My Obsession

by Cassie Ryan

  He made sure she liked red wine and asked her appetizer preferences. “In celebration of your new job,” he said with a nod.

  When the waiter returned with the wine, he told them about the specials. Since she wasn’t sure how much attention she could direct toward the menu, she went ahead and ordered the first special he mentioned. Only after the waiter had left did she realize she hadn’t even asked how much it was. It had sounded good, although she couldn’t really remember what she had ordered now that Master Brent was staring into her eyes from across the table.

  He took her hand in his, the warm skin of his slightly roughened fingertips making her remember what that touch had felt like last night against her sensitive skin. She shivered, but not from cold, and raised her gaze to meet his.

  His blue eyes looked darker somehow in the intimate atmosphere of the restaurant. They weren’t the only patrons, others were scattered around, but not at any of the tables closest to them.

  It felt like they were in an exclusive part of the dining room, and who knew—they might be. She didn’t have any experience with a place like this. She almost felt like the poor country cousin come to visit the city.

  She tried to stop fidgeting in her chair and just enjoy the experience.

  “Sandra. Relax.” His voice held gentle understanding. “No one here will bite.” The edges of his lips curved up into a mischievous smile that took his features from handsome to totally devastating. She wished she could steel her heart against that deadly weapon, but it felt as if it were melting into a glob of clay that he could mold however he wished. “Although if you’re a good little sub, I’ll bite you. And I promise to make sure you love it.”

  A zing of arousal shot through her and she shifted in her seat against the wetness that dampened her panties. Even though he’d said it in jest, she had no doubt that Master Brent could deliver on that implied promise. And she couldn’t wait.

  Brent was one of the most charming men she had ever met. He was the total package—sinfully good-looking, cultured, well mannered, generous, and adventurous, and all wrapped up with a wonderful sense of humor and playfulness that probably made every woman he met fall at his feet.

  She winced that she was only one of many until she reminded herself that he was with her now, and had been two nights ago. If she were any judge, he would be with her many times again.

  Thoughts of all those future times sent her pulse racing, making her wish she were adventurous enough to do something daring and bold right here in the restaurant.

  She wasn’t ready for something like that yet, but suspected the more time spent with Master Brent, her bravery would grow until she was able to be brazen and sexy in public.

  She hoped so.

  It had been such a wonderful morning so far, and definitely promised to be an amazing day. She had a job with a boss who seemed understanding, funny, and friendly, and now lunch at a restaurant where she’d always fantasized about eating. And later tonight was her first self-defense class with Master Dex back at Club Desire.

  Thoughts about all the times in her life that self-defense skills would have come in handy flitted through her mind as if someone were flipping the pages of a book in front of her face.

  “Sandra?”

  She jumped, feeling as if she’d just been caught, but caught doing what, she wasn’t quite sure. “Sorry. My mind wandered a little.”

  “Not a problem.” He gestured with his chin toward the large window beside them. “That view would make anyone turn a bit introspective. Terrific, isn’t it?”

  She met his smile with one of her own. “It’s amazing. I’ve always wondered what it was like in here.” She squeezed his hand. “Thank you so much for bringing me. And thank you for introducing me to Gary.” She felt another rambling speech coming on and bit her tongue to stop it.

  His too perceptive gaze raked over her, making her feel as if he could see every secret she tried to keep carefully hidden inside.

  “You’re literally glowing with excitement. It’s nice to see.” Brent took a sip of his wine and gestured toward her waiting glass. “And there are still great things in store today.”

  She nodded as anticipation marched through her.

  Chapter 14

  The moment she was dreading came as they finished lunch and waited for the delivery of the fruit tart Brent had ordered for dessert.

  “Sandra.” He laid his large hand over hers, and even the strength and warmth pulsing from the contact couldn’t warm the core of ice that had formed in her belly. “Who hit you?”

  She’d known it was coming, but even so, she flinched as if she’d been struck, her mouth and throat went dry, and tears brimmed in her eyes.

  He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, and she looked up to meet his gaze before she could catch herself. She always had the feeling that Brent could see way too much when he looked into her eyes. But it was too late now.

  What she saw in them made her already shaky breathing hitch. There was concern, but also a fierce protectiveness on her behalf that she’d never seen so intensely from anyone.

  A thick silence fell as she tried to form words to explain away or deflect the discussion she knew was coming. Through it all, Brent’s gentle yet firm gaze held her captive, and she had to resist the urge to run away to avoid this conversation.

  When she thought she couldn’t stand another second of the tension and dread building deep inside her belly, she pushed out one word that wasn’t exactly a lie, but wasn’t the entire truth either. “Diego.” She tried her best to make it sound like she was surprised he didn’t already know.

  His gaze never faltered, but his head cocked slightly to the side, those deep blue eyes still pinning her in place.

  “Who else before Diego?”

  Before she could think better of it, she sucked in a small breath that sounded loud in the thick silence that Brent allowed to hang between them.

  He knew.

  “Do you remember what I told you?” he asked gently.

