by M. C. Cerny
Her words made me pause and actually turned my stomach sour. That was new and unexpected. A terrible man I was for sure, but I didn’t abuse children. Despite my experiences and inner darkness, I wasn’t wired that way. Interesting she thought I wanted her sexually. I did, but not the parts she was worried about, and definitely not for years. My plan didn’t permit me to punch through her sweet, tart cherry like I wanted; though, I didn’t see a reason to assure her of this. I wouldn’t wish my DNA on anyone.
I laughed out loud, continuing our show outside the bubble of the car windows as I revved the engine.
“Darling, I won’t be fucking you for a while.” I didn’t clarify what I’d be doing to her. That was for me to know and her to find out. All in good time. Torture was best served on the pinnacle of anxiety.
Elizabeth continued to ignore me, still as a statue biting her bottom lip and giving the world outside the tinted windows of the car the blankest stare I’d ever seen. It was absolute perfection in the steel of her spine. I needed her to be strong, so I could be crazy for the both of us.
“Why me?” she asked.
I turned at the question, a smirk on my face that said, why not you? Of course I could have anyone, take anyone, but she was the most suited. The one with nothing to lose and everything to gain if she behaved.
“Because you’re perfect,” I said it simply in response to her question, most likely leaving her with a hundred more unanswered ones.
I tossed her a small white velvet box, letting it land on her fluffy layers of tulle. She dug for it in the ridiculous ruffles.
She popped the box open.
“What is it?” she asked distastefully.
“Put it on.” I told her as she slipped the platinum band peppered with stones on her finger. The rush order cost me a fortune, but it was perfect.
“Sapphires?” she mumbled.
“Something like that,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the road despite the asshole driving behind us, who was doing a shitty job concealing his tail three car lengths back. Good old Dad just couldn’t leave me be.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
I didn’t take her for a stupid girl. If her blood ran as cold as mine did, the metal band of the ring would never warm her up to the idea of being mine anyway. Pity. I only needed to plow one hole for my pleasure. No sense in bringing my evil into the world. I had a contingency for that when the time came, whether she liked it or not.
Again, her future problem, not my current one.
“It’s your promise ring, Elizabeth. Take it off, and I’ll remove the finger it should be on.”
She waited too, long, staring at it and making me burn.
I flicked my hand in the air, making her cringe. “Go on. I don’t have all day here.” The pain in my lower abdomen made sure of that.
Shaking hands slipped the ring on her left ring finger, and I beamed, continuing our drive.
“If you’re looking for appreciation, it won’t be forthcoming,” she spat under her breath.
“Now, my darling, you’re mine.” I grabbed her hand, squeezing so she felt the impact of metal and polished glass between our fingers. She winced in pain from the tiny cuts it left. I kissed the tips of her fingers, pleased, noting the tiny flecks of blood on her skirt. The ring would remind her often of who she belonged to and the obligation she now served.
Elizabeth stared out the window, blocking me out. Her silence was deafening, and I broke the quiet in the car, drawing her attention back to me.
“What is it now?” I growled, gripping the steering wheel.
Her shoulders shrugged up and down. The simple act ignited a fire within me.
“Let’s be clear on how this started.” I looked at her as she turned her head to look at me. I wouldn’t be swayed by the sadness pooling in her depths. “In this life, there are four things you can never get back. Do you know what they are?” I asked.
Her head shook no, and I grunted.
“It starts with the first stone thrown. You did that on the rooftop with the petulant look in your eyes. You might say wrong place, wrong time, but now you’re mine, and this is the life you’ve agreed to.” She didn’t ask me the other three things. That would come in time. For now, the thrown stone was a piece of rooftop glass binding her to me in a forever promise.
My car hugged the curve of the road, and I got lost in my own twisted head, full of plans I assumed for the future. This was only the beginning of her well-dressed and privileged nightmare. Even the straightest trees could have twisted roots under the surface. I was probably the gnarliest looking thing in the forest, scarred from within. Let the world think I was this wonderful patron, a benefactor to lost souls, all while defiling everything I touched behind closed doors. I reveled in this power.
