Heartstopper

by Lauren Landish

  Her pussy spasms on my dick and she feels so fucking good, but my mind is racing with the knowledge of why she’s just gotten off. Her past and her struggles corrupt every bit of pleasure in my being as she screams out my name.

  I can’t. I can’t get off on this.

  I pull away from her, still hard and slipping out, letting her fall limp and sated on the couch, her orgasm still running through her body and making her thighs tremble. She pulls her knees into her chest and tries to calm her breathing as I walk away.

  I breathe in deep, running my hand over my face and trying to think. My head is fucked up, and I feel lost. I question taking her like that.

  I pace the floor, not knowing how to handle what I’ve just done. I don’t know what’s best for her.

  The moment she realizes I’m still hard and that I’m not able to cum this way, not knowing why she needs this, her face crumples and she covers her mouth as she’s wracked with sobs.

  “Treasure,” I whisper her name, my heart sinking into my hollow chest. She shakes her head and tries to push me away.

  “You don’t want me,” she says.

  I grip her chin firmly and wait for her to look me in the eyes. “I want you. Don’t you ever think or say anything differently.”

  She swallows the lump in her throat. “You couldn’t cum,” she says just above a murmur.

  I don’t know how to answer her. “You don’t want me like that anymore.”

  “I fucking love you like that. I love fucking you raw and hard and forcing your pleasure.” Her bright eyes finally meet mine again. “Don’t think that I don’t. I want you every way I can have you. I just… couldn’t, knowing.”

  Her eyes fall, and I hate that I did this to her. I wish I was a stronger man. I wish I had all the answers.

  I hook her chin with my finger and bring her lips to mine for a sweet, chaste kiss. But she doesn’t return it. Her lips are hard, and her heart’s not in it.

  “I want you, treasure. I still want you.” She needs to believe me. I had a single moment of weakness and doubt. I shouldn’t have. But I did.

  I brush her tears away with the rough pad of my thumb, hating that I hurt her this way. I can see the regret in her eyes as she takes in a staggering breath and pushes the hair away from her hot face. Her cheeks are red and her eyes are glassed over, and she won’t look at me.

  I fucking hate it.

  I grab her chin in my hand and I force her to kiss me. I crush my lips to hers, my tongue diving into her mouth and massaging against hers. Her small hands grab my shoulders and she kisses me back with just as much force and just as much passion.

  I lie on the sofa, pulling her on top of me and gently sliding inside of her hot pussy, still slick with her arousal and cum. I grip her hips tightly and thrust my hips to fuck her with a slow pace. Each thrust is hard and deep, forcing small gasps from her. She places her hands on my chest as I slowly lie flat and continue to fuck her, while she meets me thrust for thrust.

  Her tight walls stroke my dick causing a numbing pleasure to grow in the tips of my fingers and toes. I hold my breath as I pick up my pace and pull her down closer to me. Kissing her quickly with a bruising force as I fuck her harder and faster. All the while holding her close to me, where she belongs.

  As I close my eyes, letting the pleasure wrack through me, I roughly rub her clit over and over, trying to force her over the edge with me. Hot thick streams of cum fill her and leak between us. Her body is tense and on edge, but when I open my eyes, I can see why she hadn’t cum.

  She’s crying. Her face is buried in the crook of my neck.

  My heart shatters as I pull her away enough to see her face and kiss her sweetly.

  “Treasure?” I can barely breathe, “Did I hurt you?” My heart thumps slowly as I wait for her to answer. She shakes her head, but she won’t look at me. Her inhale is long and shaky.

  “I couldn’t. I started to think-” a sob is ripped from her throat and she falls into my chest. “I’m sorry, Lucian.”

  “Shh,” I kiss her hair and hold her close.

  “I don’t want to have to think like that anymore.” Her tears fall into my shoulder as I rub her back.

  “It’s alright, treasure. It’s going to be alright.”

  I hold her as she calms herself, rocking her back and forth and kissing her over and over. My heart clenches with each small sob, but I’m here for her.

