The Tutor

by K Larsen

  Eve shoots daggers at me with her eyes, but I’m not lying. That is the road. “No, we definitely never turned left at the storage unit.”

  “Maybe he took us different ways,” I say and cross my arms over my chest.

  Eve shakes her head. Her eyes dart over the map. She squints, as if that will make everything make sense. Agent Brown looms over us. She circles the area I pointed to and marks a question mark on the paper. Eve points to an area miles away from my circle. “I swear, this is where we turned onto the dirt road,” she says. Agent Brown circles Eve’s location as well, with a question mark. She whips out her cell, like an addict desperate for a fix, and taps the screen repeatedly. My heart thrums and my mouth runs dry.

  “I’d like to see Dr. Richardson,” I blurt.

  Salve and Agent Brown’s eyes snap to mine. Eve couldn’t care less.

  “Everything okay?” Detective Salve asks. I catch Agent Brown roll her eyes. She sees me watching her and has the common sense to give a sheepish expression.

  “I want to see her. Just . . . just tell her I need to talk to her.”

  “Talk to us,” Agent Brown says. I shake my head.

  “Jesus, Sam, just let her talk to Dr. Richardson,” Eve snaps. It surprises me. Eve coming to my defense. I give a slight smile to her in thanks. Agent Brown stomps from the room, phone pressed to her ear.

  “She’s all bark and no bite, I swear,” Eve says.

  “Have you known her long?”

  Eve nods to Salve and says, “Both of them. For the last year. Since I woke up. Since I escaped.”

  I bite my lip and nod. Eve didn’t abandon Lotte. She’s been looking. How frustrating must it have been to know all this time that Holden was so near, yet not know how to find him. The drive was so long, the roads so twisty, barely a road, more like a seldom traveled path through the trees. I guess I would be angry, too, if I was her. The thing is—I’m not.

  Detective Salve wheels me back to my room, where I wait for Dr. Richardson. I think about Eve and how she must struggle every day with her emotions regarding Lotte. I pick up the phone and dial the Clarks’ number. On the third ring, Ang picks up.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Ang, it’s me—Nora.”

  “Hi, sweetie. How are you doing?” she asks.

  I hesitate. “Okay, I guess. I’m talking to a psychiatrist. When can I see you again?”

  “That’s wonderful, honey. I’m sure she will be able to help you so much. I don’t know, maybe this weekend Aubry and I can pop up for a visit. When are you being discharged?”

  “Um, four more days, I think. Can you or Aubry pick me up? I don’t know how else to get home.”

  “Of course, honey, of course.”

  “Okay. Well, is Aubry there?”

  “Here?”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “Oh, sweet pea, no. She’s still at your house.” I smile at the thought.

  “Thanks, Ang, I’ll call her cell. And see you this weekend?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I cradle the receiver in my hand long after Angela has hung up. I will call Aubry later this evening, when I have enough time to devote to catching up with her. Dr. Richardson should arrive any time now. I am watching mindless cable TV, when the nurse pops her head in.

  “How ya doin’?”

  I smile at her. “Bored but good.”

  She chuckles and tells me she will come play a round of cards with me in a couple of hours.

  The phone rings next to my bed. It is loud and startles me. I pick it up on the third ring, wondering if Dr. Richardson is calling to let me know she’s running late. “Hello?” There is silence a beat. “Hello? Is anyone there?” A groan, low and needy resonates in my ear.

  “Only ever you.” His voice brings back memories of dark rooms, scars and pleasure rooted in pain. The air evaporates from my lungs.

  “Holden?” The line goes dead. A small bit of hope blooms in my chest. I set the phone on the receiver. I jump when the door swings open. Dr. Richardson stops in her tracks.

  “What is wrong?” How can she tell? I shake my head. “Nora, you’re pale as a ghost and trembling.”

  Am I? I wring my hands together in my lap to still the tremors. “Nothing. I’m okay. You just startled me.”

  She doesn’t believe my words—it’s written on her face. She thinks I am up to something. She sits in the chair near my bed and sets her bag down. Pulling a notebook and pen from it, she crosses her legs and flips to a clean page. Holden’s voice echoes in my head. Only ever you. Only ever you. And he is right, it will be only ever him.

