by Nina Lane
With a moan, I sank my head back into the pillow.
“Fuck.” The curse snapped out of him, gritty and dark.
He pushed a finger back and forth into my anus. Heat shocked over my nerve endings. Then I felt the tip of his cock pressing against the opening. Fresh panic filled me. I swallowed a hundred pleas and forced my body to relax as he pressed forward.
He was saying something, but I couldn’t hear his words past the thundering sound of my heartbeat. I could only absorb the deep cadence of his voice, the soothing spread of his hand against my lower back, the slow penetration of his shaft into me. Intense pressure fired through my blood, pain mingling with undeniable pleasure as my body yielded to him.
He groaned, fully seated inside me, his fingers gripping my bottom. I arched my back as he pulled away and entered me again, a slow, rhythmic movement that spiraled heat throughout my entire body. Bound, the ropes chafing my sore wrists, my sex aching with the need for release, all I could do was take him.
Too much. It was too much, this pressure, the ache, the thwarted need…
The word starfish pushed up into my throat. I clenched my teeth, refusing to let it escape. Ben slipped out of me, and I sagged in both relief and frustration. He pushed his fingers into my slit.
“Tell me what you want,” he grated out. “Tell me exactly who you belong to and what you’ll do for me. I’m going to shoot all over your pretty ass, and if you’re a good girl, I might let you come.”
“Ben.” Dazed, I sucked in a ragged breath, twisting to see him over my shoulder. “Oh, God, Ben, I’m yours. I want you to fuck me, to feel your cock pounding into me… everywhere… my cunt, my ass, my mouth. I’ll do anything for you, anything you want…
I watched in mesmerized fascination as he worked his cock, throwing his head back with a groan as he came all over my upturned ass. Shivers racked me. He put his fingers on my clit and rubbed, his voice a low murmur.
“Come on, then, baby,” he said, putting his other hand on my lower back. “Come all over my hand… Christ, you look amazing all tied up and hungry… I want to hear you scream when you come, Maddie. Can you do that for me? Work yourself on my fingers… so close… so fucking wet…”
Explosions burst through me. I screamed. My whole body vibrated and quaked as I clamped my thighs around Ben’s hand and rode the exquisite wave. I collapsed onto the bed with a moan, my arms and wrists hurting.
Ben moved up the bed, swiftly unfastening the ropes and tossing them to the floor. He hauled me against him, his arms closing around me like bands of steel. His skin was hot and sweaty, his breath rasping against my hair. I couldn’t stop trembling.
“I love you,” he said, his voice rough. “I couldn’t give a damn if it’s too soon, too wrong. I fucking love you, Maddie. I’m not going to stop.”
Pain filled my throat, but this time there was no softening effect of pleasure. I curled my hand against his abdomen. Tears flooded my eyes. His arms tightened around me. I pressed my face to his chest and cried so hard my sobs drowned out the crash of ocean waves.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‡
I woke to a dark and rainy Sunday morning, water pattering onto the windows and wooden deck. Whitecaps pitched and rolled on the gun-metal gray ocean waters. Clouds boiled over the sky, blocking out any hint of sun.
The stale smell of sex clung to the rumpled bedsheets. I pushed myself to my feet, sore and aching both inside and out.
I tugged on my robe and went to use the bathroom and brush my teeth. Ben hadn’t tied the ropes tightly enough to leave bruises, though the skin on my wrists was reddened and sore. I didn’t look at myself in the mirror, not wanting to see my pale skin and haunted eyes.
The scent of coffee wafted from the other room. I tightened my robe and walked to the kitchen, everything inside me stirring at the sight of Ben. He sat at the breakfast nook, looking out the window, his profile rigid.
I approached him cautiously, reaching out to touch his thick, disheveled hair. Even in the gray light, the golden strands shimmered, like they were lit from within.