Wasn’t this the legendary power of Pharaohs, Kings, and Presidents? Except, I had no parliament, no checks and balances to keep me from my pleasures. But, I did have one slave, and oh, it was glorious to revel in the world I created.
9
Aaron
“I can’t believe you tried to finger fuck me at the dining room table,” Claudia hissed, pinching my arm. The pain took nothing away from the satisfaction of seeing her hair wild and eyes bright, on the cusp of a pending orgasm. My Buttercup was on edge, and it was a little taste of what she did to me with her coy teasing. She made fuck sound like a dirty word. I was hard just thinking about the word coming out of her mouth as I bounced her over my dick in my mind.
I took her frowning face in stride, considering I knew for a fact she wasn’t mad. She was upset she liked it so much, a hangover from our ultra-religious upbringing. I also knew I wasn’t going to get her to loosen up anytime soon. From the moment we returned from church, Mrs. Shaffer put Claudia to work in the kitchen, effectively separating us and forcing me outside to sit with Mr. Shaffer and Claudia’s little brother, who insisted on asking me the worst kinds of questions about being a Marine.
“Did you ever kill anyone?”
Yes. But given the fact their dad was sitting six feet away from me, and we’d just returned from a stern lecture about honoring each other’s neighbor, it didn’t seem like the fitting time to share. Uneasily, I shifted in my seat. Nothing like a twelve-year-old kid to put you in the hot seat.
“Luke,” Mr. Shaffer chastised him, but curiosity was a strange thing. He pressed forward, probably wondering how realistic it was compared to the movies I was sure he snuck watching at friends’ houses.
“What’s it like to shoot a gun?” He gripped his football tightly, sitting on the edge of his seat.
Amazing. The power in your hands was unlike anything I’d ever felt—next to sex with your sister—and carried a huge responsibility. Yeah, that wouldn’t go over well. My tongue was tied and throat dried up. He kept peppering me with questions, one after another, before I could gather my thoughts and respond.
“Did anyone in your unit die?”
Half my guys on the first fubar mission. It gave me nightmares at night and fast-tracked me to a promotion I didn’t deserve. The military was a strange beast of burden.
Instead, I smiled and asked him how football practice was going, and if he had any of the same teachers his sister and I had. That seemed … easier. Mr. Shaffer smiled from behind his paper, lips twitching, and I thought in a few ways my lack of divulgence earned me a small measure of respect with him. I didn’t have to wait long in the tense silence as he threw me a bone and put his paper down, focusing on Luke. The energy around this kid was palpable, constantly moving, inquisitive, and rife with teenage innocence in his sheltered world I didn’t want to ruin. I’d seen too much already and made choices that, while honorable, weren’t something to be shared over homemade lemonade and cookies.
“Luke, why don’t you call Steven to come over and throw the football. Your mother is working on dinner,” Mr. Shaffer said, waiting for Luke to be out of earshot. Sounding passive, his look told me to keep my ass parked in the uncomfortable met
al patio chair. Waterboarding might have been preferable to a pissed off father.
He put down his paper and reached for his glass of lemonade. On the outside, the Shaffer family was all-American. Two kids, picket fence deal, and a religious routine. On the inside, I suspected the family dynamics were more complicated given the shrewd look from Claudia’s father.
“I know you were in the house last night.” He held up his hand to stop my practiced lie. “Give me the courtesy of not lying, boy.” He paused again, as if what he was telling me was painful to him. “I realize if my daughter is anything like my wife, she is hard to convince of an alternate course.”
Okay, maybe not painful, just embarrassing.
“Sir.” I gulped back my opinions on the latest global crisis outlined on the frontpage of his paper. This man had known me a good portion of my life, and even though I launched grenades at infidels and hot-wired Jeeps in the desert to make it to my rendezvous point without a second thought, I practically withered under his direct glare when it came to his daughter.
