ABSOLUTION - A Dark Bad Boy Romance Novel

by Gabi Moore

  “Tell me one thing,” he said. “Tell me, did you enjoy last night?”

  I didn’t know what to say. They had completely ripped me apart. I was still aching in places I didn’t know a man could ever access. I had come hard, and it was intense and scary and nasty and delicious and a million other things.

  “Just answer that. Did you enjoy it?”

  Suddenly, it felt like the weight of the world rested on how I answered this question. His face was still naked, still open like it had been when I watched him sleep. In the years that I had known him, this was a face of his that I had seldom seen. What could I say to him? With an ache even deeper inside, so deep it went to my heart, I realized: I had vowed to make him happy, too. I took a while to answer.

  “I enjoyed being yours,” I said.

  We were both quiet, letting the answer hang there between us. It was true.

  He kissed the top of my head again and got up. His naked body was beautiful. Hard, strong. A man’s body. My man’s body. He walked over to the dresser and picked up the black envelope. He tossed it over to the bed and I caught it.

  “Open it,” he said.

  I opened it. Inside were stacks of neat, fresh notes. A lot of them. Real money. It had been a real, genuine trade. The chain had been real. The ‘sale’ had been real. I took a stack out and flipped through it, releasing its new money smell.

  “Fifty thousand dollars. Do you remember how, before you met me, you said you came to New York with a thousand dollars hidden in a book cover, and nowhere to live?”

  I smiled. I remembered it like it was yesterday. I was younger then, braver. I had ‘hustled’. Almost half of that paycheck had gone to getting professional modelling shots done. I had just one thing to invest in, back then: my looks. The girl in those modelling shots would have considered fifty thousand a roaring success.

  “You could take that now and leave me, if you wanted.”

  I looked up at him.

  “What?”

  “It’s not much, but you could take it and get a head start. You could leave today. Take your car, go and stay with your mom, rent a flat somewhere. You’d find work soon. Together with your savings, you could just leave….”

  I laughed.

  “Why would I do that?”

  A sad smile flitted over his face.

  “Then give it back to me,” he said.

  I handed him the money.

  He ran his fingers over the sharp black edges.

  “When I married you, I told you that money meant nothing to me, do you remember that?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  Why was he so obsessed about when we first met? He went to a drawer in the other dresser and pulled out a cigar box, and from this he took out a lighter. He snapped the lighter and watched the thin yellow flame lick and dance in his hands. Then, he held one stack of notes to the flame and watched it curl over the fresh paper. It ignited and suddenly the flame was larger, burning the edge of the stack of notes. I watched spellbound.

  “You’re …you’re going to burn it?” I asked.

  “All of it” he said.

  I got out of bed. I brought over a small waste basket and positioned it under the burning money. Taking another wad of cash from the envelope, I pressed it to his and watched as the fire leapt from his money to mine. They both glowed yellow and hot as the money crumbled and turned to ash before our eyes. We smiled at one another.

  We burnt all fifty thousand dollars. Him and me, together.

  Perhaps you’ll think I’m sick. Maybe you’ll say I’m spoilt. What privilege, huh? To hold all that money in your hands and burn it, literally, for thrills. But I didn’t care. Without doubt it was the most romantic moment of my life.

  We sat there, in the room, slowly passing every last note through the flame, watching it wither and crisp away to nothing, catching the ash in the waste basket. He was right. It was far too late for words now. Things were broken. Badly broken. But we had made vows. And like I had written in my diary: I loved him.

  When every last dollar was burned to smithereens, we laughed and dressed and went outside for a picnic.

  Chapter Fourteen - Natasha

  Tomorrow, Todd is taking me to a very exclusive and very exciting private sex party!!! I can’t wait to show off to everyone there, and prove to him just what a good little slut I can be. But he’s hardly told me anything about this party yet, so it’s all a mystery still.

