by L. M. Carr
With one hand maintaining a firm hold on my face, he uses his free hand to unbuckle his belt, unbutton his pants and lower the zipper.
Debased to the lowest level, I burst into tears, mumbling, “Please, don’t make me do this.”
“Shut the fuck up,” he spits, grasping his cock and raising it to my mouth.
I shake my head vehemently and push against his thighs. “Stop!”
When the swollen bulb is thrust into my mouth, I gag. My left hand closes around his length.
“That’s right, slut. Just like that.”
In one swift motion, my thumb spins my rings around. I clench his dick and quickly drag my hand down, cutting into his appendage, repeating the motion several more times, blood welling up.
“You fucking bitch!” Ed bellows, backhanding me across the face as he scrambled to his feet.
Staggering up and spurred on by every demeaning word men have ever said to me, I pounce, attacking him, striking his face relentlessly.
The door crashes open, Billy and a security guard rushing in.
“Oh, my god, Addison. What the fuck are you doing?” he yells, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me away from the team’s owner.
“You’re going to jail, you sick bastard,” I yell, my eyes wild. “I can’t wait until my husband gets his hands on you.”
Ed, tucking his dick back inside his pants, glances at the security guard. “She doesn’t take rejection well. Give us a minute.”
“Fuck you, you liar!” I fight against Billy’s hold and reach down for my phone. I hold it up and show him the screen, which is still recording. “I have fucking proof.”
Ed’s eyes bore into mine, face reddening, then he lunges for me. Ready, I charge forward, but the security guard jumps in and restrains him.
I step up close to him, the saliva in my mouth swirling with the horrible taste and memory of his dick penetrating my lips. I spit into his face. “You will never touch me or another woman again.”
A second security guard enters the room, then radios dispatch for immediate police assistance.
Ed Asher doesn’t go down without a fight. His screams that I’m the liar fall on deaf ears as two uniformed police officers drag his ass away. Two detectives ask if I want to press charges.
“That man is a predator who needs to be locked up,” I state confidently. “Here.” I unlock my phone. “You’re going to want to listen to this.”
By the time I leave the police station and return to my hotel room, I can hardly stand. Physically and emotionally drained, I step into the hot shower to wash away the remnants of his touch. I brush my teeth twice, then throw the toothbrush away.
I step out of the bathroom and freeze when I hear a knock on the door.
“AJ, it’s me.”
After peering through the peephole in the door, seeing Melody, I slowly turn the handle.
She throws her arms around me, and I stiffen.
“I was so worried about you. Are you okay?”
I step out of her hold and nod as tears form in my ears.
“I want to go home,” I whisper. “I need to see Julian.”
“I’ll pack your things.” She rushes around, throwing my belongings into my bag. “Put these on.”
I slide on the yoga pants, sweatshirt and sneakers, then wait.
“Let’s go.”
An hour later, I stand in line at airport security. My attempts to decline her offer to accompany me back home fell on deaf ears, but secretly, I am grateful. Although Ed Asher currently sits in a cell, fear still holds me captive.
Before I power off my phone and get on the plane, I finally read the text messages from Julian.
Hi, baby. Great game. Wish you were here.
Why aren’t you covering the game?
Is everything okay? :( Call me.
After his game, Julian must have turned on the game I was supposed to be covering. Not seeing me, he knows something is up, but I can’t bring myself to reply. I can’t hear the concern or helplessness in his voice right now.
Careless choices from the past helped create this mess, and it’s up to me to clean it up.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Silence accompanies me up the elevator and into the penthouse. I drop my bags by the door and follow the sound of muffled voices to our bedroom. Standing on the threshold, I rest my weary head against the wooden doorframe, my eyes landing on the television where two men offer an analytical debate about the first week of the season. They commend Julian’s creativity and risky plays that garnered a win. I smile as my gaze travels to the lightly snoring form on the right side of the bed.
Julian lies on his stomach, his arms buried beneath the pillow. The gray sheet is draped across the lower half of his body, hiding the swell of his tight ass, the muscles along his back stretch up to his shoulders. His unruly hair suggests he fell asleep after a shower.
Sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky to be chosen as his partner for life. When we married, he promised to love me always and support me in all things, but I don’t know if he will love me through this. How can he?
“Hey,” his groggy voice interrupts my internal thoughts. Rolling over, he pats the vacant space beside him and smiles.
I undress and slide under the covers facing him, his arms encircling me and squeezing me tightly. I am enshrouded in safety and sigh deeply in relief. My nose skims along his neck and I inhale the scent I love so much. His lips find my forehead.
“You’re home early,” he murmurs against my skin.
Unable to speak, I nod and snuggle into his chest. Deep anguish rises in my chest, an uncontrollable sob escaping.
Julian sits up and flicks on the lamp sitting on the bedside table before lifting my face to look at me. “Addison… What’s wrong? What happened?” His fingers graze over my wet face to smooth back my hair.
Shame holds me captive and my eyes close, rendering me incapable of looking at my husband.
“Baby, look at me.” The firm grip on my face demands my obedience. “What happened?”
