Indulge Me

by J. Kenner

  “I know.”

  “And then they went around me.” I draw in a breath as I remember. “They passed on a curve. If the driver had shifted right and hit me from the side, I would have gone over. I tried to slow and fall back, but they did, too. And I was terrified that someone would come from the opposite direction, see them first, and move to my lane to get out of the way. There’d be no place for any of us to go except off the mountain.”

  I realize that he’s taken my hand and smile up at him, relishing the comfort that this simple touch gives.

  “There was a turnout coming up. I thought I should pull into it, but then I was afraid they would as well. And I couldn’t actually dial my phone without risking losing control of the car, and voice commands weren’t working. Probably because the signal is so crappy there. At any rate, I couldn’t call 911 or you.”

  I can still taste the terror. The fear that I was either going over that mountain or the guys in that car were going to force me off the road and—well, I really didn’t want to think about the and.

  “What happened next?” His voice is hard, his words measured.

  “They matched my speed. The passenger window was tinted. I only glanced over for a second. I needed to keep my eyes on the road. But then the window came down, right about the time we hit a straightaway. I noticed it out of the corner of my eye. And I glanced over and this kid was there in the passenger seat. Just your average kid, probably a senior in high school, maybe a freshman in college. I couldn’t see the driver, but the guy in that passenger seat was guzzling beer. Maybe they both were. And then he put his fingertips to his lips, blew me a kiss, and the driver hit the gas. A few seconds later they were gone. It was just me and the mountain.”

  “Oh, baby.” He folds me into his arms, his palm rubbing circles on my back as I cling to him, feeling stupid.

  “I had to pull over,” I whisper. “I had to sit in a goddamn turnout for fifteen minutes before I stopped shaking. They were kids. Just stupid kids out joyriding. And yet they scared me so much my skin still prickles from thinking about it.”

  “Rightfully so,” he says. “If they’d lost control of the car. If they’d had a blowout, or you had. Or if another car had been coming toward you…”

  He presses a hard kiss to my forehead, then moves his hands so that he’s cupping my face. “This is not an irrational fear, sweetheart. And it’s a good thing you don’t have the license plate or else I swear to God, I’d go to those assholes right now and wring their necks.” His eyes narrow. “Do you?”

  “No. I thought about it, but they didn’t have a front plate, and when they were beside me I couldn’t see the rear one. By the time they shot away, I was too freaked to remember.”

  “Probably just as well. I don’t have time right now to defend myself against a murder charge.”

  I actually smile at that. “Thank you. But it’s not just them. I mean, yes, I was scared. But you’re right. That fear is legitimate. It’s the other, though…”

  “The other?”

  I nod, trying to find the words. “It’s like I’ve been looking at the world through rose-colored glasses, and they stripped them away.”

  “Rose-colored glasses?” I hear the incredulity in his voice. “Our daughter was kidnapped. There’s nothing rosy about that.”

  “We got her back,” I whisper, tears pricking my eyes as I point toward Anne. “And she doesn’t even remember a moment of it.” I squeeze his hands. “You and I were broken when we met, Damien. Sliced into bits by the hell of our childhoods. Me, literally,” I add, and am gratified by his ironic grin.

  I squeeze his hands tighter. “All of the crap we went through before we got married—we survived. And then later, too. The miscarriage. The kidnapping. We’ve survived them all. We survived the dark together.”

  “Yes,” he says, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Yes, we have.”

  “I’ve relied on that. I’ve been nursing the illusion that you and I live in some magic bubble where everything will turn out for the best. But don’t you get it? Damien, the bubble’s burst. And even though we survived, I can’t help but be afraid of what’s still hiding out there in the dark.”

  Chapter Three

  I’ve been dreading this conversation, but now that we’re having it, I can’t help but feel relieved. Because I don’t want to keep my wounds from Damien. Not when he’s the one who has always helped me heal.

