by Unknown
Words can’t explain how good it feels. He eases his finger in deeper, past the second knuckle.
“Give me more, baby, give me more.”
He slides a second finger in next to the first and I’m going to come again.
“That’s fucking perfect. I feel so full.”
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
“It looks so naughty,” I say. “With my pussy so swollen and my asshole swallowing up your fingers.”
“It looks fucking hot. Your cunt is so wet and so red. I just want to bury my face in it and stay there forever.”
He leans forward and kisses me deeply. I come so hard, with his tongue in my mouth, that the force of it pushes his fingers out of me. The aftershocks tear through me for an eternity. I’m soaring and I feel like I’ll never come down. I’m so happy. I just need one more thing from him.
“I need you inside me,” I whisper against his lips.
“You’re sure?” He looks deep into my eyes, and I nod my assent.
I hold him in my arms as he runs the underside of his cock up and down my wetness. He nestles the head of his angry red cock between my lips, against my opening. He eases it in barely an inch and pauses, waiting for me to adjust. He continues his slow invasion an inch at a time, until I’m pressing tight against his pubic bone. I hold him inside me and grind my clit against him. We look feral. Tousled hair, bodies slick with sweat, and eyes crazed with lust.
“Fuck me like you mean it,” I say.
He doesn’t dare disobey. He pulls back, grabs my thighs for leverage, and thrusts into me with everything he has.
“I’m going to ride you raw, kitten.” He’s plunging in and out of me with increasing speed. It feels so good I could cry. I’ve wanted this for so long and I didn’t even know it.
“Bury that fat cock in me.” His balls slap my ass with each thrust. I can tell he’s close, but he’s holding out for me. I pinch my nipples and tug on them.
“You’re going to make me come again.” I reach down to rub my clit as he pumps away inside me. “I’m so close. Fill me up, baby. I want to feel your cum in me.”
I come and clench around him with spectacular strength. He follows right behind me. The orgasm rips through his entire body, from his toes to his fingertips. I tense against him, spasming and clenching as he shares his warm salty cream with me. We stay that way, slick bodies clasped together, until we float back to earth.
“Shit, I’ll get you untied, baby.” He starts working on my restraints. “Are you okay?”
I laugh. “I’m fine. Other than being too weak to walk right now. I feel like a limp noodle.”
He has the ropes off in a minute. He gently extends my legs and massages them.
“Good thing we’re staying right here.” He collapses next to me, wraps me in his arms, and pulls the patchwork blanket over the two of us.
I STIR IN THE morning, when the rays of the sun shine across my face while I’m cradled in his arms. He’s still lost in a deep slumber and I take the opportunity to memorize every aspect of him. The warm, clean, musky scent of him. The razor-sharp line of his jaw. I delight in his every aspect. His perfectly formed ears. I want to take the perfect fleshy lobe in my mouth and nibble it between my teeth. The long eyelashes that flutter as he sleeps. The prickly stubble that dots his cheeks.
It’s not just his physical aspects that have me bewitched. It’s his kindness, his humor, his willingness to be vulnerable with me. I love everything about him. How did this sneak up on me so fast? Do I deserve to be this lucky? I lost track of the number of times we enjoyed each other last night, but I feel the heat building inside me again. He’s hard again; the weight of his length rests against my abdomen, and I fight the urge to squirm against him. He’s sleeping so soundly, but I need to be joined with him, to revel in his tender touch one more time. I nuzzle his chest and lick and suck the tender skin there. He stirs against me.
I lift my face to his and watch as he wakes and a wide smile spreads across his face. “Wake up call,” I whisper against his lips.
“Best one I’ve ever gotten.” He snakes his hand through my hair and kisses me deeply, with a savage force. His tongue invades my mouth. And he rolls me onto my back and spreads my thighs with his knees.
When we finish, we lie there entangled, and I rake my fingers through his short hair. We can’t stop smiling at each other. The mood breaks when my stomach growls like an angry alien.
“You hungry, angel?”
