by Marie Force
It was such a long time ago that many of the memories have faded somewhat. The overall horror has remained, though. As a witness, I’m forced to relive it once again. He is on top of me, inside me, hurting me, making me bleed, making me scream from the pain until I lose consciousness, floating, hurling through darkness so deep I may never find my way out.
I wake to Fluff’s frantic barking and the low rumble of Flynn’s voice.
“Nat, honey, what’s wrong?”
Though my heart is racing, I’m sweating and undone, I know right away that I can’t tell him I dreamed about the attack for the first time in years. He’ll see the timing as a sign that I’m not capable of what we agreed to earlier. “N-nothing. Just a weird dream. I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“You were screaming.” Propped up on an elbow, he reaches over to stroke my face. “And you’re crying.” He kisses my shoulder. “Sweetheart…”
“I’m okay.” I reach for his hand and hold on tightly.
“Are you sure?”
“Mmm. Uh-huh.” Fluff curls up against my legs and lets out a huff of indignation at having been so rudely awakened.
“You’re trembling, baby.”
“I’m cold.”
“That I can fix.” He brings me in tight against him, wrapping his arms around me and intertwining his legs with mine. “Better?”
“So much better.”
I was young and alone when Stone attacked me. I’m not alone anymore. Flynn’s love and devotion only make me stronger than I was on my own. But the dream and the timing of it have me wondering if I’ll be able to uphold my end of our agreement.
Once again a ringing phone wakes us early in the morning. Flynn groans as he reaches for his phone on the bedside table.
“Yeah, Emmett. You’re up early.”
Since he curls back up to me immediately, I can hear Emmett’s side of the conversation, too.
“I just got a call from Vickers.”
I feel Flynn go tense behind me. “What’d he want?”
“He’d like to see you and Natalie as soon as possible.”
“What the hell for?”
“All he’d say is ‘follow-up questions.’”
“This is bordering on harassment. Should we make some calls to Washington?”
“I wouldn’t, Flynn. Calling in favors looks like you have something to hide when you don’t.”
“I don’t like that he wants to see Natalie, too.”
“They’re ruling out both of you. My advice is to meet with him and get it over with. How soon can you get back here?”
“I don’t know if you heard, but we had somewhat of a blizzard here last night.”
“Yes, I heard,” Emmett says with a laugh. “It’s all over the news.”
“I’d say it’ll be tomorrow at the earliest before we can get back there.”
“I’ll make an appointment for Monday morning, then. Is that okay with you?”
“I guess it’ll have to be. Let him know that if my name or Natalie’s gets linked to this guy’s murder in the press, I’ll be after his job.”
“I’ve already let him know that.”
“You’re good, Em.”
“Just doing my job. See you soon.”
I turn to face Flynn, looking for some assurances that we have nothing to worry about. He’s got his glasses on, and he’s typing frantically on his phone.
“What’re you doing?”
“Asking Addie to get us back to LA tomorrow, so we can deal with this once and for all.”
“Are you scared?”
“No, sweetheart. I’m not scared. We have nothing to worry about because we didn’t do anything.” He sends the text and puts the phone on the table. “Come here.”
I curl up to him, my head on his chest, his arms around me. I trace my finger over the light scar on his ribs from where he was attacked by a deranged fan last year.
“It’s all going to be fine. They’re on a witch hunt. That’s all this is. I handed them an easy lead with what I said on Carolyn’s show, so they’re taking the easiest and most obvious path straight to me. If they think we had something to do with this, then let them prove it.” He strokes my hair. “We know people in DC, right up to and including the president. He and my dad are friends. If this gets any more out of hand, we’ll call in some favors.”
“So you’ve actually met the president?”
“Many times. You might get to meet him, too, as I’ve requested a meeting with him to discuss the foundation. I want him to throw his support behind it.”
“Holy smokes. You don’t fool around.”
“You didn’t already know that from the way I married you not even two weeks after I met you?”
“I suppose there were signs of this trait of yours.”
His fingers trail down my ribs, digging in just enough to tickle me.
“Stop!”
Nuzzling my neck, he says, “What if I don’t want to?”
“Fluff.”
His hand drops to the mattress. He raises his head to look down at me. “See how easy that was?”
“I don’t like to be tickled.”
“How about I kiss it better?”
“Kissing is good. Tickling is bad.”
“Mmm, I like to think I can be trained.” He kisses his way down the front of me, between my breasts to my ribs, where he retraces the path his fingers had taken.
“And here I thought you were going to train me.”
“We’ll train each other. My goal is always your ultimate pleasure.”
Moving back up, he tends to my breasts, moving slowly, lazily, as if we have all the time in the world, which apparently we do since we’re snowed in. His tongue circles my left nipple while his fingers pinch the right one, just tight enough to draw a gasp from me.
“I love the way you respond to me, Nat,” he says, his voice a hoarse whisper, his breath hot against my damp nipple, “every time I touch you. I love how you arch into me, trying to get closer. And the moan that comes from the back of your throat... It makes me crazy every time I hear it, knowing I made it happen. And that I’m the only one who will ever get to touch you this way makes me so fucking grateful that you chose me.”