  I used to joke that Damien could remake the world to his will with nothing more than a sweep of his arm, and if that wasn’t enough, his checkbook could take over, and he’d remake it with a swipe of his pen. An exaggeration, of course. A joke, even.

  And yet some small part of me believed it to be true.

  No. Some part of me knew that it was true. Maybe not as to the whole world, but as to us. Him. Me. The girls. Our friends. Inside the bubble we lived in, Damien had that power. Even when the outside world would squeeze in through a pinhole, somehow Damien would shoot them down and shoo them away.

  Anne’s kidnapping was a huge breach in that bubble. But even then, Damien’s command and determination pulled us through, and we got our daughter back.

  We also got pain and fear and death and betrayal. And defeat, I add, thinking of the newest scar to mar my inner thigh.

  Even then, it took some crazy teens on a winding road for me to finally understand just how dangerous the monsters in the dark can be.

  I love Damien. More important, I trust him.

  But I’ve finally faced the realization that he can’t truly keep me or the girls safe any more than he could put that bubble back over our lives.

  That’s the truth. That’s reality. And yet thinking it feels disloyal.

  He’s watching me tenderly, studying my face. “Tell me,” he demands, and though it’s difficult, I lead him through the twisting path of my thoughts.

  “It’s never bad when illusions are shattered,” he says when I finish. “Facing reality is the truest form of courage there is. But that doesn’t mean you have to give in to it. Instead, you acknowledge it. You look it in the eye. And in that moment, you know that you’re strong enough to withstand anything. You, Nikki.”

  “Am I?” I know he believes it. He’s always seen a wellspring of strength in me that even the fact that I took a blade to my own flesh couldn’t squelch.

  And the irony? He’s right. I am strong. I’m even stronger with him at my side.

  But I’m also afraid.

  I think of the terror that burned through my blood on that dangerous mountain road. The similar pang I feel every time my girls leave my sight now, because I’ve seen the truth. I know that anything could happen to them. Anything at all. And not even a man like Damien Stark can ensure their safety.

  I meet his eyes. “Can you honestly tell me that your heart doesn’t tighten every moment they are out of your sight?”

  “Our girls? Of course it does. Every moment you’re away from me, too. But goddammit, I won’t cower forever just because horror came knocking. And I won’t let you, either.”

  I almost laugh, but I hold it back. I know this conversation is hard for him. Damien is a man who needs to be in control. But how can he control something uncontrollable, like an emotion? Like fear?

  “You’re an incredible man, Damien Stark. The best man I’ve ever known. But you can’t clear the path for me or for anyone. Not yourself. Not Anne or Lara.”

  “Nikki—”

  “No. I’m not finished. This isn’t about the car, not really. That was just a catalyst. Something that forced me to face a bigger reality. Before the kidnapping, I knew that bad things could happen. Now I know that bad things do happen. Monsters used to be the things of fairy tales. But they’re real, Damien. We’ve seen them. And they’re everywhere.”

  He gently pushes a strand of hair off my face. “That’s why I’m building Stark Security. To fight for you. To fight for the whole world. And that’s why I’m pulling in good people to help with the fight.”
r />   “I know that. And I think you’re amazing. But I still can’t—”

  “Yes,” he says, cupping my chin in his hand. “You can.”

  * * * *

  Of course he takes control in that Damien way he has, and soon enough, we’ve helped the girls finish the castle and the dinosaur pen. We’ve packed up all the plastic rakes and shovels, gathered the mesh bags full of shells, and double-checked that no one’s favorite toy has washed out to sea.

  Damien drags the blanket away so that he can shake it out downwind from tender little eyes, and I plop empty juice boxes back into the small, soft-sided cooler I brought with us.

  All things considered, you’d think we trekked across the island instead of down the boardwalk and across the sand.