He turned, sliding his arms around my waist, pressing his face to my breasts. I held him close, unable to express even to myself how I could be both so sad and so grateful at the same time. I brushed my lips across his forehead.
“Come on,” I whispered. “Take a bath with me.”
Ben slid out of the chair and hauled me up into his arms. He carried me to the bathroom and filled the tub while I got out clean towels and washcloths. We sank together into the hot, bubbly water. I settled between his legs, my back against his chest, and closed my eyes.
We lingered forever, soaping each other down, our skin slick. Having turned to face him, I glided my hand down Ben’s chest to his cock and worked him to an erection before the water cooled. He pulled me out of the tub and carried me to the bed. Wet and dripping, we fell onto the bed and made love with a desperate gentleness that was a marked contrast to the previous night, and yet still somehow the same.
The morning passed too quickly. Before long, we were packing our clothes and emptying the trashcans. I found Ben’s T-shirt that I’d worn most of the weekend, and I held it out to him.
“Can I keep this?” I asked.
“My stinky old T-shirt? Sure, one less for me to wash.”
I smiled, knowing I’d never wash the shirt. I tucked it into my travel bag as a memento of a weekend I’d remember forever.
Ben brought our bags to the car while I stripped the bedsheets and straightened up the living room. I found the stash of seashells I’d collected, and I put them in a box to bring home to Noah and Emma.
Home.
Noah.
Emma.
My throat ached.
Ben and I drove back through San Francisco in relative silence, and the closer we got to Sweetwater, the more I felt the strengthening of my resolve and determination. I could be whoever I wanted to be in a secluded cottage on the beach, but in Sweetwater, I was unquestionably Madeline Collins. There was no room for indecision or weakness.
Ben pulled his SUV into the parking garage of his apartment building. My car was still parked in the surface visitor’s lot. He took my bag out of the back and started toward the exit.
“Ben.”
He turned. I held out my hand.
“You can’t come with me,” I said.
He frowned. “I’m taking this to your car.”
“No.” I approached and took hold of the handle of my bag. “We don’t know who lives in this building or who could be passing by. We can’t be seen together.”
Anger flared in his blue eyes. “That’s bullshit.”
“No.” I tried tugging the bag from his tight grip. “Ben, let go.”
I wasn’t sure if I was talking about the bag or me. He released the handle, his jaw clenching. I wanted to kiss him, hug him, do something, but a sudden frustration and coldness radiated from him.
Ignoring it, I reached up and touched his cheek.
I love you, Ben Hunter. So much.
I turned and walked away without looking back.
“Wow! This one is so cool.” Emma held up a shell and peered at the design embellishing the surface. “I can’t believe you got all of these.”
“That was just from one trip to the beach,” I said, aware of Richard looking at me from across the table.
“I’m surprised you found time to beach comb,” Richard remarked, forking up a portion of chicken from his plate. “What with the conference schedule and all.”
“I just went for an hour or so,” I said evasively, turning to Noah. “So tell me what else you did this weekend. How was karate?”
“Great. We’re learning a new form.”
He explained some of the moves while demonstrating, and the sound of his voice eased the tension from my shoulders.
I’d felt off-balance when I arrived back in Sweetwater, almost dizzy, like an astronaut reentering the atmosphere. But my children were the strongest ground
ing force in existence, and within a couple of hours, I was Madeline Collins again.
I successfully blocked out all thoughts of Ben and restarted my usual Sunday evening routine—meal planning for the week, checking on my work and volunteer schedules, helping Noah and Emma with their homework. I told them to take baths and get into their pajamas, read them a few books, and kissed them goodnight.
I reorganized things that had been put out of place over the weekend, did a load of laundry, and cleaned the kitchen floor. I sent a few emails to work colleagues and PTO committee members before I went upstairs to unpack and get ready for bed.
An early night and a workout tomorrow morning would be the final pieces putting me back together. I couldn’t think of what would happen when I saw Ben again—if not at the PTO meeting, then at school—but I was Madeline Collins. I was cool, polite, sharp, reserved. And I could be that way with Ben Hunter again, even if it killed me.
