First Time

by Lynn Burke

  “Mother fucker,” he said, shaking his head. “Did you call the cops?”

  “Not yet.”

  Hooked up to fluids, and waiting for a doctor, Becky lay pale and unmoving.

  I pulled a chair forward and sat beside her, brushing dark strands of hair behind her ears.

  She shifted her face toward me, and I cupped her uninjured cheek.

  “I’ll stop in later,” Jarod said.

  I nodded without taking my gaze off Becky’s face.

  My body settled into the chair as the adrenaline dissipated, leaving me drained. My chest ached, and I wanted nothing more than to wrap Becky up in my arms and hold her close.

  I wanted to erase the memory of that day. Fill her mind and heart with laughter and light. I leaned forward and kissed her brow, nose, and cheek.

  “D-don’t leave me,” she whispered.

  “Never,” I whispered back, brushing my lips gently across hers.

  ****

  It wasn’t until two in the morning that they released Becky into my care. Welts, bruises, and a few lacerations along with a slight concussion … could have been a hell of a lot worse.

  She decided to press charges. Personally, I wanted the fucker shot.

  Cops. Paperwork. Exhaustion.

  Becky finally lay in my bed, the skin between her brows unlined, face relaxed.

  I stripped out of my clothes and crawled under the blankets beside her, keeping my body away from her bruised and battered form. Threading my fingers through hers, I brushed my lips over her forehead. “Sleep, sweetness. Rest and don’t worry about anything. I’ll be here.”

  Her trusting half-smile shot through my chest, and I stared at her face as her eyelids closed. Seconds later, her lips parted on a sigh, and I relaxed my head onto the pillow to watch her sleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  Becky

  Daniel roused me from sleep every two hours like he’d been instructed to do, blessedly tearing me from haunting dreams every single time.

  I’d been able to do little else than stagger along behind Stephen as he had pulled me from the car and into his house. Dizzy, confused, and unstable, I hadn’t thought to fight or cry out for help.

  God knew he didn’t have Daniel’s strength to lift and carry me up the stairs. Had I gone willingly to the playroom? I couldn’t remember.

  I hadn’t fought when he’d ripped my work clothes off of me. Couldn’t focus on the ceiling as he stretched my arms and legs out, tying me tight. I turned my head as he tried to shove the ball gag between my lips, and he clobbered me on the bruised cheek again. Darkness had crept in.

  The first strike of the cane had brought reality back with a mean bite. “Fucking whore!” Stephen had screamed, lashing out his raging madness over and over again until I could do nothing more than whimper, my throat raw and aching, tears and snot running with abandon.

  He had panted for breath. Had taken a break, leaving me in the cold room with the lights off, in and out of consciousness.

  Twice more, he took the cane to my body until his arms hung at his sides.

  I’d gladly given in to the black sucking on my soul when it came calling.

  Daniel hollering my name had jolted me awake, to a pain-flooded existence. I’d jerked against my restraints and tried to scream, new tears leaking from the corners of my eyes.

  My red-headed angel … giant…

  “Becky?” His warm breath caressed my lips as it had a dozen times or so.

  “Hmm?” I tried to turn toward his warmth, but pain wracked my body. I winced.

  “Here.” He lifted my head. “Pills.”

  I opened my mouth, and he dropped two tablets in. He held a glass of water to my lips, and I drank deeply.

  A sigh shuddered down through me, and I forced my eyelids up. Sunlight filtered through the blinds of his bedroom windows. “Time?”

  “Six. You’ve been sleeping for fifteen hours. How are you feeling?”

  “Sore, but finally somewhat lucid.” I tried for a smile and tilted my head to meet his gaze. A slew of emotions poured from his eyes and from my heart. I choked back an unexpected sob, and he lay down beside me. “H-hold me,” I said, turning into him, uncaring of the pain all down the front of my body.

  He wrapped his arms around me, and I cried against his rock-hard chest, my tears soaking his t-shirt. His hand smoothed down my back, slow circles and gentle squeezes as I unleashed a torrent of emotions, leaving me once more exhausted, but at peace.

