by JR King
Valerie was also the first woman I cut. Don’t try this at home. Extensive research and a first aid kit recommended if you do it. Consider Bernard Baruch; every man has a right to his own opinion, but no man has a right to be wrong in his facts. Cutting is like that. The affair lasted more than two years. And no, she had no kinks, S&M I discovered when I studied magazines classmates brought to school. Our relationship neared its finish line when Valerie retrieved hope. For shame, but there were no theatrics. She moved away to build a new life. Our last months together were significant; she stopped doubting her ability to survive and I was ready to date girls my age. Why I wasn’t quite interested in fucking girls my age is a much shorter story…one for another time.
Anyway, by the time I finished telling Elena the story, I was standing before a window. “That’s about it. Do I disgust you?”
With a low, throaty laugh, she pushed me backward onto a recliner. All her primness was gone. She crawled over me like a child, tugging off my Ralph Lauren oxford pajama shirt, fumbling with the elastic band of my pants. Clawing and ripping at her clothes, I was equally inelegant in my attempt to undress her.
“Elena?” I gripped her wrists and with my other hand I reached up to cup her chin, forcibly tilting her head to me. I needed to be sure, needed to witness tendrils of love framing her face. “Babe, are we okay?”
I got a breathy little murmur. “I think you’re sweet…and weird.” A light glimmered in her eyes, like the reflection of a bonfire, little glints allover that took my breath away. “Good weird, that is. Valerie was lucky.”
Eyes locked with hers, I slowly began trailing my hand down her neck, feeling the quickening pulse of her blood coursing through her body. I moved my hand down further and stroked the delicate mound of a breast, grazing my thumb over a nipple. Pinching it hard, I let out a growl as I felt flesh rolling between my fingers. “You’re good weird too. Let’s be good weird together, then.”
Notice she wasn’t shocked upon hearing I cut Valerie?
My turn to take her breath away, making her buck against me, nails digging into my flesh. I’d told Elena I would never break her down, which was a total lie. I wanted to break her in such a way that she’d come crawling to me, begging. I considered it as I gently screwed her. Mean, aren’t I? Realize that I’d never welsh on something previously agreed on. I just wanted to test this girl’s strength of mind.
Elena Anderson
The Expected Return
On the eve of the Tolkienesque one-month isolation, Alexander seemed hot under the collar. Far away, too. His cock glistened in his hand as he stroked himself. He stayed silent and spun me around, grabbing my hair and pulling me higher on the bed, forcing me on my knees. Once at the correct height, he moved onto the bed behind me, still not speaking. No comforting words, or commands to follow. Just silence and oil-slicked skin. His hands moved over my hips, drawing them upward so that my face was pressed into the bed, my behind high in the air. He fucked me like that for a long time, and never spoke. If it weren’t for the brutal thrusts, you’d think he wasn’t there.
“How close are you?” I finally heard a dark rumble. His bedroom voice was strangely soothing, a kind of auditory magic that slips inside you.
“I’m not.”
I felt his fingers in my hair, entwining themselves in my damp tresses. He gripped them firmly and drew me back to him. My body arched as I yielded to the force—to him. His teeth dragged across my skin as he let out a growl, “I’m sorry.” His fingers tightened in my hair, his nakedness firm against my fragileness. I felt the fingertips of his free hand tracing the curve of my spine, from the nape of my neck to the point where my waist flared. “Lift your behind so I can go deeper.”
I breathed in sharply and did as I was commanded. A single tear glistened on my cheek as he began pumping deeper into me.
“I will move like this,” he murmured, moving his hips against mine in a circular motion, “so you can savor every inch of my body as I’m savoring yours.” I could feel his heavy balls press against me with every turn. “Mine,” he whispered into my neck, “all mine since…,”
“I’m close. Don’t stop,” I moaned. I don’t know how long he moved inside me like this, or how many times I came from the sensual grinding. All I know is that by the time he reached his peak, shuddering like a wet animal, the wetness of his semen stung my sore, abraded flesh.
