by Kenya Wright
“No,” he said it so fast, I almost jumped. “Not at all. This isn’t a fling.”
“Then how are we going to have anything if I never know anything about you?” I asked.
“What do you want to know?”
“Where were you born?”
He rubbed his face. Stress pooled in his eyes. “Charleston, South Carolina.”
I widened my eyes. “What about your family?”
“Mom was black. Father was white. They both died from drug overdoses by the time I was ten. You ever been to Charleston?”
“Once. We stayed near its little French Quarter.”
“That little French Quarter was my entire world. After the tourists left, and the horse-drawn carriage tours ended, and the rich people went into their pastel antebellum homes, I slept with other homeless kids on those cobblestone streets. All along the Battery promenade and Waterfront Park.”
“I know that area.”
“Yeah. You could see Fort Sumter right from Waterfront Park. And at night, that view was my television screen. Did you know the first shots of the Civil War were at Fort Sumter?”
I was almost scared to say anything else. I just wanted him to tell me more. “No.”
“Did you ever see the little black boys near that area making their little flowers with palm leaves and selling them to jolly tourists?”
I nodded.
“That was me too. We’d spend days climbing over barbed-wire fences to yank out as many palm leaves we could. By the next day, we’re down at Waterfront Park, twisting the leaves into shapes and begging for flowers. Some days, we made money. Other days, we starved.”
My heart ached for the younger him.
“I don’t talk about my past for many reasons,” he confessed. “One, I want to forget it. Two, it’s not a smart idea to have too many people know about you.”
“Why not?”
“Because information is power.”
“That’s a hard way to live. You must keep a lot of secrets.”
“Millions of them.”
“What do you do?”
“You already know more about me than anybody else on this earth. Those guys that I lived with on the street. . .they’re dead. I have no ties to family. I don’t make new friends.”
“Wives?”
“Never married.”
“Any ex-girlfriends?”
“One.” He reached for his wine and sipped it. “She’s dead too.”
I wanted to ask more. The desire raged inside my chest. Who was she? Was he in love? How did he get off the streets? What were his fears? What were his loves?
But Caden returned his attention to the screen and our conversation for the rest of the evening remained on present moments.
But something changed between us. After he told me about his life, he kissed me whenever possible. We made out for hours on the beach. Played with our tongues in between movie breaks. Gave each other hickeys after I beat him in a horse race around the island. When I was with him, passion raged throughout every cell of my body. But he wouldn’t touch me where I wanted him to and absolutely wouldn’t let me touch that one spot on him that I dreamed about every night.
And every damn night, when it was time to sleep, I went to my room and he walked off to his.
Dear God, when is he going to give it to me!
By the next week on his island, I tried to remain patient but was failing with each day. And he started acting weird. While he catered to me, some of the spoiling became odd. He had several servants that did all the household chores—but one. Caden was the only one that could wash my bras and panties.
And all I could think of was, “Instead of wash them, why not take them off?!”
During the fourth week, a new activity began. After dinner, he’d bring a large copper basin into my room, fill it with hot, bubbly water, open a bottle of wine for me, and then spend the rest of the evening talking to me as he cleaned my panties, twisting and swirling the soft fabric in the water. Sometimes he would stare into the basin as if the watery reflection represented my naked legs wide open to him.
The first night it shocked me so much that I didn’t say anything.
The second night, I had to ask, “Why do you like to wash my clothes?”
He pushed the panties through rippling suds and then slowly pulled them back. “In some ways, I’m giving you dominance over me.”
“Through washing my panties?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ve never really did anything in the realm of dominance and submission.”
“You have.” He tenderly squeezed one of my panties and then dipped it back in the water. “When we love, one is always dominant and another is always submissive. You’ve been in love?”
“Yes. I think so.”
Until him, I’d never felt this thunderous pound in my heart. He did that to me.
“Well,” I said. “I don’t think relationships can only be dominant and submissive. They can be equal too.”
“Maybe you’re right.” After he cleaned my undergarments, he hung them in his bathroom which was as large as two rooms.
What is he doing to me?
I wanted to take it slow, of course. We barely knew each other and on top of that, I’d just run off with him and lived in his mansion, enjoying the island weather and the complete spoiling of his wealthy life.
Yet something sat in my gut. Unease. Nervousness.
Who is Caden?
I walked into his study, wondering if I could learn about him from looking around his place. The room had high ceilings. On both walls, there were massive glass cases filled with dead insects. They were labeled and set-in huge frames. Hundreds of butterflies sat on one wall. They were ones that I’d never seen.
There was blue one that caught my attention. I walked over to it and realized that calling it blue was an understatement. It was iridescent blue—almost glowing as it captivated me. As my gaze traveled to the center, the blue took on a darkening gloss. Peering closer, I counted the wings and realized that this butterfly had five.
“That’s the Blue Morpho Aurora,” Caden said from behind me. “It’s a butterfly from South America.”
“The wings are breathtaking.”
“The shiny color is due to the way the light travels through the wing scales and gives off a metallic sheen.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “So, you’re really into insects?”