  I kiss her forehead, breathless and consumed with conflicting emotions. The overriding thought being whether or not I deserve her, whether I’m even worthy of being her Dom. But I want to be. I want to heal her. I will heal her. I’ll find a way. I lift her small body in my arms, cradling her to my chest. She lays her cheek on my shoulder, neither of us saying anything as I carry her to bed.

  Chapter 24

  Dahlia

  Placing a hand over my eyes, I wince as I lower myself down on the pure white sofa, a throbbing pain pulsing my ass. It hurts like hell. But I still love it. It always reminds me of Lucian, of his dominance. It gives me something to cling to, allows me to momentarily ignore my confused emotions. Yet that lost feeling returns as I sink into the couch.

  Which is why I’ve come to see my therapist. Doctor Sandra Andrews.

  She’s seated cross-legged across from me, in an oversized tufted leather chair, dressed in a white blouse and blue silk slacks, the outfit complementing the room's pale blue carpet and cream-colored walls, a notepad and pen in her hand. For a therapist, she seems young, but that’s one of the reasons I like her so much. She possesses a wisdom that’s beyond her years, and through the year she’s given me sound advice that I’ve found to always be on point.

  Sandra’s gazing at me with concern. Her gentle eyes regard me from behind eyeglasses with thin metal frames. “It’s been quite some time since you’ve checked in, Dahlia,” Sandra remarks softly, her smooth voice soothing my ears and calming my anxiety.

  “I know,” I reply in a soft sigh, my voice sounding small. I clear my throat, feeling slightly nervous, pulling my knees into my chest, wincing slightly as pain pulses my ass. My bare feet sit on the sofa, brushing against the chenille fabric. No shoes is a rule Dr. Andrews has. I guess it keeps the area cleaner, but even more than that, it’s supposed to make you more relaxed. I pick at the bit of nail polish on my toenails as a sigh leaves me.

  “Are you alright?” she asks, seeing my distress.

  I huff a small laugh, resting my chin on my knees and looking up at her. “My Dom punished me with a belt last night.” I’m shocked at how easy the words come out. As if it’s normal. As if I’m normal.

  Shifting in her seat, Sandra takes off her glasses. Her brows are pinched as she taps them against her lip. “And how did that make you feel?”

  I almost chuckle at how much like a stereotypical therapist she sounds. But I don’t have any humor in me. I push my hair out of my face and consider her question. It made me feel alive. And wanted. But that ended far too quickly. Too good to last.

  It takes Sandra a moment to realize what caused my reaction, the faint huff of a laugh at her question, and when she does, she sets her glasses down on the end table and shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Dahlia, you’ve simply caught me a little off guard. Would you mind expanding for me please? I’m not sure what you mean by ‘your Dom.’”

  It’s time to just let it all out. Let it flow.

  I suck in a deep breath, feeling that oppressive weight on my chest. Slowly, I exhale and begin to tell her everything about Lucian, except I leave out the part about the auction. I know there’s doctor-patient confidentiality, but I don’t feel comfortable telling her. I don’t want to. Sandra listens to me intently while I weave my tale, almost frozen like a statue, her soft eyes compassionate.

  “Okay,” I say, letting out a soft sigh. I debate on how much information to give her. Our names are in the paper, but I still feel uncomfortable saying his last name. “As you know, I’ve never been able to get off without fantasizing about bein
g… raped.” I swallow thickly as a surge of shame, guilt and worthlessness threatens to overwhelm me, but I squeeze myself tight, warding it off. “But I finally met someone who I felt could help me. Lucian.”

  “And this man is your Dom?” she asks.

  I nod my head, and continue as she jots down notes. “All I had to do was be his Sub and let him take control, and the rest would come naturally.” I look over at Sandra, wondering if she knows enough about BDSM to be familiar with what I’m talking about.

  Sandra’s very still, but she doesn’t look confused, her eyes assessing me inquisitively. “By 'his Sub,' you mean his Submissive?”

  So she does know a little something.

  I nod my head.

  “I see,” she says softly, doing a little gesture and then scribbling something on her notepad, “Go on.”