The next morning, I found several casual dresses arranged on a chaise longue in the dressing room. The handwritten note said: Be wearing one of these when I come home for you at eleven. Despite myself, a little smile forced its way onto my face. What was the plan?
I stripped and showered, then put a Stella McCartney scalloped sheath dress on, adding a lacy white La Perla thong and shiny nude patent-leather pumps to the ensemble. I flew down the grand staircase in my usual manner; like a poor man’s Scarlett O’Hara. Exactly at eleven I heard the roar of his limousine as it pulled into the driveway. I couldn’t stop myself from checking my reflection in the long mirror before I pulled on my coat and shouldered my handbag. I met him at the front door, and found him similarly attired for a day out. He generally didn’t wear a simple Massimo Dutti business suit with a Cartier tie clip. He also wore the same sly smile he had the first time I’d met him.
“Let’s go,” was how he exuberantly greeted me.
Damnably attracted to him, I felt off-kilter. “Good morning, Alex,” I drawled, smiling as I walked toward him.
“You’re looking gorgeous as ever in white,” he answered.
“And you’re looking debonair as ever.” I raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Where are we going?” There was a bit of anxiety in it—okay, a lot—but there was also genuine curiosity. On Groundhog Day, my grandparents never stayed at home, that much I knew, and I hadn’t returned grandpa’s call.
“That’s part of the surprise.” He held the shiny passenger’s door open for me. “Have you something against surprises, Ms. Anderson?”
“Not at all, Mr. Turner.”
We headed north out of the suburbs. Alexander glanced at me briefly but didn’t say anything. He sat back, looking utterly relaxed even as the landscape raced by in nothing but a grayish blur. The car was careening down a scenic four-lane highway at over sixty miles an hour.
“Elena? Did you not hear me?”
I grabbed the glass Alexander held out at me and sipped the amber liquid, wincing at the harsh taste and searing burn. It was a swallow by force of will, so the heat of the alcohol could spread outward from my gut. “Thanks, Alex.”
“Don’t mention it.” He sagged back in his seat, one arm thrown across his face. Soon, we traded the quietness for a busy periphery. I stared out of the window, enjoying the way the rolling, sun-kissed vista complemented my growing curiosity about the destination.
“It’s over,” Alexander sighed, bringing me back to reality, “you can go wherever you want. It was a teachable moment for refusing me.” I wondered if this even qualified as reality because it felt less real by the minute.
“A comeuppance? Stop talking in riddles, Alex, and tell me why.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t stir up things you shouldn’t.” His voice was quiet, as if deceptively hiding something, some bleak punishment I could only guess at this point. “All I can say is that you deserved this for running away from me.” It looked like his eyes considered a thought with interest as his face became harsh; a look that quickened my heartbeat, but also frightened me a lot. “On second thought…,”
He didn’t finish, and my hands, resting on the rear seat center armrest, froze. I’d almost made it through the month unscathed. “Yes, Alex?” I found his piercing gaze. There was silence for a few seconds. “Don’t make me regret this,” I told him unhappily, expelling a small breath as I turned my face away.
I felt his fingers on my chin, pulling my gaze back to his face. “Is that all I am to you? A choice you might one day regret?” His thick forearm barred my neck, cutting off my cry midstream.
The force of it almost lifted me off my seat. I tried to prise the arm away but only ended up scratching at the skin of my own neck. Had I been firmly seated on my ass, I could have connected my heel to his shin, but I had no balance, no leverage to hit anything. “Am I expendable to you?” He moved his arm off my windpipe, and the air I didn’t even realize I’d been trying to gulp down entered my lungs.
“You’re hurting me, Alex.” His fingers dug into the hollows at my cheeks, squeezing until the pain brought tears to my eyes. “Please stop this,” I tried louder, trying to shake my head loose of the awful pain.
“You sure had this coming.” He released my jaw, but only to plant a stinging slap on the side of my cheek. It wasn’t hard, but it staggered me. Clutching my hair, he dragged my head to his. To stop him from pulling my hair out of my head, I let him. His thumb stroked my lower lip. This was such a real fulfillment of a ravishment fantasy that I had to quell a shiver. “Do you have any regrets?” His fingers firmly cupped my chin.