  Her mind scrambled to find the relevant conversation, but nothing came to her. Brent must have read that in her expression, because he continued.

  “I told you that I would decide what’s relevant and what’s not that could affect what happens on the dungeon floor.” His gaze softened a small fraction but still didn’t waver from her. “Because of the very nature of the play we engage in, as your Dom, it’s my responsibility to not only protect you, but guide you toward your pleasure and your deepest desires and needs. I can’t do that if I don’t know what happened.” He paused, and his entire demeanor changed as he turned to allow the waiter to set the tart between them and then retreat.

  Sandra hadn’t even noticed the man was there until the tart plate clinked softly against the table. But Brent had easily and effectively let her save face by making it seem they were so caught up in each other that they wanted as much privacy as they could get. A swell of gratitude rose, and she closed her eyes, steeling herself against what she knew was still to come.

  He gave her a small smile of support. “It’s all right. I know in the past that Diego used things like this to hurt and manipulate you. I can only try to earn your trust over time and prove I won’t do the same. But I can’t risk hurting you with any more play until I know the situation.”

  The knot of ice in her stomach tightened and the first tear slipped down her cheek. She knew Master Brent wasn’t trying to blackmail her using her craving for play to get what he wanted, and she could even see the logic in his statement. But that didn’t make it any easier to discuss the subject she’d been instinctively hiding since she was ten years old.

  She straightened her spine and raised her chin. All of that was in the past and had no place in her new life, so maybe it was time to vanquish it. To finally admit it to someone other than Child Protective Services, and even possibly deal with it with the help of a therapist. But first, she had to see if she could even tell Brent.

  She took a fortifying b
reath and steeled herself before diving in. “My father left us when I was ten.” The memory still sliced deep, and the familiar pain in her heart broke the control she’d been holding on to with the last shred of her willpower. Hot tears flowed freely down her cheeks. “My mother resented me as an unwelcome reminder of what she’d lost when he left, and she turned to alcohol.” Sandra tried to find the words to explain the rest, but she already felt hollowed out from even that admission. She’d held it inside for so long that it had become a constant part of her, and it felt odd to have set it free.

  Brent gently squeezed her hand, compassion and understanding strong in his gaze. “Alcohol can often cause people who are holding on to pain and anger to lash out, especially toward those who are closest to them.”

  His words and calm, understanding tone seemed to break open the last of her barriers to that part of her life, and words tumbled out of her.

  “It started only a week after my dad left us. Mom dressed up in a slinky party dress that showed her boobs, slathered on too much makeup and perfume, and told me there were TV dinners in the freezer as she walked out the door.” Sandra closed her eyes against the sharp memory, but her words wouldn’t stop. “I had been home alone many times before that, but since my dad’s leaving was still so fresh, I was terrified that my mom had left me too. That I was alone in the world. And in a way, I was from that moment on.”

  She took a small sip of her wine, welcoming the moisture onto her dry tongue. “As soon as Mom’s car pulled out of the driveway, I broke down and sobbed until I felt hollow and empty.”

  She was surprised to realize Brent had moved his chair closer and she was pulled tight against him. When had that happened?

  The familiar raw pain and fear came back and she sobbed against Master Brent’s chest.

  He threaded his fingers through her hair, gently massaging her scalp, a sense of comfort melting the edges of that remembered pain.

  As he held her, Sandra continued. “Hours later, Mom came home drunk, although at the time I didn’t quite understand that. Neither of my parents ever drank in front of me, and I had never seen anyone drunk, not even on TV. When I first heard her car pull into the driveway, relief rushed through me, and all I could think about was that I would feel safe again. She had come back. She wasn’t abandoning me like Dad.”

  Sandra sucked in a breath so she could continue. “I ripped open the front door and ran out to meet her, wanting to feel her arms around me and hear her tell me that she would never leave me, and that she loved me. Instead, she raised her arm and backhanded me so hard I was knocked off my feet. I fell on the ground, hard, my lower lip bleeding, and pain ripping open my heart all over again from my dad leaving. I had never been hit by anyone before that, and the pure fact that it was from my mother made it so much worse.”

  She spared a glance at Brent and found him looking at her, concern and protectiveness apparent in his gaze. He took one of the cloth napkins from the table and gently brushed away her tears while still holding her and offering her his silent strength.

  Sandra licked her lips, tasting the salt from her tears. “It became a routine after that. When I heard the car pull into the driveway I would hide, hoping she would pass out and forget all about me until morning, but she rarely did. She would slam into the house and come looking for me. It didn’t matter where I hid—she always found me.”

  Sandra rubbed her hands self-consciously over both arms, remembering having to wear long sleeves even in the summer. “It became almost second nature to conceal the bruises. If someone did notice, it was effortless to lie about them and hope my mom never found out that I had let someone know our horrible secret.”

  She shook her head, remembering the frustrating cycle that had been her life. “A few times people did see my bruises, and I paid dearly for not being careful enough.”

  Brent’s body stiffened just enough that Sandra could tell he’d reacted to her words. So when his low rumble came, it didn’t surprise her. “CPS never removed you from the situation?”