“I’m famished.” I throw my arm over my face in mock distress and then peek out at him. “I don’t suppose you keep anything stocked here.”
“There might be an old package of Cream of Wheat or oatmeal in the cupboard.” He props himself up on his elbow, pulls the quilt down to my waist, and begins kissing my torso. “Otherwise we can salvage what we can from the picnic yesterday.”
“Good idea.” I rise from the bed and slip his thermal long-sleeve tee over my head. It hits mid-thigh and smells like him.
“How is it possible that it looks that much better on you?” He rises from the bed, throws on his khakis, and goes to check the wood stove.
“Your body is amazing, but I do have better legs,” I say.
“You have better everything.” He throws two more logs on the wood stove. It only takes a few minutes and I can feel the heat radiate through the room. I sort through the food from our picnic and sort out anything remotely breakfast related. It was such a feast that there’s plenty to sustain us until lunch.
He rummages through his pack and pulls out a flannel shirt and a few bottles of water. He tosses one to me.
“Thanks.” I join him on the sofa in front of the hot little stove. “We’ve got fruit salad, bread, cheese, and some leftover smoked ham.” I lay everything out on the small coffee table in front of us.
“I might have some instant coffee around here,” he says. “Or tea, if you’re really lucky.”
“I already feel really lucky.” I lean in and kiss him. He pulls me onto his lap and holds me tight.
“I love you so much,” he whispers against my lips.
“I love you, too,” I say.
I toss my keys in the glass bowl next to the front door and throw myself on the sofa. I feel glorious. My body is utterly satisfied, but it’s more than that. There’s a sense of possibility with him. A future for us. It’s more than just physical, and it has been for a while now, but I can finally acknowledge it. He’s a good man and we’re good together. I’m not scared by his demons, and he doesn’t think much of mine either. I realize we can do this, and I want it more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time.
The phone rings and I hope it’s him, checking on me already. But it’s Nova.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Well, it’s lovely to hear from you, too,” she retorts. “I bet I’d get a warmer reception if my voice was about two octaves lower.”
“I bet you would,” I tease.
“Did you enjoy your time upstate? I hear it’s some sort of mythical beautiful paradise.”
“It was spectacular. But the best views were indoors.” I giggle like a schoolgirl. I don’t know what’s come over me. I pictured myself growing old alone, owning lots of cats, but now everything has changed. I’m trying to think of names for our kids.
“I’m glad to hear all the hours that man logs in the gym aren’t being wasted. Someone should enjoy the view. I never told you, but he cancelled his membership to Body Heat after your first date.”
I take it as an undeniable sign that he’s as serious about this relationship as I am, and I’m thrilled.
Nova prattles on about business at the club. I listen with one ear as I sort through the mail. The catalogs and junk mail, which is most of the pile, goes straight into the recycling bin. A slim, serious-looking envelope slips free from the pack. I read the return address and I gasp.
“What is it?” Nova asks.
“No, no, no, no, no.”
“Ivy,
what’s going on? Talk to me.”
“I just got something from the Department of Corrections—from the parole board.” I tear open the letter with trembling hands and quickly scan the contents. “It looks like he’s up for parole,” I say in a voice that feels tiny.
“I’m going to get my attorney on the phone. We’ll get this figured out. There’s no way that bastard is getting out.” She says her goodbyes and the call is over. I’m in shock as I sink to the sofa.
All my dreams are gone. Just like that. He’ll be out soon, of that I have no doubt. He’s so well connected I can’t imagine things going any other way. And then he’ll be back in my life again. Tearing it apart.
I suddenly feel cold, and my hands are tingling. I hold on to my kitchen counter when the room starts spinning. My heart thunders like galloping hooves, and I’m convinced it will give out. I clutch my chest and my breath gets shallow. It comes faster and faster, until I can’t breathe at all. It’s like someone has chained a 50-pound weight to my leg and thrown me in the ocean. I’m sinking deeper and deeper and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. The panic is raw inside me. I close my eyes, rest my head against the cupboard door, and wait for it to pass.
