Cut So Deep

by Stasia Black

  All right, I’m going to go back out there and focus, give Jackson my best pitch. I will salvage the night. I will be calm, cool, and collected.

  I use the restroom, then step out of the stall to wash my hands, examining my face to see what needs fixing.

  I’m astonished that my makeup looks pretty much just like it did when I left the apartment. I thought I’d be a sweaty mess. Then I remember that Breanna did spritz some kind of makeup fixative all over my face when she was done. I was coughing from the fumes at the time, but it has kept everything perfectly in place.

  I smile and am gratified to see there’s not even any lipstick on my teeth. Breanna would be so proud.

  The door opens as I take a towelette to dry my hands.

  “Whoring yourself out to another older man, really? You just don’t have any imagination, do you?”

  I look up in surprise and see her reflection in the mirror. It’s the Shrew. All five foot nine, polished head-to-toe inch of her.

  “Jackson Vale.” She clucks her tongue and her pointy-toed shoes click, click, click on the marble floor as she walks toward me. “You sure are moving up in the world.” She glances at me out of the side of her eye as she opens up a small clutch bag and pulls out some lipstick. “At least until he realizes what a crazy bitch whore you are.”

  I step back from her. “Excuse me?”

  She starts to casually reapply her lipstick. She smacks her lips together with a pop before turning to look at me. Or I should say, look down her nose at me.

  “Look at you.” She smirks. “Cheap bottle blonde.” She reaches over and tugs at my hair, pulling a chunk out of the pins.

  I can only stare at her, shocked. What the hell? Did this bitch actually just do that?

  “Flashing those double D’s in men’s faces so they don’t see the crazy in your eyes.” She smacks at my cleavage with her rectangular silver clutch purse. Hard enough to sting. She rears back to swing again.

  “Don’t fucking touch me.” I shove her. If she thinks she can assault me like that and I’ll just take it, she’s got another thing coming.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she shrieks, her voice suddenly different. She topples backwards to the floor even though I didn’t push her that hard. “I just wanted to talk to you, woman to woman, about David getting to see his son more,” her voice sounds pleading now, as if she’s afraid of me.

  What the hell’s going on? I shuffle forward and she holds her hands up defensively. “Please stop! I won’t approach you again, just don’t hurt me!”

  I throw up my hands. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  But before my eyes, she seems to undergo another complete personality change. She’s grinning as she gets up off the floor. “Did you get all that, Manny?”

  The stall that had been closed when I came in pushes open and a medium-build guy in what looks like a chauffer’s uniform steps out holding up a camera phone. “Got it, Mrs. K.”

  I look back at David’s wife, a horrible sort of realization dawning. She’s happy enough to fill in any remaining gaps. She’s not grinning now. There’s only a lethal sort of determination on her face. “You have kept David away from his son long enough. He belongs with his father. With us. I knew I could catch your true colors on video.”

  I want to launch at her and claw her eyes out, but I see that Manny has the camera up and recording again. “This footage is all manipulated,” I say into the camera before turning back to the Shrew. “You’re the one who assaulted me first.”

  She shrugs. “That’s not what it’s going to look like in the edited version.”

  “He’s my son,” I grit my teeth, hands fisting at my side.

  “He’s David’s son.”

  “David sure didn’t think so when he told me to abort him,” I struggle and fail to hold my temper. “I’m the one,” I stab my thumb into my chest, “who’s loved Charlie and been there for him for his first words and steps. I’m the one who sacrificed. Who gave up school and postponed the other things I wanted because he’s my number one priority. He’s everything to me. You’ll never take him away.” It takes everything in me to keep my rage from boiling over. “I have a lawyer who knows what he’s doing this time.”

  “You don’t deserve a baby,” she steps up to me, anger flashing in her eyes. “You’re a coked- up whore. We have pictures. What do you think the judge will say when he sees that? You think they’ll find you a fit mother when they see you snorting the rent money up your nose?”

