by Roop, Cassy
I took a nice long hot shower to rid my aching body of the dirt and grime I felt from lying in bed all day, as well as to help open my nasal passages so that I could breathe. Methodically, I went about washing my hair and body before I turned off the comforting warmth of the water and wrapped myself in a towel. I padded with heavy feet back to my room in search of something comfortable to wear to my art class. Passing Kelly’s room on the way, I saw that the door was open, but she was not in there and assumed that she had already gone to work.
Robotically, I dressed in an ordinary pink V-neck t-shirt and my favorite pair of bootcut jeans. I didn’t feel like drying my hair, so I left it to air dry as I went to my dresser in search of socks to put on my cold feet. I reached into the drawer, and my hand brushed against a small flat box. I picked it up and lifted the lid to find the submissive in training necklace that I had gotten on my first night as a trainee at The Celtic Knot. I paced backwards a few steps until the back of my knees hit the bed, and I sat down. Setting the lid aside, I brushed the tips of my fingers along the chain of the necklace and felt the coldness of the metal as it made contact with my skin. I closed my eyes and thought back to the night when Dominic placed the Celtic knot adorned chain around my neck. I remembered how his fingers grazed the skin of my collarbone and how goose bumps formed on my skin with the simplest touch.
Holding the necklace in one hand, I brought my other up to rest on the hollow of my neck, only I imagined Dominic’s fingers resting there as I tried to anticipate what his next move would be. My mind recalled how he touched me that night, how when he strapped me to the St. Andrew’s Cross and cut my corset away from my body, that I had never been more turned on in my life. The metal of the knife he used grazed my skin teased me, making my body crave something that I would soon become obsessed with. I reminisced about how his fingers felt as he touched my sex and how I so easily came apart in his hands, coming harder than I ever could remember.
My need to release a deep, barking cough tore me from my memories with Dominic, and I frowned at the disappointment that he wasn’t actually here with me. He would never be with me again, and that is when the tears began to fall. I clutched the necklace so tightly in my hands that it left an imprint of the Celtic symbol into the palm of my hand. It was like I was trying to brand the memories into me with the action, just like Dominic had branded himself into my heart.
Standing up, I put the necklace into my front pocket; if I couldn’t physically have Dominic with me, I would have this one small reminder to carry with me before I put the box back into my sock drawer.
My appetite was still non-existent by the time I had finished dressing and made my way into the kitchen, so I decided to just stick with a good strong cup of coffee. I welcomed the warmth of the liquid as it helped to soothe the burn in my throat. Being sick was not something that I had time for. I needed to participate in every art class in order to keep up with the assignments, and I didn't want to miss any anyways. I would also welcome the distraction of the class, so that maybe for even a few brief moments, I wouldn’t have to think about my misery and missing Dominic.
I locked up the apartment and decided to drive the car the few short blocks to the studio because I didn’t feel like walking. It took all the energy I had just to put one foot in front of the other. I even circled the parking lot several times just to find a closer parking space, so I didn’t have to walk far.
Everyone was seated in at their stations when I arrived, so I hung my coat and purse up before I made my way toward my station. Just as I sat down, the bubbly voice of our instructor came bellowing through the studio. Genevive Fuentes, or Genny as she liked to be called, was a tall, all arms and legs middle aged woman who was eclectic and larger than life. She always had her black curly hair tied up high on her head with some wacky colored or patterned scarf and never wore jeans; instead she always wore long, flowing peasant skirts with a plain V-neck tee or tank top. I chuckled slightly as I noticed all the bracelets and bangles she had on her arms and wrists, and wondered how in the world did she ever painted with all that jewelry in the way.
“Good morning, class.” She said brightly as she scanned everyone in the room. I kept my head low, careful not to look at her directly for fear that she would be able to see right through me and that I would break down in front of all my classmates.
“Boy, do I have a special treat for you guys today!” she exclaimed enthusiastically. “Since this week we will be focusing on using live subjects for our pieces, a good friend of mine has agreed to come in and volunteer to model for us,” she said, and she bounced in place clapping her hands together. The door to the entrance of the studio opened and all heads turned to see who was coming through the door. The class was made up of mostly females, ten of us, in fact, and two men all who gasped when they saw our model walk into the room. Genny walked to the back of the room to greet the guest, and I kept my eyes pinned to the front of the room. It wasn’t that I wasn’t interested in who it was; I just didn’t want to have to look anyone in the eyes because I feared they would be able to see right through me.
Keeping my eyes down, I watched out of my peripheral vision as Genny and the model made their way to the front of the class. Everyone one was whispering about how hot the model was and what they would like to do to him. I chuckled slightly at some of the snide comments the women were saying. My momentary comedic thoughts were soon interrupted when I heard a familiar British accent address the class.
“Hello, everyone.”
I lifted my eyes only to find mine locked with none other than the devilishly handsome Rownan Kleinfield.
First and foremost, I want to thank my Savior Jesus Christ for blessing me with a creative mind to even come up with this story in the first place.
Thank you to my husband and children who have had to endure countless hours of mommy being on the computer and talking about her “crazy characters that are in her head”. I love you all more than life itself and thank you for believing in me.
To my IndiePendents girls, thank you for your friendships, your honesty and all the support you have given me. I have dedicated this book to each one of you because I felt like you all were with me the entire way. Spork friends for life!
Anna Coy, my wonderful, wonderful editor. I value your friendship, your honesty and your craziness! Thank you for helping to make my story the best it could possibly be. Thank you for really putting up with this really “really whore” and really helping me to really try to do my best! I love your face! Thank you for your daily hot inspiration of yummy man candy to help me to stay focused.
Marisa Shor with Cover Me Darling, thank you for designing a cover that not only met my expectations, but exceeded them! I cannot tell you how much I loved the cover when you sent it to me. Thank you for your beautiful work and I cannot wait to do future projects with you!
Giana and Amy, thank you for being the world’s best personal assistants! Thank you for keeping me in line with my crazy hectic days. Your support and guidance means so much to me.
To My Street Team Cassy’s Lassies, you gals effing rock! Thank you for pimping me daily, offering support and being the best street team there is! I love you girls!
To all my betas, thank you for your wonderful feedback on this novel. I cried every time each one of you said how much you loved Ashley’s Bend. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my work!
To all my readers, thank you so very much for making my dream a reality. If it weren’t for you reading my story, I wouldn’t be a writer. Thank you for your loyalty, feedback and support! I cannot wait to bring you more of the characters that are floating around in my head.
Cassy is a work at home mom where she spends her days surrounded by children running her in-home daycare. She loves to cook, read and spend her nights and weekends being a Les Mills group fitness instructor.
She has been a lover of all things romance from a very early age. She hopes and dreams that everyone can receive their happy
ever after. A good ol country girl at heart, she was born and raised in Arkansas and now resides in Charlottesville, Virginia with her husband and three young children.
[email protected]
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Cassy-Roop-Author/273152699508767
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7847487.Cassy_Roop
Twitter: @cassyroop
CassyRoop.com