The panic eventually passes. The dread never does. I return to myself and it’s dark. I’m still on the kitchen floor and my arms are sore from being wrapped so tightly around me. I slowly rise to my feet. My limbs are stiff; I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus. It’s even worse minutes later, when I feel the white-hot rush of pins and needles course through my extremities. I flex my hands and feet. When the pain fades I start pacing. I’m teetering along like a hunched old woman, struggling to make sense of the violence that has touched my life.
I don’t have many options. The more I think about it, the more I realize I don’t have any. I could run, but he’d find me. He knows cops all over the country. I’d read enough stories like this to know how the story ended for hunted women. Besides, I have a life here. A life I like. Family and friends, and I don’t want to run. So I’ll stay and I’ll face the music. I made a bad choice once and now it’s my turn to pay.
There’s only one conclusion. My son-of-a-bitch ex-husband is going to ruin my life. I know that. But at least I can limit that damage to just me. The tears well up. So many it’s hard to see. I know what I have to do. I love Max, and I never thought I’d love again. He’s not perfect, but he’s perfect for me in all the ways that matter. He’s a good man and I’m not going to drag him into this mess. It will hurt. God knows it hurts me. But we’ve only been lovers for a month. He’ll get over it. He’ll move on. He’ll find someone who doesn’t have psycho baggage. I reach for my phone, type quickly, and hit send.
Max. I’m so sorry. Things have changed. Please don’t contact me again.
My phone rings immediately, but I turn it off. I crawl into my bed sometime after midnight, pull the covers over my head, and fall into a troubled slumber.
I CALL HER AND text her until my fingers hurt, but she doesn’t respond. What the fuck happened? If I knew where she lived, I’d already be at her front door. I wouldn’t leave until she heard me out. Until she understood that I love her and I can’t live without her. Until she agreed we could be together like we were meant to be.
We’re so perfect together. Especially after everything that happened last night. I’ve had a damn grin on my face all day from pure happiness. She finally pushed back the curtains and let me look inside. She let me see who she was and I returned the favor. I thought we were stronger than ever, and now we’re done.
Beads of sweat gather on my forehead. I run a hand through my hair.
I don’t accept it. I won’t let her go. She’s changed everything for me; I can’t go back to who I was before. I’m still troubled by my memories, but I can face them with her by my side. I can sleep through the night. Christ, I was even thinking about looking into a group session. She made me want to get better. To be stronger so that I could be strong for her.
I want her so much it hurts. My arms feel so empty without her. My lips ache to be pressed against hers.
It’s not just the sex, but I won’t deny it’s hotter with her than it has ever been with anyone else. It’s everything about her. That throaty laugh that springs forth so easily. The way she listens like everything I say is completely interesting and important when it’s really just stupid shit. I can’t face life without her, but I don’t know where to start. What do I really know about her? Her name? She hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with many details.
Unless . . .
The report. The thick document folder is buried in a stack of papers in the kitchen. I’d never responded when Parker had offered to have it drawn up, so he’d gone ahead and had it prepared for me. I’d been tempted to open it when he first delivered it to me, and I had almost caved a few times since then. Mostly, I just wanted to be the kind of guy who wouldn’t do creepy shit like check up on his girlfriend without her permission. I should wait until she tells me on her own, because she had extended me the same courtesy.
But now I need all the help I can get.
‘I’m sorry, babe,” I whisper as I palm the envelope and tear it open. Her life story comes spilling out. It’s all pretty vanilla, Nova’s unique business venture notwithstanding, until I get to her ex-husband. Then I page through everything slowly. I press my lips together into a thin line and clench my fists. And I understand. I understand all too well.
That son of a bitch is lucky he’s locked up. Because I’d be his worst nightmare.
I stop leaking sweat like a sieve and my heart rate slows back down. I have a plan. It goes against every fiber in my being, but I’m going to do it. Because it’s my only chance to get her back. I’m used to getting what I want. And right now I want to call her until she picks up the phone, or show up at her apartment and talk her into loving me again. But I won’t. If I chase her, I’ll lose her.
