by Erin Noelle
Leaning over, with his chest pressed to my back, he said in low, spine-chilling voice, “Anytime you fuck up, Princesa, someone will pay the price, and I will make you watch as I administer the punishment. You need to see the consequences of your actions, so don’t fuck up again if you don’t want any more blood on your conscience.”
He then fiercely fucked me until he came deep inside my asshole. He pulled out, not saying another word, then showered and left. I cried until I couldn’t see, and passed out with exhaustion.
That was the only time I ever tried to run away, but sadly, not the only bloodstains on my hands. It was only the beginning.
Early Monday morning, I wake up to bloody sheets—not that I’m surprised after the nightmare I just had. Sighing miserably, I crawl out of bed and strip the linens. After I put them in the wash, I stagger into the bathroom to assess the damage. Thankfully, I’ve only reopened the already-existing slashes, not made any new ones that I can tell. Grabbing a washrag and the bottle of alcohol, I go to work on my abdomen, much like Madden had done a couple of nights ago. The thought of Madden kneeling down taking care of me makes me smile, despite the reason for the memory. I’m not sure I’ll ever escape the terrors that haunt me as I sleep, or the self-mutilation that accompanies them, but having him there to care for me in the aftermath was surprisingly soothing and sedating, aside from the initial shame of him finding me in such a state.
After I’ve cleaned myself up as much as I can, I get dressed and head to work, knowing I won’t hear from him today. And I’m disappointed.
AS EXPECTED, JAE IS WAITING for me bright and early at the office, eager to hear about the charity event from Friday night. I’m sure she’s also going to bitch me out about not answering any of her texts over the weekend, but I wasn’t quite sure what to say.
She looks up from her coffee as I walk through the door. “Well, it’s about damn time, woman. Why didn’t you reply to my messages? I was beginning to get worried that he kidnapped you and kept you as his sex slave,” she says half-teasing.
“Sorry, Jae, I didn’t mean to make you worry,” I reply as I walk towards our workstation. “The event went fine, though we really didn’t talk about the video game project much to anyone. I did meet Easton, however, and he seemed very friendly.”
“That’s good! So tell me what I really want to know; I could give two shits if you talked about the damn project to anyone or met the dumbass brother.”
“I didn’t sleep with him—sorry to disappoint you—but he did kiss me goodnight.” There. That was the truth, minus a ton of other shit that wasn’t any of her or anyone else’s business.
Acting as if she’s going to bang her head on the glass surface, she groans melodramatically. “Seriously. I don’t understand you; I’d have jumped his sexy bones that first night. You’ve got the willpower of a nun! Are you holding out for marriage or something?”
One thing I can never accuse Jae of is not speaking her mind. Even before my relationship with Ish—where it didn’t take me long to learn I wasn’t allowed to have an opinion of my own—I never openly expressed my thoughts, always afraid of offending other people.
“No, marriage isn’t a part of my future,” I seethe, “and I don’t plan on being celibate for the rest of my life either, so those two things are completely unrelated in my mind. I’m just not the type to jump into bed with someone I don’t know.”
Having put away my purse, I plop down in the chair next to her and give her a can-we-please-not-talk-about-this-anymore look. She understands the look and wraps her arm around my shoulders, squeezing me briefly in a sympathetic embrace. “Sorry I’m so nosy. I like you, Blake, and just want to see you happy.”
Grateful for her thoughtfulness and concern, I smile brightly at her. “I know, and I do appreciate it. In the couple of weeks I’ve worked here, I’ve been happier than I’ve been in years, and you’re a huge reason for that. It’s gonna take me some time, but I’ll get there—slow and steady.” The last three words come out in a hushed whisper, speaking more to myself than her.
“Awesome. Now are you ready to learn more than you ever wanted to know about corner kicks, hat tricks, and being red-carded?”
Powering up my computer, I relax a bit, thankful the conversation is over and hopeful she’ll let the topic rest a while. “Absolutely.”