  My insides drop to my feet. How could—? It was just that one time and David brought it. He told me it would be so hot if we both did it and then had sex. I hated the way it made me feel so out of control. And David took pictures? I don’t remember that. But then, that night became extremely hazy after the drugs.

  I look up and glare at the Shrew, then at the guy who has the camera trained back on me. Or is this bitch just lying to try to get me to say something on camera she can twist around?

  “If you want a baby so bad, why don’t you just have one of your own?” Then I see it, the flash of pain on her face.

  “You can’t, can you? That’s what all this is about.” I take a step back in realization. So my guess was right. She can’t have kids. For a second, I feel sorry for her. I can’t imagine what it would feel like not to be able to have my Charlie.

  Her face hardens. “Don’t you dare pity me, you little whore. You think you can sleep with my husband, get knocked up with his bastard, and then pity me?”

  I glare at her. Yep, any pity I had is gone now. I could give zero fucks for this lady. “He told me you were divorced.” Most of the time we met at his house—a necessity since I was still living in the dorms. Why wouldn’t I have believed him about the divorce? “I’m sorry you can’t have a baby, but that doesn’t mean you can steal mine.”

  “It’s not stealing. It’s David’s child,” she gestures at Manny and turns for the door, but not before pausing for a parting shot over her shoulder. “And our team of lawyers have more than enough ammunition now to gain full custody against whatever paltry little family lawyer you can scrape up enough cash for.

  “We have quite a story to tell, after all,” she leans closer as the vicious words continue spouting. “Poor little college girl with a habit of seducing older men. It started early, with the executives at her father’s bank, whoring herself out to get favors for Daddy dearest. Or maybe because you just like the control it gave you, having him twisted around your little finger.”

  Her words hit me with as much force as a bat to the stomach.

  David told her.

  I trusted him with my darkest, most painful secrets. He told her. And he’s going to use it against me? I— I just— I mean, I know now that he never loved me, but I thought at least—

  My knees feel weak.

  No, don’t let her see she’s affecting you, Cals. Don’t let her see. You have to be a fortress. You have to be—

  But I must fail because her face brightens in triumph. “Didn’t think anyone would ever find out about that, huh, Callie? Or should I call you Lolita? You’ve always sought out men of power, haven’t you? Does it validate your existence, is that what you get out of it? First your daddy’s boss, then your professor, now Jackson Vale? You pretend to be the wide-eyed victim all the while leaning over in those skimpy trash outfits, rubbing your oversized chest in their faces. Seducing them away from their wives and their morals so they’ll fuck you. But that’s all you’ll ever be to them. A toy to fuck and then toss away. Like the trash you are.”

  My hands tighten into fists but I give her the opposite reaction to what she’s trying to goad out of me.

  Oh sure, I want to stab her eyes out with my hair pins. But I lock it all down, deep, deep inside. I’ve had practice with this. Don’t let anyone see. No one can ever know.

  Look what happened when I did open up and tell someone. David betrayed me in every way possible.

  No—I swallow hard at the new stab of
pain—shove it down deep like a lake that freezes over. From the surface, no one can see any movement at all. This bitch wants hot anger and reaction so she can catch it on video. So I give her ice. Indifference.

  I yawn. “You done?” I stretch languidly. “I’ve got a date to get back to.”

  Her eyes narrow. Oh, she’s good and pissed now. I don’t let my gratification show on my face. The only vibe I give off is boredom.

  The door opens behind the Shrew and three women come in, all chatting together. They pause in surprise when they see Manny.

  Just before I can offer the helpful idea that we call security about a man in the women’s restroom, the Shrew jerks her head and Manny follows her quickly out the door.

  I just stand stock still for a long moment, watching them as they go. After the intensity of that showdown, my thoughts feel sluggish.

  Bad. That was all very bad. The things David and the Shrew are going to bring up about me in court… Mr. McIntyre, that bastard my father worked for, saying I seduced him, as if I wanted it… a shudder starts deep in my bone and works its way outward.