“Did you do any other sight-seeing?”
Richard’s voice startled me. I turned from putting away clothes in the dresser.
“Not really,” I said. “Just a visit to the beach.”
“How far was it from the hotel?”
“A few blocks.” I grabbed my nightgown and went into the bathroom to change. I silently prayed he would still find it necessary to sleep in the guest bedroom. I couldn’t stand the thought of sleeping beside my husband after what I’d just experienced with Ben.
I took my time cleansing my face and brushing my teeth before returning to the bedroom. Richard was undressing, his T-shirt and pajama pants on the bed. My heart sank.
“So what hotel were you at?” he asked, unbuttoning his shirt. “You forgot to send me your travel info.”
Shit. I averted my gaze from his broad, hairy chest.
“The Marriott.” I hoped there was a Marriott a few blocks from the beach in San Francisco.
“Good food?” he asked.
“It was okay.” I picked up a book from my nightstand and climbed into bed.
Nervousness twisted through me. It wasn’t like Richard to give me the third degree about anything.
He pushed off his pants. “What did you learn at the conference?”
“Just stuff about museum education.” My fingers tightened on the book. “I’ll tell you about it another time. I’m really tired now.”
“I don’t see why,” Richard said, eyeing me with an increasingly cold look. “Considering there was no museum education conference anywhere in San Francisco this weekend.”
I gathered all the composure I possessed and lifted my head to look at him. “I didn’t think you’d find it necessary to check up on me.”
“Neither did I,” he replied. “But when you didn’t answer your cell, I wanted to call the hotel to see how things were going. So I called Dan.”
My heart lodged in my throat. “You called my boss?”
“He didn’t know anything about a museum education conference.” Richard put his hands on his hips, anger starting a slow burn in his expression. “You want to tell me where the fuck you were and what the fuck you were doing?”
“No.” The word flew out of me like the strike of a lash. I gripped my book and met his hostile glare. “I don’t want to tell you a goddamned thing, Richard. Clearly we have serious issues, and if you thought it was okay to watch violent porn videos and fuck other women without telling me, then why would you think I owe you an explanation?”
“Because you’re my wife! Yeah, I admit to fooling around, but I’m the one who’s made this family what it is. I’m the one who’s worked my ass off to give us both everything we have. If it weren’t for me, you’d have nothing.”
“You think I haven’t helped build this family and life?” I snapped. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve done, and without so much as a thanks from you?”
“Thanks?” Richard stalked toward me, his anger burning hotter. “For almost twenty years, I’ve fucking given you everything. If that’s not thanks, then what is?”
“Sure you’ve given me everything,” I said bitterly. “Rejection. Heartache. Pain. Comparing me to a fucking corpse. Don’t delude yourself that I’ve been happy in this marriage, Richard.”
“You’re a selfish bitch, Madeline,” he retorted. “You’d be nothing without me. Nothing.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” A headache started pounding at my skull. “I’m tired, Richard. I want to go to sleep.”
A dark light flared in Richard’s eyes. His hands clenched so tightly his knuckles burned white.
“Where the fuck were you?” he yelled.
My heart slammed against my chest.
“None of your goddamned business,” I replied coldly.
“Were you fucking another man?” Richard snapped, stepping closer to me. “Is that what you were doing? Did you run off for a weekend fuckfest with someone else?”
I stared at him, shocked by the realization that he was half-hard, his erection starting to press against his boxers. I put up my hand.
“Richard, stop it.” I infused a chilly, calm note into my voice. “Of course not. There’s no one else.”
“Then why the fuck was there another man’s T-shirt in your bag?”
I froze.
Hostile triumph flashed in his eyes. “Didn’t think I’d check, huh?”
I couldn’t speak as I watched him yank open the drawer where I’d folded Ben’s T-shirt underneath piles of lingerie and underwear.
