by Lola StVil
“Like you, I grew up in a rich household. But that’s where the similarities end. My father is Dr. David Rush. He’s one of the top vascular thoracic surgeons on the East Coast. He invented a small but powerful surgical instrument for open-heart surgeries that increases the patient’s survival rate by twenty percent. He’s on the board at Mount Sinai Hospital. He’s well respected, and his lectures are standing room only. He is a brilliant surgeon, but he has the emotional capacity of an ice cube.
“My mother designs jewelry for the royal family—and yeah, that’s really a thing. She’s one of a handful of designers and the only American, in addition to being the only black woman. Her pieces are rarely shown to the public, but when they do find their way to the auction, they fetch high prices. One of her pieces fetched a million dollars at Christie’s auction house. But while her work is stellar, she has the mothering instinct of a brick wall.
“But although they lacked warmth and love, they left me wanting for nothing—money-wise anyway. They made sure I went to the best schools, traveled the world, and they made it their mission to educate me far beyond what the school system taught about black history. I didn’t read about apartheid; I was sent to South Africa to be lectured by those who were actually there. They gave me an excellent education, and I will always love them for that.
“Growing up, I learned that emotions were useless and that it was best to be quiet and learn. That was the only way to get their attention. So I studied my ass off. But I got so good at getting good grades that they seemed to expect it, and therefore, made no big deal about it as time went on. My only friends were the staff. They’d wait for my parents to leave the country—which they did often—and they’d take me to their family BBQ’s and birthday parties.
“When my dad retired, he placed his finances in the care of a billionaire friend of his. That friend turned out to be a con artist who made Bernie Madoff look small-time. We were broke. We had a few holdings here and there, two vacation homes, but it was only a matter of time before they were taken too. The royal family trimmed down their staff, and we were left with just enough to make ends meet. Yes, we could have lived like normal middle-class people, but that was never enough for them.
“I had just graduated from Stanford and I wanted to help out, but I didn’t know how. They came to me and said they knew how I could help. There was a man—a friend of theirs—and he was from money, a lot of it. They were trying to get him to give them a loan, and they noted how into me he was.
“That’s all it was supposed to be, me going on one date. Roger was twenty years older than me. But he was nice; he was funny and he never tried anything on our dates. I thought I was being nice so that he could give my dad a loan, but it was much more than that. By the time I realized my parents had basically sold me off—it was too late.
“I told myself that I loved him. And that I could make it work. But deep inside, I knew I was just fooling myself. There were no sparks and no passion. I felt more shaking your hand, Gage, than I did in bed with Roger. I told myself that I was being foolish and that “movie” love isn’t real. Roger was a nice guy, and my parents were so grateful, our family actually became close.
“The week before we were supposed to get married, we were having a dinner party with some of Roger’s friends. The discussion turned to politics, and I usually just zoned out. But one of the guests commented on yet another case that hit the paper about a black kid getting shot in the back by some trigger-happy man who mistook him for someone else. The guest said, ‘It’s not the man’s fault he’s fearful of “them.” They can be…frightening if you don’t know them personally.’
“It’s as if he had forgotten I was black. Or maybe in his mind, we were so rich we were no longer black. We had elevated to an “acceptable” shade of black. Whatever his reasons were, I was pissed, and I told him off. His face turned red, and he apologized. We all went back to the meal, but I’d lost my appetite.
“Roger walked me towards a small room, off of the kitchen, so that we could talk. I thought he’d say sorry that he invited such a prick to dinner, but instead, he grabbed the pan on the counter and smacked me with it.”
“Roger Price hit you?”
“Yes.”
I don’t remember flying out of my seat or heading towards the door. All I know is that somehow, I end up back in the car. I hear Shelby pleading with me not to drive over to Price’s house. But it doesn’t matter. My blind rage and I have an appointment with Price.
“Gage, please don’t go over there,” she screams as she follows me down the driveway. The anger boiling inside me doesn’t allow me to stop. I turn the car on, and she quickly jumps into the passenger seat.
“Babe, get out of the car,” I order.
“No! Gage, please. Don’t.”
“That bastard put his hands on you. He deserves what’s coming.”
“No, that’s not what I want.”
“Shelby, get out of the car.”
“No, you’re gonna go over there and kill him. I won’t be a part of that.”
“Get out.”
“No!”
“WHY?!”
“You said you love me. Well, good because I love you too. And I don’t want the man I love to spend the rest of his life locked up.”
“I don’t give a shit about that.”
“I do. That’s where the ‘I love you too’ part comes in. Now please, please, turn the car off.” She places her hand on top of mine. Her touch manages to calm me down—a little. But I still need to crush his windpipe with the back of my boot. I grip the wheel so tightly my hands turn white.
“Please, baby. Stay here. Stay here with me,” she begs. I reluctantly turn the car off and let go of the wheel. She loosens my fingers from the steering wheel and kisses my hand.
“Let’s go inside our home,” she says. And we do. Price doesn’t know it, but his wife just saved his fucking life.
