by S. E. Lund
"I see there's nothing wrong with your libido," I said and squeezed him.
"Nothing at all," he said and pressed his groin against me.
"What are you cooking?" I asked when he pulled away and went back to the pan, which was sizzling.
"Sautéed mushrooms with garlic, butter and white wine. They'll go great with the two strip loins I grilled."
Then, Drake turned off the burner under the mushrooms and together, the three of us ate our supper.
We spent some time together as family in the living room, watching a children's show on television then reading Sophie a book after her bath. Drake and I both tucked her into her crib, and she went down without as much as a peep, her eyes closing almost as soon as her cheek hit the mattress.
"Our evil scheme to make our baby go to sleep earlier than usual was a resounding success," Drake whispered to me as we closed the door to her room.
"We're not evil," I replied, laughing softly. Then I turned and faced Drake, slipping my arms around his neck. "We need mommy and daddy time. It's essential for proper functioning and will make us even better parents."
He kissed me and brushed hair off my cheek. "You're right, of course. I need my Kate time. Speaking of which..." He ran his hand down my back and squeezed a buttock. "What would you like first? A nice bubble bath, followed by a full body massage, and then maybe sleep?"
"Sleep?" I said, mock frowning. "When you put your hands on my body after a bath, there's no way I'd be able to go to sleep..."
He grinned, one corner of his mouth turning up. "I'm counting on it, because I had something else entirely in mind than sleep."
"You do, do you?" I said, acting coy. "What could you possibly mean, Dr. Morgan?"
"You know exactly what I mean, Katherine..."
That told me everything I needed to know.
"Yes, Sir," I said solemnly. "I know exactly what you mean."
Inside, I was smiling to myself but I knew enough to keep my smile to myself. "What would you like this one to do first?" I glanced up at his face, not quite meeting his gaze, batting my eyelashes in a way that I hoped was alluring rather than saucy.
"Hmm," he replied, looking down at me from under his eyelashes. "I think I'd like you to run us a nice bath and then I think I want to tie you up and have my way with you."
"Oh, Sir..." I closed my eyes, for the thought of Drake taking control made me almost giddy. "That makes this one very excited."
"Good," he said and thrust his hips and his very notable erection against me. "Because the thought of tying you up and making you come over and over again is making me very hard."
I smiled and leaned my cheek against his shoulder. We stood in an embrace for a few moments, both our bodies warming to the feel of the other. I was already wet and swollen just thinking about Drake tying me up.
"Mmm, Ms. Bennet, I love it when you tremble with desire. It's such an incentive to me to think up ways to make you shudder."
I smiled and breathed in his scent; a heady mixture of his cologne and his maleness. "When you call me Ms. Bennet, it takes me out of scene..."
"I know," he said and laughed lightly. "I can't help but be torn between Ms. Bennet, Mrs. Morgan and Katherine. I love all three of you."
I glanced up into his eyes and saw the warmth and love -- and desire in them.
"I'm yours, whichever one you want me to be."
"All of them at once, then. Just be you." He kissed me deeply, squeezing me tightly against his body. "Oh, God, I love you."
Then he devoured my mouth, his hands sliding over my body and I was caught up in his desire.
He pulled me to the bedroom, his eyes dark with passion, and I didn't resist for just the vision of him aroused and in need woke up the same desire in me. When we got to the bed, he pushed me down so that I lay across the mattress, my hands over my head. Then he stripped off my clothes, his motions a bit rough, needy, until finally, I lay naked beneath him while he remained fully clothed.
It was a familiar situation for us -- me naked, him fully dressed. I enjoyed being on display for him because I loved the expression in his eyes -- bald possession. He owned me, body, mind and soul. I was his completely.
His mouth moved from my mouth to my chin and then my collarbone while his hands slid down my body, cupping a breast, squeezing my buttock, pulling me up against his erection. When his mouth got to my belly, I flinched, a gasp coming out between my lips without my knowing it. My hands flew to my flesh and I instinctively covered my scar.
