by J. C. Grant
*****
Much later in the day, I realized how wrong I’d been.
I had been camped out on the couch for thirty minutes, writing, when David walked in the living room. He was wearing his perfectly worn black boots, black jeans, and a V-neck tee that hinted at the thick muscles hidden beneath. He was dressed to go out.
“What’s going on?” I asked, confused.
I had watched him slip on lounge pants, the same time I pulled on my sweatshirt and shorts. He watched me wash my face and put my hair up in a messy bun. He had watched me get ready for a night at home and said nothing. I couldn’t help but worry he was going out to get even.
That’d be my reaction, not his.
I hoped.
We’d had a crazy day.
After we'd found out the pilot had been green lighted, the contract had been messengered over, and Elaine had spent hours on speakerphone explaining every part of it to David and me, she assured us the show wouldn't start filming until mid-March. Which meant I wouldn't be traveling with David until mid-July.
To say he wasn't pleased about the show would be a gross understatement, but to his credit, he never asked me to pass on the opportunity. Now I was wondering if it had been the calm before the storm because his energy was way off.
“I’m gonna grab our dinner.” He paused, making no move toward me, which set off all my alarms.
It was Friday night; the only night worse for making a take-out run would be Saturday.
“Where?” I asked cautiously.
“Boa.” His tone was unreadable, but I knew.
Boa would be packed, as would every other restaurant in Hollywood. He only wanted to go for one reason: Ryan. I couldn’t imagine Ryan was still working there, but I wasn’t willing to risk it.
“David, let me get dressed, and we can have a date night,” I suggested, trying to stay calm as I closed my laptop, setting it on the ottoman.
“No.” His voice was even, but the order was clear. “You stay here. I already called it in, and it’ll be too crowded to get a table this late.”
“David, don’t—” I tried again.
“He filmed you with your phone,” he exploded. “Why wouldn’t he do it with his?”
“David, please, drop it. Let it go,” I implored.
“Austin, I love you more than anything, but if you keep defending him, we’re gonna have a serious problem,” he warned gruffly.
“David, please—”
“Austin,” he barked, his narrowed gaze pinning me in place. His nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. I’d never seen him so angry unprovoked.
But fuck, he looked sexy.
“Stay here. I’ll be back soon,” he growled, then turned and walked out without another word.
I grabbed my phone, dialing Fergus.
“Yes?” he greeted.
“He’s going to Boa. Stop him.” My voice came out much higher than normal in my panicked state.
“Call him. Keep him on the phone in case he gets there before me.”
Fergus’ serious tone and lack of explanation needed reconfirmed my fears.
I dialed David.
After two rings, I heard his phone. He’d left it in the kitchen. Hopping up, I headed for the garage, but when I opened the door, he was already gone.
My eyes closed as I sighed in defeat.
Fuck... please don’t let anyone call the police.
Deep down David craved violence. I knew that from witnessing what he did to Zach. He’d kill someone if he ever let that rage off its leash. That fact should've been disturbing, scary, something. But it wasn’t. I just couldn’t bear thought of him getting arrested over this, destroying his image and career.
I knew that wasn’t a rational response.
David
I couldn’t do it anymore. Acting like I was fine, like it didn’t bother me, when the truth was, that video was eating me alive. And not knowing if there were more videos... videos of her fucking him...
I had to find out.
Or just beat the shit out of him.
Truthfully, I was planning on both.
Austin getting that contract for the show was too much too fast. I wanted to be happy for her.
I really did.
But I wasn’t.
I wasn’t ready to share her, to let her have her own life. I definitely wasn’t ready for how it made me feel.
It was like a fucking freight train was headed straight for us. Either I had to find a way to control it, or get out of the way. But getting out of the way meant letting her get swept up in the Hollywood machine. No matter how comfortable she was with herself, no matter how confident, Hollywood would tear her down, change her into someone else, physically and mentally.
Another shallow shell, willing to do any publicity stunt to maintain her fame. Even if I didn’t divorce her our marriage would be over; it would end up another pawn in the Hollywood game.
No... fuck no.
Getting out of the way wasn’t an option, I wasn’t going to lose her.
And knowing she made the decision behind my back... I’d thought I was getting her to open up and share. I felt like a moron. I felt like she didn’t need me, like I was irrelevant. Unnecessary.
Maybe it was because I was still too raw from finding that video only three days before. I didn’t know, but whatever the reason, I needed something I could control.
As soon as I pulled up to the valet, I saw Ryan and that video replayed vividly through my mind...
Austin on her knees in front of him, her sweet little tongue licking along his shaft, his voice encouraging her, directing her as she slid the head into her mouth.
Looking at him, the hot knot in my stomach grew.
That primitive possessiveness rose up, fierce and vengeful, my irrational need to own Austin, the part of me that wanted to drag her back to my cave and hide her away from other men.
Austin was mine, she was always meant for me. She was my whole world. And he’d defiled it, recording her, touching her, like she was his.
Motherfucker... I’ll break every bone in his face.
My heart pounded in my chest, my body flush with rage as I climbed out of the truck, stalking over to him, ignoring the valet who approached me.