Tears streaming down my face, I mumble, “Ed…Ed Asher assaulted me.”
I feel his body stiffen. “What did you just say?” he asks through clenched teeth.
I shake my head, not able to repeat myself.
“He hurt you?” he growls.
I shiver, thinking about the horrific attack. “I hated not being there for you. I wanted you to know I was watching, so I found an empty room with a TV. I had just taken a picture of the screen to text it to you when he came in.”
Julian swiftly pulls me into a hug, his hands circling my back offering comfort and reassurance.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur on a sob.
“Sorry? Why would you say that? You have nothing to apologize for.”
“But he knew about my past. He called me a whore. And—”
“And nothing! What you did or didn’t do isn’t any of his or anyone else’s fucking business.”
“If only I hadn’t—”
“Stop, Addison!” he roars.
Stunned into silence, I stare at him, unsure where his anger is stemming from. A troubling look pulls his face into a scowl as he exhales gruffly.
“Jesus Christ. Please tell me you went to the cops this time.”
With widened eyes, I nod vigorously. “I did. I have the whole thing recorded.”
He blinks. “Recorded? What do you mean?”
“Like I said, I started to take a picture, but when he came into the room, I changed my phone to video. While I don’t have a visual of what he did,” I say, running my fingers through my hair, “the cops were able to listen to every disgusting word he said.”
Julian cradles me against his chest and kisses my forehead. “I’m so sorry you went through this.”
“Me, too. At least that son of a bitch is going to get what’s coming to him. I already have Naomi making some phone calls.”
He pulls back, eyebrows furrowed. “Naomi?”
“Yeah
. She called me when I was at the police station.”
The rise and fall of Julian’s chest and flared nostrils display his rising anger.
“What?”
He moistens his lips with a quick swipe of his tongue. “Naomi knew about this before I did?” he says quietly.
My gaze lowers, then slowly sweeps back up. “I didn’t want to bother you. You were in the middle of a game.”
Julian throws off the covers and jumps out of bed, pacing the length of our bedroom. His shoulders tense, he stops at the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the city and places his hands on his hips.
“I don’t understand why you’re so mad at me. I already said I was sorry.”
He spins around to look at me. “Are you serious?” His right hand pounds on his chest. “I’m your goddamn husband. You should’ve talked to me first!”
I climb out of bed and stand before him. “But you were in a game!” I raise my voice, hoping he’d understand my thought process. “That’s important.”
“You are the most important thing in my life!” He closes the distance between us and reaches for my left hand, running his thumb over my rings. Eyes filled with moisture, he looks at me. “Nothing else matters to me. Why can’t you see that?”
“Football is your life,” I counter as tears seep out of my eyes and trickle down my face.
He shakes his head. “You are my fucking life, Addison.” His hands rise and cup my face. “You.”
Sad eyes reveal my uncertainty.
“Baby, I don’t know what else I can do to prove it to you,” he cries, pulling me against his hard, naked body.
“I’m not perfect.”
Pulling back to look at me once again, he graces me with a small smile. “Neither am I! But you and me… We’re perfect for each other. We always have been.”
I draw in a ragged breath, exhaustion wreaking havoc on my body. “I’m going to bury Ed Asher. And I’m going to make sure he goes to jail for a long time.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
On Wednesday afternoon, Julian, Naomi and I sit in Nolan’s office and have a video conference call with Santino Lugano. He and Nolan went to law school together and he is one of Los Angeles’ top prosecutors, never losing a case. Unlike Naomi, who defends these assholes, Santino has put many criminals behind bars.
“When can we meet in person?” he asks.
My eyes cut to Julian, who sits beside me with a fierce scowl on his face, tapping his fingertips on the table. For as well as I know my husband, I can’t tell if he’s nervous or angry.
“When should I go?” I ask, realizing I’ll be going alone because his schedule is insane during the season.
“We’ll go tomorrow.”
I smile tightly and place my hand on his, ceasing his movements. “Julian, you can’t go. You have a game on Sunday.”
“Fuck the game!”
“You’re the coach,” I remind him. “You can’t just not go. You have responsibilities.”
He turns to me. “My responsibility as your husband outweighs my responsibility as a coach.”
“I can go with her,” Naomi offers.
Nolan adds his vote of confidence. “That’s a good idea. You’ll be in good hands.”
“We’ll give you two a few minutes,” Naomi interjects, motioning to Nolan as she stands.
“No!” Julian interrupts and gives my best friend a stern look. “This isn’t up for negotiation. I’m going with my wife.” Looking at the man on the computer screen, he says, “Santino, we’ll be there tomorrow afternoon.”
Naomi reaches across the table to get my attention. “AJ, I really want to go with you.”
“Why?”
“Well, as a defense attorney, I think I have a good idea of what kind of strategy this dirtbag is going to use. He’ll say you initiated it or some bullshit like that.”
Cautiously, I gaze at Julian. “She might be right. What do you think?”
He nods stiffly. “Her coming along can’t hurt.”
§
Grateful for Julian’s suggestion that we charter a private plane, Naomi and I sit together while Julian works on his laptop a few rows up, typing feverishly.
