Notice

by K. Webster

  His glare is severe as he tosses me a pink scrap of spandex material. “It wasn’t a request. It was a demand. Make yourself pretty. You’re looking like a strung-out whore.”

  I wince at his words more than his tone. I look like a strung-out whore because he made me that way. If I were to look in the mirror right now, my pale, haunted face would stare back. My normally bright brown eyes would be dull from whatever pill he stuck on my tongue before he stripped me down earlier. Dark circles would ring my eyes from either lack of sleep or from one of Vaughn’s “lessons.” And my full lips would be chapped from overuse coupled with malnutrition.

  I’ve spent eleven months with this man and I can’t seem to pull my head out of the red fog that follows him long enough to straighten out my life. Not that he’d let me go anyway.

  His hand tangles in my hair, and I’m dragged out of the bed to my feet right in front of him. Even furious and impatient and on the border of psychotic rage, Vaughn is a glorious vision. He pins me in place with his piercing glare—a glare that promises pain and punishment and, one day, death.

  “I love you,” he seethes. I believe him. I truly do. “But right now, you’re pissing me off.” His free hand grabs my bruised and bare ass hauling me against his erection. “We have shit to do, so stop dragging your feet.”

  I try to nod at him, but his grip in my hair prevents me from doing so. A small yelp of surprise escapes me when he hauls me over to the end table beside the bed. He rummages around until he finds what he’s looking for. Little happy pill. I can’t help but smile.

  “Good girl.” He grins back before shoving it into my mouth. I gag but swallow it down. Within minutes, I’m needy, and the dress he helps me put on is too much. Too clingy. Too scratchy. Too much. The urge to seek out pleasure consumes me. I claw at his chest and plead with him to fuck me again. His kiss is gentle but the way he cups me between my legs is not. “You’re going to get fucked,” he assures me with a cold growl. “I told you we had errands.”

  I can’t find the sadness that usually plagues me. No tears well in my eyes. I’m not even upset as he guides me out of his shitty house to his suped-up sports car that doesn’t fit well in the ghetto neighborhood. It’s the kind of car that should get jacked or broken into, but nobody touches it. Nobody touches anything that belongs to Vaughn Brecks unless he says they can. Unless they pay him whatever his asking price is. Otherwise, they won’t live to see another day.

  I’m blitzed out of my mind, squirming and begging the entire drive to wherever it is we’re going. He teases me with gentle caresses to my bare thigh and brief rubs against my clit where I’m naked under my dress. By the time we roll up to a high-end condo building, I’m dripping with need.

  “You ready to make us some money, sweetheart?” he questions, his grip tightening around my thigh. I’ll be bruised, but right now it feels good. Any touch feels good.

  “I thought I was yours only,” I pout through my haze.

  His face becomes murderous. “Of course you fucking are. This is just business, baby. You belong to me. Not this rich fucker who wants to get his dick wet because his fat wife won’t put out.”

  As terrible as they are, his words warm me. They warm me so much that I’m on fire by the time we enter the glitzy condo where the client awaits. Vaughn’s grip on my bicep is possessive, but he still hands me over to the man. Accepts a wad of bills and gives me a slight push toward the foreign man with the large stomach. I squint to try and figure out his nationality, but as soon as the door closes behind Vaughn, the man is on me. He paws at me like I’m the first Christmas present he’s ever received. And the shit Vaughn gave me has me buzzing with desire. I want to ride this ugly man with the black mustache and beady eyes. I want to grip his greasy hair and fuck him while I think of my boyfriend.

  Vaughn’s steely grey eyes are at the forefront of my mind as the man manages to push my dress up my hips and bend me over his expensive dining room table. He fumbles with his pants. Then I hear the familiar tear of a condom. Always condoms. At least Vaughn looks out for me. And then the man’s thin penis is inside me. He’s taking what doesn’t belong to him, and I don’t care. I let him because he feels good. His reverent touches running up my back. The way his hairy balls slap against my pussy. Nearly inaudible grunts from an unfamiliar man.

  I come.

  I shudder in ecstasy while thinking of Vaughn.

