Secrets In Our Scars

by Rebecca Trogner

  He’s tense against me and I know I’m asking him to go against his nature with me. “Please,” I add.

  He doesn’t say yes or no, lifts me up and carries me back inside the house and places me on the dining room table. The pedestals are thick as hundred-year-old tree trunks, the top a thick live-edge plank. Roy could probably dance on it, and it wouldn’t move.

  “Stay there,” he orders. He pulls out a chair and sits with his legs wide. “Take the dress off.”

  I’m naked underneath, and the chandelier above is blazing bright. This is what I wanted, I tell myself.

  “Don’t think,” he says.

  He’s so deep into my head; he probably knows my thoughts before I do. I pull the dress over my head. He grunts when my breasts bounce free.

  “Those fucking tits.” His eyes are glued on them. “Get on all fours, ass toward me.”

  I love his tone. I love the way he’s ordering me about. I love his eyes like lasers staring at me. A part of me thinks this is so fucking wrong, but I don’t have to worry because I’ve given him control.

  “Knees wide apart.”

  I had eight years of dance class. I’m as flexible as a sapling and hear him groan as I slide a few inches shy of the splits.

  His chair scrapes against the tile floor.

  I jump when his hand presses my shoulder flat against the table. “Are you listening to me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Say no if there is anything you don’t like.”

  I smile. “I promise.”

  His fingers wrap around my neck. “I think you can do better.” He pushes my ass the last few inches until I’m flat against the table. “Perfect height.” In one quick stroke, he thrusts inside me. “Only mine.” He thrusts again. “I want to hear you say it.”

  “I’m yours,” I repeat and struggle to keep from whimpering. He’s giving me no quarter. I’m too open to him, and there’s a little pain each time he slams into the back of me. Along with a lot of pleasure, and it makes my mind jack-saw between right and wrong and how fucked up I must be to like this until he pulls out and slaps my ass, hard.

  “I told you to get out of your head.” He slaps me again, harder. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No,” I whimper. “Please no.”

  His fingers are hard, gripping my inner thighs as he lifts me up and slams his cock into me. It’s brutal. It’s stripping me to my most fundamental components.

  “You’re going to come like a train for me.”

  I have no idea what he means, and I don’t care as long as he keeps doing this. It’s animalistic and base and I’m not Daisy anymore. I’m a toy wrapped around his cock to do with as he wants. I’m already sore. My muscles are screaming at being stretched past the splits. My thoughts have lost any semblance of coherence.

  He’s changed the angle of his thrusts and going impossibly deeper. I scream. I’m not sure why. Everything is mixed up. Is it pain? Is it pleasure? I’m sure he must be tearing me up inside, remaking me to fit him, and I relish it, want it, need it. I’m shaking uncontrollably, but there is no relief from his cock as it slides into me. Is that him I hear? No, it’s me. Grunting and groaning like an animal in the throes of labor. And there’s nothing but my pussy contracting and gripping and sucking so hard on his cock my stomach muscles are on fire. And I am screaming like a train, screaming his name and pounding my hands on the table until it passes and I’m limp and used.

  He rolls me over on my back and looms over me. “You’re going to clean off the pussy juice.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, but moves me around until my head is hanging off the edge and slides his cock into my mouth. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

  I’m defenseless as he slides it deep down my throat.

  “So fucking good.” His fingers find my hard nipples and pinch.

  I groan around him. This is what I want. This is what I need.

  “I told you I’d take care of you.” His fingers continue their work.

  I can’t swallow, can’t suck. Spit slides off my lips. I’m mortified. I’m serving at the feet of a god.

  “Baby.” He slides out of my mouth and sits me up. “Look at you. So beautiful.” He cups my face and slides his tongue between my swollen lips. Taking his time, exploring my mouth, letting my tongue dance with him, until pulling out and sucking hard on my sore lip. “Have you had enough?”

  My muddled brain isn’t sure whether to shake my head or nod. I know I can’t speak.

  “More?”

