Keep Me: A HERO Novella

by Del Mia, Leighton

  “He haunts you,” Grant said. “The cutting, the sleeplessness, your commitment issues . . . your tormentor is still wielding his power over you from the grave.”

  The waitress set down my salad and his burger, but my appetite had vanished. I forked some lettuce and ate it anyway. “I agree. I let my past control too much, but I think I’m ready to move forward. I have to do it by myself, though.”

  He nodded as he chewed, but his eyes were distant. “I’ll respect your decision. Just know that I love you, and I’ve only ever wanted to help. If you get home tonight and realize you’ve made a mistake . . . I’ll be here.”

  Grant had always been logical and mature. At times it bothered me, but I was grateful for it now.

  We parted with one last long hug during which he squeezed me tightly. “I love you,” he whispered in my ear. “Please reconsider.”

  I kissed him on the cheek, knowing he watched as I walked away. Around the corner, Calvin was waiting against his car with his arms crossed. When I reached him, he took my face in his hands. “How’d it go?”

  I shrugged, trying to still my quivering chin.

  “Did you tell him about me?”

  “I didn’t want to hurt him.”

  His thumbs touched the corners of my eyes. “I love you,” he said.

  Though it felt strange to hear it from him, it was exactly what I needed. I buried my face in his chest and let him hold me.

  “I know that was hard,” he said, “but now you’re right where you’re supposed to be.”

  My love for Calvin felt acute in that moment. I didn’t know when it started, and I didn’t know if it sometimes went away, but at that moment, it was fire inside me.

  Calvin’s standing in the doorway of my bedroom watching me reminisce on the windowsill. When I notice him, my body gets warmer. “I missed you. I like having you close.”

  He comes and sits at the opposite end, glancing out the window and back at me. “My little bird, who tried to fly away.”

  “My hero, who caught me.”

  It’s a memory that has left marks on my body and my soul, but we both smile.

  “They’ll be here soon,” he says.

  “Okay.”

  He stands, and I grab his hand to pull him to me. He cups the back of my head as I look up. “I think I’m ready, Calvin.”

  “It’s only been a week.”

  I arch my eyebrow at him. “Are you turning down sex?”

  His expression distorts as he tries to suppress a smile. “No. Just making sure you’re truly ready.”

  I hitch my fingers in his waistband and pull lightly. “Something about being back here makes me want to be ready. And I just remembered something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I never paid my debt from our game of eight-ball.”

  “Cataline, you have no debts to me.”

  “But I promised.” I slip his button through its slit, still looking up at him.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea. Not here,” he says, but he doesn’t stop me when I slide down his zipper.

  “I think it’s perfect.” I pull his pants and underwear to his thighs. It’s been three years since I’ve seen him this way, and it’s as intimidating as I remember. I take a deep breath and run the tip of my tongue along his shaft. “We can replace the memories, Cal.” His hand threads in my hair, but I pull back and shake my head. “The deal was that I’d be willing. You’ve been patient this week. Let me do this to you.”

  He releases me without a word. He’s substantial in my hand as my mouth stretches over him. My craving is stronger than I realized, and my saliva, moans, fingers, sucking meld into one greedy plea for him.

  He falls forward onto his outstretched arms and thrusts once into my mouth. I draw back and circle my tongue around his crown, relishing the brininess of him. My lips skip over his ridges, his throbbing veins as I pull him in deeply again. I suck, he growls, and I can sense his resolve not to take over. His hips move at a steady but leisurely pace, and it reminds me of how it is to be fucked by him. When he comes in my mouth, I choke on it, swallowing it down as fast as he fills me.

  “Christ,” he says softly just as there’s a tentative knock on the open door.

  “Hello? Mr. P—oh, my. I’m so sorry.”

  Calvin’s back is to the door, blocking me, but I immediately flush red.

  “Give us a moment, Judith,” he says, clearly irritated.

  I peek around his body to see the room is empty.

