by Ray, Lexie
“Of course I do,” I said, easing the glasses off of his eyes and down over his own nose. I wanted to see his eyes; I craved wanting to know everything about him, his past travels especially. If I had the cash to travel everywhere, to range so far and wide that it didn’t make sense for me to have just one home in just one city, I probably wouldn’t ever shut up about it.
Ron took my hand and instant butterflies filled my stomach. I didn’t think that my physical reaction to him touching me would ever end.
“I’ve been to places you’ve only seen in movies, all around the world, for my entire life,” he said. “But my very favorite place is Miami, but only since I’ve met you.”
I blinked at him a couple of times, studying those intense blue eyes, before I snorted.
“Yeah, right,” I laughed. “You’ve been to crazy places, and I’m in your favorite place? You can stop making fun of me right now, please.”
“Parker, I’m serious,” he said, his hand tightening around mine. “You can see the most amazing places in the world—the Taj Mahal, the Great Wall of China, the Eiffel Tower—but they don’t mean anything if your heart isn’t there with you. Maybe I’d be able to pick a better place than Miami, but Miami has my heart right now. It has the heart of the woman I love.”
My mouth dropped open as tears sprung to my eyes. How could I have found this beautiful, beautiful man? He meant so much to me, and he was never afraid to tell me what I meant to him.
“I love you,” I breathed, certain of it as I brushed his lips with my own. “I would do anything for you.”
“Someday, I want to take you to all the places I’ve been before,” he said. “I want to open the world up to you, Parker, and to rediscover with you through your eyes.”
Every one of his words made me swoon, and we saw the sun sink down with our passionate kisses.
That night, in the apartment I had been tailoring so carefully to be worthy of the man I’d fallen in love with, we slowly undressed each other, not caring that our sandy swimsuits were befouling the soft, shaggy rug I’d spent so much money on, not caring that our skin tasted like salt and faintly of the limes we’d squeezed in our beers, not caring that our hair was still damp as we did a slow slide onto the couch, our mouths connected, breathing one breath for each other.
We took our time, at first, but the inevitable drumbeat in my chest quickened. I needed that release. It was a physical necessity.
“Please, Ron,” I said, squeezing his wrist as he palmed me between my legs, leisurely making my back arch and my thighs tremble.
“Please, what?” he asked, placid, even though he was more than aware of exactly what I wanted.
“Make me come,” I all but whined, pushing impatiently against his hand, willing it to give me the release I craved.
“Oh, that’s what you want?” he said casually, as if I’d asked him to pass the salt. I knew he had to be flirting with me, teasing me, but I was beyond that point. I’d seen the place where I wanted to be, and I salivated over it. I didn’t want any obstacles to my goal.
“Yes, that’s what I fucking want,” I snapped, angry only because it was something I wanted so badly. My climax was a very real drug for me, and Ron was its facilitator.
Something changed in his face at my tone of voice, and I suddenly found myself pinned roughly to the couch, my hands over my head.
“Is this what you fucking want?” Ron growled, right in my face. Flustered, all I could do was blink at him. I felt like I had a whiplash from the feelings I was experiencing. I’d been close to getting what I wanted, just minutes away from the release I always sought, and now I was looking up into the very threatening face of the man I loved. I didn’t know what to say as an understatement.
“Answer me!” he demanded, flecks of spittle landing on my face, making me flinch.
I swallowed and flexed my fingers a little. His tight grip on my wrists was beginning to make my hands fall asleep, slowing the circulation of blood to them.
“You’re hurting me,” I whispered, afraid to hold my silence, afraid of what he would say to that admission. This wasn’t making sense to me whatsoever. In our time together, Ron hadn’t given me any indication that he was capable of this kind of instant vehemence. It was shocking in its suddenness, as if some other person, a stranger I didn’t know, slipped into Ron’s body for a moment and occupied it with extreme prejudice.
The intensity on Ron’s face relaxed at my words, and his grip on my wrists released. I brought my hands back down and crossed them awkwardly over my chest, my fingers tingling.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, his voice sincerely apologetic. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
My heart was still thudding in my chest. “What were you trying to do?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm, quiet.
“I was trying something a little different, that’s all,” he said, shrugging.
“You were threatening toward me,” I pointed out.
“It’s a sex thing,” he said, shrugging. “I’m sorry. It’s just…at the beach, you said you loved me, that you’d do anything for me.”
I was calmer now that Ron was calmer, but I was no less confused.