  Now we all head back to where the weathered boardwalk traverses the dunes, leading up to the owners’ section of the resort. Our bungalow sits on two lots, and Jackson and Syl’s occupies the two opposite lots immediately across the boardwalk from us. That’s where we go now, as Damien has announced to the girls—and to me—that it’s time for them to visit their cousins.

  The girls have been coming here all their lives—or, more accurately, Anne has. Since we adopted Lara, she’s been coming all of her life with us. Either way, they both know their way around, and they scamper ahead.

  “Any particular reason you’re getting rid of the kids for the afternoon, Mr. Stark?”

  “Yes,” he says, turning to look at me just long enough to flash the kind of smile I’ve seen him use when Stark International acquires the assets of a company it intends to completely reorganize.

  I drag my teeth over my lower lip as I wonder what, exactly, he has in mind for me.

  We find Jackson on his back porch, a stack of architecture magazines on the table beside him. He’s paging through them, ripping out articles and photos that interest him and tucking them into a folder, then discarding the magazines’ remains.

  He looks up as we approach and smiles. Damien’s half-brother, Jackson, shares Damien’s dark hair and classic good looks. But whereas Damien’s eyes have a dark intensity, Jackson’s are an icy blue. “Did we screw up the time? Syl said you weren’t dropping the girls off until tomorrow morning. She just took the kids to the ice cream parlor.”

  Anne’s already squatting on the floor, her little hands reaching for the pile of magazine discards. Beside her, Lara grabs her crotch and announces that she needs to go potty.

  “You know where it is,” Jackson says. “Wash your hands.”

  “Okay, Uncle Jackson,” Lara says at the same time Damien tells her to take Anne. I expect an argument, but to my surprise Lara takes her little sister’s hand and leads her into the bungalow.

  “I was hoping we could beg a babysitting favor,” Damien tells Jackson. “I have plans for my wife tonight, and as much as I love my children, they don’t fit my itinerary.”

  “Oh?” I tease. “What kind of plans are those?”

  Damien looks at me, his expression reflecting a hint of surprise. “I assumed you knew. I plan on fucking you senseless.”

  “Damien!” Heat rises to my cheeks. I’d expected the plan. I didn’t expect that he’d announce it in front of Jackson.

  Jackson looks about to die with laughter. “You tossed a challenge in his lap,” Jackson says to me, with a sideways nod to Damien. “Come on, Nik. You should know better than that by now.”

  My blush remains, but I have to laugh, too. “I should,” I agree. “I really should.”

  We linger awhile, accepting sweet hugs and sloppy kisses from our girls before heading across the boardwalk to our bungalow. As soon as we’re inside, I wrap my arms around Damien’s waist and press close. He’s already hard, and I’m already wet, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s a very good thing.

  “I think you mentioned something about fucking me senseless.”

  For a moment, he says nothing. Then he says, “Take off your clothes.”

  I do, my body hyperaware of the brush of air over my heated skin. I stand obediently, curious about the edge to his voice and wondering what he has in store for us tonight.

  “Do you remember what I said at the beach?”

  “I—” I frown, trying to recall.

  “I said that I won’t cower to fear. And I won’t let you, either.”

  I nod, remembering. But I’m still confused. “So, you—”

  “You’ll do what I say, Nikki. Without question. Without argument.”

  I open my mouth, but I’m not sure if I’m intending to agree, argue, or ask a question. I see Damien smile, as if he understands my confusion.

  “You’re wondering why,” he says, and I nod. “Two reasons. First, because it makes me hard when you submit to me. But it’s the second reason that’s the most important. Because I’m going to push your limits, wife of mine. I’m going to take you outside of your comfort zone. And you’re going to do what I say, aren’t you? Because I ordered you to.”

  “Yes.” My voice is breathy, heavy with anticipation. “Yes, sir,” I amend as he cocks a brow.

  “And once I’ve pushed you to your limit over and over and over again, I’m going to demand one more thing of you. I’m going to order you not to be afraid. And what will you do then?”

