Chapter Fourteen
A ubrey kept her back toward David, one of the new employees at the shelter. A widow, David had lost everything when the stock market crashed in two thousand and eight. His job, his house, and his confidence.
"Is everything okay, Ms. Haydon?" asked David.
"I'm fine. I was sick last night, so I'm probably still hanging on to whatever bug hit me." She slipped her arms into the sleeves of her coat and turned around. "I appreciate you working with Greg and Vic. You, Jerome, and Kenneth have helped tremendously today."
Without them, she wouldn't have had time to get to know Serge. All of her time would have been spent at the shelter. With the men here, they could oversee those who spent the night. She also found that the homeless were more inclined to listen to the men than to her.
David shook his head. "I sure appreciate what you've done for me. I never would've dreamed that someone would help me the way you and the others have."
"Did you get your resume into the employment office?" she asked.
"Yes, I sure did." David smiled.
She ensured that those working for her knew they could include the shelter's phone number and address on any job applications. It wasn't her intent to keep them working here, practically volunteering their time. The shelter served as a stepping stone. She wanted each person to find a job that would support them. They needed apartments, food, and a safety net.
Imagining Serge as a child, caring for his brother while surviving on the streets, made her more determined to help as many people as possible. If that meant providing them with a meal, a cot, and cleaning off the dirt, then that's what she'd do.
She walked into the office and sat at her desk. Her stomach churned. Last night, she had wanted to protect Serge from learning that Curt Harrington had threatened her. However, seeing powerful men discussing business provided her insight into Serge's life.
He wouldn't regard Harrington's tactics to scare her out of purchasing the building for the shelter as anything but a wise business decision.
She wasn't the same kind of person. She liked playing fair.
Serge had called every few hours through the night to check on her. She'd let him continue to believe she had a stomach bug. It was easier to tell him that than she was afraid of someone he chose to do business with.
She kicked the bottom desk drawer, which refused to stay closed. Her phone vibrated. Without looking, she knew it was Serge. She needed more time. The relationship was tender and new. She had the shelter to concentrate on.
After a few days, he'd calm down. He was smart and powerful enough not to lower himself to chase her. That wasn't his style. Pursuing her would be beneath a man like Serge, who commanded his life like a boss.
She walked out of the office and through the front doors of the shelter. After checking the street, she quickly locked the door and hurried down the block to the parking lot. Once inside her vehicle, she locked the door and pulled out onto the street.
It took her no time to travel to her house. The street was bare of any other cars except for her neighbors on the left and Mrs. Sullivan's garbage cans on the right. With keys in hand, she parked, jogged up the pathway, and let herself in. Then she locked the door. A hysterical groan escaped.
She had no reason for such paranoia. Serge had better things to do than run after her. She shrugged off her sweater. They had experienced great sex. He was a wonderful guy. They could be fantastic together, but she needed to slow down and consider how they could navigate two different lifestyles together.
They each needed boundaries, even if Serge disagreed.
She would never ask him to change for her, not after he had worked so hard to achieve such success.
She kicked off her shoes and walked barefoot into the kitchen. Her stomach gnawed. Nervous all day, she was afraid to eat after getting sick last night. Now she craved a baked potato.
Two feet inside the room, she flipped the light switch. Her skin tingled as a figure took shape, and she screamed.
Serge sat in a chair at her table. One look, and she knew he wasn't happy to see her.
"H-how did you get in here?" She sidestepped to the island, needing something big between them until she caught her breath.
"Breaking into houses is easy. Cars are even easier to jack. Try a bank...those make you think." His gaze hardened.
"God, you can't keep doing this to me." She squeezed the edge of the counter. "I'd like you to leave."
"There's something about surprising someone." He stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. "I can almost smell the fear—he inhaled– and feel your heart hammering inside your chest from clear across the room. It's almost like sex."
She stiffened. Unable to take her eyes off him, she remained silent. For how much he was scaring her—and he was definitely freaking her out—there was something else about him that frightened her even more.
His eyes, usually so clear and direct, held hers, but it was almost as if he wasn't seeing her. Yet, he was looking. The disconnectedness physically wounded her.
"Have you ever experienced tasting the terror you bring out in someone?" He shook his head, breaking his gaze. "No, probably not. You've had no reason to frighten anyone."
"Serge, I–"
"I'm not asking you to talk." He stood and approached the other side of the kitchen island. "I left you last night with a request that you call me in the morning. You didn't."
"I–"
"You. Did. Not," he said. "Nor did you answer the phone all day. So, in my worry, I came here."
"W-what?" She reeled away and pressed herself against the refrigerator.
Instead of going into the office this morning, I came here to help you. Because that's what I fucking promised I'd do. Imagine my surprise when my knock went unanswered. Then, upon finding you not home, I made some phone calls. After confirming with one of your employees, I believe his name was Kenneth, I learned you were at work, and according to him, you were setting up cots and lugging groceries into the kitchen." He stepped around the island and leaned his hip on the corner. "My worry turned to anger.
She crossed her arms, thought better of infuriating him more, and put her fists down at her sides. "I can explain."
"Oh, you can explain?" He gazed up at the ceiling. "Since you're feeling well enough to work, it goes without saying that you're in good enough shape to fuck."