  Sandra shook her head, staring at Brent’s cheek or chin rather than be caught in his gaze once again. “I would be called out of class to report to the counselor’s office. The school counselor and a CPS worker would be waiting. They would ask me about the bruises, or whatever report they had gotten from the neighbors or my teachers, and I would either tell them the truth or blatantly lie and defend Mom—it never made a difference.”

  She tightened her hands into fists at the frustration that still burned through her that those appointed to protect her never had.

  “They would tell me it would be all right and not to worry. Then before I got home from school they had already gone to speak to my mother. She’d tell them how hard it was without my dad and how difficult it was to raise a ‘problem’ child while working full time. Then she would promise never to do it again, or lie and tell them that I had come home with the bruises and wouldn’t tell her how I had gotten them. In the end, I would return home to another beating, sometimes so severe I wasn’t able to go to school for a week until the bruises faded and I didn’t wince every time I spoke or moved.”

  She sniffled, noticing the tears were slowing. “After a while I prayed that CPS would just stop intervening. I could weather the original beatings. I had grown almost used to them. But the ones after their visits to her were brutal. I’m still surprised there is no lasting physical damage.”

  She shook her head, anger welling for the first time in a long while at the situation. “Throughout all of it I kept expecting them to take me and put me into foster care somewhere. That’s why they exist. Or so I thought. But they never did take me. Unless a minor ends up in the ER, they continue to let things slide.” She fisted her hands so tight her nails caused little pinpricks of pain against her palms. “I hope it’s not that way anymore, but back then it definitely was, at least here in Arizona.”

  Brent’s arms tightened around her and she burrowed against him, tucking her head under his chin. She sniffled, embarrassed that she was having a mini breakdown in a public place. But Brent’s strong and comforting presence seemed to insulate her and hold the mortification at bay.

  His warmth and strength poured into her and she let out a sigh as the heavy weight that she’d carried all these years lightened, if only a little.

  “So you became adept at hiding it from everyone, putting on a mask of serenity and kindness that would keep people from looking too closely at you and your home life.” He said it as a fact and not a question, so she only nodded, feeling numb and disconnected from the entire conversation.

  He rubbed gentle circles over her back, which slowly helped calm her breathing enough to answer. “By the time I got to high school I somehow made it into the ‘popular’ set, although I have no earthly idea how.”

  She laid her hand over Brent’s heart, letting the steady beat and his warmth soothe her. “I didn’t have any close friends to speak of since I couldn’t risk letting anyone get that close to me or my deep, dark secret. Oh, there were a few people I liked to see at school and who made me smile, like Michelle. I never shared too much that was personal with any of them, though. I couldn’t risk it. But I interacted just enough so that I began to look forward to seeing them and hearing about their lives that were so much more normal and calm than mine.”

  Sandra shuddered at the painful memories that swamped her and pulled back a little from Brent. His touch was wonderful, but right now there was too much going on inside her, so much that she was afraid she might burst if she allowed any more input into her overtaxed brain.

  She sucked in a breath as more words tumbled out. “I did go out of my way to see the good in others and try to be kind at all times, no matter how much I was tempted to lash out.” She frowned a minute, wondering at Brent’s ability to be so accurate on that count. Maybe he knew someone who had been through something similar? She hoped not.

  She cleared her throat as more words bubbled up. “I refused to be anything like
my mother, and that included raising my voice or using harsh words toward anyone. I never invited anyone to my house. I rarely attended parties or get-togethers, and then only when my mom was partying for the weekend or shacked up at the house of some guy she had just met.” She shook her head. “I just couldn’t risk it. But somehow amid all that I ended up being popular.”

  Sandra licked her lips, suddenly wishing she were back in bed and not drowning in memories from the past. “I can only surmise that a good chunk of that was because I filled out early.” She glanced down at her generous cleavage and then up to meet Brent’s gaze. “I grew into my curves before most of the other girls, and the boys started to take notice. I’m surprised I made it out of high school a virgin for all the times that boys would try to manipulate me into having sex, a male teacher tried to kiss me or ‘accidentally’ brush against my breasts or my ass, or Mom brought one of her drunken boyfriends home from the bar.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut against the vivid memories that tried to flood back. “I learned early on to keep my room locked and stay out of sight. The upside was that if she brought one of them home, she wanted to look like the perfect mother, so she never touched me on those nights.”

  Brent offered her a smile and she basked in its warmth for a few seconds before continuing. “I would usually try to sneak out the next morning before either of them woke up. I’d go hang out at the park or on the bleachers at the high school until I thought it was late enough that the men would be gone. It usually took until nightfall for Mom to sober up, so I learned to time it well, and she never seemed to care that I had been gone all day.”

  Brent cupped her cheek in his large hand, the warmth of the contact burning through her and softening the hard core of ice that had formed inside her belly before she’d told him.

  “No child should have to deal with something like that. Children should be loved, cherished—protected. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He brushed a slow kiss over her trembling lips before tucking her against him again.