by C. Hallman
I’m so confused. It takes me a minute to actually move. In the dark, I slowly ease down the bed and lie next to Ryder. We are not touching, but I can feel his body next to mine. He doesn’t tie me up again, and I don’t know if it’s on purpose or if he just forgot. My head hits the pillow, and a wave of exhaustion washes over me. If it wasn’t for my body trembling, I could probably go to sleep with ease.
Curling into myself, I try to relax as best as I can, so the shaking will stop, but I can’t get myself to that point. Not until Ryder moves next to me, draping an arm around my torso and pulling me into him.
For a moment, I think he must be asleep and mistaken me for someone else, but he whispers into my hair, “Go to sleep, little owl.” I know then that he is actually doing this consciously.
Despite the throbbing in my jaw, I end up relaxing. I close my eyes and take comfort in Ryder’s touch. With my mind and body equally tired, it only takes me a short while before sleep grabs hold of me and pulls me into darkness.
When I blink my eyes open the next morning, there is a crust sticking on my eyelashes and a distinct throbbing behind my eyes from crying. The throbbing is even worse than the soreness in my jaw from the punch Tucker gave me.
Besides the pain, I feel like something else is off, and I don’t think it’s the fact that I’m waking up in Ryder’s bed. I feel… different. It takes me some time to figure out what it is. I can breathe a little easier today. I’m a little less scared than I have been in a long time. I just feel like the weight on my shoulders has lessened a bit. It’s not gone by any means, but for the first time in a very long time, I feel better than I did the day before.
I notice quickly that Ryder is not in the bed with me, which makes me recall how I felt comfortable with him close last night. I almost laugh. I felt safe with Ryder. I crawled into his bed, letting him cuff me just so I could stay with him. Tucker must have knocked something loose in my head.
I try to push the feeling away, but deep down, I know that it’s true. I feel safe with Ryder. He didn’t give me away or take his friend’s side like I thought he would. He didn’t hurt me; the opposite, in fact. He took care of me, helped me undress and shower. He was gentle, his touch careful, nothing like I would expect from him.
Before last night, I was wondering if he would ever beat me. Now I know he won’t lay a hand on me, not like that anyway. I fought him, hit him, kicked him, even scratched up his face, and he still didn’t hit me back. He just held me down until I was calm.
Getting up from the bed, I wrap the sheet around my naked body. I have nothing to wear in his room, and I don’t want to walk out completely nude.
I find him in the kitchen, flipping an omelet. He glances over his shoulder when he hears me approach.
“Last night was a one-time deal. You sleep on the couch or on the floor. The only time I allow you in my bed is to fuck,” he growls, and I’m surprised by his bitter tone, even though I shouldn’t be.
I might feel different today, but my situation hasn’t changed. Whatever kindness he was willing to give me last night is as far as this goes. I should be thankful for that little slither of comfort he gave me. Instead, I’m disappointed that he won’t give me more.
“Okay,” I whisper before disappearing into the bathroom to put on some clothes. That’s when I realize my only clean shirt is ripped. Shit. I might be able to fix it, but I don’t want the reminder of what happened, so I toss it in the trash instead. Grabbing my dirty clothes, I walk out in leggings and a bra.
“Can I borrow a shirt until my laundry gets done?”
Ryder, who is now sitting at the kitchen table eating, cocks an eyebrow at me. He looks me over before giving me a small nod. “Just get one from my dresser.”
I don’t wait until he changes his mind. With my clothes in hand, I walk back to his room. Dropping my pile onto his dirty clothes in the laundry basket. I take my leggings, bra, and underwear off and throw them on there as well before grabbing a shirt from his dresser.
I pull the large, black cotton shirt over my head and pull it down my body. It feels nice and soft, fitting me more like a dress. I pick up the laundry basket and bring it to the washer to start a load.
Walking back into the living room, I find Ryder on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, doing something on his phone. Mojo is lying right below his legs, snoring quietly. Ryder doesn’t look at me when I walk past him into the kitchen, grabbing his plate he left on the table on the way. I clean up the mess he made in the kitchen before grabbing an apple for my breakfast.
After I’m done eating, I decide I need to ask him if I can leave today. I need to get to the library to apply for some programs, maybe even find a job. I sit down on the single recliner instead of next to him on the couch.
“I wanted to ask you if it’s okay for me to go to the library today?”
“No,” he says, without even looking up from his phone.
“It will only take me a few hours, and I can take the bus back and forth…”
“I said, no.” His raised voice has the air in my lungs stilling. “I told you, you are not leaving.”
Dread seeps into me at his words. He is not letting me go, I fought so hard to get free from Tommy, and now I realize all I did was trade one prison for another.
“Not until you’ve paid off your debt,” Ryder clarifies. “Then you can go wherever the fuck you want to.”
I let his words sink in. He is letting me go after he is done with me. At least that’s what he is saying now, but he admitted to lying to me before, so I don’t know if I can believe him.
“What do you want at the library anyway?”
“I wanted to use the computer there to fill out some applications.”
“You can do that when I’m done with you. For now, you are staying here. You got it?”
“Got it.”
