by Paige North
“I’m free to go anytime I want, Jayce.”
“Elena, come here. I won’t hurt you. All I’ve ever wanted was make you feel good. That’s what you get for stirring me up inside. You understand that? Now come here and trust me, goddamnit.”
The tears slip down her cheeks, and she stares at me, conflicted over what to do. I know that proud little heart wants to go home just to show me, teach me my lesson, but I know once she gets home, she’s going to wish she wouldn’t have overreacted. You can’t just abandon something when it’s not going your way.
She doesn’t move but doesn’t leave either. I walk over to her, covering her with my body in the bed and taking her face in my hands. Her eyes are wide and beautiful. I see my reflection in them. Her hands grip mine, shaking, and her heart beats a thousand miles a minute. She’s in it for the ride. Every extra mile I’ve ever pushed Elena, she’s gone along with it, and now is no exception.
Suddenly, I love her more than ever, for her bravery, willingness to experiment, the fact that she would go through with this for me. I plunge a kiss into her, tasting her tongue and sweet lips. As she’s arching her back, pushing her body into me, I reach up and quickly tie her wrists together.
“Jayce…”
“I may be controlling,” I whisper, tightening the knot, “maybe because nobody listened to me when I was a kid, so forgive me if I just want you to see that I know what I’m doing. How hard is it to show trust in the ones you love?”
I hear no objections, so I lift her up and move her to the bedpost, where I tie her arms up over her head. Her nipples are tight and hard underneath her tank, and I lower my mouth to nibble them through her shirt, feel the tight peaks against my lips.
I pull down her jeans, wriggling them off, and she whimpers, but when I stop on my way back up to press my nose against her V, inhaling her secret scent deeply, she groans and throws her head back. I have to tie her feet to the post, so she’s upright and her breasts jut out just right.
God, she looks so beautiful right now. “What do you want, Elena?”
“For you to let me go.”
“You don’t want that. You know you don’t.” Especially when I pinch and cup her breasts the way she likes. Roughly, I yank down the neckline of her tank so the tension holds her braless perky tits up. I suck on one, then the other, flicking her nipples with my tongue. She moans and closes her eyes. “What do you really want? Pretend you’re not mad at me.” I wipe her eyes and kiss her gently.
She sighs, her mouth dropping open. I hold her neck in place and kiss the delicate spot where her artery is pulsing. “For you to respect me.” She breaks into a fresh round of tears.
“I do respect you, Elena.” I kiss away each tear. “I respect you so much, I can’t stand the thought of losing you.” Two hands down, I grip one side of her panties and tear them off, as she gasps. Then, I let them hit the floor. “What else do you want? Now that you know I adore you?”
Elena is silent. She won’t play my game, and I guess I can’t blame her. She was madder than I’ve ever seen her. But she’s too proud, so I’ll tell her what she wants, and if it ain’t so, she can go home. As much as I’ll hate it.
“You like being tied up?” I ask without waiting for an answer. “Takes the burden off of making decisions, don’t it? Why don’t we do this…why don’t I call the shots tonight, and you trust me?” I undo the leg knot and carry her so her ass is on the bed, though she’s still tied to the bedpost.
Seeing her arms above her head is so fucking sexy, the narrow berth of her armpit, and the soft skin there. The way her full tits push forward. I take them into my mouth once again, nibbling and biting them until her legs part and give access.
I push them apart all the way.
Her naked pussy glistens, shiny with wetness. Her eyes stay closed.
“So pretty, Elena.” Even more amazing is the fact that she’s letting me, trusting me, just like I asked. This makes me so hard that my cock strains inside my jeans, my balls tighten against my body. Kneeling on the bed, I peel off my shirt, jeans, and boxers and stand above her, gripping myself in my hand.
I position myself between her legs, letting the head of my cock slide up and down her slick folds, pushing into her pussy just enough to hear her moan and feel her grind up against me. “Yes, you want it. You want me to make you feel good.”
“I thought you didn’t make love.”
