by Liz Crowe
Tears spilled down her cheeks. Sobs ripped from her gut, making her chest ache, but she was incapable of stopping them. When she tried to calm down, it just got worse. She wanted her mother, but her mother hated her and called her a slut for seducing Bart. She needed Evan. But Evan had walked out on her on Thanksgiving, leaving her to bounce around this stupid hotel room like a little kid banished to her room. Her whole body convulsed, and she finally just curled into a ball in the foyer still clutching the dress.
It was cold against the hard floor, but it soothed her blazing hot skin. She had no idea how the hell she had gotten to this place, this moment, thirty years old and utterly alone. She had enough money to buy herself all the roses, diamonds, leather bags, designer shoes, and weekends in New York she wanted. But right now, she would give every single one of them back, every thin dime, to feel Evan Adams’s arms around her and his soft whisper in her ear, telling her to be calm, he was there and all would be well.
Chapter Five
Julie covered her nose, her face, trying to get the disgusting smell of cheap cologne off her skin. Terror gripped her throat, made her scream, loud, in a way she never could while being raped. She lay wide awake, forcing herself there to dispel the memory from crawling further into her brain. This was a fucking living nightmare. No wonder she’d repressed it for so damn long. She wiped her face, not sure if it was wet from sweat or tears but no longer caring either way.
Blinking, she acknowledged it was full daylight outside. And she did not still lie huddled on the cold foyer floor. She put her hand down and touched soft sheets, rolled over and found a single rose on the pillow next to her. She smiled, then frowned, remembering her righteous indignation at being abandoned yesterday. She held the small red flower in her hand and had to force herself not to crush it, toss it on the floor and stomp on it.
Thought he could pull some kind of cheese-ball romance move like this? She felt around on herself, discovered she still wore the damp, massage-oil-scented Ritz branded robe. Submerging a small disappointed moment when she realized he must be here, must have put her to bed and still hadn’t made any sort of move on her, she swung her feet out to the floor.
“Ow!” Her foot sang out in pain when blood rushed to the wound and she tried to stand. “Damn it,” she muttered, yanking her hair up in a ponytail. It was Friday. She’d lived through another Thanksgiving. She stretched, wandered into the bathroom and showered. The lack of hangover had never felt so good. Her skin tingled and her heart was pounding in anticipation of seeing Evan again. So she could tell him to fuck himself all the way back to Michigan alone. Whistling, she took her time drying her hair, applying the usual light bit of makeup she wore, using the stuff Evan had apparently conjured as if he had seen her collection of foundations and powders at home.
After choosing a comfortable pair of jeans and a light blue turtleneck cashmere sweater, she took a breath and opened the door between the bathroom and living room, a smile fixed to her face. But the room was empty once again. She screamed, yelled, raved, and barely stopped herself from ruining another vase or bowl. Her head pounded and she sank onto the couch, biting her lip, determined not to cry. How could she? Too many tears had been shed already. She was done, finished, and was going the fuck home to Michigan as soon as she could get a flight scheduled.
She stood at the huge bank of windows, admiring the view of the bustling city below.
“You done screeching like a banshee?”
She jumped, whirled around, and glared at him, standing there in the door holding two coffees and a newspaper. “You are…” But words failed her.
He held up a hand, put down his crap, and walked to her, calm, cool, collected. He put a hand to her face. And like that, her pounding heart was calm.
She closed her eyes and leaned into his palm. “I hate you,” she whispered.
“No, you don’t. Let’s talk a minute.” He took her hand and started to lead her to the couch, but she resisted.
“No, I don’t want to talk. I… I want you… to… I…” She looked away, unable to figure out a polite way to express the way her body had reacted to his simple, non-sexual touch. She had never wanted a man so much in her life. But he had to want her too. And he wanted to have a little chat? She turned back to him, put her arms around his neck, and went up on her tiptoes to kiss him. He held her, hands light on her hips, but didn’t encourage it, just let her do what she wanted for a few minutes.
