29. Abigail
29
ABIGAIL
I hum to myself as I fold my laundry, which is warm from the dryer. My headphones are on, and I do a little happy dance to the beat of my favorite alternative band.
I’ve never been so content in my life. Dane is perfect. He’s my miracle, my gorgeous prince.
I’m safe and cherished. He likes me just as I am: a gift no one has ever given me. Not a romantic partner, and certainly not my judgmental, withholding family.
Anticipation buzzes through me, and I give an extra shake of my hips. I can hardly wait to see him again in a few hours. My short shift finished at noon, so I have to wait for him to get off work too. In the meantime, I decided to spend a little time at my place to catch up on laundry.
I might even paint if I have time.
It’s been over a week since I last picked up my brushes, and even though I miss my art, I’m not desperate for the release of my inner darkness that I usually find at my canvas.
Instead of releasing it, I reveled in it last night.
My cheeks heat at the memory of the gag in my mouth and Dane’s filthy threats. His condescending praise. The pleasure he wrung from my body.
I jolt when my headphones are tugged from my ears, and I whirl on a sharp yelp.
Ron, my creepy new neighbor, grins at me.
“No need to scream like that, Peaches.” He lifts my headphones to his ears as though he has every right. “What are you listening to that has those hips swaying like that?”
I breathe through the burst of fear and lift my chin to stare him down. My shoulders straighten, and I hold out my hand.
“Give those back, please.” My tone is cold, even if my words are polite.
I won’t provoke him while we’re alone in here, but I don’t want him to think I’m remotely welcoming. His attention makes my skin crawl, and he’s blocking my way to the door.
He gives me a rueful chuckle when he returns my headphones. I quickly toss them into my plastic hamper along with my laundry and hold it between us, forcing him back a step.
“Where’s your scary boyfriend?” he drawls, his eyes lingering on my breasts. My camisole has dipped lower than usual while I was bent over the dryer, and my cleavage is on display.
I can’t tug my shirt up while I’m clutching the hamper, and I don’t want him to know that he’s getting to me. I sense that any sign of weakness will be interpreted as invitation.
“He’ll be here any minute,” I lie.
Dane won’t arrive for a few more hours, but Ron doesn’t need to know that. I’m hoping that the mere threat of my white knight’s imminent arrival will make him back off.
Instead, he beams at me. “Oh good. We’ll have a little time to get properly acquainted. I think we got off on the wrong foot before. We’re neighbors. I want us to be friendly.”
“I’d prefer if we were simply cordial,” I reply coolly. “I’m sorry, but I’m really busy. I need to get this laundry put away before Dane gets here.” I’m quick to remind him of my lie.
“Hey, I get it.” Ron holds up his hands as though in defeat. “You’re a classy lady, and he’s a fancy man.”
Then he takes a step toward me, and my stomach drops.
“But you have that sexy Carolina drawl, and you need a Southern man, not some foreigner.”
“What I need is for you to leave me alone,” I assert.
My butt bumps against the hot dryer. There’s nowhere for me to go.
“Back off,” I warn, and my voice doesn’t waver.
I’m done being polite.
“There’s no need to be rude, Peaches,” he admonishes with a shake of his head.
“You’re the one being inappropriate.” I struggle to keep my tone calm and even when my heart leaps into my throat.
“Oh, come on.” He’s cajoling now, and he takes another step toward me. He’s close enough that his weight presses my hamper into my belly, pinning me. “We could go up to my place. Have a drink. You’ll see that I’m a nice guy.”
My fingers are numb around the handles of the hamper.
“Let me out.” The demand is a ragged whisper.
My twisted fear response is causing me to shut down. Forbidden lust doesn’t stir this time, but I’m not running away from danger, either. As always, I freeze.
It’s going to happen again, and I’m going to let him do it.
He shoves the hamper aside, and it clatters to the concrete floor. My clean laundry spills everywhere, but my eyes are fixed on the threat.
“I knew you liked me,” he says with smug satisfaction.
His breath smells like stale tobacco, and his lips taste bitter when they crush down on mine. The faint scent of cigarette smoke threads through my senses, and I’m not sure if it’s coming from him, or if I’m getting dragged into the memory of Tom and my debutante ball.
I close my eyes, as though I can hide from what’s happening to me.
Dane’s fierce green eyes fill my mind. They glitter with possessive hunger.
I’m his.
Ron has no right to touch me.
For the first time in my life, I fight back.
My knee jerks up between us, slamming into his balls. He chokes against my mouth, then reels away. He doubles over and makes a pathetic retching sound.
“Fucking bitch,” he wheezes, stumbling toward me.
I spin on my heel and run. I dart out of the laundry room and into the open breezeway on the ground floor. I’m at my front door in seconds, and I wrench it open. I slam it shut behind me and throw my weight against it, sliding the lock in place just as Ron’s bulky body slams into the wood.
“Come out here, you little cunt!” he roars. My entire door vibrates at my back. He’s kicking it, punching it.
If he manages to get inside, he’ll do the same to me.
The violence reminds me of a different night when I was pressed against my door, when the masked man pinned me here and violated me in the worst way.
My knees fold, and I sink to the floor as horrific memories threaten to pull me under.
I force my shaking hand to find my phone in my pocket. It takes a few trembling attempts to find Dane’s contact information and connect the call.
He answers after three rings. “I’m at work. Can I call you back?”
I can’t breathe. I try to speak, but all that issues from my throat is an awful choking sound. Ron pounds on my door, shouting curses at me.