“Like you gave me a choice,” I say with a teasing smile.
“The choice was always yours, my love.” His teeth clamp down on my nipple as his fingers delve between my legs, where I’m hot and ready for him. Always ready for him.
“Fuck, Nat… God, you’re so wet for me.” He replaces his fingers with his cock and presses into me, stopping immediately when I wince. “Does it hurt?”
“I’m a little sore from yesterday.”
He pulls out.
“No, Flynn. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t. Just go slow at first.” I run my hands down his back to cup his tight, muscular ass. I love the dimples at the bottom of his spine and feel for them with my thumbs.
He gasps. “Natalie…”
“You like that?”
“I fucking love the feel of your hands on me—anywhere, but when you drag your nails over my ass like that…” A shudder rocks him.
Knowing I can do that to him fills me with delight and pleasure.
He moves into me slowly, in small increments, pressing in and then retreating, giving me time to adjust. He’s big and I’m sore, which should make for a bad combination, but his slow, steady entry has me forgetting all about the soreness as I crave the fullness, the connection, the magic.
Propped on his elbows above me, his forehead resting on mine, he watches me in that intense way of his, making sure that nothing hurts me. I wrap my arms and legs around him, raising my hips to take him deeper.
His low groan makes me smile as I tighten my internal muscles around him, knowing that drives him crazy.
“Fuuuuck,” he says on a long, low exhale.
I do it again and again and again until he forgets all
about how he wanted to go slowly and begins to pound into me in the way I love best, wild and unfettered. One set of fingers digs into my shoulder while the other reaches below me to grasp my ass, to hold me still. Then he bends his head and bites my nipple, which sparks my orgasm.
He thrusts into me, pushing hard as he comes, too, and then he sags against me, breathing hard. “Shit.”
I push sweat-soaked strands of hair off his forehead. “What?”
“I was rough, and you’re sore.”
“You were perfect, and I loved it. I love you.”
“I love you, too. I wish you knew how much.”
“I have a pretty good idea.”
For a long time, we stay right where we are, arms wrapped around each other, still joined as we pulse with aftershocks, his sweat merging with mine. “I can’t imagine this getting any better than it already is.”
“It’s not about better so much as it is about more. There’s more I want to share with you, more I want you to experience.” He kisses my neck and jaw on his way to my lips. “You know what I want to do now?”
“I really have to guess?”
Smiling down at me, devilishly handsome first thing in the morning, he says, “I want to fuck you in the shower.”
My entire body reacts to his gruffly spoken words. “I am feeling rather dirty.” To make my point, I tighten my internal muscles around him again. That’s when I realize he’s already hard again.
“Shower. Right now.”
I discover I’m a big fan of shower sex after being pressed face-first against the tile wall and thoroughly taken from behind by my ravenous husband. His fingers dug so deep into my hips that I have no doubt there’ll be bruises, but I loved every second of it. But now I’m really sore.
“There’s other stuff we could do,” he reminds me when I tell him we’re out of business for the rest of the day.
“What other stuff?”
Still standing behind me, he delves his fingers between my cheeks to press against my back door. “We could play here.”
Every time he touches me there, I go lightheaded with desire and burning curiosity.
“Play how?”
“Fingers, toys, my tongue, my cock…” His erection is hot against my back, as if he hasn’t just come twice in half an hour.
“Now?”
“Not until we talk to your doctor friend.”
Moaning in frustration, I say, “I’m calling him right after we get out of this shower.”
Laughing, Flynn shuts the water off, making me laugh, too.
I towel off, put my robe back on and head straight for my phone, where I see I’ve received a reply from Curt. Working in the home office tomorrow—we got snow, too. Call me any time. Happy to chat with you and Flynn.
“He says we can call him any time.”
“What’re you doing right now, Mrs. Godfrey?”
“Calling Curt.”
Wearing only a pair of tight boxer briefs, Flynn heads for the door.
“Where’re you going?”
“I need coffee for this conversation, and I’m going to get someone to take Fluff out for us.”
“Put more clothes on. I don’t want anyone to see you like that.”
He comes to me. “Feeling possessive of what’s yours?”
“Yes. Is that allowed?”
Tipping my chin up, he kisses me. “Everything is allowed, sweetheart.”
While he tends to Fluff and makes coffee, I return Curt’s text. He suggests a Skype session and sends me the info we need to connect.
“Are you okay with that?” I ask Flynn.
“Sure, whatever works.”
“Okay, I’ll tell him we’ll call in half an hour.” I return to the bedroom to dress in jeans and a turtleneck sweater. Opening the blinds in the bedroom, I look out on the winter wonderland New York has become overnight. Naturally, there’s a sea of yellow taxis sloshing through sludge the plows left behind.
I join Flynn for a quick breakfast of coffee, cereal and fruit.
“You okay?” Flynn asks.
I realize I’ve been staring off into space, thinking about my dream last night. I’ve decided the timing was a coincidence. If I contemplate the possibility that it wasn’t… “I’m fine. Shall we make that call?”