  “You wanted to talk?” I nod. “Start talkin,’ kiddo.”

  Nora

  Heaviness lingers in the air, the threat of the coming storm. The sky flashes with lightning, then the crack of thunder. The sound like the sky being torn in two. It ends with a bone-deep rumble that rattles the ground around us. I jump. Up here in the mountains, it sounds so much closer than I am used to. Holden chuckles and wraps his arms around me, his hand at the small of my back, circling lower. “It’s just a storm,” he says. The wind picks up outside, rushing through the trees. It’s loud in the usual quiet night.

  “A storm that sounds like it’s going to destroy everything in its path,” I say.

  He presses his lips to my shoulder while stifling a laugh. “I promise the cabin will make it. Why don’t we watch from the porch until the rain picks up.”

  I’m reluctant to go outside but Holden makes the idea of declining seem preposterous. I follow him to the porch. He sits, letting his legs dangle over the edge. I do the same. The rain is light, and everything’s hazy and foggy. The sky illuminates again. “Isn’t it wild?” he says, settling my head on his shoulder. The strength of the tenderness I feel surprises me. I nod absently and watch the sky. Holden counts out loud, at four, thunder booms. “It’s getting closer.”

  “How can you tell?” I ask. I glance around the sea of drippy trees surrounding us.

  “The length of time between the lightning flash and the thunder crack. I approximate a mile for every second counted. So, that last one, I got to four. So, the storm’s about four miles out.”

  “Is that a thing?” I ask.

  Holden laughs. “It’s always rung true for me. Try it with me.”

  The next lightning strike sends a blueish bolt racing through the sky like an Etch-A-Sketch on crack. I make it to three before the thunder claps. It’s boom ever so much louder. Soon the storm would be right over us. The wind gusts and raindrops, the fat, thick kind, start pelting the ground; sparse and sporadic at first, until it’s a deluge. It’s a driving roar, with drops so hard, they feel like sand spraying down. Everything is garbled. Muffled. Fear pushes the hair up on the nape of my neck. Holden and I scramble up and into the front door. The rain beats on the cabin. Holden briskly moves around, grabbing pots and placing them in various spots. I watch silently as he arranges them all. Drops of rain cling to his skin. It drips from the ends of his hair and his beard, as he approaches me. He looks wild and manly. Thunder booms and I jump. He circles his arms around me. “Come on, let’s sit,” he says.

  “Sit here,” he says and points to the floor. I wrinkle my nose in confusion but do as I’m asked. He disappears into his bedroom for a moment before emerging with a brush. He sits behind me, a leg on either side of my shoulders and begins to brush my hair.

  The last person who brushed my hair was my mother, before she died. Nostalgia hits hard as he strokes the brush from crown to ends. It feels heavenly. It is tender and caring.

  “Why?” I ask.

  Holden’s movement stills a beat. “Because you deserve it.” In that moment, my heart swells, my blood pumps faster and I fall a little harder for him.

  “Is it weird to ask you if I can return the gesture?”

  He laughs. Deep and throaty but not in a making-fun way. “You want to brush my hair?”

  I blush because it sounds foolish coming from him but nod because I do w
ant to. He leans his mouth to the shell of my ear.

  “I’d love nothing more.”

  A chill works its way from my neck to the base of my spine.

  Dr. Richardson

  “He sounds like a charmer.”

  Nora nods, a hint of a smile playing on her face. I jot down some notes before deciding how I want to approach the next topic.

  “He was a gentleman. He wasn’t always scary. There were many times I caught a glimpse of his light. He wanted to be good. He wanted to be loved.”

  I blow out a breath. Nora Robertson is definitely going to be a challenge. She has been manipulated for long enough, that she will fight the idea of villainizing her captor.

  “So, there were times you were scared of him, though?”

  She looks away and sighs. “A short time, yes.”

  “Would you like to tell me about that?”

  She doesn’t look at me. “I don’t think so. Not yet.” Her voice is low and reserved.