Don't ask me why I did, for we had made love many times before when it was even more fresh, but at that moment, I was became unaccountably self-conscious. The scar had faded with time but was still pink, the scar an ugly gash down my belly. It wasn't the usual bikini line surgical scar in a normal C-section. It was from my navel down and was ugly, the flesh on either side puffing out so that it resembled a small butt. At least, that was what I thought when I examined myself in the mirror after a shower. The surgeon hadn't sewn me back up carefully because they kept me open a long time in an attempt to stop my bleeding. As a result, the muscles had been cut and had separated -- at least, that's what my massage therapist told me when I asked her about it.
"What?" Drake glanced at me, his brow knit. "What are you doing? Don't cover yourself up."
"I'm sorry," I said and it took considerable effort to remove my hands from my belly. "It's just silly self-consciousness..."
"Don't apologize. You know I've seen you naked before many times since the accident. I've seen your scar. In fact, I've licked it and kissed it."
"It's ugly."
He rose up and lay fully on top of me, taking my hands in his and holding them above my head.
"I love your scar." He kissed me, tenderly. "Because of that scar, you're alive. You and Sophia are alive because of that scar. That scar is beautiful to me because it saved your life."
He stared into my eyes, and the expression in them was so intense that it made me tear up.
"You only say that because you love me," I said.
"Yes," he said and squeezed my hands in his. "Yes, of course I only say that because I love you. Another man wouldn't feel that way about your scar because he doesn't love you, but I do. I love you more than anything in this world. You are the world to me. That scar saved your life and I thank God every day for it. I wish it never happened and you had a normal birth and delivery, but the alternative was you dying. Sophia dying. I'd be happy with any scar that saved your life. Kate, I would have gladly given my own life to save yours and Sophia's. Don't you understand that?"
He continued to stare into my eyes, and my tears spilled over finally.
"Yes," I said, finally.
Then he kissed me again and the passion and intensity in his kiss told me he wasn't just being nice. He wasn't just telling me that to please me. He truly felt that way deep inside. Instead of tying me up the way he planned, he made desperate love to me, needy love, ripping off his own clothes and throwing them on the floor beside the bed, then devouring my body with his mouth and hands. When I was close to orgasm from his tongue and fingers, he entered me, thrusting deep until I spasmed around him. His own orgasm followed almost immediately and he cried out as he ejaculated, groaning in my ear, his eyes squeezed tightly, his face red.
It wasn't the careful, methodical, session of bondage and multiple orgasms I was used to with Drake. It was desperate and passionate and fast.
After we both recovered a bit, he looked in my eyes once more.
"Don't ever feel embarrassed about your scars," he said in a firm voice. "Never. They're beautiful, like you. They let you live."
He kissed me once more, tenderly now, his hands cupping my face, his thumb stroking my cheek.
"I usually just accept my scar as evidence that I survived, but I suddenly felt so self-conscious. I don't know why. Maybe it was the video I saw of Lisa on the internet earlier today."
"There's a video of Lisa on the internet?"
"Yes,
" I said, remembering it. "She's wearing a bikini and her body is perfect. People were commenting that she could have been a model. Long legs, slim, beautiful."
"She's a murdering psychopath," Drake said, his tone derisive. "She's ugly inside and believe me, that moves her from attractive to unattractive in anyone but the crassest of men."
"Still, I remembered how beautiful she is and for some reason, I just felt sick about my scar. It'll continue to fade but it'll never go away completely. I'll never be able to wear a bikini again in public."
"You should wear one just to give the universe and any shallow person who might care about it the finger. If anyone dared say anything about it, I'd punch them out."
"Drake Morgan!" I laughed and wiped my eyes. He sounded like my knight in shining armor, ready to defend my honor, that my heart warmed. "You'd do no such thing."