***
Once we are back inside, the only way she will let go of me is if I promise not to storm off again. I agree, but something tells me it’s going to be a hard promise to keep. I pour a stiff drink for both of us. And she continues her story.
“The shock came first. And then came the pain. It was so bad; I couldn’t go back to the party. I ran home.
“I knew I was not going to marry him or ever see him again. I went to my mother, told her what happened, and she said six words that I will never forget, ‘Do not ruin this for us.’ My father had advice—for Roger. He told him to watch my face because I needed to be pretty—no matter what.
“That’s when I realized they didn’t love me. They didn’t want me. They didn’t care if I lived or died. All the education and travel was so that they could appear to be worldly and elite. My parents considered other people trash if they weren’t wealthy, but it turns out they were the trash. They were the ones who had no value.
“I didn’t have anyone on my side. So, like an idiot, I went and got married. And for the first few weeks, we were happy. Then the election came, he was stressed, and everything I did was wrong. In the end, he didn’t really need a reason to hit me. In the five years we were married, he fractured my ribs, broke my collarbone, and dislocated my jaw. He’d send me to a private hospital and tell everyone I was away at some retreat.
“I was living in a mansion, with all the money I could ask for, and I wanted to die. The staff would feel so bad for me; they would make me little homemade remedies for the bruises makeup couldn’t cover. I’d wake up, terrified that today was the day he’d finally kill me. I wanted to get out, but he vowed that if I tried he’d kill me. I escaped once and like a fool I tried to hide at my mother’s house.
“She called and told him where I was. When we got home, he wanted to teach me a lesson, so he threw me on the ground and…he raped me.
“He wanted me to know that I belonged to him and only him. That’s when I really started to understand—I was alone. I wanted to die. I was already dead inside, so why not just
make it official? So I got my hands on some pills, and I was in the middle of crushing them into my tea when my cell phone rang.
“It was my doctor, telling me I was pregnant. And just like that, I was alive again. I had something inside me. This little person, I had to live for him. I don’t know why, but I just felt like I knew it was a boy. I had to be brave, for him. And there was no way I was going to let that bastard get his hands on my boy.
“I made a plan. I told my mother about it because I knew that bitch would sell me out. And she did. Roger came home, ready to beat my ass after he caught me packing. But that’s not what he got. I was helping the staff set up dinner. He was shocked. I acted like I didn’t know what he was talking about. I poured his favorite wine; we ate and even laughed. We had a very nice dinner.
“When it was over, he went to his favorite chair and fell asleep. Thanks to the pills I crushed in his drink, he slept for a whole day. I made sure of it and the staff helped. By the time he woke up, I was gone. I stayed with my lawyer friend, Janet. She took care of me. And when I started bleeding, she took me to the ER. I lost the baby. He saved my life, this kid that I never laid eyes on, and yet I couldn’t save him. The doctors said I took too many blows to my abdomen. I can never have children.”
I pull her into my chest and hold her tightly against me. “Baby, you shouldn’t have to deal with this alone. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. God, I’m so sorry.”
“I should have left earlier. If I did…” she replies as she pulls away.
“No, don’t do that. You did everything you could do. All of this falls on Price and your parents. You are the bravest person I know. Come here.” I hold her again as she cries in my arms. I’ve never felt so helpless and so enraged all at once. She shakes her head, and when she backs away, fresh tears spring to her eyes.
“Roger said he’d make sure that I never have anyone. No family, no friends, nothing.”
“Fuck him. You have a family now. And we won’t let anything happen to you; you got it?” She nods, but there’s so much pain on her face.
God, please show me how to help her.
“It’s not all bad, Agent Hunter. I started working with kids. And being hands-on has helped me so much. There are millions of kids out there with no one. I could help them. No one helped me, but that doesn’t have to be their fate too. Roger froze all my accounts; I’ve been stashing money away for a while now, thank God. But when that runs out, I will get a job. Screw his money.”
“Don’t worry, whatever I have is yours. Just let me love you, and I’ll be happy. Let me treat you the way you should have been treated. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And it’s okay if you’re not ready to get—”
“Ask.”
“What?”
“Ask me…”
“Wonder, will you marry me and take my crazy-ass family as your own?”
She wraps her arms around my neck and squeals, “Try and stop me!”
I laugh as she buries her head in the crux of my neck. “So, that’s a yes?!”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Gage and I come to an agreement. I will take time to make up my mind about helping the CIA. He was against it before, but now that he knows what Roger did, he’s even more certain that I should not do it. Also talking about my experience with Roger opened up a floodgate and I cried for most of the next day and the day after that. He took some time off from work. I felt bad but he said he hasn’t had a vacation in five years and he’s overdue.
He checked in with his family, and although he doesn’t tell them what happened to me, the moment he says he needs to be with me, they believe him. Maybe they could hear the concern in his voice, or maybe they just loved him so much they want him to be happy. I wonder what it’s like to be part of a family like that.