  David was so outraged on my behalf when I eventually told him about it. We were in bed one night and he’d just promised that we’d be together forever. I’d never known happiness like that and I didn’t want any secrets between us. I was scared but I told him anyway because I trusted him.

  David jumped off the bed, he was so pissed. He said he’d kill him. I had to beg him not to go on the rampage. He made love to me so tenderly afterwards, telling me that he’d protect me from anything bad ever happening to me again.

  He made me believe heroes were real.

  But it was all a lie. A horrible, devastating lie…

  My lip starts to tremble.

  I open the door. My knees are even shakier now. I force myself to walk anyway.

  But I can’t block out the Shrew’s words. My stomach roils. If their lies sway the judge, I’ll have nothing left. I will be nothing. I survived Mr. McIntyre, in part because of David. I survived David’s betrayal because of Charlie. But if Charlie’s taken away from me?

  A numbness starts to steal over my entire body even while somehow I manage to stay upright and continue walking.

  No. There’s no way I’m letting them take my baby. They can’t. We’ll go on the run. I’ll change my name, change my hair, hide in Mexico, anything, oh God, anything—

  “Calliope.” A hand closes on my arm as I dazedly stumble out of the bathroom. I look up and Jackson’s large form fills my entire field of vision. His face is tight with some emotion I can’t name.

  All I can manage is to stare vacantly at him. I’m supposed to be salvaging the night. It’s very important. There’s a voice in the back of my mind yelling at me to pull my shit together.

  But… Charlie. That horrible woman is trying to steal my place as mother to my Charlie. She doesn’t know how I sing to him before bedtime. How we snuggle together in the mornings. That smile he has just for me—

  “Enough. Tell me what’s wrong, right this moment.” Jackson drags me off to an alcove created in the corner by a column.

  “I,” I start, but then pause because there are genuinely no other words in my mind. I’m just blank. Other than: Charlie. My baby. Charlie. “Home,” I finally manage to pull out through my mental fog. “Need to go home.”

  Thank God, I must have gotten out some words that made sense, because Jackson takes my arm and starts to lead me out of the ballroom in long strides I have to hurry to keep up with. Relief hits through the numbing haze. Home. I’ll check in on Charlie and then curl up and sleep.

  Sleep. Yes, that’ll help. Tomorrow I’ll figure all this out. Of course I’ll figure it all out. I always do. Don’t I? I have to.

  Except of course for the first court hearing where David won partial custody. And sure, I have a better lawyer now, but is he really going to measure against the team the Shrew’s family is paying for? And all the horrible things they’re going to accuse me of? Habit of seducing older men.

  Oh God, I could lose Charlie. I really could. I always said nothing on this earth could separate me from my little boy.

  But it’s not true.

  David, the Shrew, and their team of lawyers might—

  My breaths start coming in short, gasping pants. I try to gulp in air, but I barely manage a short wheeze.

  My little boy.

  He’s my life.

  They can’t take him away—

  I barely realize that we’ve stepped into the cool night air before the limo slides in front of us. Jackson all but pushes me into the back of it.

  “Breathe, Calliope. Take a deep breath, you’re hyperventilating.”

  I try. I really try. But every time I open my mouth to gulp in air, the image hits—policeman holding me back while that horrible woman drags a screaming Charlie away from me. Then the air that I desperately need is gone again.

  Spots dance in my vision. Oh God, oh God, oh God—

  Then, wait, what’s going on—?

  Everything goes head over ass and not just because I’m lightheaded. Jackson’s spun me over so that I’m face down against the seat. And wait… Is he…?

  He is. He’s bent me over his lap.

  Ass up.

  And now he’s hoisting my gown up.

  Before I can even fully comprehend what’s happening, his hand comes down on my ass. It doesn’t hurt, per se, it’s more of a slight sting, but the resounding smack of it and just the shock of—did he just spank me in the back of a moving limo and wait, can we get back to the part where the guy I barely know just spanked me?