  I gulp down the lump forming with my throat. “When I became his Sub,” I shake my head, my chest feeling increasingly tight, “I finally felt like I was in control, knowing I could stop my fantasy any time I wanted. I could safe word him and it would all stop. I had that power.” I sniff, tears burning my eyes. “But at the same time, Lucian had no idea how messed up I was, and he was unknowingly giving me what I thought I needed. Until…” The tears threaten to spill down my face and Sandra reaches for a Kleenex on the decorative stand beside her chair, but I gesture for her to stop. I’m trying to be strong.

  “Until?”

  “Until he forced my secret out of me,” I sigh, my voice a whisper thick with emotion. “I’d been trying to hide it from him from the start, but he knew something wasn’t right with me.” Even he could tell I was broken.

  “And what happened next?” Sandra asks.

  “He said he could help me.” I breathe the words, closing my eyes and remembering. “I was really shocked.” I look back at Sandra, and she’s nodding. “Up until that point, no one’s really understood. My exes sure as hell didn’t.”

  “So, that must’ve been really encouraging for you then,” Sandra remarks. “Knowing that you found someone that not only understood you, but was willing to help you.”

  God. This lump is growing so big I’m going to choke on it. “Yes,” I say and nod my head. “But I didn’t really believe it, like, I didn’t believe that it would end up working... but then Lucian made me cum for the first time ever without the need of that fantasy.” I swallow thickly, feeling like I can’t breathe, hoping like hell I can hold it together.

  Sandra places the notepad on her lap, her expression brightening, not realizing how I’m about to fall apart. “Why, that’s wonderful news, Dahlia.” She shakes her head. “That must have been really gratifying, and reassuring. Did that finally give you hope for yourself?’

  I close my eyes, feeling a sharp pain pierce my chest, and nod. “It did... for a very short time. And even then, I doubted it. I thought it was a fluke. But then…” I suck in a breath that feels like it’s filled with little daggers.

  Sandra peers at me intently. “But then?”

  I exhale sharply. “Lucian wasn’t able to climax when he was being rough with me, which is how I want him to be with me and it totally,” I gulp, “killed what little confidence I had in our relationship. In that moment, I felt like he was disgusted by me.”

  Sandra’s face morphs into a frown. “I’m so sorry, Dahlia.” She puts her glasses back on and scribbles in her notepad as she asks, “Did he say why he wasn’t able?”

  I shake my head no as I answer, “We had sex again, right after that… when he could see I was upset.”

  “And how did that go?” she asks.

  I lean my head back against the sofa and stare at the ceiling. He made love to me, he came and I didn’t. Because I’m fucked up and broken. “Not good. He came, but he wasn’t rough and so I didn’t.” My head falls forward and I wait for the doctor’s judgment. I just want a solution. I want to be normal.

  I’m trying my best not to cry, because I know if I do, this session is over. I won’t be able to recover.

  “I’m broken,” I say just beneath my breath. I could feel something so strong between us, something I’ve never felt before. But I couldn’t give it back to him. I couldn’t make love to him. It’s so fucked up. It just hurts.

  Sandra shakes her head. “No you’re not. The progress you made shows that you can recover from this. You will recover from this.” She gestures at me, her words firm and commanding. “You are a beautiful, talented young woman who’s had horrible things happen to her… but that doesn’t mean you can’t recover, that you can’t go on to live a fulfilling normal life.” Slightly leaning forward, Sandra’s words gain passion as she speaks, so much so that I momentarily forget my pain and focus on her face. After letting her words sink in, she relaxes back into her seat and picks up her notepad. “Now tell me, what’s good about your relationship outside of the Submissive and Dom roles?”

  “Oh,” I say, crossing my arms around my torso and clutching myself. I feel so chilly even though it must be seventy-five degrees in this office. “It’s… it’s really good at times, although it’s new and I feel like it’s going so fast. He’s quiet a lot and it takes some time for him to open up.” Sandra nods her head, jotting down notes as I talk.

  “He treats me… like… like I mean a lot to him.” I finally look her in the eyes. “I know he wants to make me happy.”

