He turns, and I glimpse his face – all distraught and in agony.
I hold myself back, not sure how this is going to play out. I should have gotten Jeffrey. Anytime now, Lothar can pick the sword up and decide to come after me.
He says in a voice full of pain, “Virginia?”
I bunch my fists, not daring to trust the fates.
“Ethan?” I say hopefully.
He looks down at his bleeding arm, aghast.
“It happened again, didn’t it?” he says.
I can only pad towards him. The ground is hard and wet against the soles of my feet. He holds out his arms to me helplessly and I can only go to him. Something in my chest twists with painful precision as we close in onto each other. I grip his waist tightly as he clings onto me, his naked body wet and his skin cold.
We stand there, hugging each other for a long while. My mind is churning with the present, the indeterminate future and the fact that I am irrevocably involved against my better professional and emotional judgment.
“What are we going to do now?” Ethan murmurs against my wet hair.
I can only answer, To hell if I know.
But whatever it is, I decide that I’m going to stay to help him find his way out.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright 2013 by Aphrodite Hunt
Cover art by Aphrodite Hunt
EROTICA and EROTIC ROMANCES BY APHRODITE HUNT
Please check at the back of the book for synopses
The ‘Eight Tasks for the Blushing Virgin’ series
Deflowered
Debauched
Deceived
Desired
The ‘Romanced by the Damaged Millionaire’ series
Damaged Beauties
Seduced by his Two Personalities
The ‘Bound and Shackled to the Billionaire’ series
His Indecent Proposition
His Indecent Demands
His Indecent Desires
His Indecent Secrets
His Indecent Revelations
‘The Billionaire Marriage’ series
His Indecent Proposal
The ‘Initiation’ series
Open Your Legs for Me
Blindfolded and Spread-eagled
Thighs Wide Apart
Teacher, Please Spread my Pussy
The Final Initiation
The Initiation: A Bundle of 5 Stories
The ‘Initiation 2’ series
Open Your Legs for my Family
Bend Over for my Family
Publicly Display Yourself for Me
Sex Slave at Sea
Paraded before the Billionaires
Sex Slave at the Auction
The ‘Initiation 3’ series
Sex Slave to the Dictator
Shackled by the Dictator
Punished by the Dictator’s Daughter
The Sex Slave’s Final Punishment
The ‘Alice BDSM’ series
Alice: Opening my Legs at Your Wedding
‘The Royal Captive’ series
Prince Miro’s Capture
Prince Miro’s Submission
Prince Miro’s Enslavement
Prince Miro’s Punishment
Prince Miro’s Escape
Prince Miro’s Final Confrontation
The Royal Captive: Vol 1 to 3
The Royal Captive: Vol 4 to 6
The ‘Naughty Nymphomaniac’ series
I was a Naughty Nymphomaniac
Officer, Please Spread and Cuff Me
Gang Banged by the Chain Gang
Tempting the Hot Navy SEAL
The ‘Delicate Piercings’ series
Her First Clit Ring
Her First Clit Ring 2: Menage
Her First Clit Ring 3: Desensitization
Her First Clit Ring 4: The Final Party
The ‘Undercover’ series
Undercover: Exposing the Bad Doctor
Undercover: Stealing from the Sexy CEO
The ‘Alien’ series
Trapped with Sex-Starved Aliens
Trapped with Sex-Starved Aliens 2
Hot, Wet and Steamy (individual stories)
When He’s Inside You
My Stepson is a Naughty Stripper
The Gorgeous Naked Man in my Storm Shelter (Erotic Suspense)
A Xmas Gift: The Sperm Donor
WORKS BY ARTEMIS HUNT
EROTIC ROMANCES
The ‘Inhumanly Handsome, Humanly Flawed Alpha Male’ series
A Virgin Enslaved
A Virgin Enslaved 2
The Pretend Boyfriend
The Pretend Boyfriend 2
The Pretend Boyfriend 3
The Pretend Boyfriend 4
The ‘Maid for the Billionaire Prince’ series
Mysterious Desire
Forbidden Desire
Infamous Desire
Royal Desire
Maid for the Billionaire Prince
Dear reader, as this list is not always comprehensive due to more stories being churned out after this point in publishing, please visit http://artemishunt.blogspot.com/ and http://aphroditehunt.blogspot.com/ for more stories and updates. I write as Artemis Hunt for erotic romances with a more romance feel and Aphrodite Hunt for pure erotica and erotic romances which are slightly kinkier. So please be aware of what you’re getting into, dear reader, when you read one of my stories. Thank you so much for your support.
READ THE FIRST THREE CHAPTERS OF ‘SEDUCED BY HIS TWO PERSONALITIES’
1
Ethan.
And Lothar.
What do I do about the two of them?
I have slept with both of them.
One of them is handsome and charming and a perfect gentleman, although he doesn’t particularly excite me in bed.
The other is a dangerous psychopath, whose purported crimes remain unsolved. He’s equally as handsome, though his edge of manic unpredictability gives him a feral aura, like spokes of a fiery sun radiating from his skin. He’s a dominant alpha male through and through, and the sex for me has never been more exhilarating.