  “Of course,” she calls from the hallway. “I just wanted to inform you that the potential buyers are here.”

  He rolls his eyes. “We’ll be right down.”

  I can’t help giggling through my hand over my mouth. “Do you think she saw anything?”

  “Aside from my bare ass?”

  I laugh harder and stand while he fixes his pants. Before I take a step, he catches my waist and pulls me to him. “You’re incredible. It’s early still, but I can’t wait to fuck you.” My already-warm cheeks burn hotter, and he lifts my face by my chin. “Only because I’ve been painfully hard for you since I saw you in the gallery. But once I do that, then I’m going to make love to you.”

  My lips part slightly as he pecks me. We are always the collision of opposing forces. Fucking and making love, goodness and evil, loving and hating.

  Downstairs, we meet the couple. The closest room to the entryway is the dining hall, so that’s where the tour begins. Calvin stands close behind me as Judith relays specifics, including the origin of the ‘sturdy, antique’ table they would inherit. It is sturdy; I can attest to that. Not only have I been screwed on it, but it’s been flipped over at least once that I know about and survived.

  Calvin’s hands cover my upper arms when I shudder. The drapes perfectly frame long, skinny windows—windows I stood and watched from, wishing I were beyond them. The centerpiece displays candlesticks and more memories. I turn without thinking and bury my face in his broad chest.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Ford,” Judith says. “It isn’t easy to let go of such a beautiful home that’s filled with happy memories.”

  Calvin presses my shoulder in his hand, and I look at her. “No,” I say with a small but genuine smile. “It’s not.”

  Each room represents something different for me. The kitchen was a portal, both literally and figuratively. It was the key to my one escape, but my time in the mansion after I walked through it was never the same. The game room, Calvin’s office, the pool and sauna—each return the fear, lust, and confusion I experienced during captivity. Part of me wants to scream at the couple, “Do you know what I endured in the very spot you’re standing?” But the part that loves Calvin and wants to move forward with him is greater.

  I experience Calvin’s floor as I always wanted to. None of the locked rooms hold anything of any significance, and I wonder that they ever did.

  The basement is new to me and extraordinary. It’s an elaborate and vast converted panic room. I know, however, the true purpose of the space, which looks like a steel-encased underground apartment.

  “If you own anything of high value,” Judith tells the couple, “this is an ideal place to safeguard it. This area can only be accessed by elevator, and each entry is equipped with a keypad and finger scan. The room is also temperature controlled and perfect for valuable artwork.”

  At this, the couple looks to one another and nods.

  “In case of a home invasion or attack, you’d be protected down here.” Judith glances at us and smiles as she adds, “Of course, that sort of thing never happens around here. With the woods in your backyard and the sprawling acreage of each home in the area, it’s quite safe and secure.”

  As we exit, Calvin whispers to me, “Just on the other side of that wall were the cells. I had that area gutted after you left, though.”

  “Oh,” I say, because I’m not sure how to respond. Thank you? “Why did you have them?”

  “In case of unruly little girls
,” he teases. “Think of them as holding cells. They came in handy once or twice over the years.”

  I shudder to think what he means by that, so I choose not to comment. When the tour is complete, we return to the foyer where everyone shakes hands and the realtor walks them out.

  “Ready to go home?” Calvin asks.

  I look up at the ceiling and around the room. The sun coming through the shades signals late afternoon. “When was the last time you used the cinema?”

  “Uh, I don’t know. Not recently.”

  I turn and press my palms against his pecs. “Let’s stay here tonight.”

  “Here?” he repeats. “Are you kidding?”

  “No. We’re already here. We can make some popcorn and watch a movie.”

  He scoffs and shakes his head. “All right, I guess. If that’s what you want. Although, I haven’t the first clue if I even have popcorn.”

  I laugh on my way to the kitchen. “Where’s Chef Michael?”

  “I’ve started giving him weekends off. I really like his meals, and I don’t need him pulling a Norman on me.”