His brother Cash, who was out of the country, came back and he offered to watch their mom while Gage stayed with me. I vowed that as soon as I felt better, I would go see his mother and tell her what an amazing job she did with Gage. We didn’t tell anyone we are engaged because I don’t want to taint that with this Roger mess. So I asked Gage to wait awhile, and he agreed.
Gage insisted I go talk to a counselor about what happened. I did a while back, but he thought I should go again. He worried, and that was the only way to ease his mind. He took me and waited for me to be done. One of the reasons why I’m glad he stayed close is because I know he still wants to kill Roger. So if he’s next to me, I can keep an eye on him. Lawson is going out of his mind, but Gage told him to back off and let me make up my own mind. He finally agreed and is now giving us some space.
***
It’s a week later, and Gage Hunter is turning me on in ways he doesn’t even know. The way he lights up when I enter the room, like my presence alone somehow made his day better. The way he places his hand on the small of my back as he holds the door for me. And also the way I catch him looking at me, like it’s taken everything for him not to take me right then and there. It sends shivers down my spine.
It doesn’t help he’s so damn sexy, it hurts. I watch him step out of the shower, drops of water dripping from his washboard abs down to the place I so want to visit. I love watching him do any kind of manual labor; his powerful forearms and pecs make me heady with desire.
The crazy thing is he doesn’t need to actually be doing anything to turn me on. A few days ago, I got wet just watching him glide his thumb across his lips while he pored over work files. I ached to know what it would feel like if he were gliding his finger across my clit. I had to leave the room—fearing I would attack him. It’s insane, even the way he adjusts his tie or braces himself on the doorframe makes me want him. This goes on for way too long until finally, I can’t take it anymore.
Right now, Gage is in the shower getting ready so that we can go to dinner. But when he comes out wearing a towel around his waist, the only thing I want him nibbling and biting on is me. But I don’t know how to bring it up. I’ve never had to get a guy to want me before. I worked hard so Roger would not touch me. I’d wear long nightgowns, I’d stay late at charity functions, and I’d pretend I was on my period. I’d do anything to keep him away from me. But this is different. I want Gage. I ache for him, but again, I have no words to really express that. But thankfully, I don’t need words.
“Babe, if you don’t stop looking at me like that…I don’t know what I’ll do,” he warns.
“What if I don’t want to stop?”
“This has been hard for you, are you sure you’re ready?”
What happens next surprises me almost as much as it surprises Gage. I walk over, take his hand, and put it under my flare skirt. He feels the damp panel in my white lace panties. He lets out a feral growl as he falls to his knees. He looks up at me; his eyes are glazed. He’s gone. He’s lost in a carnal haze. But first, he needs permission. He needs to know that I am actually okay with this. That I feel ready for what he wants to do, what he needs to do.
“Baby…” he says desperately. I place my hand under his chin and tilt his head up towards me; his eyes are cloudy with lust.
“Gage. Eat.”
He slides my panties off and puts the soft material to his face and inhales deeply. He swears under his breath. He pulls my skirt off and out of his way. He grabs hold of my legs. He licks and glides his nimble tongue up and down my thigh until I’m buzzing from the inside. I try to stay upright, but when he slides his tongue along the entrance of my pussy, my knees begin to buckle. He stops just long enough to back me into the sofa.
I position myself so that I will be laid bare and exposed just for him. I’m spread open, with my head back and knees up. He kneels before me and inserts his fingers inside my pussy while he nuzzles my labia. My hands tremble intensely. He uses his fingers, lips, and tongue to create a torrent of arousal that bends my body back and takes control of my limbs. My pussy is soaked and pulsating.
“HOLYSHIT,” I cry out, unable to comprehend that level of desire.
He l
ocks our hands together and buries his face in my pussy. He drinks every drop of my juices, causing me to shudder wildly.
“GageohmyGod.” I try to close my legs so I can manage the currents of ecstasy running through me, but he won’t allow that. He makes me open up even wider; he won’t stop until he’s satiated. He suckles my pussy until orgasms threaten to overwhelm me. My head falls back as my eyes roll to the back of my head.
He growls in an animalistic tone and says, “I need to be inside you. Right now.” The command in his voice makes my mouth water. I’m so ready to have him embed his cock inside me—or so I thought.
When he climbs on top of me, I feel his member—hard. Long. Thick. Big. Much bigger than what I dealt with before. My breathing gets labored and shallow. He reads the panic in my eyes; he knows I’m not ready—even though I want to be.
“I’m sorry,” I reply as tears flood my eyes.
“It’s okay. That’s okay,” he says as he plants a kiss on my forehead.
“Gage…I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, it’s fine. I’m here whenever you’re ready. You know that,” he says as he scoops me up into his arms and positions us so that we’re lying face to face on the sofa. All the pleasure is gone, all the ecstasy I felt is gone. I’m so upset and angry with myself, I could scream. Soon, I’m spiraling down a whirlwind of self-doubt.