  This is an easy question. “So much more.”

  “So greedy.” He cups my ass and moves me closer to him. “I’ve had your pussy.” He runs his thumb over my lower lip. “This mouth of yours.” He blinks and runs his thumb over my nipple. “Should I take your ass?”

  My lips form a perfect O. I clench my ass cheeks. Of course he catches the movement and gives me a slow, sexy smile.

  “I’m waiting.”

  I’m freaked the fuck out about it, but I want it.

  “Hmmm. Not good enough. You’ll need to use your words for this one. Do I have your permission to shove my cock into that fine little ass of yours?”

  He’s taking dirty talk to a whole new level. I begged him to take every scrap of innocence from me tonight. Before I can change my mind, I say, “Yes, please.”

  His cock lifts and bounces on its own. “You sure? Your pussy is going to be sore tomorrow.”

  “That’s what I want.” I love the soreness.

  He scoops me up and carries me into the bedroom, carefully placing me on the bed before opening the doors all the way until the room is flooded with the rustles of the banana tree leaves and the distant surf and the calls of wild birds. Thankfully, he dims the lights enough to cast the room in a soft glow. I curl up against the soft sheets and press my head into the pillow. I’m relaxed. I’m excited. I’m all things at once. I close my eyes and listen as he moves about the room. He runs water in the sink. A drawer opens and closes. Something is placed on the nightstand.

  “I’ll be back in a moment,” he purrs and kisses my neck.

  I think I drift off for a moment. I wake with his hands sliding up my leg.

  “Baby, you need to take these.”

  My eyelids are heavy.

  “It’s your pills,” he explains and smiles. “Don’t want to forget.”

  I smile too enjoying the intimacy of the moment.

  “Why don’t I tuck you in for the night?”

  “No, you promised.”

  He takes the glass away and sets it on the table. “And I’m a man of my word.” His face gets serious. “You promise to tell me to stop if you don’t like this.”

  I bite my lip. “I promise.”

  “I didn’t take it easy on you.”

  I lean in and circle his nipple with my tongue, bite it hard before pulling away, and repeat. “Nothing left you haven’t touched.”

  He groans and kisses me deep and hard. “Lie on your back, legs wide.”

  I don’t hesitate.

  He reaches over to the table and picks something up. It’s the size of a tube of lipstick. “This is going inside your pussy. It vibrates.” He doesn’t wait for a reply before sliding it inside me. Almost immediately it begins to buzz and vibrate. “Like?”

  I do.

  “On your side.” He tucks in behind me and places his leg between mine and lifts one of mine up and over his thigh. He shifts, and I hear the squeeze of a bottle. I’ve heard this before. It’s the lubricant. “It’s going to be cold,” he warns before slathering it over my backside. His arm slides under my head. His hand grabs my breast. I’m imprisoned by him. “I had no idea,” he whispers.

  I don’t have long to mull over what he means.

  His pelvis pulls back, and his cock slides straight into my ass. It’s sexy and dirty all at the same time. In small, precise movements, he rocks forward and back, barely opening me.

  My nipple is on fire between his fingers. My pussy is dripping. My ass is s
weet and sore, and I want him to fill me up.

  “You’re all mine now.” He goes deeper.

  I scream, not out of pain but shock. I’m stretched to the breaking point. He retreats. He slides in again, a little farther. It goes on like this until I’m moaning and saying his name like it’s a mantra. This is divine, heaven and hell.

  He leaves my nipple, and I cry out. “Baby,” he whispers. His fingers work my clitoris. The vibrator speed increases, and my hips piston on his cock. It hurts, and I want it to. I drive him deeper, and he responds until he’s fucking me with his cock, working me with his fingers, my pussy contracting.

  “Fuck!” He bites my shoulder. “I can’t hold out much longer.”

  He doesn’t need to because I’m lost in my orgasm and have no thoughts, only the pounding of my blood racing through my body until I dissolve into nothingness.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Baby Girl, I swear you’re glowing.” Vincent leans against the Mangler counter and bats his eyelashes at me. “He’s giving it to you right and proper, isn’t he?”