“How are you doing?” she asks, patting my hand.
I blow out a breath. “I’ve been better.”
She looks at Julian quickly before leaning toward me, lowering her voice. “Have you gotten any more messages?”
My eyes flash to hers as my lips pinch together. “I got another one two days ago.” I suck my bottom lip. “I don’t understand why I keep getting them.”
“You think it’s Asher?”
I sigh and shake my head, adjusting my ponytail. “I don’t think so. He’s never made mention of them.”
“Can I see the photo again?”
I scrunch my brows. “Why? You already saw it.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve already seen you naked.” She smiles, then winks.
I retrieve my phone from my bag and check to make sure Julian is still preoccupied with his work before I pull up the image.
Pressing the side buttons, Naomi captures a still image of the GIF.
“What are you doing?” I demand, snatching my phone out of her hand.
“Relax!” She grabs the phone back. “I’m just trying to blow up the image. Maybe you’re focusing on the wrong thing.”
I glare at her and scoff. “It’s kind of hard not to focus on my ass.”
“I’m serious.” Enlarging the picture with her fingertips, she zooms in on something in the background. “Like this.”
I crane my neck to look, frowning. “What is that?”
“I don’t know exactly, but it looks black and gold. Could it be a jersey?”
“Black and gold…” I mumble, then shrug. “Maybe, but it doesn’t look familiar.”
“All right…Listen” she says nervously. “Don’t be mad at what I’m about to suggest.”
I purse my lips, knowing I won’t like what she’s about to say.
“I need you to think about all the guys you’ve slept with. Most of them were football players, right?”
My eyes drop in shame as I nod.
“Did any of them play for a team with those colors?”
“Naomi, I don’t remember,” I reply with an exasperated groan. “I wasn’t exactly sober for most of the…encounters.”
She raises her hands defensively. “Well, you need to try really hard to remember and give me a list. This could be important.”
“Okay…” I start creating a mental list of the men I’ve had sex with. I open the notepad on my phone and begin typing names. I glance over at Julian, suppressing the rising bile as humiliation fills me for the horrible choices I’ve made.
Waiting for me to finish, Naomi sets her laptop on the tray table to review her notes for the high-profile case she’s working on.
“Hey, beautiful.” I startle and see Julian standing above me. “How’re you doing?”
I close the app on my phone and smile to hide my guilt at the number of names I’ve included.
“I’m okay. You?”
He smiles and nods. “I’m good now.”
§
The meeting with Santino Lugano lasts for over an hour as he reviews my account of the encounters with Ed Asher. Although he posted bail almost immediately, Santino is convinced there is enough evidence for a case. It’s not a matter of my word against his. I have proof.
“His arrest was already on the news,” he states. “Are you ready for this?”
Julian and I look at each other. I nod. “I don’t really have a choice if I want to put an end to his predatory behavior.”
Naomi’s expression saddens. “They’re going to dig into your past, scrutinize everything you’ve done and try to prove you’re the aggressor.”
I swallow nervously as goosebumps break out on my skin.
“She’s got nothing to hide,” Julian snaps. “She didn’t do anything wrong. That bastard did. His scumbag attorne
y should dig into his past and see what he finds. I bet he’s done this before. I’m sure there’s a pattern, but the women are afraid to come forward because he’s rich and powerful.”
Santino flicks his eyes to Julian. “You’re absolutely right. I just want to be sure Addison knows what she’s facing.”
“I have to do this.”
That evening, we eat dinner at the hotel bar, trying to keep a low profile. When Julian’s phone rings, he excuses himself and steps into the lobby. When he returns, his agitation is marked by a scowl on his face.
“Everything all right?” I ask.
He slaps a smile onto his face, then sighs. “It’s all good.”
I snort, rolling my eyes. “What’s going on, Julian?”
“I have to make a few adjustments this week.”
That night, Julian and I make love all night, but I can tell he is distracted. Maybe all this talk about my past is finally taking its toll.
We head back home early the following morning. Once we arrive back in the penthouse, I reassure Julian I’m fine before he heads out the door and drives to the stadium. I shower and lay in bed, spending some time watching mindless reality TV until the front door buzzer sounds. I climb out of bed and walk to the door, pushing the button to the intercom.
“Hello?”
“I have a delivery for Addison MacIntyre.”
I smile. Although I’ve legally changed my name, most people still refer to me as AJ Hamilton. I take the elevator down, accept the gorgeous floral arrangement of colorful roses from the delivery man, then hand him a nice tip.
During the return trip, I read the attached card, smiling. Once back in the penthouse, I place the flowers in some water, then send Julian a text, rattling off all the reasons I love him. He doesn’t respond, but I figure he’s working hard trying to make up for lost time.
Opening my laptop, I check my work emails, reading the one from Wes. The subject line catches my attention, and I wonder if there’s been another change to my work schedule. Management has been very accommodating with my requests, for which I am extremely thankful.
I make a sandwich and return to my laptop, seeing a new email. Clicking on it, I almost choke on a piece of turkey at the sight of me in yet another image. But this time, I am facing the man, my hand around his dick.