“Okay, can we talk now?” He smiled at her, reached down to adjust his zipper. “I need you to understand the point of what I did yesterday.”
“Fine.” She threw up her hands and walked away from him to plop down on the couch in an extreme pout. What was wrong with the man, anyway? She crossed her legs and gave him her very best irritated boss staring at useless employee glare. He absorbed it without a blink. “I’m listening.”
“You are the most beautiful, amazing woman I’ve ever met, Julie. And the way we react to each other is strong but frightening. I think you can agree with that.” He held out both hands. She nodded but stayed silent. “Use words.” His low voice sent a shiver of horny right through her.
“Yes, Evan, I agree with that.” She shifted but didn’t want to give him too much satisfaction of knowing that if she did not get all their clothes off soon she was going to spontaneously combust.
“Because it’s so strong, this bond we already have, and because you are still hiding something very dark from me, I’ve decided we should go slow. Perhaps even slower than we are going. I want you to watch a few movies with me, read some books, understand what you’re going to be getting yourself into completely before you agree to let me touch you in any way.”
She stared at him, dumbfounded. “Go slower,” she said. “Watch movies and read books.”
He nodded, looked down at the floor a few seconds, then back at her. “I will be your Dom, Julie. That means so much more than just your lover. I won’t be anything less, so you have to decide if you are willing to go there with me. If not, fine, but I am not about to touch you, or even kiss you again until you are fully on board with all aspects of this. I need it. You need it. And it will be beyond your wildest dreams from the start.”
She watched his long, lean, denim-and sweater-clad perfection stop in front of her. She gulped but looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “But you have a long way to go before you can trust me. I can tell.” He put a hand on her head. It rested there, firm, in command. Her knees shook as she gazed down at his shoes, perfectly calm and at ease but so turned on she would swear she had a small orgasm while she sat there.
“I’m afraid,” she whispered, not even sure she said it.
He tilted her face up but stayed standing, looming over her in a way which at one time would have scared her then made her furious. But she smiled up at him. “You have no reason to ever be afraid with me, Julie. I will always take care of you. If you trust me. You think it’s easy. But for a woman like you it may very well be impossible.”
She nodded, and a single tear rolled down her cheek, embarrassing her. She’d cried more in the last three days than she had in a decade. He was on eye-level with her in an instant. His lips were so soft, so perfect. She sighed as he pulled her up, still kissing her. Heat kept building as his body pressed against hers. She broke from his lips but kept hold of him. “God, Evan. Please… please make love to me. Just once, then I’ll watch movies and read books, do PowerPoint presentations and write term papers, anything you want.”
He laughed, and the sound lit every corner of the dark room she’d been inhabiting for years. The sensation made her gasp and press her face into his neck, sucking in huge breaths of his clean, soapy scent. “Can I ask a favor,” she said, leaning her head on his chest, keeping her arms around his waist.
“Anything,” he said, pulling out her ponytail holder and running his fingers through her hair. “Well, almost. But we’ll talk more about that later.”
“Please don’t ever wear cologne. I… I
can’t…”
“Shh, it’s okay. I already figured it out.” He held her close and they just stood together. Julie had never felt happier. And while that terrified her, somehow it was right.
“Wait, how do you know?”
“That first time, when I kissed you in your office and nearly succeeded in groping you up your skirt. You had a moment where you said something, maybe without being aware of it, that made me realize you couldn’t tolerate my cologne. So I stopped wearing any.”
She sighed and snuggled into him, trying to square her satisfaction with her body’s still zinging need for him to make love to her.
“But for now, we have some New York-type stuff to do,” he said, kissing her hair.
By Saturday night they’d done every New York touristy thing they could find, including running in Central Park, going to the cheesiest Broadway musical possible, attending a confusing artsy-fartsy play that they left, giggling like little kids, during the intermission, after admitting they were bored. They saw the tree lit in Rockefeller Center and ended their next to last day wearing used, dull ice skates and holding each other for a few laps around the outdoor rink.