Her throat closed. She shook her head because that wasn't what she wanted.
"That's what I want. I want to fuck you. Fuck you so hard you won't think about lying to me again."
He stalked toward her. She melted against the flat, slick surface of the fridge, and even then, she couldn't escape. Not giving her an inch, he pinned her against the appliance. She gasped at the definite hardness pressed into her stomach.
His head lowered, and he spoke into her ear. "You want to know the real me? I'll show you. You want to speed things up and take what I need instead of pussy footing around with what I was giving you so you don't get scared, I'll give that to you, too."
His hot breath on her ear sent a quiver down her spine. One she tried hard to push back, one she wanted to refuse, one she knew she shouldn't like. But, she did.
"I told you what you'd get from me, and you stayed. You know what kind of man I am, and you begged me." He nipped her earlobe with his teeth. "No doubt, if I put my hand in your panties, my fingers will come away wet."
She turned her head away from him. He merely followed her and placed his mouth on her neck. The firm suction on the delicate skin at the top of her shoulder confirmed he was right. Her core spasmed, rebelling against her brain.
"I made a promise," he whispered against her skin. "I will always, always, take care of you."
Her knees weakened, and he dipped his body, nailing her to the appliance. His erection ground into the V of her thighs. Her eyes rolled, and she closed her eyelids in a vain attempt to hide the truth from him.
She wanted this. This wild, unbridled passion he brought out in her.
The dominance. Overtaking her power to think beyond the moment. Everything.
"S-Serge..." She wasn't sure if she spoke or thought his name.
"I'm making you a new promise, so listen carefully." He took her wrists and held them out to the sides, stretching her, crucifying her. "I will die trying to get inside your head. You can't run from me. What you think, feel, and fear is now mine. I will know every secret you've buried, every worry you've fed, and every love you've nurtured. You think I'm scary now, just fuck around and find out."
As if he'd promised her the moon instead of threatening her safety, she let go. Every muscle in her body ceased to work. Serge held her dangling from her wrists. The force of his hardness cut into her pubic bone, and the pain, the discomfort, the inability to do a thing about it, because she wanted everything he promised.
She'd gone beyond fearing him. He was the only man who could save her.
"Please." She hung her head. "Please, please..."
Whether she begged him to hold up his end of the promise and not give up on her, or to end the torment of what he was doing to her body, she couldn't say. She only knew he filled her with something so profound she'd die without him.
The tinkle and clash of glass snapped her gaze up to find dishware broken across the floor. He lifted her as she comprehended that he'd knocked everything off the counter. She groaned as the front of her body met the cold tile of the kitchen island. He yanked her jeans over her ass, down her legs, and then pulled her ankles until her legs hung off the counter. Facedown, she reached out, but her hands slipped on the smooth tile.
Her cheek pressed into the cold surface as Serge spread her legs and plunged inside of her without any warning. Swift pleasure filled her and brought her head off the counter. He shoved her back down and kept a hand on her back. She could do nothing but take the savage thrusts of his cock.
"Please," she whispered, wanting to move.
He withdrew from her body. She squirmed, scared he'd left, but his hand remained on her back.
"This is what you want, and I can give it to you." He stroked the rounded curve of her hip. "Challenge me, and I'll fight back."
She nodded, scraping her cheek. "I want...."
His body leaned over her back, and he used his weight to pin her down. Defenseless and at his mercy, she braced for each movement. She'd changed her mind.
She couldn't walk away from him.
She couldn't walk away from this.
Oh, my God. What was wrong with her? The more he scared her, the more she felt...loved.
"That's it," he whispered in her ear. "I can give you everything you crave and have never received."
"Please." She used all her strength to buck her hips, reminding him where she wanted him.
A resounding slap against flesh filled the room. A split second later, energy and pain radiated up her back, and she arched off the counter. His hand hitting her ass came so fast, only afterward had the burn hit the surface.
Instead of moving away from the pain, she clawed at the counter. Her pussy dripped with her arousal. No one had ever spanked her before.
Serge pushed her down, plunged into her, and his harsh breath swept over her shoulder. Her nipples ached underneath her, and she squirmed, liking the way her whole body seemed under attack and not understanding why she'd enjoy what he was doing to her.
He grunted, skidding her inches against the tile, making her skin burn as the ceramic pieces pulled against her skin. "Trust me."
With his declaration, she let herself go. She floated, yet felt him holding her down, not letting her wander away to where she could become lost. The length of his cock stroked her inside, letting her know she wasn't alone. She gave herself to Serge.
His fingers dug into the back of her upper thighs, not letting her get away. The reminder that he controlled every move she made burned deep, scarring her for anything less. She wanted proof that he'd be there, a reminder of where he'd taken her, and as he dragged her back hard to meet his penetration, she came.
Every inch of her cried in pleasure. Her voice filled the room. Her skin, hot and tight, screamed out for more. Her insides exploded, sending every emotion straight to her chest, and killing her in the most pleasurable way possible.
Barely able to make a conscious thought, she closed her eyes and smiled as he released his pleasure inside of her. She wanted to tell him how she felt, and reassure him she'd never ignore him again, but all she could muster up the strength to do was whisper, "I trust you."
But, she wasn't sure if he heard her or she imagined the whole thing.