“I said I wouldn’t, though I can make exceptions. But I’m not going to fuck you, either. At least not that way.” Hovering over her, I hang onto the bedpost, lowering myself slowly, so she can get used to the idea of what I’m about to do. She doesn’t shift or turn away. Instead, she opens her mouth slightly, and when I lower my balls into her mouth, I feel her tongue reach out to greet them.
I pull up then slowly push the head of my engorged cock into her lips. “Open.”
She gives in, opening her mouth and taking me in deep, not quite deepthroating but enough so it feels damn good.
“Look at you. You love having my cock in your throat, don’t you?” I hold down a groan and pull back out, tapping her mouth and chin with my cock. “This is using you, Elena. Learn the difference. But I won’t use you for long without paying you for it.”
Spinning in my spot, I aim my cock into her mouth again, pushing down slowly until I hear her gagging, then I pull out. She gasps for air, and I think she’s going to call it quits, but then I feel her tongue happily lapping my balls, so I lower myself again to give her mouth what it wants.
Her pussy glistens in the feeble light of my room, her slit drenched with juices. She’s loving this, even if she hates herself for it. Sliding onto her without crushing her, I press my tongue against her clit, licking the hard nub diagonally across the hood.
She moans and writhes against my tongue, the vibrations of her mouth against my balls feeling amazing. As I spread her pussy apart and lick her clit the other way, I feel her mouth engulf my cock again, and it feels fucking insane. So many call it quits right around here, but not Elena. She keeps reaching, keeps trying, whether it’s for herself or for me, I’m not sure. Maybe a little bit of both.
Her mouth pushes in rhythm around me, so I pump into her, not too hard, because she’s tied up, and we didn’t agree on a safe word first. She may not even know what they are. I wanted this to be all about her, but I needed to have her, wanted to claim her just as much as I want her to feel good.
Her muscles tighten against my face, and that’s when I shove two fingers inside of her, pumping them in and out, rubbing the tiny mound inside of her. She’s about to come, about to spill anger and frustration onto my face, and I’m just fine with that. I’d rather she go with angry sex than leaving me.
“Come for me. I want to hear your muffled scream against my balls. Do it.” Sliding one finger into her pussy, I test the other one out against her ass, rubbing lightly, pumping the other one in and out of her sweet pussy, as I suck on her clit. Her legs close in around me, and I know she’s going to peak.
Sounds of aching pleasure hum against my balls then my thigh, as she turns her head for air. I love the pulsations of her pussy against my face and bury myself deeper to feel them. But once she subsides, I have to feel her from the inside and hop off her for a second to grab a condom out of my nightstand drawer. Rolling it on, I kneel between her legs, and rubbing her clit to draw out her orgasm, plunge in to go find mine.
“God, yes, Jayce…” Elena writhes on the bed, her arms tied to the bedpost, her nipples erect, and goosebumps covering her arms and legs. She’s my slave, my pet, my woman who trusts me. “Fuck me harder, please…”
She’s in her zone, the one where she doesn’t care what she says anymore. It’s a beautiful thing. All pride goes out the window, as I pump her full of cock, filling her up, expanding her out, sensing my own orgasm building nicely.
“I love how wet you get for me, Shortcake.” No flash of anger in her eyes, no reaction at my nickname. She’s mine now, and I can do
whatever I want with her. And so I fuck her, long and deep and hard, bending to suck her tits, loving her body and what it does for me, for both of us.
I’m in her debt. Her goodness, her beauty, her talent…she surrounds me with it every day, and then at night, she lets me claim her, this gorgeous, sweet woman trusting me so much, she’d let me tie her to the bed and do unspeakable things to her without her permission. The show of faith humbles me. The sight of her naked body entices me. I shouldn’t have any of this, never deserved it, and yet I do.
My next thrust brings on a spasm so suddenly, I don’t expect it, and my climax shoots throughout my being, radiating from the center out, shaking me to the core. I hear Elena say, “Come for me, Jayce. Come hard into my pussy.”
Words straight into my soul. An innocent woman with a dirty mouth. Nothing better in this world. I spill over and over again, my come pulsing deep into her, and then I collapse onto her, reaching blindly to undo her knots. She’s earned her escape.
