by Riley Ashby
Did I want to avoid heartache badly enough to stop what was happening now?
I wrapped a towel low around my hips, tightened the strap on the top to pull my breasts up higher, and went back to the pool.
I floated on my back in the pool. I was the only one in the room for the moment. The sound of the water lapping off the sides of the pool echoed off the walls, lulling me to a temporary peace. I felt like shit for playing her, but she knew the score. She was happy to be putty in my hands, and I sure loved to hold her.
I moved my feet to the pool bottom as the door opened, turning to see her walking in with a towel wrapped around her lower half. She didn’t look at me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she walked to the chaise next to the one I had left my shirt on. She kept her back to me as she dropped the towel, revealing her ass and legs an inch at a time.
She still didn’t turn fully toward me, choosing instead to walk to the deep end of the pool and climb in via the ladder. She didn’t flinch in the cold, dunking herself to her shoulders all at once and then kicking off the wall to glide on her back across the water. I swam over and intercepted her, pulling her against me. Her legs went immediately around my waist.
“Why do you care at all?” she asked, running her hand over the sunburst, her fingertips finding the scar buried beneath the ink.
“I’m getting paid.”
“I don’t think that’s it.” She pushed down a little onto my stiff cock. My hands roamed her body, touching the soft flesh of her torso left exposed by the bikini.
“You drive me insane. You’re the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen in my life, but when you look at me, all you see is an overlord. Someone to tell you what to do because you’re not able to make your own decisions anymore.”
“I was making my own decisions. You decided you didn’t like that.”
She pushed my wet hair back from my head and ran her fingers through the rough curls of my beard. I was ready when she leaned forward to kiss me, turning my head at the last second so her lips landed on my cheek.
“And besides, you’re using me too. You think I didn’t see how much you liked it when I called you daddy?” She grinned as my cock jumped between us. “It could be like that all the time if you’d let me kiss you back.”
“I don’t want something corrupt, Josie. I’m not interested in fucking you in order to fulfill some fetish.”
“That’s not what I want, either.”
She pushed out of my arms and slipped underwater, swimming to the far end, as far as she could get from me. I followed, suddenly spurred on by the way her body looked moving underneath the water. She started to climb out of the pool before I dragged her back into my chest, and she couldn’t help laughing just before I pulled us both beneath the surface.
She pushed her hair out of her eyes as we rose back into the air. “You’re being oddly playful for someone who until now has been so intent on pushing me away.”
I pulled her legs back around me and stepped back where it was deeper, where she couldn’t touch the bottom, the water lapping at her chin as I supported her above the surface. “You’re the one in that bikini with your tits pushed up to your chin.”
Her smile told me she’d hoped for exactly this reaction. She drew her shoulders back to press them harder against my chest. “I was going to leave you alone. Respect your wishes.”
I shook my head. “You need someone to tell you what to do. You have no head for keeping yourself safe, even after living through a hell most people could never imagine.” I tapped the side of her head. “They did a number on you in here.”
“And you want to be the one to, what, fix me up so I can survive on my own?” She cocked her head at me. “I don’t think you want that at all. I think you like me right here, wrapped around you and waiting for your next directive.” Her fingertips danced along my shoulder blades, tracing the ridges of my spine. “I don’t think another girl could give you quite the same thrill. I don’t think you want someone who obeys you just because it’s a kink.” She grazed her lips along my cheek, tickling the short facial hair. “I think you want me because no other girl could make you quite as hard as I do.”
When she moved to kiss me again, I let her. It was so innocent it was almost virginal, the gentle press of her lips against mine without a hint of wanting anything more. She didn’t open her mouth and didn’t try to lick me. She waited for me to take the lead, pushing open her lips with my tongue at the same moment I shoved her back against the side of the pool, jerking her legs tighter around me and finally, finally sliding my hand into the hair at the back of her head so I could hold her against me while I let some part of me crack open and spill into her.
And she … she returned it all with equal fervor, flattening her body against mine as tight as she could manage, though it had to be difficult for her to breathe. The weak fingers of her right hand clasped as tightly as they could against my hair, her left hand digging sharp fingernails into my back.
The door slammed open, and we jerked apart as a chattering group of young women who had to be about Josie’s age spilled into the pool, heading straight for the hot tub at the far end of the room.
With their presence, my good sense came flooding back. I pushed her legs off me and stepped back, willing my cock to calm down and not embarrass us both in front of these girls who were already giving us the side-eye as they stepped into the spa. When I looked back at Josie, she cocked her head at me before heading for the steps she’d tried to escape to earlier. She climbed out of the pool, swaying her hips, and stood dripping by the window looking out over the city. It wasn’t quite the view we had from the penthouse, but it was still gorgeous. I remained in the water, trying to get my cock to relax.
“This is corrupt too, you know. Even knowing you’re just doing this to control me, how do you think I’ll feel when you leave?” She turned to look over her shoulder. “Unless you’re thinking of staying?”