  “There’s no better place than in your arms.” I finally broke the quietness of his bedroom.

  “You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear you say that.” His chest rumbled beneath my ear, and even though I ached, warmth grew between my thighs.

  I sighed and smiled, breathing in the citrusy scent of his cologne and the maleness of his skin. “You make everything go away. All of the bad. The ugly, until all I can think about, is you.”

  “You’re going to make my head swell,” he murmured against my hair.

  “Which one?”

  He chuckled and kissed the top of my head. “Both.”

  ****

  Two days later, the police still hadn’t been able to find Stephen. He must have returned to the house, the cops said, because the place had been ransacked, all of my clothing and possessions slashed and broken, littering every room.

  He’d done his worst while I had been there, though, screaming from the living room, laughing and smashing the figurines I had collected since childhood, letting me know which one was about to hit the wall. Every shatter from the downstairs had torn my heart a little more in two.

  Daniel had healed the wound, though, with gentleness. Kindness. Words of edification and encouragement. Although physical pain lingered, I drew strength and continued peace from being with him.

  Chantelle visited the day after I got out of the hospital and brought me some new clothes. I hadn’t had anything new in years since we only ever had money for the second-hand stores. Beautiful lacey panties and comfortable leggings and long shirts … couldn’t handle a bra due to the welts still healing across my chest.

  On the fourth day, I felt well enough to take a drive to the house and collect what things I could—with a police escort.

  Daniel held my hand as we walked up the crooked front walkway, the police sitting in their cruiser in the driveway. Still no sign of Stephen.

  My stomach twisted into knots as we entered the gloomy house. I stopped in the living room entrance, my gaze flitting over shattered figurines, the smashed desk I had used to pay the bills. Papers scattered over the floor amidst the many paperback novels I had often escaped into.

  The kitchen revealed more of the same, my grandmother’s old tin pie plates I’d had hanging on the wall as decoration bent in half and tossed on the table. My mother’s glass casserole dish with the yellow flowers lay in pieces beside the sink.

  Without uttering a word, I trudged up the stairs, hand still grasping Daniel’s.

  The bedroom mattress had been slashed apart, stuffing ripped out and thrown around the room. He had ripped all of my undergarments. Knifed my jeans, shirts, and sweatshirts.

  For whatever reason, he’d left the bathroom alone.

  I retrieved one of his old gym bags from our closet and threw in all of my personal care items, the hairspray I’d been missing, makeup, and hairdryer. Lone bag in hand, Daniel and I made our way back downstairs.

  One of the officers climbed from the squad car as we exited the house.

  “Thank you,” I said, smiling at the gray-haired man.

  “If you hear from him or see him, please let us know.”

  Daniel and I both shook the officer’s hand and climbed into his car, a huge sigh of relief blowing between my lips. “I never have to go back there.”

  “Never.” He put the car into drive and reached for my hand.

  Smiling, my heart light, I squeezed my fingers around his. Even though Stephen was still out there somewhere doing wh
o the hell knew what, I couldn’t have been happier. I finally understood the saying “free as a bird.” Almost as euphoric as the afterglow of a climax … almost.

  “Want to grab some lunch?” Daniel asked, taking back his hand to flick on the turn signal and take us back onto the highway.

  “Sure.”

  “What are you in the mood for?”

  The thought of his ropes and the hardness of his body came to mind, heating my face.

  He cast a sideways glance my way and merged onto 93 south, chuckling. “While I would love to fulfill whatever fantasy is running through your mind right now, you had a single piece of toast for breakfast.”

  “I was thinking—”

  “What the fuck!”

  Something slammed into my side of the car, and I grabbed hold of the dashboard as Daniel held the steering wheel steady. Heart in my throat, I glanced out the window.

  Stephen.

  “Look out!” I shrieked as he jerked the wheel and slammed the side of his car into Daniel’s again.

  “Call 911,” Daniel said, swerving into the far-left lane and putting cars between Stephen and us.