Instead, I’ll sit here and nurse my wounded heart until she comes back to me. I’ll watch over her and keep her safe now that I know what threatens her. That bastard isn’t the only one with contacts in the system. I’ll make a few calls tomorrow and have eyes and ears on his every move by the end of the day. If he gets out, I’ll know about it, and I’ll never let him out of my sight.
I know plenty of people on the other side of the law, too. More than a few would pay me for the chance to mess with a law enforcement officer who finds himself incarcerated. I’ll bend the rules in any way I can to keep him locked up in his cage for as long as possible. Possession of contraband, an escape plan, a fight in the yard. Any of those options could be arranged and would torpedo his chance at early release. Maybe even get some extra time tacked on.
I’d do anything for her. I’d die for her. It feels a little like I’m dying right now being cut off from her. But I’ll leave her be and protect her from afar. She’ll never know any of this. What we have is real, and I know she feels it as much as I do. I just have to hang on until she realizes it, too.
I TUCK MY HAIR behind my ears and try to stop my knee from jiggling as I wait for Emma to finish introducing me. Nova has closed Champagne for the private fundraising dinner for the Survivor Advocacy Network, and I’m the keynote speaker.
My therapist, who I’ve been seeing for almost a month now, ever since the parole hearing, thinks it’s important for me to share my story in order to come to terms with my situation and retake my power. It sounded good at the time, but now that I look at the crowded room and the small makeshift podium, I’m terrified. The faces are all friendly, but it’s still scary as hell to share the most disturbing time in your life with a room of almost-strangers. I scan the crowd, looking for the face I want to see most, but he’s not here. Can you blame him? I think to myself. You don’t talk for two months and you think you can send him an invitation out of the blue? Snap your fingers and have him rush to you?
I hear encouraging applause and realize it’s time for me to take the microphone. Caroline and Nova give me
encouraging nods and smiles. I can do this.
“Thank you all for your generosity and for giving your time to spend the evening with us. I’m an extremely private person, so it’s hard for me to stand in front of you and discuss the worst thing that ever happened to me. But the work that SAN does is so important and has helped so many people and so I’d like to take the opportunity to explain how they helped me, and what I’m doing to give back.”
I feel beads of sweat roll down my back and hear the tremble in my voice, but I soldier on. I’ll get through this somehow.
“I met my husband in seventh period history. We were sixteen, and I knew I was going to marry him. He knew it, too. He was everything to me and we had a lot of good years together. But we were young. People change and grow, and we grew apart. At least, I thought we did. He was irate when I mentioned divorce for the first time. He pushed me, and for the first time, I was scared. I packed my bags when he went to work, and I moved in with my sister.”
My legs are still trembling as I stand there, but my voice has stopped shaking. It’s not comfortable or easy, but I know I’m going to make it through this, just like I’ve made it through everything else.
“I knew he was upset, and I expected that—we had been married ten years—but I didn’t realize how bad he would take it. I woke up pretty quickly.”
I feel something else as I look at the sympathetic faces around the room. The pressure on my chest, the one that keeps me weighed down, is lifting away, and for the first time in years I feel like I can take a deep breath.
“Now I should probably mention that my husband was a police officer in the city. He carried a gun and knew how to use it and had staggering resources at his disposal when it came to intimidating me. He left me enough verbally abusive and threatening voice mail messages to fill my mailbox by noon. He knew my schedule and would show up when he knew I would be somewhere. He’d show up at my sister’s house at all times of day and night and demand to talk to me. He hacked my email account and gained access to my cell phone. He poisoned my dog. The list of torments goes on and on. My life was a nightmare. I couldn’t eat and couldn’t sleep. It felt like it was just a matter of time until he hurt me or my family. Going to the police was out of question, because he was the police. I hired an attorney, and when she realized what a train wreck I was, she suggested we contact the SAN.”