But instead, her arms envelop me, and I drift far away into another plane, where loved ones allow you to be yourself and forgive you at the end of the day, where imperfect men are met with perfect gifts, such as Elena holding me in her arms. I kiss her, slow and deep, wiping away the remnants of her tears, inhaling her sweet scent, and for the longest time, all I hear is the sound of her heart beating against my chest.
I don’t know how long we lie there, but I fall asleep and dream of music. Of love. I’m falling for this woman faster than I can do anything about it. In my dream, our duet echoes over and over again to the refrain of guitar chords and humming. Maybe it’s Elena singing to me. Maybe I’m going insane. Maybe she’s already left the house, just packed up her shit and gone, and I’m alone again, the only way I’ve ever known how to be.
Instead, I hear, Never let me go, never let me go, love me, trust me, tell me all your secrets, and never, never…let me go. And I know she’s still with me.
When the phone rings loud and annoyingly, it jars me from my sleep. What time is it? Where the fuck am I? Elena is asleep next to me. It’s morning, and she’s still here. The ropes I used last night lie on the floor. Light burn marks mar my woman’s wrists.
I pick up and answer Ethan’s call. “What the fuck? It’s Sunday morning.”
“You have to come home. It’s Mama.”
I’m wide awake now, sitting on the edge of the bed. Quickly, I grab my clothes and move to the hallway to not wake Elena. “What happened?”
“Dad was drunk again last night. They got into an argument. He hit her, Jayce.” Ethan’s voice breaks, his sniffling giving me a moment to think about what I’m going to do to my father. I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking kill him.
“How could you let him?” I ask, my vision turning red. “How, Ethan?” This is what happens when I’m not around to protect her. I ask my brothers to live with her for this very fucking reason.
“I wasn’t there, brother. We went out to a bar. Just come home. She’s in bad shape.”
“Be there soon.” Grabbing my wallet and randomly tossing on a dirty T-shirt, searching for my fucking keys, I think about the knot I’m going to make of my father when I get to Johnson City and solve this goddamned problem once and for all.
12
Elena
The bed is freezing cold. I’m also alone. Where has he gone to?
I sit up and try to remember last night. My wrists hurt. I look at them. Burn marks. It all comes back to me—the argument, his refusal to let me go, the stupid way I gave into his controlling tactics. He struck another deal with me. If I didn’t love being tied up, I could go, he said. And I gave in. I gave in, because I thought it would make us closer, because I thought he’d let me into his world more. Believed he might tell me everything in his heart and why it seems to hurt all the time.
I have to look for him. I wander around the house, but don’t find him anywhere. In the garage, his car is gone. He hasn’t texted me, even after an hour of waiting. Where did he go? Did we get too close last night after sex?
Maybe I shouldn’t have sang him to sleep—too personal. Thing is, after a month of being together, I thought it’d be okay. Whether or not he wants to admit it, making love is what it’s been. Did it scare him away? I’d text to ask where he went, but maybe it’s better this way. Just do the walk of shame and get out while I still can.
I gather my things, shoving them all into my bag. Jayce Owens, as much as he drives me crazy in good ways, is no good for me. Whatever demons he’s fighting, he’s fighting them alone. His refusal to let me in has damaged us for the last time. He should’ve been in that bed with me when I woke up. He should’ve told me we’d turned a corner.
Instead, he’s pulled a disappearing act.
My heart hurts like hell. Is it time to go? Half of me says no, give him another chance, Elena, you can fix him. But I know better. I’ve heard enough war stories to know that a tiger can’t change his stripes. If he’s ever going to come around and let me into his heart, it’ll be on his own terms, not because I nag him. Still, I fight the urge to cry like a little girl. I thought we were growing closer. I thought he’d eventually crack his shell.
Stupid, stupid girl. Now, suck it up and put your big girl panties back on. The non-ripped ones anyway.