I needed his respect. Craved it. Someday I planned to ask his daughter to marry me, and I wanted to be worthy of the question. I knew I wasn’t perfect. Far from it. We both had a lot of growing up to do, and if time was kind to me, we would have that opportunity. I knew Claudia was hanging her hopes on a huge declaration, but I simply couldn’t give her one. At least not anytime soon.
“Claudia is headstrong. She thinks she knows what she wants, and she’s good at creating the fairy tale around it.”
I nodded. He wasn’t wrong. Even leaving her before, I knew Claudia had a secret Pinterest board of wedding dresses, and I did my best to ignore that fact like a microscopic splinter. It was there, annoying, and only time would take care of it one way or another. If she was looking to scare me off that first time, she succeeded, whispering to her girlfriends in our senior class about how I was going to propose to her on a beach and give her two perfect babies, a girl and a boy. She kept wanting to fast-forward time which only made me buck harder, despite wanting it with her.
Someday.
In the way distant future.
“I have no doubt you’ll do right by her, but she isn’t patient.” He tapped his knuckles on the table, and I snorted in agreement.
“I do care about her, but I signed on for the next tour. The military owns me body and soul.”
Mr. Shaffer leaned over the table, chuffing, “Then you should have stayed next door in your own damn bed.” He whipped his paper from the table and flipped it over to the world news section, pointing to a picture of a naval aircraft carrier parked in the Persian Gulf outside of Jebel Ali, specifically the ship I knew I was returning to but couldn’t comment on.
“She won’t hear anything you have to say outside of wedding bells.”
“I need time, and I want her to finish school. She’ll need to have something solid for when I’m deployed.” I eased back in the hard lounge chair, taking a sip of lemonade that was more bitter than sweet given our discussion.
“I agree. It will be good for her to be a little independent. Seeing as how both our families embraced the missionary life when you kids were younger, this won’t be new to her even if she doesn’t like it. I just don’t want you making promises you can’t keep or knocking her up. Her mother would die if she thought you two were…” Mr. Shaffer coughed and waved his hand in the air. I ran my hands through my short buzzed top. He wasn’t the only one uncomfortable, but I appreciated his frank talk and restraint from getting a shotgun out. Now, Mrs. Shaffer would’ve been a different situation, if she’d learned of my whereabouts.
“I appreciate what my parents have given me and your faith in me, sir.”
“Please, Aaron, at this point you should be calling me Ron.” He stood and offered me his hand. I stood and shook his firm grip. The man had basically given me his blessing to marry his daughter as long as I kept my dick in check. Otherwise, I was certain he’d feed me, with no Christian guilt whatsoever, to his wife, Laurie, on a silver platter. I didn’t really blame the guy.
It seemed simple to sit back and listen to Claudia and her mom gossip about the latest church scandal and who was dating who that we both knew. The hints of marriage were anything but subtle. Dinner invitations were extended to the family down the street as well. Before I knew it, the whole neighborhood had come prancing into the backyard, and by evening’s end I’d been maneuvered from the boy next door to the boyfriend. I could handle that considering the clock was ticking down a four year time bomb to a beach proposal.
My phone buzzed several times during the night as lemonade turned toward wine and the select beer for us adult males in the house. My team was checking in. My current commanding officer requested a status update on how soon I could get back to Norfolk, VA to deploy. My parents sent a one-liner to let me know the key was still under the patio rock if I needed it. Not exactly probing news, but I hadn’t expected much either. My sister, Sophia, asked if I could meet up for dinner, which I declined in favor of getting back early. By the time Claudia felt loose enough to sit in my lap, I was untangling her arms from around my neck and watching her smile turn into a frown. Her dad’s gaze was never far from us, and I reined in my libido with promising kisses in pantry closets and dark mudroom corners before slipping away at sunrise in Joe’s rental car idling in my driveway next door.
