by K Larsen
I cringe. Another day of waiting is torture and for what? My mind spins when I am struck with another thought. Eve has refused to jump on the I-hate-Liam-bandwagon, which is suspect.
“Why?” I ask. Eve shrugs. “Oh, grab those highlighters on the end cap—Lotte needs them.” The pack gets tossed in the cart.
“Something’s up.” Eve remains quiet but rolls her eyes at me. “Ah ha! Something is up. What is going on?”
Eve frowns but finally breaks. “He’s planning a surprise. I refuse to give up any further information. You’ve already ruined the fact that there is a surprise coming.”
I beam with delight and abandon the cart to squeeze Eve. “God, you suck. Lotte and I were about to move out, if he took any longer.” I laugh at her melodrama and take control of the cart again.
It is already dark when we arrive home. Eve loads her arms, wrist to elbow, with bags and marches into the house. She detests making more than one trip to unload. I take a lighter approach, so I can stop and collect the mail. I push through the front door, drop the mail on the table and slide the plastic bags from my wrist and forearm onto the counter. “Lotte, come help unload,” Eve hollers into the empty downstairs. There is a faint thud as her feet hit the floor.
I shuffle through the mail; bills, junk mail, a personal letter. Addressed to me. I slide my finger under the corner and down the side. Lotte rounds the corner and bumps me.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hey.”
I pull the card from the envelope. Something drops to the kitchen floor with a metallic clink. I bend to retrieve it. It is a key on a satin ribbon. I open the card. The inside reads; 9 Bell Street Friday, 7 p.m. You are to stay there for the night. Do not leave. I look up, perplexed. Eve is watching me, a slight grin on her face.
“What is it for?”
She shrugs. “I didn’t get details, just that a surprise has been planned, and to keep you from losing your mind in the meantime,” she says.
With bated breath, I pull up to the address listed on the card. It is a newly renovated townhouse in a part of town that is supposedly up and coming. But the row of townhomes are mostly under construction still and the street is ghost-like. I am anxious. My hands tremble slightly as I exit the car. I shove my hand into the outermost pocket of my purse to find the key, as I take the first porch step.
“Cherry,” a deep voice calls out. I spin around toward it. He looks like some frat boy Casanova. His polo shirt collar popped. His hair a sexy mess. My phone vibrates in my purse. Not now Aubry, I think. Liam stops just inches from my body. He’s domineering. Taller than me, even though I’m standing two steps up from him.
“Surprise,” he answers as his arm darts out toward me. I flinch but he only tucks a tendril of hair behind my ear. I am bemused by the entire scenario. One large hand clamps over mine. My breath leaves me in a strong gust. He drapes an arm over my shoulders, tucking me against his side. My heart rate explodes as he squeezes possessively. I look to him and open my mouth but his expression causes me to swallow the words I want to say and stare at the ground like a dog, dominated by its alpha.
He slips the key into the lock with ease and turns it. I slink inside submissively. He follows, shutting and locking the door behind him. I hate the sound of that lock clicking. I cannot place why though. My feet pulse in my stylish but tight heels that Lotte insisted I wear. I shift my weight to relieve the tension a bit. He’s so handsome. I hate handsome, I realize. It distracts. Good looks hide questionable intentions. I am not sure what his game is. I am uncertain what to do. I feel awkward after not speaking to him in days. Like we’re strangers.
His palms cup my face. His thumbs stroke my cheeks softly. I put my palms on his forearms and add a little pressure. His jaw twitches but he doesn’t remove his hands from my face. Instead, he leans forward, resting his forehead against mine.
“I hope you like your surprise,” he says. It strikes me that he is giving me something. He wants me to share an intimacy with him. I close my eyes. Can I let go with him? Can I hand him my queerness? My insecurities? I let raw emotion take over. Anger fills me. Anger I rarely let myself indulge in at the tenderness, the intimacy of his action. I let all the rage and love for Holden, for the mountain, for my time at the cabin swell inside me. His head tilts, grazing the corner of my mouth with his. A half-kiss. His mouth trails to my ear. “Haven’t you missed me?” he whispers. I tug against his fingers but they hold me in an iron-clad vise. He pulls back to inspect me. The icy chill in his eyes cools the sweat on my neck and causes goose bumps on my forearms. “Cherry,” he snaps. “Answer me.” I can’t believe he is doing this. For me.