“David!” Fergus’ distinct voice called out from behind me, but I didn’t stop.
“We need to talk.” My fists clenched at my sides, giving away my intention.
Ryan took a step back, keeping distance between us. “What? I only called her one time, man. We never even talked.”
What the fuck?
She’d never mentioned it, and I’d never seen a call from him. Didn’t mean he hadn’t, but I wasn’t letting him side track me. “I’m more interested in your penchant for filming.”
He visibly paled. “She never—I didn’t know—I thought she wasn’t into it—she never said anything,” he stumbled out nervously.
Then Fergus was there, positioning himself between us.
“David,” Fergus tried.
“I’m fine,” I muttered, never taking my eyes off Ryan. I wanted to hurt him, make him bleed. If I was being honest, I wanted him dead. For touching her, fucking her, sticking his dick in her mouth.
Next thing I knew, I was moving toward him.
“David, stop,” Fergus insisted quietly.
“How many,” I demanded, taking another step toward Ryan, backing him up against the glass wall.
“What? No—none—just that one. Like I said, she never said anything—I thought she wasn’t into it.”
He was telling the truth, that was obvious. He was terrified. It still wasn’t what I wanted; it wasn’t enough, not even close.
“You do that a lot? Film girls without their knowledge?” My voice was a quiet threat, as I crowded him. My fists clenched and my muscles trembled as fought the urge to hit him.
“What? No,” he tumbled out, his gaze darting between me and Fergus.
“Just Austin.” My eyes narrowed as I watch
ed him try to find a way out of the situation.
“Ah—I,” he paused, seeming scared to answer.
A hand on my upper arm pulled my attention away from Ryan.
“Come on,” Fergus murmured sternly, tugging my arm, inconspicuously enough not to draw more attention than I already had by cornering a valet in front of a crowded restaurant. “Not Here.”
At Fergus’ words, the sounds of nearby voices and traffic finally registered. We had an audience gathering.
My jaw clenched and I took a deep breath, then backed away from Ryan, reluctantly following Fergus.
Once we were inside, Fergus asked for my to-go order, then turned to me.
“The only way you are beating him down is if you get him to your house.” He kept his voice low enough to keep our conversation private. “And Austin will be there, to witness it. There are too many witnesses here.”
My eyes darted away from him, scanning the room. There were more than a few people I knew, and I didn’t want to interact with them. I couldn’t. There was no way I could put on my All-American sweetheart act at the moment.
“You got lucky with Zach,” Fergus continued, quietly. “No witnesses, and he never tried to press charges… But you can’t keep doing it.”
I knew he was right. People were always looking for a payday, something to blackmail or sue you for. I hadn’t even paid off that Kelsey bitch, yet. And I couldn't bring myself to make Austin watch me like that again. No matter how much I wanted to hurt him, needed to, craved it.
Fuck.
“David, I know that video fucked you up, but if you really love Austin, you will let it go.” My gaze met his then. “She can’t change it.” His words were slow, deliberate, making sure I understood.
But I already knew that, that’s why I’d been acting like I was fine around her, not letting her see how I really felt about it.
“What if Dawn had made one of you two?” he challenged.
Fuck me…
I recoiled at that.
“How would you feel?” he pushed.
“Point taken,” I gritted.
It’d fucking kill me if Austin had seen something like that.
I was a self-centered asshole.
I’d been pretending to be fine, not wanting to punish her. But I’d never considered that it was as upsetting to her as it was to me that the video even existed. The thought just never crossed my mind. I’d been too focused on dealing with how I felt—trying to get past it.
“She called me panicked. She’s worried about you... No one else, just you.” Fergus’ words soothed me some, taking the edge off my anger.
“Mr. Taylor.” The hostess approached.
“Yeah, here.” I dug out a hundred, handing it over.
“Go home to her,” Fergus encouraged.
“I am,” I assured him.
We both turned, going back out to the valet. They hadn’t parked either of our cars yet. I tipped the valet anyway and gave Fergus a nod, reassuring him again I was cool. I was going home.
Austin was mine.
She was waiting for me.
I had to find a way to let the past go.
Austin
When David walked back in the house, I let out a sigh of relief.
After he had left, I’d paced the first ten minutes, struggling not to blow up Fergus’ phone like a lunatic—I’d managed to limit myself to four calls.
Despite Fergus’ reassurances, my gaze darted between David’s hands and face, searching for marks or any signs of a fight.
He set the take-out bag on the kitchen island and made his way over to me. Without a word, his hands slid into my hair, gently, tilting my head. His mouth closed over mine, a soft brushing of lips that slowly turned possessive. All the tension in my body melted away as his tongue pushed in with long, lush sweeps, that echoed in my cunt.
My hands fisted in his hair, pulling, holding him to me.
“Be right back,” he whispered against my lips.
My heart skipped at his low rasp. I didn’t know if it was the anxiety of waiting for him, the relief he was home, or the fact he wasn’t being distant, but something low inside me coiled tight, and my clit throbbed viciously.