For the rest of the day, we immerse ourselves in our work, only breaking temporarily for lunch and a late afternoon coffee run. Several times, I catch myself thinking about Madden, wanting to check my phone to see if he’s messaged, but I don’t. He said a week, so I don’t expect to hear from him until the weekend; there’s no sense in getting discouraged by him doing exactly what he said he was going to do. Plus, I still don’t know what I’m going to tell him. I have so many questions as to exactly what it is he wants from me.
We finally wrap up the day’s work around eight-thirty, and by the time I arrive home, I’m drained. After forcing myself to eat a bowl of soup and a small side salad, I shower and fall into my bed. The next morning—not remembering what I dreamt, if anything—I wake up with no new bite marks, scratches, or other wounds, and I feel rested. I actually beat Jae to the office, which is a first, and I eagerly get started with work, picking up where we left off the evening before. Surprised to see me already there when she walks in, she greets me with a cheerful “good morning”, and joins me in front of the jumbo monitor.
Tuesday and Wednesday’s schedules mirror that of Monday—at the office until late in the evening, followed by a fast dinner and collapsing into bed. Despite the tremendous progress Jae and I are making on the graphics of the soccer game and three nights in a row without a nightmare, I feel off, like something is missing. There’s no way the nagging voice in the back of my head that echoes the name Madden can be right; after all, I can’t miss something I’ve never had, right?
A little after six on Thursday, I’m staring blankly at the computer screen; after four days straight of scrutinizing the same graphics hours on end, they’re all beginning to blur together. Suddenly, the display goes black, and I whip around to see what happened. Jae is standing behind me with her purse on her shoulder and grin on her face.
“Come on, that’s enough. Let’s go eat dinner,” she announces.
“Sounds good.” I don’t bother arguing with her; it wouldn’t do any good anyway. Standing up, I stretch my legs and fetch my purse, then follow her out the door.
Trailing her in my car, we make the quick trip to Tony’s—the same place we went a couple of weeks prior—which puts my mind a little more at ease since I know what to expect there. Instead of sitting at the bar this time, we grab a table towards the back, and I make sure to select the chair giving me a panoramic view of the entire restaurant. A server greets us promptly, takes our order, and then disappears to get our ciders.
Jae and I make casual small talk about some current events. Over the substantial number of hours we’ve spent together during the last several weeks, I’ve learned pretty much everything there is to know about her life—all thirty-one years of it. The one thing I can’t figure out is why she’s not dating anyone seriously or ever had a long-term relationship. She’s talked about guys she’s been involved with on-and-off, but I’ve never gotten the feeling she’s ever really settled down with anyone. Because I don’t like to be asked intrusive questions about my life, I don’t ask her either, figuring she’ll tell me what she wants me to know.
Our dinner arrives shortly after our drinks, and I’m thoroughly enjoying the first big, greasy cheeseburger I’ve had in months, when I hear a deep voice say, “Blake? Jae?”
Both of our eyes snap up to find Greg standing in front of our table, smiling widely. After a round of hellos and how are yous, he invites us over to his table of friends again once we finish our meals. Not wanting to be rude, we join them for a drink and a few laughs before heading out. Like before, Greg stands up as we get ready to leave, but instead of scaring the shit out of me with an unexpected
hug, he nervously jams his hands in his pockets.
“Mind if I walk you ladies outside?” he asks tentatively.
I look at Jae a bit confused, and then back at him. “Umm…okay,” I reply with a shrug.
The three of us walk out into the early summer evening towards the parking lot. Reaching Jae’s car first, she gives me a hug and says goodnight, and then it’s just him and me making our way to my vehicle a couple of rows back. Awkwardness looms between us as I approach my Jetta, and I turn to him to say goodnight, trying to get away as rapidly as possible. Greg seems like a nice enough guy, and he’s cute-ish, but I’m definitely not interested in pursuing any type of anything with him.
“Blake, I’d really like to see you again sometime, like for dinner…not at Tony’s,” he says with a chuckle.