I shook my head. “A few more weeks to let things cool down, and then I’ll be reapplying.” They’d have to listen to me, have to understand why I did what I did and give me another chance to prove my loyalty. “With any luck, I’ll be back in Virginia by fall.”
She turned back to the window but not before a shadow crossed her face. “I could go with you.”
“No,” I said, a little too quickly. She shrank in on herself, hunching her shoulders. She shivered a little as the pool water dried in the air.
I got out of the water, wanting to comfort her even as I told myself to stay away, but she blew by me to grab her towel and wrap herself up before I could get within reaching distance.
“It’s nice to play,” she said, “but it’s not enough.” She leveled me with a glare. “You’re not the only one who could get hurt here.” With that, she turned and left.
I sat in the chaise, pulling my shirt back over my head even though my skin was still damp. I could feel where her fingers had traced over the designs on my arms. I wanted to savor that sensation a little longer while it still lingered.
I had no willpower whatsoever. He left me alone for the afternoon, though the door between our apartments never closed. If I left my living room, he appeared in the hallway, ensuring I didn’t spend too long in the bathroom. But when I walked toward him, reaching out my hand unconsciously, he spun away and returned to his own side.
And then … he reappeared. His hand landed on my shoulder, trailing up my neck to turn my head toward him. I turned my entire body, angry for giving in so fast. That show in the pool, telling him I didn’t want to be a plaything any more than he did, he knew I was bluffing. Because I wanted his attention and his affection, and he would have mine as long as a promise of something, anything more lingered.
“I ordered food for us. Come over.” Then his hand was gone. He stepped back to give me space, but his eyes remained on me as I stood. He led me to the table, pulled out my chair, and served me pizza like we were at a fucking restaurant.
“Chew mor
e slowly,” he commanded, and I did.
“Drink your water,” he instructed, and I obeyed. His words gave me a better sense of calm than any alcoholic drink ever could. In fact, he started to pour me wine, then hesitated when he saw my uninterested expression. He set the bottle aside without pouring for himself, either.
He tented his fingers under his chin, forearms bulging as he leaned toward me slightly. I tried not to look at him. I tried so hard but crashed and burned.
He was right. I was completely useless on my own. Without someone—him—to guide me, I’d have followed anyone. Obeyed the commands issued to me on any photographs.
The photographs!
“Have there been more letters?” I asked in a rush, the spell slightly ruptured as the real world came rushing back to me. “Is he mad that I didn’t show up?”
His eyes flitted and his mouth twisted as he weighed whether to answer me. His palms fell flat against the table as he sat back a little in his chair.
“There wasn’t anything today.”
I slumped against my seat. I couldn’t help being a little let down. Not knowing why Chad was so intent on reconnecting with me was worrying a hole in my brain.
“Hey,” Archer said, commanding my attention back to him. “I told you not to worry about it. I’ll get it figured out. If you need to know something or if I have questions, I’ll ask you. But I don’t want you to get yourself all worked up over this. No one can harm you in here.”
I nodded and attempted to resume eating, noticing the way he slid another piece of pizza onto my plate the moment I finished the first. Fatty foods, and large quantities of them. Even before he decided to own me, he’d been working on feeding me.
“When did you start caring about how much I ate?”
I expected him to be put off by the question, but he just looked at me as he took another bite of his third slice. Chew. Swallow.
“When I came back from my run one day and caught you throwing up.”
I choked on my bite, and his chair scraped against the floor as he ran around to pat my back, holding my hair away from my face as I hunched over.
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” I waved him away, but he still stood next to me as I swallowed and took a drink of water. When he went back to his chair, he continued.
“I mean, I saw you eat. But you weren’t gaining weight. I saw it in your chart; I heard the nurses talk about it. And then I heard you one day in the bathroom. I figured you didn’t have an eating disorder; if anything, you were repulsed by your thinness. It was just another slow suicide attempt.”
My cheeks burned with shame. How had he seen through me so clearly right from the beginning? We barely knew each other then; I was still in too much pain to want to talk. He was out of the room more often than he was in it. And then one day …
“I went to that authentic Greek restaurant. My favorite to eat at while I was working on the case. I ordered two gyros. And when I came into the hospital room, you sat up right away. I don’t even think you noticed the way your head followed me as I took my food to my chair and started eating.”
“And then I asked about it. It smelled so good, and I was so hungry.”
He nodded. “And, conveniently, I said they had given me two on accident.” He laughed a little. “You ate it so fast I thought you’d be sick anyway. That was when you started talking to me.”
I bit my thumb, remembering. It had been easy to get rid of the food when it was disgusting and left me unsatisfied, but after the perfectly seasoned meat, I’d had no desire to purge. Archer pulled up his chair next to my bed, something he’d never done before, and turned on the TV.
“I got surprisingly invested in this soap opera a few weeks ago,” he’d said. “Let’s see how much we’ve missed.” He explained all the plots to me, the mistaken identities and kidnapped babies and tales of revenge spanning generations compressed into one hour a day. I couldn’t have purged with him in the room, and I didn’t want to get up anyway. It was too nice having him talk to me because that was what I’d been missing. Communication. Connection. Someone willing to talk to me about something other than blood pressure numbers and my pain levels. A person who wasn’t asking me to relive my trauma or talk about my feelings and whether I was still feeling the urge to harm myself.
