by D W Marshall
I squeeze my eyes shut at his words. “Does Mason know you are leaving?”
He stops in the middle of a kiss on my shoulder. His lips press down. “Not yet. I don't think he would of let me bring you here if he did. You mustn’t tell him what I asked of you, should you choose to stay.”
I exhale. “I told you I can’t go with you.”
“I aim to change your mind.”
His admission causes more electricity and warmth. Too much is going on inside of me. I sit forward and move to the opposite side of the tub. The sheer size suggests it was meant for delicious activities for two. I stare at him from the other end of the tub. He picks up one of my feet and rubs his hands over it, offering pressure and caresses.
“You really are pretty,” I say to him.
“No, you are.”
“Maybe, but you really are. With your chiseled body and the perfect angles in your face. Your eyes are a color green I will never forget in a million years.”
He blushes. “I could say the same of your particular shade of green.”
“Hazel, they call it. Green with brown.”
“Mesmerizing is what I call it.”
My turn to blush. He presses into the arch of my foot and brings it close to his face. He licks my toe, and I tingle from head to toe. I pull my foot from his grasp and move forward and straddle him.
“Whitney, don’t even think about it.”
“What?” I tease.
“I didn’t bring you here for sex. I brought you here to woo you.”
I throw my head back in laughter. “You, men take and take, then flip the script.” I rise up onto my knees and grab his cock into my hand. I position it where I need it to be and sink down on the delicious length. My eyes roll back at the feeling—the welcome fullness. When I open my eyes, he is staring at me in surprise. I don’t move, and neither does he. We match each other stare for stare, and I realize in a crazy world I could love him. I think a sliver of my heart might.
His hands find my ass, and he squeezes, pressing me down further onto him.
I roll my hips, grinding his cock. Locking my eyes with his, he doesn't move a muscle. I rock back and forth and stare. I rise up and fall onto his long erection on repeat, never taking my eyes from his. He squeezes his eyes shut.
“Please open your eyes. If you are leaving me. I need this.”
He obeys and smiles. His fingers dig into my ass, and I move harder, faster. Overcome by the weight of him leaving, I can’t contain the sensations. They start in my chest, my belly, a tightening, and vibration—a hum. Then electricity and delicious aching numbness. My pussy contracts around him and I shake violently. The three words nearly spill out when he comes behind me, bringing my lips to his, spilling his essence inside of me. His cock contracting and swelling inside of me as he whispers the words in my ear and then takes my lips into his and doesn’t let go.
We separate, my lips swollen, my body spent.
When we finally make it to the bed, dried and sated, I expect more. What I don't expect is for him to wrap me in his arms.
“I love you, Whitney.”
I nod into his shoulder.
“You don’t have to say anything. I think I already know.”
He kisses the back of my head and neck, and we fall into a deep sleep.
The bright lights streaming into the room wake me hours later. I don’t feel him. When I look around, he is gone.
Chapter 12
Whitney
No one is home when I wake up this morning. I think we have settled into our new normal, but no one can deny the brittleness in the air—as if the other shoe is destined to drop.
I plop myself on the floor in the center of my room and close my eyes just like I’ve done during meditation in therapy. We are focusing on pushing the thoughts and images of The Chamber out when they pop in; however, when a thought keeps pushing its way back, I must face it head on.
The imaginary waves roll towards me and recede over and over. I can hear them crashing, and I see the frothy bubbles and feel the coolness running through my toes. Briny, salty air assaults my nostrils. My body warms from the sun’s brilliant rays. I breathe.
In through my nose, out through my mouth.
In through my nose, out through my mouth.
Thomas hissing in my face flashes before my eyes. I flinch. My heart begins to race.
In through my nose, out through my mouth.
I increase the size of my waves and they wash away the image.
My breathing is steady, my heart slows.
The ocean waves are replaced by a room so blindingly yellow that I can’t see. I push the image back and grasp onto to my ocean. There is a mental battle between the ocean and the canary yellow room. I relent and let the image come into full focus.