Staring helplessly down at the cement, I stammer around my words. “I, uh—I’m not really uh…I’m not really ready to date right now. My life’s really complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be a date, just dinner. Ya know, a getting to know each other kind of thing,” he suggests.
Shaking my head softly, I make myself look up at him. “I’m sorry, Greg; I can’t right now. Please, don’t be upset with me.”
“No worries; I’m not upset, but you know where to find me if you change your mind.” He reaches out and softly pats my shoulder. “Remember, you’ve got to start somewhere.”
Thanking him with my eyes, I nod slightly and then escape into the safety of my car. A few deep breaths later, with his last words resonating loudly in my head, I pull out my phone and type out a text to Madden.
I need to talk to you.
WHO WOULD’VE THOUGHT FIVE words appearing on the screen of my phone could flip my abysmal mood one-hundred-and-eighty degrees? The minute I saw the text from Blake, I forgot about everything in the world I was pissed about, and I immediately messaged her back.
My house in an hour?
Impatiently waiting for her to reply, I ask the bartender for my tab, as I’d stopped off for a much-needed whiskey on the way home. Little did I know when I decided to stay and have dinner there as well, I’d soon be joined by a brunette leech that wouldn’t shut the fuck up. Dropping several twenties inside the small black folder, I tip my head at the annoying twit and slide off the barstool, leaving half of my meal uneaten and her mid-sentence. My phone vibrates in my pocket as I step into the balmy evening, and I hastily pull it out.
Okay. I need your address.
After I type out the directions to my home, I hurriedly get in my car and head down the highway, hoping to have time for a quick shower before she arrives. Thankfully, I make it in just over twenty minutes, so I rush upstairs to freshen up. As I stand under the pelting spray of the showerhead, the previous week from hell replays through my mind.
Sunday, I had brunch with my parents, as I do every week, and of course, Easton didn’t make it. Seeing the disappointment in my mom’s eyes when she heard Easton wouldn’t be joining us infuriated me. He’d been inspired by how well he’d done at the charity casino night, so he and Emerson had decided last minute to take an overnight trip to Vegas to play for “real” money. His selfish behaviors were escalating, and I knew I was soon going to have to have an intervention of some sort. Then, when I got home, Sarah had washed my sheets, which sent me flying off the handle. Typically, she changes them every other day, especially if I’ve had a guest over, but I didn’t want her to wash them yet, because they still smelled like Blake. Knowing I wouldn’t get to see or talk to her for a week, it was like my connection to her. After I sent Sarah off in tears, I felt like a real jackass, knowing it wasn’t her fault, so I apologized profusely and even took her out to dinner at a fancy restaurant, instead of her cooking for me for a change.
Monday at the office was a cluster-fuck. Easton and Emerson were still frolicking in Sin City as I put out fires left and right over decisions he’d made without consulting me. For someone who comes into the office as rarely as he does, it’s amazing how often he manages to fuck shit up. Tuesday and Wednesday weren’t any better. I yelled at Caroline, my secretary who honestly does no wrong, for the first time in years, and when I went out to dinner with some old college buddies Wednesday night, the old hook-up-from-hell, Polly, was there. The moment she saw me, she and her friends flocked to our table and ended up spending the rest of the evening with us. She kept trying to grab my cock under the table, so I would scoot away from her, until finally, my friend Gabe asked if I wanted to sit in his lap. To top it all off, today, Easton and I had an extremely important business lunch with Diebold Systems—a contract we’ve been trying to land for years—and my brother not only no-shows, but he calls me in the middle of the meeting asking to borrow money. It took every ounce of willpower in my body not to lose my shit on the phone with him, but with the audience I had, I knew I couldn’t.
Throughout it all, my thoughts have been drowning in Blake. First and foremost, I’m worried as shit for her. I’ve never witnessed anyone do the things to her body that she’d done the night at my house. I’m not sure how regular of an occurrence it is for her, but I know it’s far from normal, and unhealthy as shit. She needs professional help, and a support system to help her work through it, and I’m willing to take on that role. In addition to that, I yearn for her in a way I never thought possible—sexually and mentally. Most of the time, she comes off as timid and shy, but there’s been a few moments where she’s shown a hidden spunk—when she told Emerson off, and then the way she schooled the poker table. Surprisingly, I like these little outbursts; it shows her fire and sharp wit, and I crave more of it.