  I take the orgasm he wouldn’t let me have not an hour earlier.

  God, how I love Vaughn.

  The man behind me claws at my hips as he groans with his own release, causing slices of reality to bleed inside of me.

  God, I have to get away from Vaughn.

  I stare at her as she touches herself between her legs. Her moans cause my cock to twitch in my slacks, but I ignore it for now. For now, I’m concerned about her. How careless was she to go off and get drunk with that asshole, Slante. Christ, he was seconds away from fucking her against the goddamned cab had I not intervened when I did. Violet was wasted. Poor woman slept the entire way to her place, mumbling from time to time unintelligibly. I’d had the cabbie take us to her apartment building where I proceeded to carry her up three flights of stairs because the shitty elevator was broken. When I’d seen she had three locks engaged, fury bubbled up inside me. She shouldn’t be living in a piece-of-shit building. Not with what I pay her. After breaking into her computer, I took it upon myself to look at her file in Clint’s cabinet. I’m the CEO after all, so her personal file is my business if I say it is.

  Address.

  Age.

  Background.

  I found everything I needed, including her salary. Her salary was enough to where she didn’t have to live in a shit hole like this. I’ll figure out this little mystery. Find out where her money is going. Until then, though, I simply stare at her.

  Getting an unconscious woman undressed and under the covers is difficult, even for a fit and able man like myself. Her loose limbs and limp body made for a frustrating twenty minutes. Eventually, I got her naked.

  I peel away the covers and take another peek before I go hunting. Her perky tits have the sexiest bitable nipples right in the center of each one. Just looking at them has me nearly coming in my slacks. I’m going to feast on them one day. Not today. One day. Her stomach is flat and her hipbones are showing. The woman could stand to eat a little more. I make a mental note to deal with that problem as well. Her pussy is shaved smooth. The urge to push my finger inside of her is overwhelming, but I fist my hand and ignore the urge.

  I notice everything about her.

  Her smooth brown hair fanned out on the cream-colored pillow underneath her head. Those fuckable lips of hers are parted as she sleeps. Long, dark lashes rest on her pink cheeks.

  I want to shake her shoulders and yell at her. To wake her up and explain to her how stupid she’s been. A woman who looks like her doesn’t need to go off with men she barely knows late at night. Men like Sean Slante could take advantage of her.

  A growl rumbles in my throat at the memory of him with his hands on her. I’d watched them through the window of the bar. Sure, he’d played the good guy, but I could see the desire in his eyes. I saw the way he gripped her ass as if it belonged to him.

  She does not belong to him.

  Violet lets out a moan before muttering a name.

  Vaughn.

  Who the fuck is Vaughn?

  Once again, I fist my hand to keep from grabbing her by the jaw and waking her up by telling her what a naïve woman she is.

  Stalking away so I don’t do exactly that, I begin to look through her drawers. Everything is neat and has a place. There isn’t one ounce of clutter. Just like her desk at the office. It makes me wonder what she’s hiding. People who are minimalists do so in order to hide something big about themselves. If they have everything in a place, then they don’t have to stress about their past or shortcomings slipping through the cracks amidst the mess. They are able to keep a careful watch on every det
ail in their lives by keeping it all under the lid where it belongs.

  I know this because I am this way.

  My home is immaculate.

  My business is organized.

  My entire life is flawless.

  The secrets I have stay neatly contained.

  But her secrets, I will uncover. Her secrets are mine. I want them. I fucking crave them. After an annoying search that turns up nothing, I sit at the foot of her bed. Her breathing is soft and measured. If I didn’t think she’d flip the fuck out, I’d kick off my shoes and lie down beside her. My luck, I’d fall asleep and she’d wake up to find me there. Accuse me of things I’m not.

  So I don’t lie down.

  I don’t take off my shoes.

  Instead, I think.

  Where do I hide my secrets?

  I have an old cedar chest that belonged to my mother. I’d taken it some twenty odd years ago when she first started losing her mind. Before she buried it in her insecurities. I’m not sure she even knows it’s gone. In that chest are my secrets. My past that has shaped and molded me. When I think about my past, it reminds me of someone. An error that will follow me for the rest of my life.