  Oh, he is, but I’m not telling Vincent. “I see what all the fuss is about now.”

  It’s been three blissful weeks since Roy and I returned from St. John. I had no idea I could be this happy.

  “Saw your aunts at Safeway, telling the cashier about how you’re engaged and how Roy talked with them first.”

  He insisted on asking their permission upon arriving back home. I have no idea what he would have done if they’d said no. Of course, they didn’t. Now they won’t stop bugging me about the wedding.

  “Have you decided?”

  With a heavy sigh, I drop my pencil and forget about getting anything done while he’s here. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s a great opportunity.” He grabs my pencil and taps it against the counter. “They want you for test shots. It won’t take much time.”

  The Civil War picture Vincent and I had a part in has been put on hold. I thought it wouldn’t be released, what with Jason’s death and all. The public can’t get enough about Jason’s darkness and the sex and drugs that led to his death. Roy says the movie will be released early next year and the studio expects to make a fortune, it being his last picture.

  Anyway, the casting director was impressed with my look. Roy’s assistant sent over a contract for a photo shoot for cosmetics I’ve never heard of, which isn’t surprising given I hardly wear any. Everyone but Roy thinks I should do it.

  “Roy doesn’t want me to.” I sound like I’m a child who needs parental approval. “The photographer is insistent it has to be the specified date. Roy has an important meeting.” I shrug.

  “Spoke to Mum. She’s heard of the cosmetics. High-end. You’ll get a lot of exposure from the ads.”

  “Only test shots, remember, and I don’t care about exposure.”

  Vincent’s usual jovial manner dissolves into something serious. “I know, love. Isn’t it always the way? It’s fate how some people fall into things.”

  I’m such a shit. Vincent would love to be discovered and fawned over and make a name for himself in his own right.

  “Think of what you could do with the money,” he urges. “Not that you need it.” He gives my engagement ring a look.

  I’d like to have some renovations done on Mae and Stella’s house. Widening the doorways and adding a ramp to the back door. Aunt Mae has seemed fragile lately and is using a cane. Perhaps increase the footprint of the house for a bedroom on the first floor. And I don’t want Roy paying for it. I want to do it myself.

  “You could stay in our apartment. We could even fly together.”

  Of course, Vincent’s family has a penthouse apartment overlooking Central Park. I watch a few tourists walk by the storefront. They’re thick this time of year, with the leaves turning and the city people driving out to Skyline. “I don’t know anything about modeling.”

  He snorts. “Have you seen what passes for a model these days? It’s all celebrity kids. You do what the photographer tells you.” He poses, looks pensive, and places his hands on his hips, smiling. “Truly, it’s not rocket science.”

  “Proctor would go with me.”

  “Not Gavin?”

  “No, he’ll be with Roy.” I’m worried about what’s going on with Roy and this meeting. A few times I’ve heard him on the phone, arguing.

  “I’ve meant to ask you something.”

  I know that tone. I give him a look. Seeing Vincent tongue-tied is a rare occurrence.

  “Do you know which way Gavin swings?”

  I bite my cheek to keep from laughing. “He’d break you in half.”

  “Love.” He walks around the counter to stand beside me. “Put me back together before you bury me.”

  “Vincent. Don’t even joke about such things.” I match his body language; we’re like two bookends with hips against the counter, facing each other. “I assume he likes girls. I don’t know. Have you asked?”

  The bell above the door rings. We’re caught like gossiping teenagers as Roy walks in.

  I give Vincent a poke with my elbow. “Ask him,” I say, meaning Roy, under my breath.

  He evades me and walks over to Roy. “Doesn’t she look positively radiant? I swear she’s glowing.”

  I am now, bright red.

  “I have noticed.” Roy gives Vincent a nod and comes around to kiss me.

  “Whoa.” Vincent’s fanning himself with his hand. “Are you going to Stoke Castle?”