“Absolutely not.”
“That’s my girl.” The fingers around my chin tightened, and his other hand came up to behind my head to twine itself around my ponytail. I thought he would remove the hair tie, but instead he jerked my ponytail, holding my face trapped at an upward angle.
Making a sound of protest, my hands flew up of their own volition to stop his hand from pulling harder. I found his wrist, knotted with hair, pulling harder as I tried to stop it.
When the limo bounced over a pothole in the road, he tightened his hold. Tears welled up in my eyes. “It hurts…my head hurts.”
With a deft movement, his hand captured both my wrists in an iron grip while the other one let go of my ponytail, my face leveled to his. The last thing I saw before his lips clamped down on mine was that his eyes had darkened into a stormy grey.
I had expected this kiss. He was a cruel man, and yes, it was a cruel kiss, a declaration of control. What I hadn’t expected was my gloried response to it, hopeless lust zapping my will to fight. Or perhaps I just liked releasing my pain into his mouth. He stroked my cheek expertly while he assaulted my lips. Releasing my wrists, his other hand encircled my neck like a collar. It was the most frightening and erotic deed. The instant he nipped my lip, my body involuntarily arched toward him, and an indecent picture reared its ugly head in my mind: the image of his hard body above me blocking light and air as he thrust deep into me.
Shocked, I gasped against his lips. He wrenched his mouth from mine, and we stared at each other. His dark grey pupils nearly looked black and he was breathing slow but hard, the breathing of a man who exerted extreme control over his body. A part of me feared him, I wasn’t sure I would emerge from this relationship without a scratch. The other part wanted him to own my heart and soul.
My uncertainty must have showed on my face. His face lost its harshness, and he smiled grimly. “You’re driving me crazy.”
I closed my eyes in a mixture of relief and apprehension, my forehead sagging against his.
His voice softened. “Do you regret anything?” The fingers around my throat tightened a fraction.
“I don’t,” I admitted hoarsely, swallowing a ball of fear.
His chest relaxed, sighing when he released me. All at once I could see the city skyline looming in the distance as the horizon opened up to us.
“Alex, are we going to the city?” I leaned in closer to catch another whiff of his cologne.
He stared at my lips then his eyes flickered to mine. “Maybe.”
“Maybe,” I repeated the word as though I was trying to find the right English accent to go with it.
Eventually the car found its way through ever more familiar streets, and since Alexander’s unpredictability was usually a reward, I kept praying it were true. When the car rounded the block, there was only one house I saw. Other signs of humanity were lost to me.
“Thank you, Alex.”
“Then why the fuck are you crying?”
I hadn’t realized I was. Ignoring the jibe, I blinked and dried my tears, reaching for my clutch bag. “I’m so sorry. I’ll fix my appearance.”
He gave me my clicker, and I used it. By the time the car stopped I was presentable anew. Alex got out first, and when I followed, all I could hear was a rumble of thunder overhead.
I touched his arm as he started to move away. “How do they know?”
The sly smile reappeared on his face. “Meredith sent flowers yesterday. They’re only expecting a delivery.” He walked around to the rear of the car and retrieved a large Furla holdall.
“An overnight bag?”
“In case they invite me to stay over. No separation.” I caught the hint of irritation in his voice above the ambient noises around us.
I wadded up my scarf into a ball and placed it in my handbag. “Of course.” I didn’t want to spoil anything for either one of us, a deeper and more visceral want than I’d ever felt before.
“Elena, what the eye doesn’t see, the heart doesn’t grieve over.”
“All my grandparents will get to see is that I’m happy, Alex.”
En route to the den, I slalomed through rooms and groupings of furniture. “May I be of some assistance, ma’am?” I mimicked a bowlegged slouch.
“El, how…,”
I barreled into grandma’s arms. “Happy Groundhog Day to you.”
