I watch our reflections in the mirror, then let my eyes wander the bathroom. “This place is nice, but we tainted it with our sex. That has to be some sort of bad luck, fucking at your venue before the wedding. So we can’t do it here. At least we haven’t had sex in the farmhouse yet.”
“It’s up to you. Whatever you want,” Taylor assures me.
“Let’s do it there. That would make things way
less stressful. But you have to promise when we visit, Master Taylor, that you do not bid me to pleasure you there, or we’ll have jinxed that place too.”
“I promise. Anything not to have to spend another day with Jill Beauchamp,” he says.
Chapter 30
The flight to Montana to confront Lyla is tense, absolutely no surprise there. My stomach feels like a front load washer, I can only imagine what must be going through Taylor’s head. Of course, he remains quietly cool on the exterior, insisting he has work to do on his laptop. There was a time I might have pushed him to tell me what is on his mind, but I know now that he will when he’s ready. I am confident enough in our relationship to understand that now. He knows that if there is anyone who can try to understand what he’s going through, it’s me.
Luckily for me, the one thing that no longer needs to be on the forefront of my mind is the wedding. Most of the hard work is now in Jill’s hands. The colors have been selected, dress fitted, the small guest list finalized. Now she just has to tie up the loose ends in a pretty bow and make sure the farmhouse is spruced up in time.
My mother is on a separate flight and will meet us at the hotel. Taylor was kind enough to have Marsha arrange for all of her travel during our “real estate hunt.” This should be a happy reunion, and that still might be a possibility, but right now, I feel like I am part of an ambush. I wanted this. I want this. But, there is no expectation to latch onto, there is so little that is known, that it is hard to have any clear feeling about what to expect other than complete and utter anxiety. I wonder about what this will mean for our lives moving forward…is reconciliation possible? If so, how will Randall react to Lyla’s return into Taylor’s life? What about Nan? Will we all still have to live a lie? After all, she is presumed dead and is in hiding, which means she wants her identity secret. If her identity becomes public, that would not only open up a can of worms for her, but the entire Holden family.
My train of thought is interrupted by Taylor’s stressed voice.
unStrapped Page 25