  I attempt a smile, but being back here, Norman’s absence is obvious. The house is noticeably different without him. I open the pantry and rummage through it as I say, “It must be hard without him here.”

  “I try not to think about it.”

  I locate a package of popcorn and hold it up. “Chef Michael would never leave you unprepared.” I toss it to him. “Cal?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Maybe we both need to talk to someone.”

  He grunts. “Where would I begin? I can’t exactly walk into a shrink’s office with my life story. And you know,” he says, coming closer and moving my hair over one shoulder, “now that the K-36 is wearing off, I have to be careful. If anyone finds out the truth, well . . . handcuffs would pose a much greater obstacle than they used to.”

  I blink up at him. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  He runs his thumb over my forehead. “Don’t worry. They’ll never catch me. Now, how about that popcorn?”

  I cuddle up to Calvin during the movie, but we only make it halfway through before we’re kissing. I get onto his lap, straddling him, melting under his strong arms. I can taste his eagerness, feel it pressing up against my inner thigh. It’s been so hard to resist him. I don’t know that I’m ready to let him in again, but I’m not sure I ever will be. It isn’t just the past that scares me but the knowledge that once we do this, I’ll have sunk myself so deeply in us that there’ll be no clawing my way out. Ever.

  But my body is yearning to feel him again, my endless ache, my unsatisfied craving. I need him because he knows me better than anyone else ever has. He knows not just what he’s seen from afar, but my insides too—my soul, my desires, my wants, and my needs.

  “Let’s go to bed,” I whisper between kisses.

  He rises and picks me up with him, taking us out of the cinema. He lets me down at the base of the stairs and we ascend—ascend and ascend—until the forbidden fourth floor master bedroom. I toe off my flats and wait at the foot of the bed while he peels off his t-shirt. The room is rich and massive, and memories are struggling to surface.

  He’s standing in front of me suddenly, kissing my lips as his fingers undo the buttons of my blouse.

  “How will it be?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if it’s not the same?”

  “Do you want it to be the same?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He opens my top and slides it over my shoulders. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m still the same man. Finish undressing.”

  He leaves me standing in the wake of his both gentle and foreboding words. My reservations dissolve quickly though, and I do as he says. He returns and tosses something on the bed before circling his arms around my waist. I’m off my feet in a moment, eye-level with him. “You are the sexiest, most enticing thing I’ve ever seen,” he says. “How I went a day without you, I don’t know.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck and nuzzle him. “This is nice.”

  “Don’t worry about tonight. We’re going to do what feels right to us. Up on the bed.”

  He sets me down, and I crawl to the middle of the mattress. He picks up two things and shows them to me.

  I shake my head. “Calvin,” I say cautiously. “What are you doing? No—”

  “We won’t take this next step until I know you trust me.”

  Rope hangs from one hand and in the other, he clutches something black and slinky. “I’m going to tie you to the bed and blindfold you. Don’t argue,” he cuts me off. “I’m not going to treat you like you’re breakable. We both know you’re not, and we both know I can’t. If you don’t want to, we’ll go to sleep and try again another time.”

  “How can I possibly trust you?”

  He drops his hands to his sides.

  “But I do.” I show him the undersides of my wrists and wait.

  With his eyes on mine, he smiles slowly. “Spread your wings, Sparrow. As wide as you can.”

  I show him my wingspan. He ties one wrist to a bedpost and the other to the opposite end. He’s quiet as he works, and for a moment I wonder if he’s nervous. If his heart beats as hard as mine.

  His eyes leisurely scan down my face and neck to my breasts before flicking back to mine. “Trust me,” he says. Silky darkness blinds me. I lift my head, and he ties the scarf in place, just tight enough that it won’t slip off. “Good girl.”