“Yes.”
“What do you do?”
“Whatever I want.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It most definitely is.” He pointed to the aurora’s center. “The wing’s color depends on the angle of the light and the path to the viewer's eye.”
“Beautiful and interesting, but you’re still avoiding my question.”
“I bought this from another collector in Guyana for $195,000.”
I didn’t respond. Caden hadn’t done anything bad to me. Every moment we spent together, he devoted his entire being to me. Still, I didn’t know much about him and every time I asked, he avoided my questions.
“You look like you have a lot on your mind,” he said.
“I do. I have tons of questions. In all this time together, I’ve talked more about myself than you’ve said anything.” I sighed. “For example, how did you get yourself off the streets? Did you go to college? If yes, what did you major in? What do you do? What’s your passion? Who the hell are you?”
“I got off the streets by doing a lot of bad things. Things I don’t want to confess to you right now. Things that would probably make you turn around and walk away.” He frowned and let out a long breath. “Things that are supposed to be secrets that would get me in trouble with powerful people if they knew you knew. Things that are labeled Top Secret by US authorities.”
I hadn’t been expecting that response, just more avoidance.
Secrets. Powerful people. Trouble. Okay. Top Secret. Holy shit.
Surprisingly, he contin
ued, “I didn’t go to college. But if I had, I would’ve majored in art. And you’re now the only person that knows that. Which may not seem like a lot of information to you, but others would pay for that confession.”
“What happened to your ex-girlfriend?”
“We were young, drugged up, and at a party. One of my buddies pulled out a gun. No one knew it was loaded. She grabbed it as a joke.” He stared at the ground and his voice went low. “Drunk, she put it in her mouth and shot herself by accident.”
He didn’t look up. “I’m a vegetarian. I don’t know if you noticed. I just can’t eat meat, after that. . .that moment with her. When she shot herself, I was right next to her, and the impact. . .of the bullet.” He sighed. “Bits of her flesh flew into my mouth and her blood was all over. . .”
Not sure if I should, I pulled him into my arms. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it anymore.”
He trembled against me. It was the first time he’d showed any fear or sadness.
“There are only two other people that know that story,” he whispered. “And they were there.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
He leaned away from me and pierced me with his gaze. “I wasn’t going to tell you any of that until I knew you were mine. With a confession like that, you don’t get to change your mind with me anymore.”
I didn’t know what to say. I would always have a choice of who I loved. That wasn’t a thought that I would debate. However, that moment wasn’t the time to argue about it. Tears glazed over his eyes, although they didn’t spill out onto his face.
“Okay.” He left my arms and rubbed his face with both hands. “Any more questions?”
“Did you ever love again?”
“No. This is the most I’ve dated. Ever.”
I turned to the other wall. Beetles and moths decorated that side. All were labeled, pinned, and organized.
What does this say about him?
“Okay. I’m depressing you. Let’s get back to insects.” He forced a laugh, hooked his arm around mine, and led me closer to that wall, pointing at a huge beetle. “This is the Stag beetle. It’s male so it has these incredibly large jaws that look like deer antlers.”
He lost his girlfriend and in such a sudden and brutal way. What did that do to him?
Caden continued, “Male Stag Beetles fight each other. In Japan, there are places that hold stag beetle fighting. I bought him from a Japanese breeder for $89,000.”
I looked at the male stag. To me, it was just a big black bug. Had I spotted it, I was ashamed to admit, I might’ve screamed and stomped it out.
But for him, it was a fascination.
What did this say about him?
Many people collected insects as well as other things. I found it interesting that someone would dedicate themselves to a hobby simply on the basis of their passion. Never expecting money or fame. Most collected out of love.
So, what does he love?
I scanned the amazing and colorful insects pinned to the wall. A few of my friends would site that it was unethical to kill insects on the basis of collecting. Was it fair to take their lives for another’s hobby? And what did that make Caden, unethical and creepy? Or a hot nerd with a love for biology?
We passed the rest of the glass cases full of expensive dead insects and entered a new room.
“This is my library.”
Tons of bookshelves flanked the walls and ran from floor-to-ceiling. He’d stacked his books horizontally rather than lining them up side-by-side. If anything, his bookshelves told me more about him than his answers did. He also had color-coordinated the books. And for some reason, it sort of gave the whole space a sense of unity. A shelf of green novels sat above yellow ones. Black covers were on the right. White ones on the left. Pink and red stayed in one area, while purple lounged in another section.
“Your library would make the Beast jealous.”
He raised his eyebrows. “The Beast?”
“From Beauty and the Beast. You know in the movie when he shows her the library and she’s so excited because she’s always wanted to explore the world and now she has it right there in those books?”
“Which was stupid because he couldn’t read.”
I laughed. “He could. He just hadn’t read in a long time.”
Caden shook his head. “Ridiculous. There we have a movie telling little girls that it’s okay to fall in love with a monster that can’t read because he just might turn into a prince. So be patient.”
“Are you saying that there is no such thing as a prince? Are all men monsters?”