I am sitting at the small bistro table. My sheer yellow dress clings to my body. Made up to look like a movie star, hair pressed into fine glossy sheets that fall down my back.
When the man enters my chamber he doesn’t waste time on pleasantries. My yellow dress is a puddle on the floor around my feet. He tells me how beautiful I am and his entire length is inside of me before we make it to the bed. He smiles down at me, his tongue tasting my skin as he pulls his cock out and slams it back in over and over. He pulls out and spills his essence onto my skin.
My eyes fly open. I couldn’t stay in that moment if I wanted to. Tears dampen my face. I let them fall. I’m trying, but as I look down at my shaking hands I know I’ve spent too much time there already. My therapist swears that with time I won’t be so affected by it.
So, with blind faith, I complete the tasks she suggests I do for the sake of my therapy. Maybe Thomas is right. If I keep doing this, I shouldn’t have to go to therapy anymore. I usually feel awful and spent after going there. Maybe if I increase my meditation I can do this by myself—one less person to look at me with eyes that wondered why I stayed, why I didn’t fight. It could be all in my mind that they think this about me, but I don’t think so. Even while we were inside, the other women and I discussed it. Could we successfully escape? But it always came back to our family. Mason demonstrated his power to us, and to leave there to find our families broken or worse would be adding guilt to the pain we had already suffered.
Going back and thinking about all the things I could have done differently is tearing me up just as bad as everything that has happened.
One thing I must admit to myself is that I was already on Mason’s wish list two years prior. He would have found me anywhere. What ifs are so pointless, but they fill my mind, whether I want them too or not.
I attempt to close my eyes again. But this time the darkness is too loud. This session is most definitely over.
Chapter 13
Whitney
The past week has been tense—nightmares and relationships. Thomas and I haven’t seen each other, but we have spoken daily. He doesn’t ask, but I know he is waiting for an answer that I can’t give him. With each thought of his desires and how out of alignment they are to mine, my insides knot and twist. Can I do what he asks? Sleep with strangers for money? Is Thomas worth subjecting myself to such horrors? The engagement ring on my finger feels like a noose. If I don’t come up with a way to stop his plans, I either have to go along with them or risk losing him. My head hurts with all the ideas I have tried to come up with and failed.
Some genius.
The little voice in the back of my mind says I should just tell him about the money. Even a fraction of the four million would be more than enough help him and my family. But what does that voice know? If I did that we’d be together for sure. But I would always be the woman who got paid for sex, which is what he wants from me now. It would only prove to him that he was right to think I was perfect for the job. The shame would destroy me.
Fact is, Thomas can never know about the money. If I’m going to get him to agree to drop this horrific plan, I’ll have to find another way. If he really loves me, he’ll come to his sens
es. Only time will tell.
I shake the insanity from my head as arrive in the parking lot of the cafe. Today, I’m meeting Chalice for lunch, and I can’t wait to see her. I miss her and Amaris so much. I haven’t seen as much of my gals as I’d like; it seems while I was gone they went and got a life.
Amaris is in Europe modeling almost weekly. And Chalice has a job, an honest to goodness, five day a week job. When did we all grow up?
“Sweets,” Chalice calls from a small table overlooking the ocean. She hops up from the table and wraps me in a Chalice-like hug—loving, with a little extra (what?) added in. I always thought she’d grow up and come out, but so far she hasn’t. “So happy your dad lifted his embargo on your driving alone. You feel like a real adult now?” she teases.
I throw her a shady glare and then smile. She’s right, I am happy with the extra freedom. “I’m starving,” I announce, taking a seat opposite her. “This place is nice,” I say and as I look around. The restaurant is more outdoors than in, with dark rustic wood support beams and heavy wooden floors. The tables and chairs bring the place to life with bright beige, blue, and salmon accents. There are pictures on all the walls, each photo is water related—ships, ocean, surfers, folks lazing about on the beach. The frames look handmade from recycled materials.