“You know what? I changed my mind.” Ryder grins. I look at him, confused. “You can’t borrow my shirt. Take it off.”
“All my clothes are in the washer,” I say, knowing damn well that he is aware of that. All he does is give me a smug look as he shrugs his shoulders.
I stand and grab the hem of the shirt, pulling it up and off my body, leaving me standing completely naked in the middle of the living room. I’m already so used to Ryder seeing me naked that I don’t feel uncomfortable with him. However, my eyes flicker to the back door, hoping that it’s locked and that nobody will come in again, especially someone like Tucker.
“The doors are locked. It’s just us,” Ryder says, as if he was reading my mind.
I fold his shirt neatly and take it back to his dresser. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time. Watching every single move I make. Even across the room, I can hear his breathing getting more labored. Goosebumps pebble cross my arms and not because I’m cold. Quite the opposite, I feel like my skin is on fire. Knowing that Ryder wants me and that he is going to have me whenever he wants has my blood heating and my heart racing in my chest.
He doesn’t say anything, and I won’t initiate anything even though part of me wants to. I won’t be admitting it out loud in a million years, but part of me craves Ryder’s touch. He’s awakened something in me I didn’t even know existed.
I walk into the kitchen to dry and put away the dishes I washed earlier before wiping the counters off again, even though I’ve already done it twice.
“Hey, little owl, come here when you’re done cleaning,” Ryder calls for me. The low, seductive tone of his voice sends another wave of goosebumps across my skin.
I gulp, drop the wet rag in the sink, and dry my hands on a towel before walking into the living room area. With each step, the moisture between my thighs grows, and the heat inside my core rises. When I stop in front of where Ryder is sitting, my gaze immediately falls to the sizable tent in his shorts.
“See anything you like?” Ryder teases, and my face turns a shade darker.
Yes. I see something I like.
10
Ryder
Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips, and I feel a bead of pre-cum on the tip of my dick. This control I have over her is like a drug I can’t get enough of, a dangerous habit I can’t quit. I’m used to controlling people. Most fear me, and rightfully so. But I don’t think Penny is actually scared of me—no, there is another kind of control I have over her. More powerful, even. She wants me, she would never admit it, but I can tell she does. She likes my touch, maybe even needs it, definitely wants it. Her body craves me, and I crave the power that it gives me.
Dipping my thumb into my waistband, I pull down my shorts to free my throbbing length.
“Turn around and sit on my dick.”
Still completely naked, she turns, giving me a magnificent view of her perfectly shaped ass. Slowly she bends and sits on my lap, guiding herself onto my rock-hard erection. She is so wet that I slide inside of her with ease—her tight walls surrounding me like a silky-smooth glove tailored to me.
Grabbing her hips, I pull her down, filling her until the tip of my dick hits the end of her channel, and my balls slap against her skin. She gasps, and her hands fly back and land on my thighs to steady herself. For a moment, I just enjoy the feel of her, the way her tightness grabs my dick, and her small hands feel on my legs. She twists her head, craning her neck, and looking at me over her shoulder as if she is waiting for my instruction.
“Bounce up and down,” I order as I push her up an inch before pulling her back down, showing her how I want her to move. She moves hesitantly but tries to mimic the movement.
After a few tries, she falls into a steady rhythm, stroking my cock with her pussy. Placing my hands on her shoulders, I push her down, thrusting my dick even deeper inside. Her tiny nails dig into my thighs in response, and I relish the sting of pain that comes with it.
Her head falls back, and strands of her long brown hair tickle the skin on my stomach. She moans softly, and suddenly I have the urge to look at her face, see how much she is enjoying this.
“Turn around,” I say, pushing her away from me briefly.
She follows my command immediately, getting up to turn around and straddle me again, this time facing me. As soon as she is on my cock, I realize that this was a bad idea. With her face only inches from mine now, this feels too close. I need to stay detached. This is too intimate, and I don’t like it.
What I do like, however, is how she moves now, riding me like her life depends on it. It feels so fucking good; I don’t even care that she has her hands on my shoulders, touching me like we are lovers. Because what matters is her grinding her pussy down on my cock until the tingle in my spine tells me I’m about to come. I close my eyes and let my head fall back to the couch cushion, letting her do all the work.
With my eyes closed, I try to imagine her being someone else, maybe one of the club whores I used to fuck, but when I do, this doesn’t feel as good anymore. Only when I peek at her again and see her flushed face in front of me does the tingle in my balls return.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Somehow my hands have found their way to her thighs, holding her, making sure she can’t get away. To make matters even worse, I can feel her thighs quivering, her walls fluttering around my cock, and I know she is about to come.
Before I know it, she does just that, her slick pussy clamping down on me as moans of pleasure fall from her lips. She leans forward, burying her face in the crook of my neck while I wrap my arms around her torso and thrust up deep inside of her two more times before coming so hard I see stars.
I fill her up with my cum until it drips down my thighs. My balls feel empty, and the rest of me drained. She drapes her body across mine as we remain like this in a hug-like position.
Even though I know I should push her away, shove her off of me, tell her to get lost… I don’t, because this feels so fucking good. We stay like this for a while. She doesn’t stir, and I pretend to be uncaring, when in reality, I enjoy the way she clings onto me like this, wondering what the hell she is doing to me.