My husband pulled the shirt out and threw it at me, his eyes blackening with rage. Fear rippled through me, raising goosebumps on my skin. I clutched the shirt to my chest. I had no idea what to say or how to say it.
“Who the hell does it belong to?” Richard shouted.
“N-no one.”
“You fucking bitch.” He spit out the curse.
“Richard—”
Before I could get another word out, he strode to the bed and backhanded me across the face. I recoiled, my hand going to my cheek, shocked more from the act itself than the pain radiating over my skull. Richard was many things, but violent had never been one of them.
Then he kept coming at me. A scream lodged in my throat. I scrambled backward, trying to get away from him. He grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward him. Terror crawled over my skin.
“Richard… Richard, please… we can talk about this—”
“We’re done talking, Madeline,” he snapped, a lustful heat rising to his face. “Time for you to give me what you gave that bastard.”
“Richard!”
I lifted my hand to slap him. He caught my wrists in one hand, pinning my arms above my head. Horrified, I watched as he yanked up my nightgown and pushed my legs apart.
“Richard, stop it! I don’t want this…”
“I don’t fucking care,” he growled, pushing his boxers down. His cock sprang up between us, thick and heavy. “I’m your goddamned husband.”
“Rich…”
I winced when he pushed into me. I wasn’t ready, and the friction of his thrust ripped me with pain.
“Richard, stop! You’re hurt… hurting me.”
I bucked upward, trying to throw him off, but he was so much heavier. I could barely move. He thrust into me again and again, his expression dark with revenge and the need to punish.
“You’ll spread your legs for another man, but not me, huh?” he grunted, pawing at my breasts. “Fucking slut. I’ll show you who should be sticking his dick into you… ah, shit, Madeline, still tight, aren’t you? Come on, give me what you gave him, you little whore…”
I closed my eyes and waited for him to finish. Horrific shame rose in my chest, squeezing so tight I could hardly breathe.
Richard grunted again, thrust in rapid succession and came inside me. With a groan, he shoved away and rolled to his side, panting.
I was still clutching Ben’s T-shirt in one fist. I pushed my nightgown down. Cold crept into my blood, my bones.
Agony.
Terror.
&
nbsp; Rage.
Beside me, Richard’s breathing began to slow.
Shame
Destruction
Ice
Neither of us moved until morning.
CHAPTER NINE
‡
Colorful drawings of flowers and gardens plastered the walls of the first-grade classroom. I sat at a table with several children, listening to them read a story about a bear emerging from hibernation. The sound of their sweet little voices and the rhythmic cadence of the poetic words soothed the prickliness that had been rubbing my soul raw for the past few days.
I helped them sound out unfamiliar words, asked questions, and then guided them to write a few opinions about the story. When my hour-long volunteer session was over, I said goodbye to the children and teacher and started back to the school’s main entrance.
“Madeline?”
I turned to find one of the administration aides coming toward me. My fingers tightened on my bag.
“I heard a rumor that you might be stepping down as PTO president,” she said with a frown. “I was sorry to hear that. You’ve done a wonderful job.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “I’ll finish out the school year, but it might be time for someone else to step in next year.”
“If you’ll be in town this summer, maybe we can start to organize a transition,” she said, then smiled. “Or convince you to stay on.”
“We’ll see.” I tried to return her smile. I felt so brittle I thought I might break, thin cracks spreading across what was left of my cool façade. “Thanks for your kind words.”
I walked away before she could say anything else. My heartbeat sped up as I stepped into the main office. I purposely kept my gaze away from Ben’s office door, which was near the front desk. I hadn’t seen him since returning to Sweetwater three days ago, and I prayed I wouldn’t.
Normally I’d stop and chat briefly with the secretary and other admins, but now I couldn’t get to the sign-out sheet fast enough. I scribbled the time next to my name and hung my visitor badge on the rack.