Claudia cried herself to sleep, and I planned to make it up to her; just not today. She’d have to wait another eighteen months when I got my next scheduled leave. For all I knew, she’d have moved on to newer Pinterest boards. Only time would tell. I’d always love her, my Buttercup girl. If she waited for me, I’d make it worth her while and continue deceiving myself into thinking I had all the time in the world.
10
Adam
Accelerating the Bentley, I drove northwest in traffic about sixty minutes from the city of our birth. Yes, both Elizabeth and I shared that little unknown fact. My current house was near the river with large iron gates surrounding it and cameras peppering every corner with singular eyes trained on any anomalies. My pretty prison would engulf her. If she had known what was ahead, I wondered if she would’ve taken the opportunity to jump from the car and run toward the cliff, ending the next several years of misery in a broken and bloody mess.
My hand crept higher over her poufy skirt and up her leg, resting at the crease of her most sacred spot the closer we got to home. This was the choice she made. She might even agree to scrub the floors, clean toilets, eat moldy bread, and drink stank water in the dark in exchange to be left alone, my modern day Cinderella. Shame she had no idea it wasn’t her body I wanted, not now anyway. I wanted her heart and soul. She would be my legacy when I couldn’t physically produce a viable one, and I would spend the next few years molding her to my liking.
“Don’t touch me,” she said.
The words snarled like bramble and thorns from her throat as she pushed my hand away, fixing the skirt to cover herself better. Such bravado. I was sure the allure would fade if she kept that shit up. Good thing Vermont was several hours away. I’d let the nuns curb that tongue and temper of hers in the boarding school I’d selected. It wasn’t as close as Kingston Academy, my first choice, but Kildare killed that possibility.
“I think you’re already forgetting who is in charge.” My hand returned and squeezed a bruise into her skin, branding a reminder.
“I may not be able to overpower you now, but if you do this, I swear I’ll kill you when you least expect it,” she trembled, yelling at me.
I barked a rare laugh. I found her genuinely amusing in the short time I knew her. The image of her skulking the halls of my house made me chuckle, earning a glare of ice picks from her soulful pretty blue eyes.
“I suppose when I’m sleeping?” It was too easy to taunt her. My hand crept higher, digging between her thighs to make my point.
Elizabeth shook her head no.
“Maybe when I’m in the shower? Eh? Easier clean up?” M
y fingers dug in, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.
“No? Perhaps at dinner? Over a five-course meal with guests?” Her tiny nails dug in, and my fingers reached to pry them off. I made my point. “I’ll be sure to have Nelson leave out the good knives. Remember, though, turnabout is fair play. You stab me, and I’ll stab you right back.” She conceded this battle with a tearful shudder. I reminded myself that Kildare would keep me in check on this. I couldn’t, wouldn’t hurt her, though our definitions of hurt likely differed greatly.
Minutes passed in blissful silence.
“Who is Nelson?” she asked between fat tears rolling down her cheeks, staining her top with salty liquid.
“I suppose he’s the butler; though, if you want to be technical, a house manager,” I said.
“Figures,” she muttered mulishly.
“Chin up, darling. I have plans for you.” I released her with enough force that her body hit the passenger door.
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
I barked with laughter that felt rusty in my chest. Oh yes, she’d keep me entertained; that was for sure. We pulled up to the house, and I watched her take in the imposing structure from her fresh eyes. The manicured lawns and the half-constructed conservatory. Its metal and glass frame dormant and waiting for the arrival of an Italian marble statue I bought sight unseen much like my new houseguest. The house was old, moneyed, and something I’d won when the previous occupant couldn’t pay back a debt to me. Seemed fitting. He had no heirs to inherit it, whereas I couldn’t wait to fill the nursery. First with my bride, and later with my legacy.
“What is this place?” she murmured aloud, unable to take her eyes off the double door entrance. Her neck craned around the side, likely taking in the remnants of the conservatory. I tugged her arm and she snapped back, hobbling away from me.
“It’s home, little bird.” I escorted her inside, taking the mail from Nelson after I introduced them. It seemed my work was never done.