  “And does he?” she asks me.

  “Yeah,” I say and nod my head. He makes me so happy. “It’s so much more than…” my voice trails off. The pain is back again.

  “Is it not a relationship beyond the Dominant and Submissive roles?” Sandra presses gently.

  “I don’t know what to think of it all. I’m confused about where we stand in our relationship. This was supposed to be an…” I fumble for words, not wanting to tell her about the auction. “A temporary arrangement, not something that would turn into anything longlasting. And after that last session…” I shake my head as a surge of emotion chokes my speech. “I don’t think we'll ever be able to get past my issues, so all the other aspects don’t even matter.”

  “I disagree with you saying those things don’t matter,” Sandra says tenderly. “They do matter. If Lucian treats you as good as you say outside the bedroom, and the only problem you’re having is the hang-up on your past, I think there’s hope here and something you can definitely work with. The question is--is Lucian the man that can do it... and is he willing to commit and stick by you to see you through these issues?”

  Numb, I sit there, hugging myself, fighting back those ugly tears. Sandra’s right of course, but I don’t know what to say. I feel like I’m falling for Lucian, but in doing so, have set myself up for a broken heart. Lucian is a very rich man, with very many options. He could easily one day decide I’m not worth the effort and find himself a new Submissive. Or I may only ever be a Submissive to him. I want more. But I want it from him.

  “I don’t know.” I whisper the answer.

  “What I would suggest,” Sandra says softly, pulling me out of my thoughts, “is having an honest talk with Lucian about what your wants and needs are. If you want him to commit to you, tell him that. And expect him to give you an answer on it. Otherwise, despite the progress you’ve made, this relationship could be harmful and cost you a lot of emotional and mental distress.” She sets the notebook down and says, “This is just my opinion, but it seems as though there’s more than a Dom/sub relationship and that’s what’s driving these changes for you. Make sure that’s the case, and work together to continue your progress.”

  I don’t know what to say. I feel so tense and on edge. I’d be asking him for more. I don’t think it’s an option. He’s going to leave me or just fuck me until the contract is over. I cover my heated face with my hands and try to just focus on me. I want this. I’m scared to death to ask him for this, but I want to. I have to. But he’s already given me so much. He’s showed me it’s possible. I’m so conflicted.

  “Go talk to him, Dahlia.”
Sandra’s words make my eyes snap to hers. “Let him know what you need. I hope he can continue to help you and that you’re able to work on this foundation you’ve built.”

  I hope so, too, I think to myself feeling growing resolve as I leave her office and knowing that there’s only one thing left to do.

  Chapter 25

  Lucian

  I’m no good for her. I’ve already come to terms with it. I don’t know how to help her. I know some of my own desires and needs could harm her. Emotionally, psychologically. I want to be strong enough for her. I want to have the experience to know how to heal her.

  But I don’t have all the answers. My heart clenches, knowing I should let her go. Cut ties from the contract and make sure she gets the help she needs from someone else. I keep hurting her. I don’t mean to, but I know that I am.

  I clench my jaw and pull out my cell phone, waiting on my sister to get here. I’m in the same spot that I was before. The same cafe we always come to. Today it’s darker. The grey clouds block the sun and rain threatens to start falling at any second, but I don’t care. I’m staying outside. At least for now.

  A glance at my phone shows a text from Isaac.

  It’s done.

  My body stiffens slightly, and adrenaline spikes through my blood.

  Her uncle is dead.

  That bastard took my treasure’s innocence. Even worse, she wasn’t the first and she wasn’t the last.

  The law gave him five years in prison, that’s all. And he never even went to trial for what he did to my treasure. That’s not justice. And the last girl, the second one he was prosecuted over after hurting Dahlia, was his neighbor; there wasn’t enough evidence for the judge to proceed, but I know the truth. I saw what they had on him. I read the testimonies. He needed to die.

  I should feel guilty, and maybe I should even be disgusted with myself. But I don’t feel a damn thing other than satisfied. He hurt my treasure in a way I know I can never fully understand.