  “Nora, our conversations are confidential. You are safe to tell me anything.”

  “You don’t report back to Agent Brown?” She cocks her head left, curiosity in her eyes.

  “I do, yes, but I do not tell her what we talk about in our sessions. I only share what I feel your mental state is with her.”

  “But not details of . . . my time there.”

  I shake my head. “No. Not that.” She runs her tongue over her bottom lip, while staring out the window. “Would you like to tell me what happened after the storm?”

  She turns to me and says, “I suppose.”

  Nora

  The twilight sky is brushed in iridescent strokes of coral and gold. In Holden’s arms, anything feels possible. Holden leans even closer, so close, I can breathe in his scent. He smells wild, free—like fire wood and pine. His beard rubs against my hair, pulling strands wild. He explores the valleys and plains of my body with his lips. Sunlight fades above the canopy of trees, bathing the woods in deepening shadows. Knowing I leave tomorrow, lights panic ablaze in my belly. I’m not ready to leave. His knuckles brush slowly along the curve of my cheek.

  “Dance with me,” he says. His hand outstretched toward me.

  “What?” I laugh with nerves.

  “Dance with me.” I bite my lip and take his hand.

  “But there is no music,” I laugh out.

  “Sure there is, just listen,” he says, pulling me to him until we are chest to chest. I sling one arm around his neck and rest my head over his heart.

  “Close your eyes,” he whispers into my hair. I do as I’m told. He moves us languidly and soon the wind and the leaves become the music we sway to. Stars begin to sparkle like tiny diamonds against a velvety backdrop, not a cloud to be found. We dance under the full moon amid the trees.

  “Do you have to leave?”

  I sigh. “I do. I can’t believe it’s been three months already.”

  He pulls back slightly, twists a lock of my hair around his finger. “Are you ready?” he asks. Some flicker of intuition tells me that I am not ready to feel his touch but I say, “Yes,” even though I can no longer hear my own voice over the sound of my heartbeat.

  My knees are too weak to stand in his arms. He scoops me into his arms and carries me to his bedroom before setting me down. He strips my clothes off and admires me as he rids himself of his. “I want to make you whimper, Nora. Make you scream. Make you cum.” I am shocked silent at his words. Not even my breath makes a sound. Holden walks me in reverse until the backs of my legs come in contact with the metal frame of his bed, the soft edge of the mattress pushes against the backs of my knees.

  “Give me your mouth,” he says. His expression is greedy and it makes my stomach flip. “Don’t play with me, Nora. The things I’ve dreamed of doing to your body,” his words die off as I inch my lips to his. He lays me down. “Give me your hands,” he commands. I place my hands extended outward for him. He takes them, thumbs grazing the tender skin and pushes them above my head in a vice like grip.

  My breath is ragged. I have never felt more prepared for anything before. I am ready to give Holden whatever he wants. I trust that he will take care of me, be tender and make me feel pleasure I’ve never encountered before. I cannot wait to tell Aubry about him. About this moment.

  His lips graze my jaw line. My neck. My collarbone. He suckles my nipple before biting. I cry out in pain. “Open your eyes, Nora.” I do as I am told. His face is directly above mine. “Do you trust me?” he asks. I let out a shaky breath.

  “Yes.”

  “Then let me give you pleasure.”

  “Yes,” I murmur. He returns to my breasts—arms still pinned above my head. He suckles again. He bites again. I squeeze my eyes shut and my thighs together. I dig my nails into the flesh of his forearm. He groans. The pleasure is laced with pain. His fingers release my wrists, as he nibbles his way from my décolletage downward. He buries his face in my belly and releases a breath that warms my skin. The rough pads of his fingers drag down my arms, my ribs and grip my hips possessively. Holden presses his face between my legs and shakes his head—spreading them. His beard scratching my inner thighs.

  “I don’t want you to leave tomorrow,” he says into my seam. His breath hot. I am wet with anticipation. Releasing my hips, his hands toy with my lips before spreading them wide. I don’t want to leave either—not right now—but I say nothing. The first lick of his tongue causes me to shudder. His fingers hold me open. Bared to him in the most intimate way. He wastes no time exploring every centimeter of my core and surrounding area. My thighs tremble, as if strained. I am not in control of my body any longer. Holden is.