I am also an investigative reporter who has been commissioned by my editor, Sharon Contralto, to write about Ethan Greene. About why he has disappeared from the public eye for so many years.
Now I know why.
But do I want to write about it? Do I want to do an expose on his pain and his strange affliction? I have come all the way here to Kelowna, Missouri, population three thousand, for this very purpose. And now I am wrought to go through this very assignment – the very job which has been my pride and joy and lynchpin for the last five years.
See what a royal mess I’m in?
*
It’s the next day after the Big Reveal. It’s a big reveal only to me – meaning Lothar’s appearance – but I’m sure Ethan and Jeffrey, his butler, go through this on a regular basis. We are at the breakfast table on the patio. There are platters of crispy bacon, scrambled eggs and bread in front of us, but neither Ethan nor I are particularly hungry.
I remember him standing in the blustering rain last night, forlorn and tattered and clutching the remainders of his shredded personality. The way he cried out to me. Jeffrey and I had led him back to bed after that. We tucked him in and turned off the lights, and I slipped under the bedcovers with him and held him.
No sex.
We wouldn’t want to risk that, and besides, he wasn’t in the mood after all that drama. So I just held him and he held me and we fell asleep in each other’s arms. Almost like love.
He was still Ethan when we woke up. I know I’m supposed to be relieved, but there’s a tugging inside of me – a yearning that longs to peek at Lothar, who sends my loins into a melted tizzy.
I should of course tell Ethan who I real
ly am. About why I’m really here. But it’s so nice out here, and I don’t want to ‘trigger’ him into another bout of violent, self-destructive behavior.
If it actually remained self-destructive, that is.
He could well take it out on me.
Ethan is broody today. I don’t blame him. After a personality switch like that, his brain synapses will take some time to adjust. Besides, Jeffery dosed him with Xanax last night, and he must still be suffering the aftereffects.
Ethan pushes his scrambled eggs around his plate. They must already be cold. He hasn’t touched the coffee either. His face is pinched and there are dark circles under his eyes. His hair is uncombed and tousled.
He still looks carelessly gorgeous.
“Ethan,” I say, closing my hand over his across the table, “are you all right?”
He nods. He seems a little dazed. I don’t blame him. Xanax does that to me the next morning too.
“What do you want to do today?” I say. I’m not sure he will be the best judge of this, but I want to ease him into a state of normalcy.
He gazes at me out of his mud-green eyes, which are flecked with gold and bronze. He really has the most marvelous eyes. I can drown in them forever. Though I’m sure that if I peer into them deeply, I will see other entities in them. Entities like the volatile Lothar.
Maybe even more.
Ethan says, “I think I’ll pay a visit to my shrink.” He holds my eyes steadily. “You want to come along?”
2
Jeffrey drives us in the black Merc with the darkened windows to St. Louis, where Ethan’s psychiatrist resides.
“Have you been seeing her long?” I ask Ethan.
He gazes out of the window. I’m not sure he sees the throngs of pedestrians crowding the busy and gaily decorated sidewalks in their lunch hour. I’m not even sure if he’s right here beside me.
He sort of shakes himself and reaches out for my hand.
“I’m sorry you had to go through this,” he breathes.
“It’s OK,” I say, squeezing his hand.
He’s warm, even if his flesh is a little sweaty. He’s wearing a Dolce and Gabbana suit. The thing is, I’m not even sure he’s dressing to impress. He doesn’t seem to care what he puts on or how he looks. All his clothes seem to be from a previous life – a life of movie premieres and walking the red carpet at the Oscars. Not the life he is saddled with now.
“You know, you can walk way,” he says seriously. “You don’t have to be here.”
“I’m here, so can the discussion, OK?”
He sighs. “I don’t know why you’re doing this. You hardly know me.”
I take a deep breath. “When I crashed into your valley, you and Jeffery took me into your house and looked after me. You were good to me.”
He averts his beautiful but haunted face. “We only fucked once.”
“That’s beside the point.”
I’m well aware of Jeffrey upfront listening to every word. In the center mirror, his long face is impassive.
“Did he fuck you too?” Ethan says hoarsely.
I know who he meant.
“Yes.”
There’s the sharp intake of his breath. “D-did he hurt you?” His tone is pleading, as if he doesn’t really want to know the answer.
“No,” I say truthfully.
Ethan clenches his fist over my hand, and I can feel his strength almost crushing me. A frisson of danger seeps into my spine. Yes, buried inside this mild-mannered, gentle man is the raging beast that is Lothar.
“Ethan, let’s get help for you, OK?” I say gently. I massage his clenched fist, my fingers dipping into the grooves between his knuckles.
“OK,” he accedes.
*
Ethan’s psychiatrist is named Martha Baggins. With a name like that, you’d expect a society marm, the kind who sips afternoon tea at her floral patterned parlor. But Martha Baggins is a black woman. A dyke in a relationship with a white woman, to boot, and with two biological children.
We only have to wait ten minutes before we are ushered in for Ethan’s appointment.
“Are you sure you want me in there with you?” I say. I’d always thought that shrink sessions were private, like rectal examinations.