"I would. I did it before," he said and I thought immediately about Sefton at the art studio and the day Drake punched him in the nose when he rushed onto the elevator unexpectedly. "I'd do it again if I thought anyone hurt your feelings about the scar or threatened you. Seriously, Kate."
Then even he laughed, because Drake was the most laid-back man when it came to confrontations. He was so calm usually. You couldn't be a neurosurgeon doing delicate robotic maneuvers and get easily flustered.
Later, after we had showered and were lying in bed, basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking, Drake rubbed my cheek with the backs of his fingers.
"I talked to Lara while you were out," he said, his voice sounding grim. "Someone provided one of the news stations with several images of me dressed up in my leather pants, bare chest, tying up a woman I was having sex with. I'm pretty sure it was Lisa. Anyway, she's all bound up, and I'm leaning over her menacingly. Of course, it's all part of the game, but the casual onlooker won't understand."
"Were you threatening her?" I asked, a catch in my throat. I rolled over onto my stomach and gazed into his eyes. "I thought you were just supposed to tie her up and fuck her."
"I did, and I wasn't really threatening her," he said and frowned. "It's all a game intended to heighten arousal. She liked to feel forced, and that's why she liked bondage. She wanted to feel like she had no control over the pleasure she felt and how her body responded."
"I know the feeling," I said, familiar with that particular response. I traced a pattern over Drake's bare chest. "When I'm bound up, I feel free. Like feeling pleasure at what you're doing to me is no longer my fault or my responsibility. It must be my Catholic upbringing. I must feel like I'm bad, deep down, for enjoying sex. Bondage frees me to be sexual. I can't help it because it's no longer my choice -- other than the fact that I have chosen to be tied up of course." I grinned at him and he nodded.
"That's the main dynamic to bondage. It's consensual and done for mutual pleasure. But the average Joe and Jane on the street thinks it means the woman is being forced against her will, abused and dominated, diminished. That's rape. Bondage and Dominance are really done for her pleasure, but the public is caught up in this notion of consent meaning there can be no resistance or force. It's totally psychological. Someone who really enjoys forcing a woman -- tying her up against her will -- is a psychopath. Some people don't get the difference."
I rolled over onto my back and stared at the ceiling, my body feeling well used. Drake would usually tie my hands and feet to the bedposts and use several sex toys and his mouth to make me come three times before fucking me when we did a normal scene. If anyone was to watch us, they would know immediately that it was all freely chosen and freely offered and was only about pleasure. There was no force involved or lack of consent. I trusted him completely to do what he wanted with my body because I knew he loved me and only wanted my pleasure. It was entirely consensual and by choice.
But seeing Drake tying up Lisa would appear to be all about force and lack of consent if all you saw were the pictures. Her lawyers would play that up, saying that instead of doing so voluntarily, she was doing it because she was coerced, taken advantage of by two older men.
Drake rolled over and pulled me against his body, folding me in his arms and wrapping the down quilt around us both, my back to him. Then he switched off the light.
"I wish all this was over," I whispered in the darkness.
"It will be, soon," he whispered back and kissed my neck. "Then we can find some new normal."
I nodded and turned to face him.
"Good night, my love," I said and he kissed me on the lips once more.
"Good night," he replied and that was how I fell asleep.
* * *
I woke in the night, my heart racing and blinked in the darkness, trying to get my bearings. I'd had a nightmare of Drake in a dark dungeon with Lisa and Lara, both of them telling me that I just didn't understand that Drake needed more than I could give him. When I finally realized it was a dream and not reality, my heart rate decreased and my eyes adjusted to the night. I turned over and watched Drake, who was lying on his stomach with the pillow over his head, which was his normal mode from years of trying to sleep during the day while he worked shift. My gut was still in knots about the dream and about Lisa, wondering whether Drake and Derek Richardson should have understood at the time that Lisa was mentally unstable and should not have been involved in a B&D relationship. Drake assured me that Lisa was totally positive about their scenes. She was casual about her relationship with Derek and seemed to be his equal, free to speak her mind when she was not in scene. Derek seemed really fond of her, indulgent even.