He runs a shaking hand through his hair, an enormous knot twisting in my gut makes it hard to breathe. How will he do it? When? I let the emotions I keep locked deep in my belly loose. He slouches toward me like a big cat homing in on its prey. His right hand moves to my face, his fingers curl into the hair at the base of my neck. I want to move, to run away but I’m frozen like a possum, hoping the predator will pass me by. My scalp smarts at his grip, but I refused to rub my head. His nostrils flare. He is enjoying this, I think.
“I thought you’d be begging me to take you, hard and fast.” he spits out. He’s leading, as I wanted him to. As I told him I desired. His hands on me, make me feel strong but the feeling is all wrong—just like I crave. I hold onto the fire he’s spitting, as if it were rain. I am nothing without this pretend. Without the pain and struggle. I know my truths. His face gets hard and I can tell he’s grinding his teeth. I bite my lip and shrug my petite shoulders in indifference.
Liam is the kind of man who loathes indifference. Click. Click. Click. I blink my eyes. Is it Holden or Liam I am thinking of?
Yanking the handful of my hair, he tugs me closer to his face. His fingers wrap tighter, burning my scalp. Bring it, I think. My breath comes in shallow pants.
I let my words loose. “Things change.”
“No, Nora. Things don’t change.” Unwinding his fingers from my hair, he trails them down my neck, along my clavicle, and down my arm. “But I’m not a monster.” His salacious smirk makes me think otherwise.
I pull myself up to full height. “Get out,” I say. It is hard for me to fully give in to this scenario. To keep a straight face but if Liam is trying and succeeding, I can, too.
“Make me.” I walk to him and give him a hard shove on the chest.
“Get out, Liam.” I sidestep him and unlock the door. I notice it is the kind of door that can only be locked or unlocked with a key.
He pulls the key from the lock and sets it on the side table. He reaches for the doorknob, pauses then twists, pulling the door open. My chest rises and falls noticeably, waiting for him to step through the threshold and shut the door behind him. Will he leave? Was this just a taste? I cannot control my heart. It thunders inside its cage of bone.
He steps outside. The door clicks shut behind him. I frown but recall the note. I am to stay here for the night. I am not to leave. There must be more. I head upstairs to explore. I take the stairs too fast, reaching the top step but thinking there is another, I stamp down on the landing clumsily and lose my balance. My knee locks and then all I can think is—I must look like a baby gazelle learning to walk. How ungainly is that? It is weird to think about your own life from outside yourself. It’s like having a front-row seat to your own demise. I’m overcome with exhaustion. The lead up to this night has tired me. I grab onto the handrail, catching myself. Tonight I am not in control. It makes me dizzy with anticipation. He has managed to tap into my insecurities. Is that why he did not contact me for days? To create this scene for my fantasy?
My lungs drag in the scent of his cologne. Words desert me. His hands wrap around my waist like a noose. I squeak in surprise. His grip is tight and his fingernails dig white crescents into the sensitive skin at my waist. He pulls me toward him, till his chest touches my back. “You know what, Cherry, I think I want to stay. I think I deserve it. I think you wan
t me to,” he whispers. How did I miss the sound of the door opening?
“This is how you want it, Liam?” I ask, lifting up my chin. He growls under his breath, grabbing my elbow and holding firm as he spins me to face him. I play the victim well.
Liam
I bite her bottom lip until I taste blood. She is flush against me and trembling. I step back and grab her upper arm and pull her into the bathroom. I start the water in the shower. It is muggy and humid today and a shower will feel good. She will feel clean. For a little while anyway.
“Cherry,” I sigh, watching her. She crosses her arms over her chest. The vein in her neck pounds fast. She’s covering something up, something she doesn’t want me to know. I want to ask but I don’t. Have I taken this too far? No. This is how she wanted it. It’s what she deserves. She looks at me with big, round, needy eyes, making me feel guilty and angry in the same instant, without knowing which emotion precedes the other. It’s the anger I can’t hold back, though. This has to work. I want to break her. To show her that Holden was nothing. A speck in her history. The man she will long for will be me, in the end. I lean toward her and lift the hem of her shirt and lift. She doesn’t protest. I unbutton her pants and let them slide to the floor around her ankles. Her shoulders slump with exhaustion. As she steps into the shower, I pull at her bra strap but she yanks her shoulder away, indicating that she isn’t going to remove her underwear. She is good at this. It’s exhilarating.