  I grabbed his phone from the console, my hands shaking. A woman’s voice came over the line and I started to tell her our emergency.

  “Fuck!”

  Stephen slammed into the back of Daniel’s car, jerking my head back. He stayed on the bumper, and Daniel fought to keep the car straight.

  Half-hysterical, I blubbered into the cell phone, trying to tell the woman what was happening, my head whipping around, trying to keep track of Stephen’s clunker.

  “Where are you? What mile marker?” she asked, voice calm.

  “I-I don’t—” I peered ahead, and Daniel sped up, swerving into another lane. “495 is right in f-front of us.”

  Stephen slammed into the driver side, and I shrieked, grabbing hold of the dashboard. Eyes wide and filled with madness, he met my gaze through the windows. He dragged a finger over his throat while drifting away.

  “Hold on!” Daniel slammed on the brakes as Stephen yanked his steering wheel our way.

  The front of Daniel’s car clipped the rear fender of Stephen’s, sliding him sideways.

  I blinked.

  The undercarriage of Stephen’s car filled our windshield and flipped away before I realized what had happened. Pieces of plastic and metal scattered as we slowed, two other cars skidding off the highway to avoid Stephen’s flipping car.

  We stopped.

  My heart thudded in my ears as I clutched the cell in my hand, fighting for breath.

  “Are you okay?” Daniel’s rumbling voice sounded far away as the woman on the phone spewed questions. “Becky.”

  I jerked my gaze off the mangled car resting on its roof in the middle of the highway.

  Daniel cupped my cheek in his hand. “Okay?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Stay here.”

  I nodded and realized the 911 operator was still trying to get my attention. “Th-there’s been an accident…”

  My focus went to Daniel as he strode toward Stephen’s car, but I answered the woman’s questions.

  “Help is on the way,” she said.

  I hung up and lifted my gaze to Daniel. He rounded the car, and I lost sight of him.

  Someone knocked on the passenger window, and I shrieked, shying away.

  A middle-aged woman waved, and I put the window down. “Are you okay?” she asked, light eyes filled with concern.

  “I-I’m fine.”

  “I called 911,” she said, glancing toward Stephen’s car.

  “M-me too,” I whispered, still clutching the cell in my hand.

  Daniel appeared on the other side of the car, face grim as he strode back toward me.

  I wanted to get out. I wanted to go see if Stephen was okay. I wanted to make sure that no one in the other cars around us had been hurt.

  My muscles refused to move.

  Daniel climbed back into the car.

  “S-Stephen?” I heard myself ask.

  Lips in a straight line, he shook his head.

  I blinked a few times before his meaning dawned on my brain. “Oh, God,” I whispered, my throat tightening.

  Stephen was gone.

  “Come here.” Daniel held out his arms and leaned toward me.

  I sank against him as much as I could with the console between us, my heart breaking but my eyes dry.

  ****

  I pulled an apple tart out of the oven, smiling at my latest creation. While I had been cooking and baking my whole adult life, I’d never found such satisfaction. Of course, using restaurant-grade appliances and an open grocery budget made things easier and fun.

  “That smells so damn good,” Daniel said, wrapping his arms around me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder.

  With my mitted hands, I covered his on my stomach. “My mom’s recipe.”

  “We ought to go visit them in Oklahoma.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes. It had been two days since Stephen’s ashes had been shipped back home to his family. I had taken it upon myself to call his parents. While I’d left out the sordid details that had led to his death, I did let them know that our relationship had ended. I hoped they would never know the truth.

  “Actually”—I closed my eyes and tilted my head back against Daniel—“I’m thinking that we ought to invite them here—if you wouldn’t mind opening your house up to them.”

  He kissed me beneath my ear. “It’s your house, too, Becky.”

  It wasn’t the first time he’d made the statement, and as with those times, I swallowed the lump rising in my throat.

  We hadn’t discussed a relationship. Hadn’t really said how we felt for the other. We also hadn’t had sex since Stephen had kidnapped me.