“Yes. You witnessed my last incarnation as Lothar. An eyewitness account would be helpful. Dr. Baggins said I should contact her if he surfaces, because he hasn’t in a long time.” Ethan seems troubled.
Well, I would be too.
We both walk in through the door. Behind us, the male receptionist watches us guardedly.
Martha Baggins’s office is tastefully minimalist. She has eschewed the psychiatrist’s couch for green armchairs and a sofa, all sprawled in the middle like Oprah’s stage. Her desk is uncluttered, and behind it are bookcases filled with thick, bound psychiatric books.
She gets up as we enter.
“Ethan. I see you’ve brought someone new.”
Ethan shakes her outstretched hand. I’m surprised to see how tall she is, and how thin, as if she’s an African tribal queen.
“Dr. Baggins, this is Virginia Tremont. She’s a . . . friend staying with me.”
If Dr. Baggins is surprised, she does not raise her eyebrows. “That is unusual, Ethan. You have not spoken of many ‘friends’ before, let alone brought one here.”
My heart is beating fast. Yes, I suspected Ethan doesn’t have many friends. Bringing me here must be a breakthrough of sorts. I can only hope this is a step towards his recovery – or whatever we are trying to do for him. Ethan doesn’t want to be whatever he is right now, and that’s good enough for me to try to help him.
“Please, sit.” She gestures to the couch.
Ethan and I seat ourselves on it beside each other. Dr. Baggins takes the armchair beside the couch. I feel really awkward, like an intruder. I sense Ethan does too, because I’m probably the first person besides Jeffrey he has brought here. He hasn’t told me in so many words, but I know.
Dr. Baggins is the first one to break the ice.
“It happened again, Ethan, didn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I thought we were doing so well. What brought it on?”
Yes. This is when the guilt comes in. Sex brought on his transformation. His orgasm . . . with me.
“It was me,” I reply in a steady tone. I’m the witness here. Ethan has no recollection of what happened during the time he was Lothar.
Slowly, haltingly, my voice gaining confidence as I go on, I relay what happened last night to Dr. Baggins. She listens, interrupting only occasionally to ask some questions. Ethan listens as well. I can tell that much of it surprises him. Jeffrey is probably not privy to what Ethan does in bed and his metamorphosis within it, but I was.
“You underwent another trigger,” Dr. Baggins finally says. “Orgasm.”
“It appears so,” Ethan replies bleakly.
If the frank sex talk is supposed to make me nervous, it doesn’t. Somehow, Dr. Baggins has the ability to make me – us – feel at ease. Maybe it’s a shrink thing.
“How do you feel about that?” Dr. Baggins asks Ethan.
He sighs and doesn’t look at me. “Like I can never have sex again.”
“You didn’t, for a long time.”
“Christ, but it’s hard.” Ethan gets up and paces the floor. His voice rises. “It’s not only sex. I can’t jerk off. I can’t lay my hands on my dick. I can’t even think about sex in case I get hard. Have you any idea how difficult that is?”
He swings to look at the two of us, and his eyes are mutely pleading. I can feel the frustration radiating off him in waves.
Yes, I think, my heart beating fast. I can relate to that. For a relatively young, virile man who must have had every woman and fag throwing themselves at him in Hollywood, this must be Hell on Earth. Perhaps Ethan had buried his own needs into his solitude and art, but it still manifested in disturbing ways. I can’t help recalling the story of the hooker who was beaten up.
I shiver inwardly.
“I understand, Ethan,” Dr. Baggins says calmly. She doesn’t motion him to sit down. “The question is . . . what do you want to do about it?”
My eyes do not leave Ethan’s face. He’s so beautiful standing there, framed by the light from the window. Anyone can see that he is David Kinney in the flesh, especially those who have had long memories of the movies. A pang fleets in my chest. I have loved and idealized David Kinney as a movie star for the longest time. And he still doesn’t know I know who he is. Or who he used to be.
I see the frustration brimming to the surface on Ethan’s face, and also regret, indecision, fear. No. not just fear.
Absolute terror.
“Ethan,” Dr. Baggins says, “the only thing we haven’t tried . . . yet . . . is hypnosis. You’ll have to relive your past.”
“No!” Ethan turns away to face the window. “I-I can’t.”
“We have talked about your past, or what you remembered of it. But it’s still incomplete. There are large chunks of your life that are missing. Hypnosis will hopefully reveal them.”
“Talking about it is one thing. Reliving it through hypnosis . . . ” Ethan shudders. “It’s too real. Too stark. I can’t revisit those memories. I just can’t.”
“Then there’s no chance for a cure, Ethan,” Dr. Baggins argues. “We’ve been through this. For years.”
“I know,” Ethan whispers. “I just to think about it, OK?”
“Yes, you do that. Then let me know.” Dr. Baggins glances at me. “It was easier then, when you didn’t really have someone you cared enough to have sex with, Ethan. But I’m thinking the situation might be different now . . . am I right?”
Damaged Beauties (Romanced by the Damaged Millionaire (Erotic Romance)) Page 7