“What was here before?” I ask Chalice. I certainly can’t remember. I’ve only been to this beach a couple of times. This area is trendy and too busy for the taste of most of us locals who want a relaxing day.
“There used to be a dessert shop here, remember?” Chalice asks.
I think for a second, and let out a long, “Oh, I do remember.” I take another look around. “You got a good table.” I glance out over the water. I will never get enough of it.
“You know it. And I ordered for us, fish and chips and two daiquiris each.”
I feign exaggerated excitement. “Thank you. I’m starving.”
Chalice sits back in her seat and watches me. Waiting.
“What?” I ask. I have no plans to tell her about Thomas’ new moneymaking scheme. I stare at her with the same goofy smile on my face that she has plastered across hers.
She shakes her head at me. “Show me the damn ring, already.”
Oh that. I laugh at her. I’d forgotten I was wearing it or that I told her about it.
Chalice squeals, nearly ripping my arm off when she pulls my hand closer to her face. “He ain’t cheap, that's for sure. This set him back.”
Oh dear lord, I hope not. Thomas has enough financial woes. I give her my fakest smile.
She releases my hand after studying each stone with the eye of an experienced jeweler, which she is not. She sits back in her seat and the smile on her face tells me that she is happy for me. The waitress sets two glasses of water in front of us and tells us our cocktails and food will be arriving shortly. I take a few sips of the cool water.
“So, I was thinking we could have a double wedding,” she says, then pauses and jumps with the excitement of something better from the look in her eyes. I know when Chalice is cooking up a scheme. “Or maybe a back-to-back wedding. Same location. The guests can sit in one spot for both ceremonies. We’d have neutral decorations with the pop of color coming from each of our wedding parties.” Chalice continues rattling on about our co-wedding.
“Wait.” I lean forward. “Are you getting married? To who?”
She waves me off. “I’m dating a handsome fellow from America, sweets. It’s long distance, but he knows what a catch I am. I figure he’ll pop that all important question any day now.”
“You are so crazy, Chalice. I’m not even thinking about weddings—”
Suddenly, I’m cut off by a familiar form standing near our table. “Nikolai?”
“Whitney? I thought that was you. How’ve you been?”
His eyes zero in on the ring on my finger. I slide my hand under the table and feel my cheeks warm with embarrassment. My hand suddenly feels the weight of the ring magnified. I know what he’s thinking, and he has it all wrong. I haven’t done anything for Thomas, and if I have my way I won’t have to. I’ve been trying to work out a way to tell him about the money, or that I’ve come into some money—not millions. I just haven’t figured out how yet.
“I’m being so rude. Nikolai, this is my best friend, Chalice. Chalice this is my—” My mind runs through how to introduce him. I can’t say that he is the man who paid Thomas to sleep with me, but graciously let me out of the deal. “—um, friend, Nikolai. We know each other from my trauma group,” I lie. The lies are starting to pile up because I stopped going to group. However, my friends and family don’t know that.
They shake hands. “I had no idea there were men that look like this in your group. Hell, I’d go too,” Chalice says, being Chalice.
Nikolai laughs politely at her comment.
“Chalice, give me a second. I need to talk to Nikolai about something,” I say. I turn to him, “You have a minute?”
His smile makes my heart stutter. I feel the intensity and magnitude of depth beyond that smile.
“For you? Of course.” He turns to walk out of the small bistro, gesturing for me to lead the way, and he follows me.
“Don’t be long, or I’m gonna drink your drink, both of them.” Chalice calls out to me.
Nikolai and I make our way down a sidewalk that separates the sand from the parking lot.
We continue in silence until we are in a less-crowded area, and he takes a seat on an empty bench. I look around and make sure I’m not breaking Daddy’s rules. There are plenty of people within screaming distance, and I wouldn’t have to scream loud. The only place he could take me is to the sandy beach or the parking lot. When I feel a bit more relaxed, I take the seat next to him.
I don’t look at him, instead I stare out at the water. I don’t know this man, but for some reason, unknown to me, I feel the need to clear the air with him. “It’s not what you think,” I say.