“Abigail!” Dane’s usually cultured voice is rough. “Where are you?”
“Home,” I manage to wheeze.
I squeeze my eyes shut. My head is pounding in time with Ron’s fists on my door.
“I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me.”
I can’t do more than nod mutely.
“Tell me what’s happening,” he commands sharply.
“Ron…” His name is all I can force past the lump in my throat before the horrors of my past overwhelm me.
“I’ll be there soon,” he promises darkly. “Are you in your apartment? Is the door locked? Answer me, Abigail.”
“Yes,” I whisper, compelled to obey.
“Stay right where you are. Breathe. Just keep breathing. That’s all you have to do until I get there, understand?”
I heave in a painful breath that’s like a knife through my chest.
He must hear my attempt to comply because he praises, “Good girl. Another. Just focus on your breath.”
His voice is my anchor to reality, preventing me from getting lost in awful memories. He continues to talk me through my terror, commanding each of my ragged breaths.
At some point, the hall outside goes quiet, and my door stops vibrating on its hinges. Ron has given up.
I’m not sure how much time passes before I hear Dane’s voice at the door. It takes a second for me to realize that it’s not coming through my phone.
“Let me in, Abigail.”
I have to grab the doorknob to haul myself up onto my shaking legs, but I manage to unlock the door. It swings open to reveal my dark god, his heartbreaking face drawn in sharp, vicious lines of rage.
But his hands are gentle when he cups my cheeks, inspecting my face for signs of injury.
“He didn’t hurt me,” I say through numb lips. “I hurt him. That’s why he was so angry.”
Dane steps inside and scoops me up in his arms. He carries me into my bedroom in a few long, confident strides and lays me down on my bed. It’s small, but he wraps his massive body around mine and pulls me close enough that we both fit.
I’m shaking, and he strokes my body in soothing caresses, imbuing me with his steady warmth.
After a while, my breaths come easier, and I melt into him, utterly wrung out and exhausted.
“Tell me what happened.” It’s a low order, and I’m compelled to reply.
“Ron cornered me in the laundry room again. I told him to leave me alone, but he wouldn’t.”
“Did he touch you?” The question rumbles like thunder.
“He…kissed me.” I manage to speak through the nausea that surges at the visceral memory of his rank breath.
Dane’s fingers flex into my arms, his entire body tensing with unspent violence.
“But I fought him off.” Dimly, I marvel at the fact. I still can’t believe I managed to kick him instead of freezing.
But I didn’t freeze. I didn’t let him take advantage of my body.
And it’s all because of Dane. Because in my most panicked moment, I thought of him, and I knew he would never allow another man to touch me.
He wasn’t there to save me, so I had to save myself.
I did it for him.
I did it for me.
“I’m yours,” I promise, turning to face him so that he can read the depth of my devotion in my open gaze.
His eyes burn with emerald flames, and his hand curves around my nape. “I’ll take care of this, Abigail. I’ll take care of you.”
“I know. I trust you. I…”
I trail off, holding back the words that tease at the tip of my tongue. It’s too soon to say them, even if they run through my mind like a litany.
“I need you,” I say instead.
His lips are hot on mine, and I open for him on a sigh. I welcome him into my mouth with a flick of my tongue, urging him to claim me more deeply. In the aftermath of the assault, I need to feel connected to my fierce protector. I need to bind him to me, to join our bodies as closely as our souls.
I tear at his clothes in a frenzy, and his hands fist in my camisole. After a few feverish minutes, we’re both naked. He touches my pussy, and we both discover than I’m already wet for him. My body will always be ready for him, eager to join with him.
He reaches for his discarded pants and grabs a condom from his wallet. He sheaths his thick cock as he looms over me. I reach for him, tracing the harsh line of his cheekbone and the tight set of his jaw. His nostrils flare with desire, and he shudders at my tender touch.
I’m powerless to resist this man, my master, but I hold power over him too. It goes straight to my head, intoxicating. My fingers twine in his thick, black hair, and he allows me to tug him in for a fierce kiss.
His cock nudges my inner thigh, and I spread myself wide for him.
“Take me,” I beg. “I need you inside me.”
He eases into me in a deliciously slow slide, and my legs wrap around his hips. My fingernails bite into his shoulders, urging him closer, deeper, harder.
He groans into my neck and breathes me in, as though he can’t get enough of my scent.
For the first time, there aren’t any kinky games. There’s no darkness between us. There’s only carnal passion and fierce possessiveness as we lay claim to each other’s bodies. I mark him with my nails, and he marks me with his teeth.
He pumps into me, his sculpted ass tight beneath my insistent heels as I drive him deeper.
Warmth floods my body, a painful heat. He’s seared into my soul, my heart.
“I love you,” I confess. “I love you, Dane.”
His eyes flash, and his jaw goes slack with something like wonder.
Then he gnashes his teeth, and his handsome face contorts into something almost feral. He slams into me, lighting up my body with pleasure and sweet pain.
“Mine!” he snarls, his voice inhuman.
My heart swells. It’s more than enough for me. He doesn’t have to say the same words back to me. I can feel the depth of his affection for me in the rough thrusts of his cock and the bruising bite of his hands on my arms. He pins me beneath him and ravages me, fucking me in a frenzy.
I meet each of his harsh thrusts, showing him how much I want him, how I accept everything that he is. And how I willingly give all of myself in return.
We reach our peak together, our ecstatic shouts a violent crescendo to our vicious lovemaking.
He stays inside me even as he softens, and I keep him locked there with my legs around his waist.
Dane is mine, and I won’t let him go.