  “We are.” Roy gives me a quick look. “A business function.”

  “You’ve been there before?” Vincent is all questions.

  “A few times.”

  “Well.” Vincent gives me a quick peck on the cheek. “I expect a full report tomorrow.” And marches out the door like he’s suddenly remembered an important meeting he’s late for.

  “What was that about?” Roy wraps his arms around me.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  He searches my face. “We need to get you home and ready. We’re to be there at six o’clock sharp.”

  I lock up and follow him out to the waiting Suburban.

  “Do you know what he means to tell us?”

  “I assume it’s about my inquiries regarding Elizabetta.”

  “We could ask Mr. Stanwyck; wouldn’t that be better?”

  He gives me a hard look. “No, it would not. You’ve promised to stay away from him.”

  “Not really. I mean, I wasn’t thinking straight when I promised.” Roy had been nibbling on my neck and doing magical things with his fingers.

  “All’s fair in love and war.”

  “Doesn’t matter, Aunt Mae says he and Bobby have gone to their house in the Hamptons.” Unbeknownst to Roy, I went over to Willoughby and walked right up and knocked on the front door, intent on confronting Mr. Stanwyck. Only to be told they were on an extended trip. “Doesn’t it seem strange how long they’ve been gone?” We’ve reached Roy’s estate. The fence is up. The landscaping planted. Maybe in five years or so it will blend better. Right now, it looks out of place given the stacked stone and plank rails of the other estates.

  The initial renovations are done. The kitchen needs more work, and the pool won’t be started until the spring. I was worried he’d strip the home of its charm, but I shouldn’t have. Everything has been restored until it looks almost new, with enough imperfections to give it character.

  “Have you eaten?”

  “Turkey club.” I only ate half and I felt queasy afterward.

  He snorts and follows behind me with his hand where I like it, at the nape of my neck. “Are you sure you want to do this? Proctor is convinced you’ll receive no more gifts. Does it matter how you came to be here?”

  We’ve had this discussion numerous times. “I need to know.”

  “Alright.” That’s all he says, but I know he doesn’t like it. “I trust Mr. Barnes. I’ve heard the stories about Stoke Castle, but it’s not true. He’s eccent
ric. The people there are…”

  I turn to face him at the landing. “What?”

  “Different. A bit off. Can’t put my finger on it. I’ve made it worse, haven’t I?” Roy lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his hips. “Mr. Barnes is a gentleman. Trust me—he wouldn’t have invited us unless for a reason.”

  I rest my head on his shoulder, inhaling his scent. “I want to know, and I don’t.”

  His kiss is light. “Now, we need to get dressed.”

  I don’t want to get dressed. I most definitely want to get undressed. “I have something I want to try tonight when we get home.”

  He kisses my neck. “You make me weak.”

  I reply, “You make me happy.” I love how he needs me physically. “Do we have time?”

  “Make time,” he grunts out, and carries me into the bathroom and sets me on the counter.

  I lean back against the mirror and look across at the matching one on the opposite wall. I see myself and the back of Roy, while he does the same in the mirror, he’s facing. We haven’t had sex this way before, and my adrenaline spikes in anticipation.

  “Take off your shirt,” he orders.

  I do.

  “Your bra.” And grunts when my breasts are free. “Those fucking tits of yours. Can’t get them out of my head.”

  If I wasn’t wet before, I am now.

  “I want to cum on them.” His look is questioning and a little sheepish. He hasn’t asked this of me before.

  “Why?” I taunt.

  He drops his hands on either side of my thighs, boxing me in. “Because they’re mine.”

  “Yes, baby.” I cup his face in my hands and guide his lips to my nipple. “All yours.”

  He’s rough and sweet and hard and tender, and I love all of it. “Ouch!” I pull back.

  “Baby?”

  “They’re sore today.”

  He looks them over and lifts them with his hands like he’s weighing produce. “They do seem bigger.”

  “Probably because you never give them a moment’s peace,” I smirk. “Are we going to do this or not? I’ve got to get dressed.”