“Let’s do it.”
I scoop up Fluff as I leave the kitchen and follow Flynn into his office, where there’s a big monitor that he plugs into his laptop. He brings a second chair into the room from the kitchen, and I sit next to him.
A minute later, Curt pops up on the big screen before us. He looks the same as I remember, maybe a little grayer around the edges.
“Ah, there you are,” he says. “You look wonderful. And there’s Fluff, too.”
“She’s going strong at fourteen. Curt, this is my husband, Flynn.” I laugh. “And I think that’s the first time I’ve introduced him as my husband.”
“I’m honored to be first,” Curt says, “and it’s a pleasure to meet you, Flynn. I’m a big fan of your work.”
“Thank you, it’s nice to meet you, too. Thanks for being there for Natalie when she needed you.”
“It was always a pleasure to work with her. What can I do for you today?”
We exchange glances, and Flynn nods for me to go ahead. “I know it goes without saying that we’re a little leery after what happened with David Rogers.”
“Which was unfathomable. I knew him a little, and what could’ve driven him to betray you so badly… You have nothing to worry about where I’m concerned. I assure you of my utmost discretion.”
“I told Flynn we could count on you. Thank you for that.” Suddenly nervous, I clear my throat. “Since we spoke last week,” I say haltingly, “I’ve discovered some additional facets of my husband’s personality. Specifically, he’s a sexual dominant.”
“Oh, I see.”
“I kept that from Natalie before we were married because I had myself convinced I could live without that before I could live without her.”
“And how did Natalie find out?” Curt asks.
“Through a series of unfortunate events,” Flynn says. “I take full responsibility for failing to tell Natalie something she should’ve known about me before she bound herself to me for life, and I take full responsibility for her hearing about it from someone other than me.”
“How do you feel about that, Natalie?”
“While I agree that he should’ve told me, I understand why he didn’t. He was thinking of me above himself, and it’s hard to be angry with him when he was willing to sacrifice so much to be what I need.”
“Since all of this came to light, Natalie has expressed a genuine interest in exploring the lifestyle with me. Though we’ve had in-depth conversations about what it would entail and have gone so far as to negotiate a consensual contract, I’m reluctant to move forward before we have some professional advice about what, if any, impact it could have on her ongoing recovery from the assault.”
“I think you’re very wise to ensure that base is covered before you proceed,” Curt says. “Natalie, can you tell me about your interest in the activities Flynn has proposed?”
“I’m curious,” I say, glancing at Flynn, who’s watching me the way he always does. “I’m intrigued.”
“I notice you don’t say you’re frightened.”
“I’m nervous, of course, and a bit anxious about what might happen if I don’t like it or can’t be what he wants—”
“I have to stop you right there, Nat. You are what I want.” For Curt’s sake, he adds, “I’ve told her that in every way I can think of. We’ve already had sex twice today—great sex, the kind of sex people dream about having. The connection between us is nothing less than combustible. The things we’re talking about adding would only complement an already amazing sex life. But if all we ever have is what we already have, that would be enough for me.”
“Then why add this element?” Curt asks.
“Let me,” I say, my h
and on Flynn’s arm. “I recently told Flynn that I feel like I’ve been asleep my whole life until he awakened the part of me that’s been asleep. With him, I’ve discovered desire and passion and satisfaction that I never dreamed possible. I’ve gone from thinking I’d never have a normal sexual relationship to having sex multiple times a day and enjoying it more than I ever thought I would.”
“The honeymoon stage does wear off after a while,” Curt says with a smile.
I glance at my husband. “I don’t know if it will in our case.” I squeeze his arm, drawing a smile from him. “Flynn tells me there can be more, and I want it all. As long as I’m with him, I know I’ll be cared for and treasured and loved at every step along the way. I trust him more than I’ve ever trusted anyone in my life.”
Flynn wraps his hand around mine and squeezes. “What’s your take, Doc? Will Natalie be okay if we proceed down this road?”
“PTSD in all its many forms can be a tricky thing. You think you’re fine, and then something happens, such as the thing with your hands on your wedding night, and it rears its ugly head. I’m reluctant to provide any assurances that Natalie will be totally fine. There are apt to be bumps, moments of genuine fear, flashbacks or even triggers that bring back the past trauma. That said, it seems that you have been able to get past these challenges before and may be able to do so in the future.”
“May be able to,” Flynn says. Trust him to home in on that one word. “What if Natalie can’t get past it?”
“Then I’d recommend that whatever activity caused the reaction be ceased immediately and possibly permanently.”
“But you’re not recommending we don’t try this at all?” Flynn asks.
“Natalie says she’s intrigued, curious, interested. Never once has she said she’s afraid. That’s important.”
“I’m not afraid.” I swallow hard, trying to suppress the memory of the dream that reopened old wounds. I know I should tell them both about the dream, but I’m so tired of revisiting the past. I want to move forward with my amazing husband. I want us to have everything we want and deserve. “I want to live fearlessly.”