  My voice catches in my throat as I answer. “I don’t know.”

  “You’ll obey,” he says simply. He closes the distance between us, then brushes his thumb over my lower lip. “Then you won’t be afraid anymore.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” I whisper.

  “Then we’ll make it true. Because you are strong, baby. Strong enough to face your fear. Strong enough to survive. And do you know why?”

  I shake my head.

  “Because you know that no matter what, you will always—always—have my strength to lift you up.”

  A lump fills my throat, and though I don’t even plan to say it, I find myself voicing my biggest fear, the one that is the motor for all the others. The one I don’t like to admit, even to myself. “What if my biggest fear is losing you?”

  “Oh, baby…”

  He reaches for me, his fingertips grazing my collarbone, then down to caress the swell of my breast before he lifts his fingers from my body and gently cups my face. “Don’t you know that could never happen?”

  “I know you’d never leave me,” I tell him, but I can’t bring myself to speak the true horror. As if saying the words would be a challenge to the gods.

  Damien, of course, understands me. “No,” he says with a gentle smile. “Not even that. You will always, always, have my strength. Because while death might keep me from your side, it can’t keep me out of your heart. Do you know why?”

  I shake my head, overwhelmed by his words. By his love. And by what I understand he is trying to give to me.

  “Because you’ve always been strong, baby. Strong and fearless. I’m just a lens that helps you magnify it. But if you had to, you could stand alone.”

  “Damien…”

  “As long as I’m on this earth, you’ll never have to.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but he shakes his head firmly. “No. Time to get on your knees, baby.”

  I don’t hesitate. That’s the game, after all, even though tonight feels like so much more than a game.

  “There’ll be no more talking,” he orders once I’m on the ground, my ass resting on my heels. “Not a word unless I ask you a direct question. Do you understand?”

  I nod, and earn a smile for my obedience.

  “The only thing those lips are for tonight is my pleasure. Kissing me. Sucking my cock. Are we clear?”

  Yes, I think as I move my head in a nod. Oh, God, yes. My entire body is tight with an anticipation that is almost too much to bear, especially when he walks toward me, his fingers nimbly unbuttoning his shorts.

  He stops just inches from me, then reaches down to stroke my hair. “Show me how well you can use that beautiful mouth,” he demands. “Make me come, Nikki. And when I
do, I want you to swallow every drop.”

  Chapter Four

  His cock might be hard, but right then Damien felt pretty damn impotent. He wanted to see her fearless, but at the same time he wanted her to know that fear wasn’t a weakness, just one more thing to conquer.

  Still, even with his famous powers of concentration, he couldn’t think about that now. Not when her wide, kissable mouth surrounded his cock. When her tongue was doing something magical, and her fingers at the base were bringing the show home.

  He reached out for the back of the sofa, steadying himself as a delicious pressure built inside him. Watching the movement of her head as she took him in. Letting a profound sense of awe overtake him from the simple knowledge that this incredible woman was his wife.

  His.

  And, goddammit, he took care of what was his.

  “Enough,” he said, the word more of a growl than he’d intended simply because of the rawness of the emotions that coursed through him.

  She was on her knees, looking up at him, playing their game, surrendering to him because she trusted him. Not just to help her overcome her fears, but because she simply did. She trusted him. Forever. And in all things. And if that didn’t fucking humble him…

  How did he deserve such a woman? Honestly, sometimes it baffled him. He’d meant what he said about her being strong and determined. She’d made her own life, after all, coming to LA against all odds, with a plan and a fierce determination to succeed.

  She’d had so much shit thrown at her over the years, too much of it because she’d fallen in love with him, and that had made her fodder for both the paparazzi and his enemies.

  She was exceptional, and it wasn’t fear he should be seeing in her eyes but determination.

  Determination.

  The word bounced in his head, teasing out a thought, maybe even a solution.

  “In the bedroom,” he ordered. “On your stomach, arms and legs spread.”