I let her put my shirt back on after. I have no idea why, but I like her wearing my shirt. Maybe it’s the way her small frame drowns in the fabric that is cut to fit me, or maybe it’s the fact that it feels like she belongs to me.
After she finishes with the laundry, she dresses in her own clothes again.
“Put your shoes on. We’re going somewhere,” I tell her without further explanation. To my surprise, she doesn’t question me, putting her shoes on like I asked. Only when we are in the truck, and I turn the ignition, does her curiosity get the best of her.
“Where are we going?” There is a slight tremor to her voice, and I know it scares her I’ll take her to the club or pawn her off on one of the guys.
“Don’t worry about it,” I snap back at her, watching her squirm in her seat.
Fuck. I’m an asshole.
“I will not sleep with anyone else,” she states, all matter of fact.
“I gathered that much from last night.” I point at the scratch across my face. “Question is, why not?” I ask, genuinely curious. “You didn’t fight when it came to fucking me.” She was reluctant, but she wasn’t this scared or unwilling.
“That was different,” she whispers.
“Was it?” After a long stretch of silence, I grow impatient and continue, “I’ll tell you what, you give me an answer I believe, and I won’t hand you off to anyone else in the club.”
Looking out the window, she wrings her fingers on her lap, probably trying to find the right words. “With you, it’s different… I-I don’t know, I…” she stumbles over her words and leans back in her seat. “I guess because I know you… and part of me knew you wouldn’t hurt me,” she mumbles the last part, but I heard her loud and clear in the truck’s small confines.
Before I can respond, she continues, “Also, if I just do it with you, it feels less like…”
“It feels less like you being a whore?” I see her wince out of the corner of my eye, and I actually feel a ping of regret saying it the way I did.
“You believe me?” she asks after a moment.
“Yeah, I won’t hand you off to my brothers at the club.” I see her shoulders sag, relaxing, and she sighs in relief.
A few minutes later, we pull up at the gynecologist I looked up earlier. Penny looks out of the window and reads the sign.
“Why are we here?”
“You’re going to get checked out and get the pill,” I tell her.
“I don’t have health insurance.”
“Yeah, I figured that much.” That’s why I have a wad of cash in my pocket.
“What do you mean, you can’t treat her? I’m paying cash,” I growl at the receptionist.
“It doesn’t matter how you pay the bill. We still need some kind of identification. Driver’s license, social security card, birth certificate, anything like that. We can’t just prescribe her the pill having nothing that proves she is who she says she is.”
“Well, this is bullshit,” I yell, slamming my fist on the counter. Not a head in the waiting area is unturned, and I know I’m making a bigger scene than necessary. Glancing down at Penny, I catch her enormous eyes glued to my face, looking at me apologetically.
“I could go get it,” she whispers, and I see the fear in her eyes when she says it. I’m sure her shit is at a place she’d rather not revisit, but not being able to take her to the doctor is not okay either. I wonder if the doc for the club can examine her and get her the pill, but then I imagine his meaty fingers between her legs and quickly shove that thought away.
“Fine, let’s go,” I say, nodding toward the exit.
Penny glances over to the receptionist and mouths sorry before we exit and head back to the truck.
“Where is all your shit?”
“At my ex-boyfriend’s house,” she says timidly. “He should be at work right now. I can get some more clothes while I’m there too.” I don’t miss the slight tremble in her voice. She is terrified of going back there
, probably rightfully so. Still, I let her tell me the address and drive her there. If he is at work anyway, she won’t have to deal with him… and neither will I.
11
Penny
We pull up to the house that holds most of my nightmares. It hasn’t changed at all. The front yard is unmowed and not cared for, the siding is dirty, and the windows are covered with tan curtains.
As I expected, the driveway is carless. Tommy is at work, leaving the house empty. Still, the thought of going inside is more frightening than I expected it to be. I thought I could do it, but now that I’m here, I doubt I’ll be able to make my feet work.
“Hurry and get your shit,” Ryder mumbles from the driver’s side before turning up the music and taking out his phone.
Taking a deep calming breath, I will myself to get out of the car, telling myself repeatedly I can do this. He is not here; I’m going to be okay. I’m just going in there to get my clothes, and then I’ll be out of here forever—no need to freak out.
“Let’s go. I don’t have all day,” Ryder orders, raising his voice over the loud music.
Gathering all my courage, I take one final breath before opening the door and getting out of the truck. I walk up to the front door and take out the hidden key from under the flowerpot sitting on the porch. With shaking hands, I slide the key in the lock and open the door.
The first thing I notice when I step inside is the familiar smell of cigarettes and alcohol. They say scents are the most likely to trigger a memory… and they are right.
My stomach turns, and my head swirls as suppressed thoughts and feelings all flood my mind. The memories of endless nights of pain, heartache, despair, and hopelessness all come crashing down on me. I close my eyes, trying to ground myself and concentrate on the task at hand. I just need to get my stuff and get out of here for good.
I briefly consider running back outside and begging Ryder to either buy me new clothes or come inside with me. The idea almost makes me laugh. Almost.