But underneath that confident facade was a budding erotomaniac, if we were right about her now. She fixated on Drake and imagined a relationship between them that didn't exist outside her fantasy world.
How could Drake, who was trained in psychology and psychiatry, be so wrong about her? It had to be because Drake went by appearance and Lisa was a master at presenting a confident self-assured and competent appearance.
I knew that Drake wouldn't have been with her if he thought for a moment that she was mentally unstable.
Still, it made me feel anxious for him and for us. Not that Drake was in any legal danger. He'd done nothing wrong. But all of this -- the trial, the publicity, the news reports, the pics and videos, were all affecting his reputation.
I could only hope, as I lay there and watched him sleep, that he was right -- it would all blow over as soon as the trial ended and people moved on to the next outrage.
Drake
In the morning, after a shower and after feeding Sophia her breakfast, I stood at the island in the kitchen and watched while Kate made some coffee. I'd dressed in something casual so I could blend in at the courthouse. The last thing I wanted was to be recognized.
"I'm going to head out to the courthouse and catch the trial," I said, watching Kate's face carefully to see her response.
She scrunched her nose up. "Really? You want to go and watch?"
I shrugged. "Derek was a friend. I'm curious about how the prosecution will build its case."
Kate came over to me and wrapped her arms around my neck. "Aren't you afraid that the paparazzi will be waiting for you, shoving a mic in your face, asking about why you abused poor Lisa?"
"I have a canned response," I said and hugged her. "No comment."
"You really won't say anything?"
"I wanted to say that we were sex partners years ago and that everything had been completely consensual. Any relationship after that was purely professional. If she claimed otherwise, it was because she was mentally unstable. But Lara insisted that I not comment except to say that Richardson was a friend and I hoped that his killers got the justice they deserved. That's it. I'll stick to it."
Kate didn't appear convinced. "It won't bother you to have people point and stare and take videos of you?"
I shook my head. "Nah," I said, although it did bother me, of course. "Better me than anyone else. I can take it." I mock-pumped up my biceps and grimaced like a weightlifter.
She laughed and shook her head, her face becoming serious.
"You've taken more than enough already. It might be better for you to stay home and forget the trial. When you show up, people will talk and point cameras at you."
"I feel like I owe Derek this much." I kissed her, warmed by her concern for me. "I'll be fine."
"How long will you be?" she asked, adjusting my collar.
"I'll be back this afternoon. I'm meeting Lara for lunch to discuss the case. If you need me, I have my cell."
"Okay," Kate said and ran her fingers through my hair. "Sophie and I will go out for a walk to the park and then maybe get a coffee at Starbucks. We'll be home this afternoon."
"You want to go to your studio? I'll stay home this afternoon if you want to."
"That would be great."
We kissed again and then I went to the closet and got my coat and boots. Once dressed, I got to the front door and Kate followed me over with Sophie in her arms.
"Say bye bye to Daddy," Kate said and waved at me.
Sophie waved and of course, I had to kiss them both once more each for good measure before I left.
* * *
Outside the air was moist and cold, typical for October in Manhattan. It rained overnight and was almost cold enough that it could have been snow, but not quite. It woke me up in a way that a hot shower couldn't. I walked down the street to the parking garage where I kept my car. Before I drove off, my cell dinged and I checked my messages.
It was from Michael Owiti.
MICHAEL: Drake Morgan, how are you? I've been following the news about the trial and hope everything is okay with you and Kate and of course, that beautiful baby of yours Sophia. I'm writing to let you know I've been hired to head up the new pediatric neurosurgery unit at the Southampton Children's Hospital.
I replied immediately.
DRAKE: Fantastic news about Southampton. I bet you'll be happy to be in charge and back in the UK. Will Claire be with you?
MICHAEL: She's not coming. We've split. Say no more.