A man whose eyes roamed my body when he thought I wasn’t looking, inspecting my skin for new bruises I might have self-inflicted, and checking the bandaging on my hand to ensure I hadn’t tampered with it.
That first meal we had together was the day after I unwrapped it and saw firsthand the permanent damage I’d done to my own body. Once he and I connected, I didn’t feel the need to punish myself quite so much.
That was why I had been so scared when he said he wouldn’t come with me. I kept it under control while he was in the room, but inside, my heart was thundering. If he left me, I’d lose my motivation to get better. I knew better than to hinge my recovery on one man, especially one who, at the time, barely tolerated me, but in one afternoon, he became the axis of my rapid downward spiral, holding me a little bit steadier even though the effort of living day to day still left me breathless and dizzy. When he was around, it was that much easier to breathe.
“Josie?”
I’d drifted off. I raised my eyes to his to find him looking at me with real concern. He thought I was spinning out again.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I was just remembering.”
“You dropped your napkin.”
Indeed, it had fallen right into my food.
“Sorry,” I said automatically, then, “Sorry, for apologizing.”
He frowned deeper. “What were you thinking about?”
I removed the napkin and resumed eating. “You’d rather not know.”
“Josie, tell me.”
I shook my head. “This is one thing I won’t obey you on.” He was angry with me, brow furrowed, but I was resolute. “You’ve made it clear how this is meant to be, Archer. Unless you’re planning on changing that, this is something I’ll be keeping to myself.”
He set down his own napkin and ran his hands through his hair. “You frustrate me to no end.”
“Well, that makes two of us.”
We resumed eating in tense silence, so different from our days in the hospital or the way we’d interacted just minutes before. I forced my eyes to stay on my plate and cleared the food in record time. Archer moved to shovel more onto my plate, but I held up a hand to stop him.
“Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.”
He was still grumpy. “I’d like you to eat more.”
“I will if you want me to,” I whispered, “but I really am full.”
He nodded, accepting that. Believing me. I didn’t try to make more small talk as he finished eating and cleared the plates. I sat still and silent, only reaching to pour myself a small measure of wine once he came back to the table. I offered it to him, eyebrows raised, and he took it from me.
“Don’t do those things for yourself. That’s what I’m supposed to be doing. Do you understand?”
I nodded cautiously, unable to quell the rush of excitement in my stomach. How did he do that so easily? He acted like I was the aggressor, pushing him into something he’d fought against tooth and nail, but I was completely helpless around him. The only reason I couldn’t back off was because I knew, deep down, he wanted me just as much as I wanted him.
Please just love me. My own thoughts were pathetic. How more transparent could I be? But there was no fighting the way he made me feel—I had tried for weeks.
He took me back to my apartment, supervising me as I brushed my teeth and changed into my pajamas. He wasn’t afraid I would hurt myself; he wanted to be in charge of me. And I reveled in the direction he gave me. He was as much a glutton for this lifestyle as I was, but he was so self-righteous he refused to admit it to himself.
As I slid beneath the sheets that he held back for me, I expected him to leave, but he gestured for me to move over sl
ightly so he could slip in behind me.
“Sleep,” he commanded as he wrapped his arms around me. His voice was feather soft. I leached the heat out of his body, timed my breathing to his heartbeat against my back, and did as he said. And when I woke up the next morning, he was still there.
I had to do what I promised her and buckle down on Chad. When I walked into her kitchen the next day, new photographs were waiting for me—the two from the night she snuck out and the letter she had mentioned.
“How could you keep this from me?” I hissed at her. She had the good grace to look a little ashamed. “I could have been looking into this already. We could have even set up some way to supervise that meet-up spot and get eyes on him for once. This could be over by now, Josie, if you hadn’t been so damn stubborn.”
She bit her lip as she looked up at me, and I swear she did it because she knew how much it drove me crazy. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I wanted to have something that was mine. And you’ve been so focused on pushing me away …”
I was next to her in two steps, pulling her against my chest before she could finish the thought. “Well, I’m keeping you close now. None of this belongs to you anymore. Do you understand?” I held up the photos for emphasis, and she nodded.
“I won’t keep that from you anymore.”
“Damn right, you won’t.” I massaged her neck briefly before stepping back, stopping short of doing something more. “We’re going to work out, and then I’m going to work on this today. I might have to make a few calls, but I don’t want you asking me anything about this. Do you understand? If I find something out, I’ll tell you. Otherwise, you can just assume I don’t have anything.”
I could tell she wanted to argue with me, but she bit back her reply at the look I gave her.
After we worked out and showered, I directed her to the couch so I could keep an eye on her while I worked. There wasn’t much to find online. Unfortunately, the guy was a ghost. He wasn’t on social media, and search engines yielded a thousand men with the same name spread across the country. I tried to localize by the area of their high school, but I could only find the odd reference to something that had occurred when they were teenagers.