  All I know so far is that I have a brand new outfit to wear there, and that there will be plenty of other people, too. Todd is really excited about this one, because it’s difficult to get invited to these events, and only very, very special people and their very, very special sex slaves get invited, so I’m trying to be on my best behavior.

  Hmm. I was beginning to sound distinctly girly. Like a little baby. I’ve always considered myself a vixen type, more of a sex bomb than a sex kitten. And even a girl who never finished High School knows it’s tacky to use that many exclamation points in a row but …why not? Whenever I got to thinking carefully about what the hell it was we were doing, I found myself stopping short and deciding: Todd knew best. I’d just leave everything to him.

  I turned over onto my belly so the sun could tan my back and legs. It was a strange day – full of heat if not actual sunshine, a little overcast, with the kind of clouds that skit fast across the sky, and you’re never quite sure what’s underneath them.

  “Pablo? Pablo come over here a second,” I said, and wiggled my toes. They were still a little wet from the dip I had just taken. When I was completely dry, it would be time for another dip.

  Pablo was leaning against the pole of a long pool brush, scraping the far end with long, muscular strokes, and he stopped and peered at me, shielding his eyes from the sun. Damn, he was a good looking boy. He sidled over, and I could make out faint beads of sweat over his toned shoulders.

  “Pablo, stop with the pool already, look how clean it is.”

  “It’s so clean because I clean it, Mrs. Beckford.”

  “For the millionth time, it’s Natasha.”

  He sat on the deck chair opposite mine, long legs spread and propping up his strong elbows. He was built for working, clearly, and not talking. But I felt like talking to him anyway.

  “Pablo, life is so strange,” I began.

  “Tell me about it.”

  I felt my breasts pressing warm down into the deck chair. These days, my entire body felt so alive all the time. It was as though my nerve endings, treated to a regular barrage of orgasms, had become sensitive to everything. True, none of those orgasms were directly linked to Todd, but a girl shouldn’t be too picky I guess. Everything felt like a caress to me – the slip of the water, the way the deck chair became a rough tongue stroking the length of my bare stomach. All of it.

  “I haven’t been myself lately Pablo.”

  He smiled and looked embarrassed.

  “You haven’t propositioned me for like a month,” he laughed.

  “Really? That long? Huh. I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Just look how clean the pool is,” he said.

  I laughed.

  “I’m turning over a new leaf in life, Pablo. I’m serious. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. I think I’m finally maturing. Isn’t that weird?”

  He shrugged.

  I didn’t pay him nearly enough to play therapist, it’s true, but a couch was a couch, and he could hear me out, couldn’t he? Pablo and I went way back, after all.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I hadn’t really told anyone about any of the crazy things that had been happening between Todd and I. Even the girls had lost interest as I kept more and more details from them. How could they understand, when I barely understood it myself?

  “It’s not weird. We all grow up, Mrs. Beckford. I mean, Natasha.”

  I took another deep breath.

  “Pablo, have you ever been cheated on before?”
>
  “Cheated on? Oh yes. My old girlfriend in Spain. She had a thing with her ex…”

  “And? What did you think of that?”

  “What did I think?”

  “Well, did it make you unhappy?”

  He laughed. “Of course! I wanted to kill him.”

  “So you were really angry?”

  “Of course I was angry, what else would I be?”

  I raised myself up onto my elbows.

  “I don’t know …proud?”

  He laughed again.

  “You’re crazy Mrs. Beckford.”

  “So it didn’t turn you on, even a little?” I said. He squirmed a bit, then looked at me directly. I was so used to staring at his rock hard abs that I was taken aback by how pretty his eyes actually were. And such long eyelashes.

  “No, it didn’t turn me on. It broke my heart,” he said seriously.

  I flopped back down on my belly.

  “Well, fine. But some men do like that kind of thing,” I said.

  “Those men are crazy.”

  I mean, it wasn’t a bad way to look at the world. Crazy and non-crazy. That’s all. The answer to all my life’s current dilemmas was simple: it was all just in the crazy category.