He’d left her alone for a while Sunday midday, and had remained true to his word by not kissing her or even acting like he wanted to. But they had talked, laughed, eaten, and drank, and she had never felt more comfortable with another human being in her life. His innate, sometimes eerie ability to anticipate every impulse she had – even going so far as ordering her entire dinner on Saturday at a trendy celebrity-chef restaurant when she dared him. He’d come up with an odd array of cheese-based appetizer, strong fish entrée, with a huge helping of kale and spinach on the side, and a rich chocolate pudding for dessert.
And he had insisted on feeding it to her, every single bite, making her blush and frown and hate to be causing such a scene. But once she realized no one was really paying attention, she gave in to it, let him do it, loving the way he blushed and had to shift in his seat when she kept grazing his fingertips with her lips and tongue during the appetizer course.
“I wish I could feed you all of this with my fingers,” he said low and raspy, as she sipped her big Italian red wine that complemented the meal to perfection.
“Me too,” she said simply, dabbing her lips and waiting for the next course. They sat together afterward in an awful but somehow wonderful horse-drawn carriage, hands clasped, legs covered with a smelly blanket. She put her head back, sucked in giant lungfuls of cold air, still not believing she was letting herself enjoy this.
“Stop trying to justify it, Julie,” he said, staring holes into her with those compelling hazel eyes. “Just go with it.”
She nodded, put her head on his shoulder, and did as she was told.
The few hours she was alone on Sunday were fine. He’d allowed her to use his laptop to access her cloud-based email and set herself at ease about any crises she might be missing back in Michigan. She smiled when James sent her a text.
I never heard from you again. Can I assume you repented and now all is well in Julie’s new man land?
She typed out a simple reply. Yes. It is. Thanks. Love you.
His answer shocked her. Darling, do not let me hold you back if you need to be released from our legal arrangement.
James, I just met this guy and he is… something odd and different and a whole lot of crazy. I don’t think I’m looking to marry him.
Just putting that out there. So you know.
She put the phone down and stared out the window, contemplating his odd offer. Marry again? Unlikely. So unlikely it was laughable… sort of. She bit her lip. Hard to know if she would ever marry a man who insisted on dominating her – calling himself her “Dom” even. She shook her head. Surely just getting laid should not be this challenging. Why did she even care that much?
But his words haunted her: “beyond your wildest dreams” kept her awake, even made her wish she had her stupid vibrator a few times just to take her edge off. She slept in the huge bed, alone. He made do on the leather couch without complaint. He would kiss her good morning and good night, leaving her panting, and ready to beg for more. But he would pin her with that look, and she’d have to look away and take her horny self off to bed alone.
By the time six o’clock rolled around, she decided to hit the hotel gym and spa, knowing Evan would show up in his own good time. He’d said he’d be at least until seven, maybe eight, but had a few surprises for her. She tingled all over and smiled at her own reflection in the giant elevator on the way down to put in an hour or so on the spinning bike.
She worked herself hard, pushing beyond her usual comfort zones, somehow sensing it was important to prepare her for whatever she was going to face as someone’s submissive. She stopped, put her hands on her hips, and tried to let the word not sound so foreign, so weak and victim-like. That was her issue, she knew. Putting herself in a position where a man, any man, could force her to do anything made a familiar panic ooze across her nerve endings.
Taking a breath, she climbed off the bike, dropped the towel in the bin, grabbed a fresh water bottle, and rode the elevator back up, determined not to worry or let fear of the unknown cause her to take it all back. Because she couldn’t now; she knew it. She had it bad for this man and needed to see it all the way through.
Chapter Six
The elevator doors opened onto a pitch-black suite. She frowned, worry pricking the edges of her brain. He wasn’t back yet? It was nearly nine o’clock. A match was struck, and the smell of sulfur and sizzle of a wick being lit made her jump. She took another step into the room.