  And then he does it again. The other ass cheek this time.

  Jackson’s voice is calm as he slaps each cheek twice more with slightly increased force, “Your safe word is red.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “I assume you know what a safe word is?” he continues, “They’ve become something of a pop-culture reference.”

  I just lay there, shocked. I mean, certainly enough in my life has shocked me over the past two months, but I think this just might take the cake.

  “Answer me, Calliope.” His voice is a commanding growl. “Say the safe word.”

  I take a deep breath in, ready to tell him to go to hell when I realize what I’m doing. I’m breathing again. Not hyperventilating. But right when I realize it, the crippling terror comes rushing back. Charlie. David and his wife threatening to take him away. The very real possibility that I’ll lose my baby. Just like that, my lungs constrict again and my whole body begins to shake.

  “The safe word,” Jackson demands. “Acknowledge it.”

  “Red,” I squeak.

  And then it’s like opening the floodgates. Both literally and figuratively. Jackson’s hand starts coming down on my ass, a sharp percussion that stings at first and then becomes progressively harsher until I’m squirming in his hold.

  It hurts but in the part of my mind still capable of thought, I can tell he knows what he’s doing. He’s holding back and giving only what I can take, not putting his full strength into it to actually hurt me.

  My mind seems to detach completely from everything else. My concentration narrows to each slap as it lands. He works up and down my cheeks, down to the curve where my butt meets my thigh and then back up again.

  I don’t even realize I’m crying until the blows slow and then stop. It’s not from the pain. I don’t even try to make sense of it. I can’t. I don’t want to. And in this moment, it feels like I don’t have to. I don’t have to think at all.

  Jackson’s hands are gentle now as he caresses the stinging flesh he was smacking moments before. It only makes me cry harder. Me, who never cries.

  “That’s right,” he murmurs, “let it out.”

  And I do. My ass is warm—no, red hot—under his hands. He continues his gentle stroking and when his massage moves lower to between my thighs, I press back against his touch. Needy. Because God, I was too mixed up to realize it even seconds
before, but the spanking didn’t only make my ass hot.

  I’m wet. Drenched. It doesn’t make any more sense to me than anything else since I’ve stepped into this limo tonight, but Jackson’s hands are so sure, so decisive. He’s so perfectly in control in a moment where I’m anything but.

  One long finger slips easily inside me and he hisses out a long breath. “So ready. So perfect. You’re so beautifully made.”

  Perfect? I let out an ugly sobbing scoff. Beautiful? What’s wrong with this man?

  “That’s right, beautiful,” he whispers, his deep voice a rumble as his thumb finds my clit. His other hand delivers another sharp thwack against my ass.

  I yelp even as I writhe on his lap. That’s when I feel him hard underneath me. He’s not unaffected by all of this. Should I be touching him in return? Is that what he expects? His talented fingers continue their exploration and my back arches in pleasure.

  Yes, I should try to give him some of what he’s giving me. That’s what this is. A kinky fuck in a limo. I move to maneuver a hand between us to grab at him, but he gives my ass another quick smack. Then he holds my hands above my head, pinning them to the smooth leather seat in one of his with a growl. “Keep them there.”

  I do and then he’s back at work, massaging me everywhere. He has the globe of my ass in one hand while plunging the fingers of his other hand in and out of my pussy. My breaths get shorter and shorter, but it’s not like before. No, this is all ramping up toward a goal. That pressure between my legs that’s building, oh God, building…

  I writhe against Jackson’s hand. I didn’t know it could be like— No one’s ever touched me like— His fingers thrust masterfully in and out and then in again, hitting a spot that makes light explode behind my eyelids and my stomach swoop crazily.

  Oh God, almost there, almost—

  I’m teetering on the most glorious edge and part of me doesn’t want to drop over. This is such a beautiful, exquisite torture. I want to stay here forever. With him. Drowning in him.