  “Are they though? I mean, don’t you like to see your girlfriend happy?”

  “Sure.”

  “So then does it matter if some other man makes her happy…?”

  He frowned and shook his head.

  “Nah. If I’m with a woman, she’s mine. I don’t cheat, and she shouldn’t cheat either. Simple.”

  It didn’t seem so simple in my head.

  “Tonight I’m going to a party, Pablo. Like, a sex party.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m going to have sex with lots of people there,” I said, matter-of-factly.

  He was silent for a while and then smiled. “You always were like that, Mrs. Beckford.”

  “But I’m going with Todd,” I said. “And it’s Natasha.”

  He looked at me with an amused look on his face.

  “Ok, I get it. You and Mr. Beckford…”

  “Yes, we’ve been trying some …new things.”

  “Cool,” he said, and cast his eyes over the gently rippled surface of the pool.

  A month ago, I would have ordered him to take those ridiculous shorts off and work for the money my husband paid him. But right now, I was just happy to have someone to talk to. To confess to. Pablo was my friend, in that weird way that people like me make friends.

  “So, he doesn’t mind you sleeping with other people? I guess it’s not cheating if everyone knows,” he said decisively.

  “Yeah. It’s not that he doesn’t mind though. I think …I think he actually likes it.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah.”

  With his broad, strong body, it was easy to forget how young Pablo was. He had always taken my advances with a mixture of glee and disbelief. I knew he had placed me firmly in the ‘crazy’ bin. But maybe that’s what made him so easy to talk to? I don’t know.

  “Well, lucky you. Sounds like you get everything you want!”

  I turned over again onto my back and gave him a generous view of my breasts.

  “Well …it’s not that simple.”

  “It isn’t?”

  “No. You see, I was cheating. And he caught me, and he was mad. Of course he was mad. But then he …decided I needed to be punished.”

  I searched his face. “He’s punishing me by making me do all these degrading things. Like sleep with other men. In front of him.”

  “That sounds pretty kinky.”

  “I know, right? So he tells me what to do and I do it.”

  “Cool.”

  “You think I’m crazy.”

  “Yeah.”

  “The thing is I like it, Pablo. I like how fucked up it all is.”

  “It’s pretty fucked up, Mrs. Beckford.”

  “Natasha. And I know. He says I can walk away any time. But I don’t. Why don’t I?”

  “Because you’re crazy?”

  “Yes. Because I’m fucking crazy. So tonight he wants me to go to this party. And I don’t want to. But then again I do, you know?”

  “Not really,” he laughed, then leaned back on his chair. “So, like, what kind of things will you do at this party…?” he asked, boyish smile on his face.

  I returned the smile.

  “I don’t know. It’s all up to him. I just have to obey. Just like a sex slave.”

  “That’s kind of hot.”

  “I know.”

  He scooted forward on his chair and extended his hand to stroke the curve of my midriff. My skin bristled into goosebumps, chill even under the warm sun. Pablo was built like a Roman statue, only harder and more tanned. His fingers could always send electricity through me with just the lightest touch.

  “So you like it, just being his sex slave, doing whatever he wants you to?” he said softly, his voice a low growl.

  I threw my arm over my face, shut my eyes and enjoyed the sun and his bare fingers on my skin. He leaned forward and grazed his lips against mine, lingering just long enough to give me a little flick of his tongue. He was a good kisser. But all I could think about was Todd.

  “Mmmm …not now, Pablo” I said, my arm still draped over my eyes.

  “Why not? Don’t you miss it…?”

  I did. Pablo’s cock was a monument. Thick and uncut, it used to be one of my favorite ways to spend hot, quiet afternoons just like this one. I would stretch my limbs and swim laps and tan, and then he would stretch me on the inside, and we’d have a long, slow, lazy fuck, and then I’d dip back into the pool to cool off.