“Only eighty percent.”
I snorted. “That’s a huge number.”
“There’s a lot of assholes out there.”
“And are you one of them?”
“It’s too late to ask that now, but I’m not.” He walked around me, brushing his fingers against my arm and sending a shiver of delight up my skin. “I already have you and I’m not letting you go.”
“You sound like the Beast.”
“Maybe the Beast and I do have some things in common.”
I went to the brown section and picked up the book. “The Wealth of Nations by Adam Smith. I had to read parts of this for an economics course, but I never read the whole book.”
“I read it,” he said. “Here’s your summary. The Masters of Mankind, the filthy rich, will continue to grip their money and scream, ‘All for ourselves and nothing for anyone else.’ And the only thing that will stop them is public rage. The end.”
I gestured to his huge house. “Since you’re one of the Masters of Mankind, do you believe that?”
“I’m not one of them but I’ve dealt with some and yes, many of them can be this way.” He walked away as I browsed some of his other books.
After being impressed with several titles, I pointed to a closed door painted in dark green. “Where does that door lead to?”
“My office.”
Excitement rushed through me. I walked forward, hoping to get some clues of who he was from there. He blocked me from getting close to the door. “I don’t like anybody to be in my office. It’s all business stuff in there and very private.”
Disappointment hit me, but I pretended it didn’t matter. And so, I moved on from my curiosities about that office.
That night, he took me on a moonlit tour around the island, filling me with wine, cheese, and bread. I was so full and tipsy, he ended up carrying me into his massive place. In his arms, I lost all thought. His body was hard and so muscular. I craved him. He should’ve been naked and rubbing himself all over me. I loved his respect and need to take his time but after those fingers so long ago, I couldn’t get his cock out of my mind.
“Did you enjoy your night?” he asked.
“I can walk.”
“Hmm.” He captured my lips and continued to carry me up the stairs. “Did you enjoy yourself?”
“Yes.”
We made it to the top. When I realized that yet again he was taking me to my bedroom, I sighed and climbed out of his arms.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.” I straightened out my dress. The emerald green silk fell to the ground. Caden had been buying me new things every day and asking me to model it for him at night. The dress was another one of his gifts.
He’d included lingerie with today’s package. And the panties and bra had been imbued with a hint of bondage-inspired naughtiness. The bra was tiny silk black straps around my breast with silver embroidery decorating the bust line. The panties resembled the same. Silky straps cupping my ass and hips with even more silver embroidery. He’d added stockings and a French lace garter belt too.
Due to the lingerie, I’d believed that night would be the night we made love. But as I stood in front of my bedroom, I realized that it would not be the case. In fact, it would probably never be the case.
I don’t know anything about him. He’s uneasy about sex. And what am I doing here? I have to
get ready for school in the fall.
“Dawn?” He ran his fingers down my arm, sending shivers through me. “What’s wrong?”
“I should go soon.”
“Go?”
“Get back to the States.”
He frowned. “No.”
“I’ve been here for a long time—”
“No.”
“Caden, I made plans to look for a law school this summer. I haven’t studied for the LSAT at all since I’ve been here. And besides, at some point, one can wear out their welcome.”
“You can’t wear out your welcome. You think you’re using me by staying here? Fine. Fucking use me. I want to cater to you. Haven’t I been a good host?” He pressed his body against mine. “Haven’t I spoiled you in all ways, but one?”
Heat swirled in my chest. “Yes.”
“Is that what it is, Dawn?” He brushed his lips against mine. “Would you like me to spoil you in other ways?”
“Yes.” I shivered as he slipped one of my dress’s spaghetti straps down my arm.
“I picked the dress for you because it wasn’t the easiest one to take off.” And then he pulled down the other strap and my dress slid slowly down my body and fell to the floor. “You, my lovely woman, are all the hidden puzzles to this universe.”
“How?”
“You’ve made me experience something I never thought I would.” He captured both of my breasts in his hands. The soft material of the bra—the only wall between my nipples and his rough hands. He squeezed them, increasing pressure as I moaned. Pain and pleasure mingled in my core. “You’re making me rethink the idea of love.”
“That’s a good thing,” I panted.
“I hope so.”
I stepped out of my dress and tried to wrap my arms around him, but he placed my hands back to my sides.
“You think you’re leaving me now after I discovered love?” He slipped his fingers along the stockings. “No, I know what you need.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, baby. I do.” He lowered himself to the ground and undid the garter. So slow. Inch-by-inch. The soft material glided down my skin, teasing me even more than the way he licked those lips and gazed up at me. My breathing was the only sound in the room.
He kissed me over my panties, which were now soaking wet. It only took seconds for him to pull them down. As many more for his tongue and those magic fingers to find my G-spot. Holy fuck. Half-slumped against the wall, I could barely stop my legs from shaking. I convulsed in heart-shattering, hot liquid pleasure that oozed through me. He had me melting in his hands. Had me grasping for the walls. Had me mumbling his name. Had me about to beg and scream for his fat cock.