She stood speechless, staring, her mouth agape, too. Yes, I thought, in person he looks better than on TV, no crow’s lines, no grey hairs—yet. He ran six miles a day on a Star Trac treadmill, did one-handed push-ups and bench-presses twice his own weight, swam laps and held his breath underwater for three minutes. Not many thirty-four-year-old men could produce the energy of a sixteen-year-old, but Alexander came pretty damn close to it.
“Kiddo, you’re back!”
At the sound of grandpa’s voice, I raced toward him like a bat out of hell, flapping arms, my stiletto heels silent on the shag-woven area rug. Comfy knits were his favorite. He was dressed in casual dark slacks with a white button down shirt, and in typical grandpa fashion, the sleeves of the Brooks Brothers sweater on his back were looped like an ascot around his neck.
He tugged me into a fiercely tight hug, then swept me up in his arms and twirled me around as he pecked my cheeks. “I knew it, you sounded too cagey on the phone each time we spoke,” he laughed, lowering me back to the floor.
“Gramps, this is, uh, this is that…this is my friend…you know…from the pictures. Alexander Turner.” I pointed my finger directly at my boyfriend. Or lover. Smooth, Elena, really smooth.
Alexander came forward, extended his hand, and gave grandpa a dazzling smile, confident and proficient. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Anderson.”
“Mr. Turner.” Grandpa stretched out a hand to him and shook his, keeping an equally professional composure.
“Oh, cut it, you two.” Grandma shook her head, meeting Alexander’s eyes. “I’m Julie, and the stiff one’s Frank.”
I giggled at hearing that.
“Call me Alex,” answered Alexander with a smile, brushing against my shoulder as he stepped up to shake grandma’s hand.
I asked, “Big lunch together?”
“The more the merrier,” grandpa answered, pulling me in for another rib crushing hug. “I have an idea where you’ve been staying for the past weeks, but tonight you’re staying here, El. Alex, there are five guest bedrooms, you pick the one you like most to spend the day.”
“Shush, Frank.” Grandma again. “They’re acquainted enough to sleep in the same room. We don’t want to interfere, do we?”
“Thank you, Frank. Julie, no disrespect, but this little girl snores. I mean, if anything, having my own bedroom comes as a relief.”
“Liar! Alex is such a liar!” I rushed to him, tackling him against the wall as I hugged him, pecking him right on the lips. “Thank you,” I whispered. “You’re the best, Alex.”
“You’re welcome, love,” he whispered back. Something like a smile
, but thinner and firmer crossed his face. Was he angry? Then, just like that, he disentangled himself from my arms, his face becoming pinker than I’d ever seen before. Weirdly endearing to see that the unembarrassable Alexander Turner was, apparently, thoroughly embarrassed about PDA.
“I brought you something,” he announced. I stood there, smiling as I watched the three of them exchanging pleasantries, surprised by the scene. Surprised by how much my world had changed in a month. The bottles of Wild Turkey and Château Cheval-Blanc grandpa received made his eyes gleam like clear blue water against a yacht, and grandma hugged the Van Cleef & Arpels minaudière to her chest. Alexander told them that I’d been staying at his estate because I needed a break from it all. I reflected on how sick the pantomime was, but only for a second.
“I chose it all,” I butted in.
Said Alexander, “Raining on my parade, sweetheart?”
Grandpa said, “You kids go get changed. Franks and beans? Baked the goods last night, some seasoning and it’s good to go.”
“Okie dokie! With smoked chili peppers, please,” I acknowledged.
“C-chili…peppers?” Alexander hackled.
Three of us laughed, while one looked like a deer caught in headlights.
The guest room Alexander chose was the one farthest from mine.
“What about the cameras, Alex?” I found myself saying, as if from a distance.
He shook his head firmly, winding my hair around his hand as he dragged me closer. “The past is a foreign country, remember?” He kissed me, roughly, and when he pulled away his eyes were dark as jet, heavy with lust. “No more cameras for us. Well, except the security ones.”
“No sex-tapes?”
He laughed, humorlessly though.
“Thank you for the gifts. You’re generous to a fault.” He swallowed audibly when I leaned up on my tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. There was a strange sense of vulnerability coming from him, which would make it impossible to forgive myself if I did something wrong. “What’s wrong?”