  Adara.

  Her pretty brown eyes haunt me. Hell, I believe they’ll haunt me until the day I die. I deserve to be continually reminded of those eyes. I’d made a mistake. It was a mistake that had nearly cost me everything. It altered my life in so many ways, I can’t even begin to count them. I’m here, standing right now in this sparse bedroom with a sleeping angel unaware of my presence, because of Adara.

  With newfound purpose, I stalk over to her closet. Her suits are pressed and fairly expensive looking, but I know she’s not spending all of her money on clothes. They smell like her. Sweet and florally. Mine. I shove the thick coats out of the way and feel around behind the garments. Just like I’d imagined, I find a box. The shoebox, while much smaller than my cedar chest, holds answers about my Violet. I tug it free and bring it with me back into the room. Sitting back down at the foot of the bed, I remove the lid from the box and start rummaging around. Pictures, feminine hand-written notes, a hospital bracelet. The notes aren’t hers. I spent hours earlier at her desk and learned her handwriting. These notes are from someone who loves her.

  Love you, Letty.

  You’ll always be my Letty Spaghetti.

  Enjoy your lunch, baby girl.

  I realize that all of the notes must be from her mother. They’re all written on the same type of paper. The lined sheets with numbers at the top and the words “thank you” stamped on the back look like the type that waitresses use to take orders. I make note of the restaurant name imprinted at the top before pushing them to the side. The first picture I look at is of her and a woman who looks a lot like her. When I flip it over, I smile at the handwriting that I know is Violet’s.

  Me and Momma ‘04

  She’s wearing a graduation gown and a smile I’ve never seen before. Brilliant and hopeful. Proud. Her mother’s smile is just as big. Just as beautiful. They make a lovely pair. Sadly, I wonder if her mother died. But then it makes me think of my own mother. Irritation seeps through me, and I shove the picture on the pile of notes. Most of the other pictures are of Violet doing things. Then, I find one single picture of her with a man.

  A flicker of hate ignites inside me.

  The man with the grey eyes and severe glare with his arm draped possessively around Violet is a threat. I sense it. I can almost fucking taste it. It sours my stomach, and with a growl, I shove everything back into the box. She stirs on the bed, but I put everything back into the closet where it belongs.

  When I re-emerge, she’s got her hand between her legs again. In her sleep, she touches herself and moans. There’s no rhyme or reason to her movements. Prowling over to her, I loom over her sleeping frame. I crave to push away her uncoordinated fingers and do the job for her. When she whimpers in frustration, I make a decision. I wrap my hand around her delicate wrist and help her along. Using her hand, I give her the speed she needs to reach her climax. Her cunt is probably hot against her fingertips. My dick thickens and pushes against my boxers, begging for its own taste of her.

  Later.

  This is about her, not me.

  With measured movements, I continue my pace, guiding her own hand to push between her pussy lips and massage her throbbing clit. Those sexy whimpers of hers become moans. Louder and louder. Her body squirms and jolts in her sleep as I touch her. When she gasps once before shuddering, I know she’s found her release, even in her sleep. With another smile ghosting my lips—a smile only she can bring out of me—I allow myself the very thing I denied myself earlier. A simple taste. I draw her soaked fingers from her body to my lips. Smearing her juices all over my mouth, I grow impossibly harder with the need to push inside her gorgeous body. Instead, I suckle her fingers, removing every trace of her orgasm with my tongue. God, she smells decadent.

  I gently rest her hand back on her stomach before covering her back up with the blanket. Her essence on my lips lingers, and I inhale her alluring scent. One day soon, I’ll have my face buried between her thighs. I’ll feast upon her perfect cunt whenever I want. She’ll beg for it. I’ll reward her because she’s so fucking gorgeous and deserving. With a flick of my tongue, I slowly lick my bottom lip. She tastes like sin. Sweet, decadent sin. My cock aches to sink inside of her, but I ignore him for now. The morning sun is just starting to peek in through the blinds. It’s time I leave her be for a bit.