  My body was almost completely healed, and I longed for Daniel’s gentle touch beyond mere hugs and soft swipes of our lips. Perhaps he thought I didn’t want intimacy because of what Stephen had done. Perhaps he thought being tied up in his ropes would bring that day and its emotional upheaval back.

  Daniel was not Stephen, and I tired of waiting for him to make a move. I wanted to be bound by his ropes and swinging from that ring attached to the bedroom ceiling I’d been dreaming about.

  I pulled off the mitts and turned, lifting my face. Tracing my tongue along his lips earned me entry into his mouth, and he moaned, tightening his arms around me as our tongues slid along each other’s.

  “I want you,” I whispered.

  He groaned and palmed my ass, pulling me against his erection. Moisture sprang to life between my thighs, and I wiggled against him.

  “Are you sure, sweetness?” he asked, pulling back to peer into my eyes.

  “Yes, Master Cooney.”

  His lips twitched at my words, dark eyes filling with desire that weakened my legs.

  “I want you to tie me up, show me again how it’s supposed to be.”

  He picked me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, his hands grabbing my ass in a tight grip. “If you get even the slightest bit uncomfortable,” he said, striding toward the bedroom, “use your safe word, and I’ll stop.”

  “I will, Sir.” But, I had no intention of doing so. I knew I wouldn’t need to. The thought of being tied for his pleasure—and mine—filled me with longing. The apex between my thighs throbbed.

  He stood me on my feet beside the bed and stepped back. “Take off your clothes.”

  Heat swept over my cheeks, but I tugged off my jeans and underwear along with them. I yanked my sweatshirt and t-shirt off overhead, not even considering a slow striptease. I wanted Daniel to touch me, take away the memory of Stephen, and fill me with the peace as only he could.

  His gaze roamed down my body and back up again, as I trembled before him, hands fisted at my sides. He didn’t command me to kneel or suck him off first—he simply stared and licked his lower lip as his lounge pants tented.

  My mouth watered, and I dug my fingernails into my p
alms to keep from reaching for him. I shifted on my feet, my pulse thrumming and body quaking with need.

  Daniel lifted his gaze to my face, and the emotion in his eyes threatened to buckle my knees. He traced his fingertips down my cheeks, my neck, over the swell of my breasts, hardening my nipples to points.

  I stood panting, wetness coating my thighs as he retrieved ropes from the bottom drawer of his bureau.

  In silence, he began wrapping me in a chest harness, and I closed my eyes, giving over to the light touches of his hands and rope, moving with him as he bound my torso. My breasts hung free, but he tied my hands behind my back without discomfort.

  “On the bed, sweetness,” he whispered in my ear, sending a shiver of goosebumps down my body.

  I did as told, and he bound my ankles to my thighs, connecting the ropes to the back of the harness above my hands. My breathing grew shallow, quiet, although need still throbbed in my core.

  “I’m going to suspend you,” Daniel said with his rumbling voice, “then I’m going to take away every memory but me and how I make you feel.”

  A moan rose from my chest as I rested on the bed, eyes closed, my mind on the verge of floating.

  Whispered footsteps reached my consciousness, and a gentle tug hefted me into the air. My head hung relaxed, breasts swinging, the harness at my lower back distributing my weight along the loops and knots wrapped around my body. I envisioned the ropes as his hands, holding me, caressing me, keeping me in his care.

  “You look so beautiful,” he said, running his hands along my legs, squeezing and kneading my flesh between the loops. “I’ve wanted you like this for so long … I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”

  “Please…” My whisper sounded from far off, an echoing in the placid quietness of my mind.

  Daniel turned me and stepped between my legs, sliding a finger down through my folds to my clit. “So wet.”

  I groaned, trying to press into his touch, but couldn’t move. Completely at his mercy, I whimpered, my thighs trembling.

  He pressed the tip of his penis against me and grabbed hold of my hips, pulling me onto his hard length. We both groaned as he slid in deep, hitting my cervix.