The apartment is empty when I arrive, a relief because I wouldn’t even know what to say to Zoe after all this time away. I spend half the day lounging in my bed, making arrangements to go back to work at my regular schedule. Mr. Logan says he’ll have to think about it. I should be so lucky to have any job at all, he tells me. If only I hadn’t been one of his best waitresses.
It’s better than nothing. I’ll take it.
When I call the studio to see if I should come in today, Dotty tells me that Mr. Santos says not to bother, since Jayce hasn’t come in at all. Really now. Where would he go, if not the studio? Over the past month, we’ve literally spent every moment together, and I happen to know he does nothing other than record at the studio or spend time at home. In fact, if I called the media and told them that Jayce Owens is a homebody who likes to write music, play Xbox, and cook during his spare time, they’d probably laugh.
When Zoe finally comes home, she acts fake-surprised to see me. “Huh. Did he finally get tired of you?” Such sweet, affirming words from a friend. Then again, I haven’t exactly treated her like a friend when I disappeared to live in a bubble with Jayce. “What’s it like, Elena? Sleeping your way to the top?”
Wow, really?
Her words hurt as much as they anger me. But I can’t be mad at Zoe. I’m mad at myself, because she’s right. I let this spin way out of control. Still, she should know better than anyone how hard it is to grow up struggling, watching my parents get laid off, sometimes working two or three jobs at a time to make ends meet. She should know that living without money is a real fear for some. So, forgive me if, for a few weeks, I was catered to, if my rent was paid, and all I had to do was sing and look pretty for it.
She would’ve done the same.
Shit, she would’ve had Jayce’s babies.
I blow past her out of the apartment, ending up in my Honda, slamming the door and letting out a wail of cries in the solace of my quiet bubble. Pathetic. I let a man come between me and my dream to overcome.
I let a man control me, all because he reigned supreme over my own body, because I was too physically and mentally weak to resist him. I fell for the oldest trick in the book—naïve girl falls for experienced, psychologically damaged man.
I’m a fucking cliché.
And I hate myself for it.
For days, I don’t hear from him. For days, I wonder what I did for him to put up a wall between us. For days turning into a week, Jayce Owens falls off the face of the planet, and I only have myself to blame for caring about it. I’ve been a fool. An utter fool—one who fell for a man who can’t even love me.
13
Jayce
The drive to Johnson City a week ago -- after Eth
an’s call -- didn’t go well. I couldn’t stop thinking of the hundred different ways I could smash my dad’s face. I drove way past 90 mph, all furious and shit, got clocked, stopped and ticketed, even though the cop told me he was a fan.
Pfft. Fuck that guy.
Because after that, the media caught wind of where I was, thanks to Officer Fuckface and his big mouth. So my plan to head straight for General Hospital where Mama’s being treated for internal bruising, multiple lacerations, and a broken arm and ribcage was shot. When I saw the news trucks a few beats behind me, I had to change course and head home. Didn’t want them showing up at the hospital, knowing what happened and making things worse for her.
Home, in this case, is the five-bedroom house I’m holed up in now, paparazzi hanging out lazily on the curb. I bought the place for my family just outside Johnson City two years back. Nothing fancy but a world of upgrade from the disheveled shack where I grew up.
Now, I have nothing to do every day other than worry about Mama and drink myself into oblivion. Every day, I’m pissed. Every day, I wake up wanting to trash the house. My father fled town, like he should, motherfucker, if he knows what’s good for him. Now, it’s just me and my brothers, Wyatt, Ethan, Daniel, and Ryan in each other’s faces all day long.
Going home is always a slap in the face. It can be good, because you’re reminded where you came from. But not so good because you remember why you left in the first place.
“How much longer you think she needs to stay at the hospital?” Wyatt asks. He checks for reporters through the living room blinds. I paid the staff at General Hospital to keep my mama a few extra days, even though she was good to go home, so she could stay safe and under surveillance, while my brothers make sure the coast is clear.
“Until we know where Dad’s shacking up. I can’t risk him coming home, dragging his knuckles through here, to beat her again. I won’t have it,” I say, swirling my glass of Wyatt’s homemade moonshine around in endless circles.
