Chapter 29
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
ANABELLE
Iwake up, daylight filtering in through my closed eyelids, and I blink awake. It takes me a moment to remember where I am and exactly whose chest I’m sprawled across.
Asher’s.
I recall the music, the nightmare, and the way he held me as though he was afraid I would disappear as I drifted off to sleep.
When I move to roll off him, his hand—I just realize now—is on my ass, preventing me from doing so.
“I’m sorry, I must have draped myself all over you when I was sleeping.”
A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest against my ear. “You say that as if I would complain.”
“Won’t you?” I tilt my face to look at him. He drops his hand off my butt and gives me room to move, so I roll over onto my back.
“No complaints.” He rolls to his side and looks at me with his head propped on his hand.
Asher Voss in the morning is a sight to behold. His hair is disheveled and the wavy strands hang down on the sides and over his forehead. There’s no trace of the tortured man who lay in this bed last night.
“How are you this morning?” Does he even remember having the nightmare?
The sparkle in his blue eyes dims. “Fine. Thanks again for waking me up.”
I nod. “Of course. I wasn’t sure if I should or not.”
“You did the right thing. What were you doing down at this end of the wing? Was I so loud that I woke you up in your room?” His eyes fill with concern.
“No, I didn’t hear you until I was outside your door. I…” Do I tell him about the music? This is the second time it’s happened, and I have no explanation for either time.
“You what?” He frowns and brushes a stray section of my hair away from my face.
“I heard this music. It was the same music that drew me to the library the first time you found me there…”
“What kind of music?” All right. At least he doesn’t seem to think I’m crazy.
“Opera maybe? It’s hard to say really. I thought maybe you were listening to it.”
He shakes his head against his hand. “Nope. I don’t know what that was.”
Asher doesn’t seem particularly concerned about it. I wonder whether he’s seen his fair share of strange things around Midnight Manor over the years.
“You’re really okay?”
He looks okay right now, but when I think back to last night… god, he seemed so gutted. How can he so quickly brush it off?
“I’m usually a little out of sorts the day after, but I’m used to it by now.”
I hesitate for a moment before I ask my next question. It’s fine if he doesn’t want to share, but I also want him to know that he can open up if he feels the need to.
“What was your dream about? It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it,” I quickly add.
The pain returns to his eyes and regret slashes me.
But to my surprise, he speaks. “When I was growing up, my father used to beat me for anything he thought was a transgression—big or small. Sometimes my mother would try to stop him, and he’d hurt her.
I’ve been thinking about my mother a lot lately, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that I dreamed one of those times she tried to step in to protect me. ” He frowns.
“Asher, I’m so sorry.” I trail my fingers down his face.
He turns his head and kisses the inside of my hand. “There’s no reason for you to be sorry. It’s my father who was the massive prick.”
“Still, I can’t imagine what that’s like—to watch your mother be hurt like that…”
He looks over my head, and his eyes become haunted, almost as though he’s reliving it all over again.
“After this one particular time when I was ten, I made her promise not to try to intervene anymore. She wasn’t having any of it, but I told her it hurt me more to watch my father beat her than it did to feel his fists against my face.
I remember she wept that day and wouldn’t stop. ”
The pain and anger in my chest feel near impossible to control. If his father were still alive today, I’d want to take my fists to his face. “That’s terrible that you felt like you had to protect her. No child should feel that way.”
He gives a sad sort of chuckle. “I tried to protect everyone—my mom, my brothers, myself. For all the good it did.”
“Did your brothers suffer the same fate you did?”
His gaze meets mine again. “Those stories are for my brothers to tell, not me.”
I nod in understanding.
What kind of man beats his wife and four children? A sociopath, that’s who.
“I don’t know what to say, Asher. I’m sorry you had to endure that.”
He brushes his thumb over my bottom lip. “There’s nothing to be done about it now.”
“Didn’t anyone try to step in? Surely other people must’ve known.”
Asher threads his fingers into the hair at the side of my head.
“You grew up with money, Anabelle, but you didn’t grow up with the kind of money my family has.
The kind of influence and power to ruin generations of a family.
People who worked on the estate knew, but they would never say anything.
The only ones who did are the ones who are still employed here from back then—Marcel and Mr. and Mrs. Potter. ”
That makes sense, I realize. They always seem to look at Asher through eyes more akin to a parental figure, rather than an employee.
“Once, when I was probably around eleven or twelve, my dad beat me so badly that both my eyes swelled shut. In the week it took for the swelling to come down enough that I could see again, my mom read me books by my bedside all day to keep me from getting bored, and Mrs. Potter made me homemade ice cream every day.”
I don’t bother asking why his mother didn’t take her children and leave. She was a victim too. Leaving any man when you’re in a situation like that is difficult, but leaving a man with the wealth and power of Asher’s father? It must have seemed insurmountable.
A tear slips down my face as I picture a young Asher with a bruised face, relegated to staying in bed to heal rather than running around and exploring the massive estate as any child should.
“Hey, why are you crying?” Asher’s voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. He swipes away the lone tear with the pad of his thumb.
“I just can’t imagine growing up like that. Always afraid of the man who’s supposed to love you. I was so close to my father. I just… I feel bad that you never got to know that feeling.”
He gives me a sad sort of smile. “I’m glad you had that at least, even if you lost it too soon.”
I nod, trying to push away all thoughts of my dad because I can’t handle anything more right now.
“What about your mom? Are you close with her?” he asks.
My chest tightens. “I was close with her too.”
Asher frowns. “Was?”