By the time she’d made it to the central area of couches, end tables, and large television, there were about a half dozen fat candles burning, and her eyes had adjusted enough to see that the room’s furniture was gone. All that remained was the TV, the candles, and a two-person lounge chair, covered in what looked and felt like soft suede leather. A strip of black silk lay down the middle, separating the spaces. Evan stood on the other side, dressed in dark jeans and a tight grey t-shirt, his mouthwatering body highlighted – every muscle’s outline clear beneath the fabric.
“Go take a shower,” he said. “I’ll wait for you.”
She stumbled past him, her brain on fire with anticipation. This was it. Finally, he was going to… She shivered under the hot water, cleaned up, and slathered on fragrance-free lotion, then stood wondering what the fuck she was supposed to wear. Weren’t there costumes or some sort of get-up for her? Leather and high heels and ropes? She giggled like a goofball and called out to him to ask.
“Just dress in what makes you comfortable. A robe, or jeans and a sweatshirt, whatever.”
She frowned, but tugged on silky pajama bottoms and camisole, then pulled all that off and shrugged into the robe before cursing under her breath, ditching the robe, and sliding into jeans and one of his plain gray tees. She fiddled with her hair, wondered about makeup, then got mad at herself for being so fucking girlie.
“You are beautiful.”
She screeched and turned, gripping the bath vanity top to keep from falling over. Her knees shook, her face burned. But he smiled, held out a hand, and she followed him back into the other room. He settled her on the funky but somehow comfortable lounge-bed thing, handed her a glass of water. “What? No wine or beer?”
“No. These encounters need to be alcohol-free until we get more comfortable with our reactions.”
“Oh, well, okay.” She sipped her water and watched as he hit the remote and settled onto the lounge next to her. She smiled up at him. “You think you can tame this?” She pointed to herself, gave him her best please–just-fuck-me-now-Evan smile.
He chuckled, leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose. Then surprised her when he kept going, pressing his warm, full lips to her forehead, both cheeks, then covering her lips. She shifted, pulled him closer, and opened her mouth to him, relishing the way he seemed to take over. His kisses were calm, like everything about him. Urgent
, but in their own controlled way, which ramped up her need so fast she gasped, making her back arch and one leg drape over his, trying to yank him on top of her.
“Oh hell, Evan,” she whispered, fisting her hands in his thick hair as he kept moving those lips down her neck, tugging her shirt up and cradling a bare breast in one hand. “Let’s just, you know, break the damn ice… once… I don’t think I can wait. Seriously.”
Her words seemed to flip a switch in him. He stopped, took his hand out from under her shirt and pulled away, but never breaking eye contact. “Sorry, I lost it there for a minute.” He flopped over onto his back, leaving her to stare at him, including the very impressive line of his erection under the dark denim. She licked her lips. “I need you to tell me what happened to you, Julie. All of it. Do not spare me a single detail. I have my reasons, and we can call this practicing your trust thing with me. Okay?” He turned his head and met her eyes. She blinked, looked away. “I insist on it.”
His words, his proximity, his obvious need to stop all this go-slow bullshit combined in her brain. She took a breath. “I lost my virginity to a rapist. His name was Bart. He was my mother’s husband at the time. He broke my hymen with two fingers, then held me down on a small desk in a claustrophobic restaurant office and… and…” She gulped, but no tears fell. “It’s kind of odd, really, now that I, um, actually am talking about it. He intimidated me, emotionally abused me into hiding it from my mother for months.”
“Tell me exactly what he did to you. All of it.” Evan’s voice was tight. She looked at him long enough to see his face was red, his jaw was clenched. Something felt suddenly very wrong about this. She sat, facing away from him.
“What part didn’t you get, Evan? Rape? Fingers? Taking my virginity?” She glared at him over her shoulder.
“No, I mean, did he pretend to… did he try and… oh, hell.” He sighed and ran a hand down his face.