  In obscurity, I wait, tense and edged with trepidation anticipating his touch. When wet lips graze the curve of my neck, my hands jerk against the rope. His mouth lingers there before disappearing and reappearing on the curve of my left breast. His tongue slides down to my nipple, sucking me with gentle pulls. He continues this way, slow and deliberate, between my breasts, over my stomach and my hipbone. My breathing grows labored, and my body trembles when his mouth vanishes again. I open my legs wider to welcome what I know is coming. My mind sizzles with only one thought that my hips convey with an impatient, begging motion. He licks me once, and I can feel his smile there.

  The tip of his tongue pushes inside me, rims my pussy then thrusts deeper. My every nerve is firing, screaming for more as he continues to taste me, carefully but with increasing pressure. The headboard rattles with the force of my pulling and pushing; I want to grab fistfuls of his hair and bring him closer.

  “You taste even better than I remember,” he says, kissing the heated core of me.

  “I want to taste,” I breathe.

  His mouth leaves, but I get his body warmth instead. “Just a sample,” he says with a brief kiss. I lick the tanginess of myself from my lips and try for more, lifting my mouth and hoping for contact.

  “Now, open wide,” he says. He clicks his tongue. “Not there.”

  I close my mouth and spread my legs. His shaft, a ridged column of stone at this point, slips and slides over my wetness.

  “How’s that feel?” he asks.

  My answer is barely audible through my moan. “More.”

  “Though I’d love to have you come in my mouth so I can lick you clean, I want you to climax with me inside you.”

  “Yes, Calvin.”

  “Say that again.”

  “Yes, Calvin,” I repeat as he continues his slow glide against me. “Whatever you want.”

  His lips lock over mine and swallow my squeal as he presses the tip of his cock to my opening. My hands ball into fists while he inches into me. The exquisite pleasure and hint of pain is almost agonizing as he stretches and fills me, prying my body open to make me take him.

  I want to tell him to go faster, but I’m wary of pushing him. I don’t know what it would take to bring back the old Calvin. My legs are my only resource for bringing him closer, so I wrap them tightly around his lower back. I hang on to him, bucking up to meet him as his drives grow longer and harder.

  “Let me see you,” I beg. His mouth covers mine again. His
kiss is hard as he pushes closer to the base of his cock with each roll of his hips. I’m in a pit of darkness, sinking into sensation and bone-dense pleasure as this man conquers all parts of me. There’s only the sex sounds of our hungry bodies and my sharp inhales that break up his deep grunts.

  “God, Cataline,” he says, his voice pitching. “It’s been too long. I have to fuck you now. Are you ready?”

  “Do it.”

  “Ask for it.”

  “Please, Calvin . . . just fuck me already.”

  The air between us evaporates and tightens a second before he’s pounding away, nailing me to the mattress. He’s insatiable in his quest. Blind with my hands bound, all I can do is take his hardness and feel every unadulterated second of it. My surface fractures; white pierces black as I give into him, my pussy clenching and releasing around him. I can only writhe and fight against my restraints as I come. I lose myself in the afterglow as he continues ramming me to his own finish.

  “Still want to taste yourself?” he pants in my ear. Before I can answer, he pulls out of me.

  I make a noise of protest at the loss but automatically open when I feel pressure at my lips. My mouth fills with him as he hits the back of my throat. He thrusts into me as if he never stopped, and the first drops of semen leak onto my tongue. He grabs my hair, holding me in place as he erupts. Thick, gummy fluid spills over my bottom lip and dribbles down my chin. He abruptly rips off my blindfold and climbs off me. I blink my eyes several times, attempting to swallow what sticks in my mouth.

  I am sputtering and suddenly shivering without him. His fingers wedge between my skin and the rope to untie me. I roll my tingling wrists and stretch my arms.

  “How was that, Sparrow?” he asks, covering my body again, settling between my legs.

  I nod breathlessly as his hands push matted hair away from my face. He dispenses small kisses over my forehead and down my cheeks until he meets my lips. I expect tenderness, but his mouth is hot and fast over mine, his tongue fighting its way in and finding mine just as eager.

  “You,” he exhales between kisses. My hands dive into his hair, and he groans when I pull. “You feel so good. I don’t know how I ever let you walk away.”