“Since my dad died, she’s been… depressed. Hardly speaks or eats, and rarely gets out of bed. Physically she’s still here, but it’s like I’ve lost her too.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“I feel guilty because sometimes I’m glad I’m living here so that I don’t have to see her waste away every day. Does that make me a terrible daughter?”
He shakes his head. “No, it makes you human. I know firsthand how hard it is to watch someone you love suffer. I don’t blame you for wanting to escape it. Do you visit her when you leave here on Saturday nights?”
I sigh. “Usually. Sometimes I just go to Black Magic to pass the time and have a drink because I don’t think I can face her.”
“I’m sorry.”
I only smile at him. It’s not his fault, and there’s nothing he can do, so I change the subject.
“Can I ask about the bear tattoo?”
He stares down at his hand, spreading his fingers and flexing his fist. “My mom compared each one of us to an animal. She said I was strong, but thoughtful. Protective of her and my brothers. She called me her little bear for a long time.”
I put my hand over his and squeeze. “I love that.”
His eyes lock with mine, and there’s a heavy want.
“Do you have the nightmares often?”
His eyes grow haunted again, and I regret my words. “Enough, but I’ve been having them more often lately.”
I wonder why, but I don’t ask. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Instantly his demeanor changes. He looks as if he wants to say something, but he presses his lips together.
“Asher, what is it?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
I move to sit up, and he rolls from his side onto his back and sits up. “It does matter. Tell me what I can do. Anything.” I stare at him, willing him to keep being open with me. To tell me what I can do.
“My past… I think it’s the reason I value control so much…”
“Asher, tell me what you need.” I don’t drop his gaze.
“I need to be in control right now. I need to know that I still have some control in my life, that I’m still the one in charge. It’s the only thing that pushes the dreams away, the memories.”
I move so that I’m sitting on my knees, and I place my hands on either side of his face. “Then control me, sir.”
A rush of air leaves him, and his body grows rigid, his eyes hard. I know I don’t have to ask him again. The man who wants to direct things is here, even if it isn’t Saturday night, and we’re not in the basement.
“Take your clothes off.”
“Yes, sir.”
I scoot to the edge of the bed and step onto the floor, turning to face him.
Then I slowly lift the cami top over my head and slide down my sleep shorts until they rest on the floor.
Asher licks his lips and peruses my body slowly from head to toe.
It’s difficult not to cover myself. I feel so exposed in the dim morning light.
But I stand my ground, knowing this is what I can do to pull him back from the brink of his nightmares.
“Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are, Anabelle? So young, too young for me. You have no idea the things I want to do to you. If you did, you’d probably run.”
I want to open my mouth and argue with him, but that’s not the role I’m playing here, so I remain quiet.
He stands from the bed, and my nipples pebble in anticipation. I thought I was going to have to wait until the next sex club night for this.
“Go wait in the ensuite. Stand in front of the mirror and take in how beautiful you are.”
“Yes, sir.”
The way his eyelids dip in response every time I call him sir makes my core ache.
I do as he says, standing in front of the mirror.
I’m not certain what he’s doing, but I think I can hear him opening and closing drawers in his closet.
When I hear him walk into the bathroom, my instinct is to turn and look at him, but I force myself to remain eyes forward.
He told me to look at myself in the mirror, and I want to please him, so that’s what I’ll do.
Asher stands behind me, and because of our height difference, I can clearly see his face over mine in the mirror. It’s not until this moment that I see what seems to have been so obvious to him from the beginning—our age difference.
He is every part the mature, virile man. With no makeup on and having just woken up, I look like a child in comparison.
I watch as he takes the weight of my breasts in his hands, squeezing gently. Then he uses each thumb and forefinger to pinch my nipples, pulling them out from my body, and I moan. It’s impossible not to, the sensation is so seductive.
Letting one hand drop, he reaches into the pocket of his lounge pants and pulls out something. He holds on to one end while the other dangles, and I realize it’s a pair of nipple clamps joined together by a chain.
“Do you want me to put these on you, Anabelle?”
I nod and lick my lips. “Yes, sir.” My voice is breathy and wanton, nearly desperate.
Jesus, he’s barely laid a hand on me, and already I’m like a cat in heat.
Using the mirror as his guide, as well as looking over my shoulder, he attaches the first clamp to my right nipple. I groan deep in my throat. It’s a weird mixture of pleasure and pain, discomfort and relief. When he attaches the clamp to my left nipple, my breathing picks up.
Asher leans in, running his tongue up the column of my neck and biting lightly on my earlobe before he tugs on the chain dangling between my breasts. I cry out—not from pain, but because the sensation is overwhelming.
“I’m gonna ride you hard. You okay with that?” he says into my ear.
“Yes, sir.” Just do it already, I want to scream. The space between my thighs is buzzing, and I’m desperate for relief.
“I might fill you full of my seed, or I might come all over your ass. Any preference?” He tugs on the chain again, a little harder now, and sensation zips through me like a lightning bolt.
“No, sir. No preference.”
“Get up on the counter. Kneel on it facing the mirror. We’re both going to watch while I pound into you.”
I have to bite back a groan.
The expanse of the counter is long, so I don’t have an issue finding space to fit me, but I have to bite back a cry due to how cold it is against the front of my shins.
Asher yanks my hips back until my ass is perched over the edge, and my feet hang over the lip of the counter. “I want your eyes on us the entire time. Got it? You look away or close your eyes, and I stop.”
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
“Don’t disappoint me.” Then he plunges inside me in one solid stroke.