“You…want me to let you threaten me? What kind of sex thing is that?”
Ron laughed suddenly, and I laughed with him, eagerly after hesitating a moment. I wanted this strangeness to be over and was intent on doing all I could to help it pass.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, hiding his face with his hands. “I didn’t think, Parker. Jesus! You must think I’m an animal. I forgot that you don’t have much experience…of course this would be weird for you—scary, even.”
“I wasn’t scared,” I lied quickly. “I just didn’t understand what was happening. I mean…that’s a sex thing? Really? People being mean to each other is sexy?”
“Oh, baby,” he said, taking one of my hands and turning it over to kiss my palm. My wrists were still sore, and it was hard not to shrink away from him touching the area of my body in question again. “It’s not being mean, it’s being dominant. I thought maybe you’d be into it, especially with your act at the club.”
I blinked several times. My act at the club, my Parker persona…the only thing dominant about that was my penchant for black and aloofness. I wasn’t outright mean or aggressive toward anyone, not on stage and not in the seclusion of the private dance room. This situation didn’t make complete sense to me yet, but I was casting around for a way to end it and go back to my perfect life with the man I loved.
“I don’t really know anything about that,” I said. “My act at the club is just a mask. It was an easy thing to be when I felt insecure. If…if being dominant during sex is something you want to try…?”
Ron leaned forward and kissed my forehead gently. “You’re obviously not comfortable with it,” he pointed out. “It’s not a big deal for me. I just don’t want you to get tired of me, Parker. I want our relationship to stay fresh.”
“How could you think I’d ever get tired of you?” I asked, puzzled. “You’ve been everywhere and seen everything, more than I’ll probably ever see in my lifetime. You’re still a mystery to me, and I want to know everything about you. I’ll never get tired of you. Ever.”
Ron took my face in his hands and kissed me, soft and long. “I adore you, baby. Do you believe me?”
I nodded into the kiss, desperate for deeper contact, for moving on from the confusing awkwardness that had just transpired. I wanted things to be back to normal, but I just didn’t have the same desire as before. I’d been shocked and scared, and now my body had physically shut down.
Ron kissed me, fondled me, plied me with techniques that usually easily did the trick, and yet I couldn’t get there. He eased into me without me having to ask, jerked fruitlessly against my body, put my legs on his shoulders, and bent me double.
I wanted to come. I wanted to come for him, to show him I still loved him. I did. I did still love him. However, the truth was, I was too
disturbed by his angry face and the way the skin between those startling blue eyes wrinkled in rage to even think about trusting him with my climax.
Ron finished with a grunt, the juncture of my legs becoming wet, and breathed hard against my neck, kissing it as he gradually got ahold of his faculties. It was the first time he’d ever climaxed without me doing the same. It felt like some kind of sad milestone in our relationship, and it made my eyes sting with tears for some reason.
It was reality informing me that my relationship with Ron wasn’t a fairy tale, that it wasn’t perfect, and that it was, perhaps, full of flaws.
“What is this?” he asked, cupping my cheek. “Are you crying?”
I shook my head, but there was no denying the solitary tear that oozed down my face.
“Did you…not like it?” Ron asked, studying me. “Gentle like that…it wasn’t good? Did you want it the other way?”
What could I say? What I wanted to do was go back in time to before he’d pulled that strange anger on me, maybe stop myself from demanding that he finish me off. I just wanted things to be like they were before he’d pinned me on the couch.
“Will you ever forgive me?” he asked, his own eyes filling with tears. I couldn’t take it anymore. I burst into tears and hugged him tightly.
“Can’t we just forget about it?” I sobbed. “Can we just pretend the mean thing never happened?”
“The dominant thing?” he asked.
“Uh-huh.” I shuddered, as I clung to him. I never wanted to see that face on him again.
“Of course,” he said, smoothing my hair. “Poor thing. Your hair is a tangled mess. Let’s go take a shower. Wash everything off. Sound good? We’ll come out feeling fresh and just go to bed, start a new day tomorrow.”
That did sound good, and I slept like a baby in his arms.
I only wished I could’ve latched onto that night as a red flag, as a warning of what was to come, of who Ron really was. However, I was still relatively young, and I was stupid enough to think that this was just an odd little blip in my relationship with him, instead of a telling clue.
And I was probably too focused on this relationship, too invested in Ron as a way to forget about Marcus and everything else I’d wished my life would be.
~ To be continued ~
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