He follows suit and keeps his gaze focused on the water. If he is anything like me, he could get lost for hours in the soothing rhythm of the waves. “Please explain. Because I remember the last time we spoke, I encouraged you to get away from Thomas and all the mess he comes with, and now you have his ring on your finger. That looks like the opposite of heeding my warning.”
I sigh. Why does this man even care? I’m a stranger to him. “He’s different. I don’t know, less desperate. He hasn’t asked me to do anything since that night. I told him I needed more time, and he’s giving it to me.” I dare a glance up at him.
He stares back. His eyebrows slide up his face. “So, you’re planning on doing it?” he asks.
“Absolutely not. But I need time to figure out a way to get him to change his mind.”
“So, you didn’t tell him that we didn’t really do anything?”
“No,” I mumble.
“Why?”
I shrug my shoulders. I am exhausted from explaining myself to people. Everyone wants answers to questions that I haven’t had time to think about yet. I’m still trying to figure out who the hell I am now. The girl I was before would have dropped Thomas in a heartbeat. No, the girl I was before would be someone Thomas would never have asked. I’m not the only one who doesn’t recognize myself anymore—no one else does either.
“He’s not the only guy for you, Whitney. The right guy is out there.”
This guy sees right through me, pulling my fears right from my head. “He’s all I have. He knows what I went through and he still wants me.”
Nikolai takes in a couple of deep breaths; he doesn’t speak. Instead he turns his attention back to the water. I don’t feel anything negative bristling from him, nothing simmering below the surface. Just calm. It takes over me, too. I steal a couple of glances at him while we share this silence. I don’t know what he’s thinking.
Nikolai looks so much younger than the first time I saw him. The lighting in the hotel room wasn’t bright enough for me to make out his features full
y. Now in navy board shorts and a fitted tee that reveals how much time he must spend at the gym, he can’t be in his thirties, late twenties at best. His eyes are lighter than I originally thought, blue-gray. He is downright, deliciously handsome, with the perfect amount of fullness to his moist lips, and a thick mess of tousled dark brown hair.
I wait for him to speak because I have nothing else to say.
“Look, I know we don’t know each other. And our first encounter was, unique. But please explain to me why you feel Thomas is the only one who will love you.”
I take a moment to think about the answer. How much of my inner weakness do I really want this man to know? How much more, I should say? “Look, Nikolai—”
“Niko, please,” he corrects me.
“Niko. I know what I am. What I’ve become. He knows my darkest secret, my pain, and he wants me anyway. Who else will?”
“That’s not true and you know it. That’s fear talking.”
“Maybe it is. But fear is a hell of an emotion,” I say as I look down. “He proposed to me and gave me a ring; that has to mean something.”
Unease lines his features. “I’m not here to squash your dreams or happiness, but he is a bad guy. He is preying on your fears right now. What happened to you is unspeakable. But for him to say he loves you and not protect you, and ask you do more of the same is worse. I know you’re stronger than that. Get out while you can.”
I flinch as if he slapped me with his hand instead of harsh words. This man doesn’t even know me. I jump up from the bench.
“Wait.” He jumps up too. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night—worrying about you. I know you don’t know me, but I see you, Whitney. You are a beautiful and strong woman—much stronger than you believe yourself to be—and you deserve better than him, than this.”
I exhale the breath I was holding, sit back down and Niko follows. He isn't the enemy; for some reason, this man cares for me. “You sound a lot like my therapist with all your I’m so strong and what I deserve business. But I’m a smart girl, and I see me too. I’m damaged goods. That place took everything away from me. I don’t talk about it with my family, but I’m frightened all the time. I have sickening nightmares, even when I’m awake.” The tears fall and I don’t even stop them. “What sane man will want to have anything to do with the baggage I come with?” There is no sense hiding from Niko. He sees my truth better than anyone, even if he found it by accident. “What if…what if Thomas is exactly what I deserve?”