  I drop to my knees and then flatten myself against the drab carpet that reeks of renters and stale cigarettes. It takes some maneuvering, but I manage to slide myself under the bed. Once I’m comfortable, with my face pointed toward the closet, I relax. I close my eyes and sleep. And for the first time in months, I sleep really fucking well.

  See you soon, Violet.

  I wake with a start and jolt upright in bed. The sun blinds me, causing me to groan before shielding my eyes from the bright rays. I’m slightly disoriented and severely hung over. Shame trickles down my spine as I begin to recall fuzzy events from last night.

  I’d all but dry humped Sean in a bar booth. Threw myself all over my future boss because I was high on memories of Vaughn and drunk off tequila. Because I haven’t been with a man in years, I craved his touch. The liquid courage was the catalyst for a night full of regrets.

  But as soon as I’d given in to my desires, they were snuffed out like a single candle in a windowless room. Sean deposited me into the cab and then…

  That’s where everything really went hazy.

  I can’t recall a single memory from that point on.

  Looking down, I cringe at finding that I’m naked. Panic climbs up my throat but I force it down quickly. Vaughn wasn’t here. It was all me. I’d undressed all by myself. A quick look around my room tells me that at least I didn’t tear my clothes off before fucking some random stranger either. There are no clues indicating I kept the party going last night. True to myself, even in a blacked-out state, I’d put my clothes away in the hamper. I’d put my shoes in the closet. The need to prove this overwhelms me, so I climb out of bed on wobbly feet. I grab the nightstand for support when the room spins around me.

  My pussy feels slightly raw. I must have touched myself in the middle of the night. One sniff of my fingertips tells me I’m correct on that assumption as well. At least I can always count on myself, even when I’m fucked up beyond memory.

  A quick peek in the hamper and closet tells me I’m not crazy. I did come home and undress as usual. With a sigh of relief, I take the longest shower known to man. My calves are sore and the rest of my body is achy due to my hangover from hell.

  My phone buzzes from my nightstand where I managed to remember to plug it in last night. Now freshly showered and dried off, with a towel wrapped around my wet hair, I walk naked over to the bedside. A chill ripples through me. The feeling of being watched by Vaughn has never really gone away. I blink it away to read my message.
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  Apparently I’ve missed several.

  Sean: I had fun last night. Sorry if things got out of hand.

  Sean: Let me make it up to you. Dinner tonight?

  I’m already shaking my head in disagreement. I refuse to spend another moment alone with Sean. I’m already horrified over my behavior last night.

  Sean: I wasn’t exactly a gentleman so don’t go blaming this on yourself.

  I chew on my lip and head back into the bathroom. Pulling my towel off and dropping it to the floor, I look at my reflection. Despite my stupidity last night, I still look like the woman I’d eventually shaped myself to be. I’m no longer her. The woman wrapped up in Vaughn’s twisted little world. I’m healthy and educated and successful.

  Breathe, Violet.

  He no longer has his hand around your throat.

  I spend the rest of the morning taking my time getting ready. Once my makeup is on and my hair is dried into sexy tresses, I spritz on my perfume and leave the bathroom on a hunt for some clothes.

  I get that eerie feeling once again of being watched as I enter my bedroom. The bedroom door is cracked. I squint to make sure nobody is peeking through.

  “Stop freaking out,” I chide myself. “He’s not here.” I still shiver as I root around in my closet for clothes. I’ll never be able to fully convince myself that Vaughn can’t find me. That I’m safe. I’ve taken precautions, but he’s a resourceful man.

  A click jolts me from my thoughts, and I scamper out of my closet. The bedroom door is now closed. Alarm slices through me. Yanking my robe from the bathroom hook, I quickly wrap it around me and tiptoe over to the door.

  Silence.

  I try not to breathe.

  Another soft click from the living room.

  “Shit,” I hiss as I engage the lock on my bedroom door. The gun I keep loaded under my mattress is still there when I look. I pull the heavy cold object into my grip and summon up the courage to escape my bedroom prison. My phone buzzes from the bathroom, but I ignore it. Quietly, I manage to check every part of my apartment from top to bottom.