“Stop calling me that, Liam.” Her voice is flat. Defeated. I need her fight. She craves it. I watch water cascade down her body. Defeated is pointless. Something she can be any day. I turn the water off when I’m tired of waiting for her. Defeated is boring.
“Why?” I ask as she steps from the shower and grabs a towel. Mmm, that body. “Come on, Cherry, tell me,” I taunt. She wipes the fog from the mirror with her small hand before inspecting herself—or rather the marks I’ve left on her. Her eyes slide to mine in the mirror. She licks the wound on her lip. My cock gets hard. She is waiting for it. The finale. But I want to drag it out. Make her question that it is even going to happen.
“I’m tired,” she says.
“By all means, Cherry, let’s go to bed then.”
“You can’t stay here,” she says, but her voice lacks conviction.
“You aren’t strong enough to force me out.” I wink at her and she clenches her teeth. She swallows hard. I know she is not comfortable sleeping away from home. That was part of the plan though. I hold out an arm toward the bedroom. She stomps past me without touching. I follow her and watch. She throws open the closet door, frantically searching, then moves to the armoire against the wall. She turns to me with her arms full. Nora dumps a comforter on the floor at my feet.
“You sleep there then,” she says while snatching a pillow from the bed and tossing it at me. I almost laugh. She is great at this. Better than I imagined.
Beside Nora, the clock shows four a.m. I have no idea what I’m doing out of bed: It’s as if, standing there in the darkness, I’m unencumbered. I don’t feel tired, despite the hour, nor is my conscience troubled by any recent incident. In fact, I’m alert and inexplicably elated.
This bedroom is large and uncluttered. My footsteps are muffled by the carpet as I cross the room. The pile still plush enough to hold the Ms and Vs that Marie left as strokes of the vacuum cleaners wand. I’d rented the place for the weekend and had Marie come clean it top to bottom. I stop at the window, pulling back the curtains. I lean forward, press my weight onto my palms against the sill, thrilled in the emptiness and clarity of the night. I was not prepared for what she had to offer. I wasn’t prepared to feel something for her. Something real and tangible. I have never had a women meet all my needs. I’ve never had a women keep me on my toes, keep my mind sharp with her own needs from me. Nora is a beast I couldn’t have anticipated. Her fantasies, her desires are just depraved enough for me to want to fulfill them. And mine either put women off or break them. But not Nora. She thrives on pleasing me, no matter what that entails. I feel like a buoy without a line. I lie back down on the floor spread eagle and stare at the ceiling until I cannot keep my eyes open any longer.
My bones protest as I sit up. God, I ache. My stomach flips with dread. The bed is empty. I panic. She better not have left. If she left, things will get out of hand quickly. I head for the en suite bathroom, since the bedroom door is still shut. I definitely would have felt her bump me with the door if she tried to leave that route. I twist the knob and pull as it begins to push.
“What the hell!” I bark as we collide. I grab her arm to keep us both steady. “I thought you left.” She wrinkles her nose at me.
“I’m not allowed to use the bathroom?” she asks, sarcasm dripping in her tone. I roll my eyes at her and give her arm a squeeze in frustration.
With a disingenuous smile, I set my lethal green eyes on her. She stops dead in her tracks. The prey knowing the hunter has caught them. Her nostrils flare and her breath halts. I stomp to her and take her neck in my hand, pinning her against the wall. Reflexively, her fingers come up and wrap around my forearm. Yes. Her eyes fix on mine, fierce and unblinking. But she doesn’t resist. I push a little harder at her throat. Her eyes narrow. Her pulse pushes spastically against my fingers. She wrenches herself away, almost violently. And without a word turns and flees downstairs.