  But Todd’s face was all I could think of. Pablo leaned in for another kiss, and I kissed back, feeling a stirring in my bikini bottoms, and my nipples gathering to a sharp point. I pulled back.

  “Take off your bikini,” he said. “I’ll fuck you right here. Like we used to.”

  But something strange was happening. It felt wrong. After all, it would be cheating. I couldn’t do that to him.

  “Take it off,” he said, and his kisses were now travelling down my ribcage as his fingertips played at the edge of the bikini.

  “No,” I said. “Only he tells me what to do.”

  He looked at me, hand still poised, then pulled back and frowned. It was a surprising thing to say. He shrugged and held up his hands, then went to sit back on his deck chair again.

  “Pablo, I’m sorry.” He didn’t seem offended really, just confused. I was confused, too.

  “No problem, Mrs. Beckford. I understand.”

  “You do? You’re not angry?”

  He laughed.

  “No, not angry. It’s kind of sexy. I think I understand now. Don’t worry about it,” he said, and stood up.

  “Pablo, you’re crazy” I said.

  “You’re crazy.”

  Chapter Fifteen - Todd

  I knew she had already read the latest entry. By now I was learning how to read her, and how her mood lifted a little just after she would discover some new message from me. She was gigglier, and sillier, and tried hard to pretend that she wasn’t either. I liked the buildup. The anticipation.

  I had already bought her the perfect outfit for the evening – a tight, purple sheath with tassels on the lower edge and a weird tiny hat that the shop assistant swore blind to me was called a ‘fascinator’. When I had left her this morning, she was still sleeping (she slept so much these days!) and I left the outfit ready for her in her closet, where she’d see it.

  I gymed hard for an hour at the office gym and then freshened up, changed into a suit and tie, had the driver collect me directly, then headed to the house to pick her up. When she stepped into the back seat with me, I could immediately smell the chlorine on her skin. She swam so much, my little water baby, that there always seemed to be a permanent fresh smell of pool water on her. On top of that smell was lashings of expensive perfume, and the smell of hairspray, but u
nderneath she was my Natty, never more beautiful than when she was naked, everything other than her beautiful, silken skin just a cheap substitute.

  The purple dress looked good on her. Her tight, girlish figure flowed through the lines of the dress perfectly, and I had to hand it to her, she had found a way to nestle the “fascinator” into her great towering bouffant in a way I would never have thought to do. She was beautiful. As she settled herself into the seat next to me and the driver pulled off, my hand instinctively went to her leg. I felt warm inside.

  “Are you happy?” I asked her. “Do you need anything?”

  In a sense, this is the only question I had ever asked of her, and the only one I had ever wanted her to answer.

  “I’m good. Excited. Where are we going…?”

  “You’ll see.”

  I liked seeing her excited. It gave me a lump in my throat. And a lump elsewhere. I looked over her with appreciation, and she held out her hands, giggling and showing off a little.

  “I’m the luckiest man in the world,” I said. “You’ll be the most beautiful woman there.”

  She looked at me and I could see her eyes were damp.

  “What’s wrong? Is there something wrong?”

  She shook her head and smiled.

  “Everything’s perfect.”

  We drove on and the car pulled up a long driveway and then curled round a circular entrance way, dropping us at the foot of an immense staircase winding up into a stately home, all marble balconets and ivy and gargoyles.

  “Here we are,” I said, and jumped out of my side of the car. I went round to open her side, and extended my hand to escort her out and into the beautiful courtyard.

  “What a gentleman!” she said and laughed. Oh, I was a gentleman. Instantly I saw the image of her beautiful face, twisted in pleasure, her shapely, delicate form pounded hard by other men as I watched on, encouraging them. And when they had had their fill of her, when everyone who wanted her had stuck their cocks in her, and she was exhausted, I would hold her and cradle her against my chest and soothe her and kiss the top of her beautiful head. My Natty.