I was horny as fuck.
Dear God, I was twisted.
“I love you,” I breathed, holding him to me a moment longer, arching up, trying to communicate what I wanted.
“I love the fuck outta you,” he swore softly before pulling away, ignoring my prompt.
Disappointed, I watched his retreating form as he headed to the bedroom. I didn’t know what had happened with Ryan, but we seemed okay, good even. And that was really the only thing I cared about.
Except his dicks not in me right now.
Fifteen minutes later, he swaggered into the living room wearing nothing but low hanging sweat shorts, his hair and hard body wet. He’d apparently showered. His skin was still flawless, no signs of bruising or scratches on his sculpted form.
“Sorry, I brought that shit up,” he muttered as he approached me. “That wasn’t cool. Won’t happen again, sweetheart.” He pressed a tender kiss to my forehead. “Go take a shower. I’ll get the food ready.”
His demand was gentle, letting me know he needed a moment alone.
Guess we’re not as okay as I thought.
When I’d emerged from the shower, his mood had shifted significantly. He seemed almost grateful to be with me. Attentive. Caring. And he’d reinstated the We are never talking about it again rule for the video, which I was more than happy about. He’d even teased me about being worried about him. Apparently, Fergus had ratted me out. But David seemed to enjoy that fact too much for me to be mad about it.
As soon as we finished eating, I stood, gathering our plates, taking them to the kitchen before he could protest.
Just as I was putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, he called out, “Did Ryan call you?” His tone was diplomatic, calm, and unreadable.
I hesitated, unsure if he meant while he was gone, or... “No, why?”
“He said he did.” Thighs spread wide, David leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. He looked like he was prepared to hear the worst.
“No…” Slowly, making my way back over to him, I reconsidered. “Well, maybe. I didn’t keep his number in my phone, and I’m not so good at checking my voicemail, or answering unknown numbers.”
He watched me with a thoughtful expression for a moment. “You really aren’t freaked out are you?”
Sprawling out on the couch adjacent to him, exhausted from the days stress, I looked at him genuinely confused. “By what? That Ryan said he called?”
He huffed a small laugh. “That I got up and left the house to beat the shit outta someone.”
Oh... that.
“No.” I drew the word out. “But I was scared you’d get arrested.” Suddenly, it occurred to me. “Anger’s the only emotion I’ve ever been comfortable expressing, so...” I trailed off, shrugging.
“You are my girl,” he muttered, making me feel lighter than I had in days.
He took a long appreciative look at me before grabbing the remote and sitting back, getting comfortable.
Several moments later, once I knew the conversation was over, I mentioned casually, “I need a trainer.”
“Austin, no.” His voice was stern as was his side-eyed glare.
Elaine had mentioned it earlier to us, suggesting he should find someone for me. He hadn’t responded at the time, but I had the impression he wasn’t a fan of the idea.
“David, you're going to be gone,” I tried to reason.
Without a word, he reached over and hauled me up against him, tucking me under his arm.
“I seriously need one.” My voice was small, trying for sweet.
“You'll be just fine working out on your own,” he muttered, fast forwarding through the credits of some movie he’d chosen.
“No, I won't. You're going to be gone. I'll get depress
ed, bored, sad, horny, and I'll want to dive into a tub of ice cream every day.”
He ducked his head slightly, trying to hide his smirk.
“It's not funny, David.” Though, I was just happy we were interacting normally, as if the Boa/Ryan incident hadn’t happened.
He looked at me dead on then. He shook his head slightly as he said, “No, it's not funny. It's gonna fucking suck.”
Our gazes locked, both of us searching. For what, I wasn’t sure. Maybe that we had both truly let the video go. That we were okay.
He let out a heavy breath. “Okay,” he relented, “but I get to pick the trainer. You have no say.”
“But, David—”
“No, Austin. I train you. Then I fuck you. You're asking me to let someone else take my place—”
“Well, the fucking won't be part of it,” I cut in, trying to lighten his suddenly heavy mood. I didn’t want any more seriousness for the evening.
But he continued, undeterred. “You want someone else to take my place in an activity that is very intimate for us. I get to pick the trainer. Get me?”
“Yeah.” I relented.
He leaned forward, grabbing his phone off the ottoman, muttering, “I knew this was gonna happen.”
“What?”
He tucked me back under his arm, molding me against his side.
“That you'd figure out you've got complete control over me—and start using it.” His eyes cut to me, a mischievous look on his face.
“Pfft. As if,” I mumbled, taking the remote from him, changing the channel.
A small sarcastic “Mmm-hmm” was his only response as he texted someone.
My heart did a happy leap in my chest. The perverse pleasure I felt at knowing I still held that power over him—the strongest man I'd ever known—was intoxicating.
Empowering.
So much more now than before the video incident, before his earlier excursion to Boa. Now I had a deeper appreciation for that power, and for David.
“By the way,” he broke the long silence, “I called your mom. We're going to her house for Thanksgiving, okay?”
“Yeah, that was the plan before I met you,” I muttered, absently, searching through the DVR. “Wait, you called my mom?”