Realizing I’ve probably taken longer than I expected, I turn the warm water off and rapidly dry off. Slipping into some comfortable, worn-out jeans and a heather gray t-shirt, I head downstairs and grab a cold beer as I wait for her. Anxious to see her again, I find myself staring out the window, hoping each set of headlights traveling down Calabasas Parkway is hers. Since she contacted me before the full week was up, I’m hoping this talk of hers is going to be good; I don’t even want to think about the alternative right now.
In what seems like an hour, but is probably more like ten minutes, her compact, silver car pulls into my driveway. Not caring one iota if I appear to be overeager to see her, I meet her out on the driveway and am overjoyed when she greets me with a big hug. With her arms wrapped snugly around my waist, I pull her even closer with mine, looping them around her shoulders as I kiss the top of her head.
“I’ve missed you, sweet girl,” I murmur into her hair, inhaling her fresh scent that reminds me of just before a summer rain. “Let’s go inside to talk.”
Leading her through the backdoor by the hand, we walk into the kitchen, where I offer her a drink.
“I’ll have a glass of wine, whatever you’ve got. I trust you,” she replies as she takes a seat at the island, her choice of words not lost on me.
I pour her a glass of my favorite Pinot Noir from the wine chiller, and then slide onto the stool across from her. Watching her bring the crystal up to her mouth, I’m suddenly jealous of the glass, wanting nothing more than to feel her full, tasty lips pressed against mine again.
“You said you wanted to talk?” I prod, ripping my gaze from her mouth before my dick is fully-erect in my pants. “Anything in particular you want to discuss?”
She places the glass on the butcher-block top as her tongue sweeps across her lips to collect any residue from the drink. Fuck me. Nervously fidgeting on the stool, she stares at her hands, collecting her thoughts.
“Look at me when you talk to me, Blake,” I command softly, and obediently, her focus moves up to meet mine. “Sometimes your eyes speak louder than your words. I want to absorb everything you have to say.”
“I don’t understand what it is you want from me,” she blurts out in frustration. Pausing to take in a deep breath, she continues, “I’ve thought a lot about what you said, and I’m confused. I agree with you that there’s some sort of attract
ion…connection…whatever you want to call it between us, but I don’t know what exactly you’re wanting. You say you want me to willingly surrender both my pleasure and my pain to you, but how? I know this is gonna sound immature, but please understand I’m quite a bit younger than you are, so I’m not sure of the correct terminology. Do you want to date? Be my boyfriend? Fuck buddies? What are you proposing?”
Watching her get all riled up excites me, and I love hearing her admit she feels the magnetism between us too, even though I already knew she did. “Yes, I want all of that, except the things I plan to do to you will be much more than just fucking, and there will be no buddies about it. I want you to be mine in every possible way, Blake. I want you to learn to trust me, so I can provide you sensual gratification like you’ve never imagined, and push you past the limits you think you have.” I stop to take a long draw from my beer and allow my words a second to sink in. “But it’s not only about sex…I want to spend time with you, get to know you. I want to take you out on dates, go on trips together, and for you to accompany me to any social crap I have to attend. Like I told you before, I’m not promising you love and marriage, but what I can give you is a monogamous relationship, where we can both find pleasure in each other.”
“But I’m a mess, Madden. You’ve seen it for yourself. Why not find some girl who isn’t a mental basket-case that mutilates herself? You can have any woman you want,” she argues.
Frustrated with her calling herself names, I slam my beer bottle down on the wooden surface. That shit pisses me off. “I don’t want to ever hear you talk about yourself like that again,” I reprimand her sternly, “and I told you already I don’t want any other woman. I. Want. You. Look, I get that you have some issues to work through, but that doesn’t scare me away. If you submit to me, I will lead you through the tough times and help you heal.”