Before following her, I use the bathroom and finger comb my hair. When I enter the kitchen, she steals a look at me over her shoulder before resuming her furious whisking. Ingredients are haphazardly strewn on the counter. She’s rushing. She’s beautiful when she's mad. Skin flushed. Movements frantic. I can smell fear and anger rolling off her.
I slap her ass. She squeaks in surprise. I sit at the table. Lean back in my chair. Watch her. The way she moves carefully about the kitchen. As if she’s afraid to make too much noise. As if she’s walking on eggshells. Waiting for my wrath. It gives me a thrill I didn't expect. The muscles in her shoulders flex as she whisks the eggs. I like the way they move. The way they fight against her arms. Her skin is not flawless. It is a mess of small raised scars. It is silky though. Enticing. And it’s mine. She pours the mixture into the pan and stands waiting with a spatula—ready to flip.
“Coffee?” she asks, without looking at me.
“Yup.”
She nods left to the machine on the counter. “You know where,” she says. I fix myself a mug and grab hers to top it off. I wonder if she tries to derive all the different scenarios beforehand, so that she has some reaction for each one. I wonder if the not knowing thrills her as much as the act itself? She eyes the kitchen door as I drink my coffee. Will she try to run? I excuse myself for a moment and step out of sight. In the hallway, I listen. I can hear the knob turn and the frustrated breath she blows out when she discovers it is locked. I head upstairs and change my clothes. When I get back to the kitchen, Nora is sitting staring out the kitchen door window.
“Why don’t you get dressed?” I say.
“Are we going somewhere?” she asks.
“Get dressed.”
Nora
Is it a sin that I want Liam so badly? Even though, truthfully, I’m a little frightened of him at present? I pull the skirt and shirt from the wardrobe. They are not something I would normally choose but I guess that is the point.
When I descend the stairs, he's sitting in his chair with his legs wide, waiting. He looks beautiful and harsh, exactly what he is. Is it time? The uncertainty of the situation thrills me.
“That skirt is far too short.” He stands and strides to me, coming so close, that I have no choice but to back against the wall behind me. His hand moves possessively between my legs. I push at his hand but he uses his free one to slap away my feeble protest. Dipping a finger inside my panties, he rubs it from my clit down to my opening and back up. Sliding his fingers out, he brings them to his mouth and licks them slowly as I watch, my lashes heavy as I blink up at him, disgusted yet fascinated.
“I changed my mind. I won’t share you with the world today.” He spread his fingers over the thin material covering my breasts, his thumbs stroking my nipples gently. Despite myself, I shiver with pleasure. “You think you’re so perfect, you wouldn’t scream my name, Nora? Do you think you’d be able to say no, if I dragged you to the bedroom?” I stare at him, silent. Weary. “Answer me.”
I still get wet when I’m in these situations, it’s almost embarrassing. My body betrays me. It’s been conditioned to perform. To like it. To crave it. Want it. Maybe it’s because I get to be someone else for a little while. Maybe it’s because I’m not supposed to want this. Normal women don’t. The allure of participating in something that could go wrong, something that could hurt. I don’t know.
I shake my head. Liam grins. My body feels exactly what I crave. Fear. Adrenaline, desire. He lifts my chin with his index finger. I breathe through my nose. His lips connect with mine. He doesn’t stop kissing me until I give in. Until I melt and merge and become part of him. For a moment, I feel settled but he pulls away and wipes his mouth.
I look around, uncertain of what is coming. Liam watches, a curious look in his eye.
“Cards?” he asks. I shrug and sit cross-legged on the floor behind the coffee table. I am vibrating, radiating anxiety. There is no clock ticking, saying our time is nearing its end. There are no rules to this fantasy and that is what makes it dangerous.
“Is this the kind of scintillating conversation we’re going to have now?”
I look to Liam and sigh. “I’d love to play.”
“Better work on that enthusiasm,” he answers.
Liam
I feel a chill starting deep in my gut. I had the same feeling the day Dad took me from the mountain. I felt it when I learned we were never going back. It’s almost time. She is confused and uncertain and as far as I can tell, I’ve flipped her sense of reality upside down. Now, is the time to strike. We’ve been playing gin rummy because it was the only card game I could remember the rules to. Her body is rigid. She’s nervous and uncertain and I know that now is the time to strike.