  He takes me to the brink. My hips buck. My muscles tense. He pulls away, a sloppy grin on his face. A mewl of frustration leaks from me. Crawling up me, he stops and hovers above my face. “Taste yourself.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his lips to mine. His tongue darts in and out of my mouth. My own flavor on my lips, my tongue. I wiggle beneath him to alleviate the sensation between my legs. He tuts at me. “No.” I still.

  Holden reaches below the bed. His arm comes up with rope. I blink. “I don’t think . . .” He halts my protest with a finger over my lips.

  “Give me your wrist,” he says. I hesitate but do so. He ties it to the bedpost. The other follows suit and then he is between my legs, securing my ankles to the foot posts. I am spread eagle and unable to move.

  Lifting my head, I begin to speak but he shushes me. “You wiggle too much, Nora. You can come when I tell you to.” My brow furrows. “Don’t worry, I will tell you to.” I drop my head to the pillow—frustrated. I thought men wanted an active participant between the sheets.

  Holden places a knee on either side of me. His stiff cock bounces slightly above my face. I blush. He grins. “Open.”

  I lick my lips then open wide. “Suck me, Nora.”

  A pang of embarrassment hits me. Before I can examine it, Holden drives his cock into my mouth. I gag.

  “Relax,” he says. With hands splayed on the wall above the bed, he pushes in again. I do my best to relax my throat and accommodate him. Soon, there is a rhythm to his thrusts. I suck and move my tongue around his cock. His groans spur me on. His pace increases, as does the severity of his thrusts. I do not know if I am doing well or if I am messing this up big time. I gag again but he does not stop. Hot salty liquid hits the back of my throat. I swallow because there is no other option. Holden’s body shakes with his release. When he withdraws from me, the look in his eye is adoring. His skin is peaked. I did that. I caused his entire being to flush and shake. A swell of awe breaches my chest.

  “Watch us.” He tucks a spare pillow under my head before aligning himself at my seam. The first thrust is tantalizingly languid. His length disappears inside me, then appears again. He braces his hands on my hips. His fingers dig in my flesh as he slams into me. I squeal. Holden chuckles but keeps going. I drop my head back and hang on to the ropes. My ankles burn from the f
riction. My wrists smart. He drives in hard enough, that I can feel his balls slap against me. One hand goes to my clit and begins making small circles. My thighs fight against being bound, naturally wanting to circle around Holden’s hips as heat builds at my core and begins travelling upward. He pinches my clit and I cry out. But he is already smoothing his thumb over it. Soothing it again. I want to touch him. I want to be a part of this moment. But I can’t. My back arches and Holden abandons my clit. His hands grip my hips and lift. The angle does something queer to my insides and I pant.

  Holden drives in, circles his hips and pulls out repeatedly. My eyes roll backward. My limbs stretch and pull against the bindings. “Come, Nora.” Holden’s voice sets my soul on fire. With one arm under my lower back, keeping me lifted, his other hand splayed on my lower belly, he drives in, circles and pulses without pulling out. My breath gets caught in my throat. A gasp paused in time.

  My heels dig into the bed, my hips grind against him. Who is this vixen taking hold of my body? Holden’s hand on my abdomen applies slight pressure and I fall off the precipice. A throaty grunt leaves me. A sound I have never heard myself make before and little jolts of electricity shoot through my body. My vagina pulsates around his cock. Milking it. Every contraction sends a lightning bolt of pleasure through my belly. Holden releases me. Kisses my forehead when he unties my wrists. Kisses my instep when he unties my ankles. I reach for him but a naughty grin is plastered on his face. He fingers my lips apart to the point of discomfort and then, “Now it’s time for round two.”

  His mouth covers my clit and he sucks hard enough for my thighs to close around his head on their own accord.

  I wake with Holden’s arm heavy across my waist. Birds begin to chatter. His breath on my shoulder tickles. I cannot quell my grin, even as sorrow fills my chest.

  Today I go home.