Chapter Eighteen #3
“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, moving my hair aside and tenderly kissing my shoulder. “I don’t know how a man could look at you and want to hurt you. I told Zane I’ll probably hurt you, but if I do, I’ll hurt myself just as much or maybe more. People do that to each other, don’t they?”
I turn and look at him, crimes he has yet to commit haunting his eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in love. If Max were here, I would hurt him. I didn’t want with him what he wanted with me.”
I undo his bow tie, surprised it’s a real bow and not a fake. Maybe he wears tuxes more often than I thought. I slowly unbutton his dress shirt revealing a white tank.
We’re sitting in the semi-dark, the hallway’s weak orange light drifting into the room. There’s something about him that’s a little sad, a little melancholy, but we just came from Max’s dinner and he’s on both our minds.
“What do you want, Zarah?” he asks.
I finish unbuttoning his shirt, undo his onyx and silver cufflinks, and drop them onto his dresser. He lets me slide his jacket off his broad shoulders and he tosses it onto the chair in the corner of the room. Standing between his legs, I say, “I want to be able to put what Ash did behind me. I want to look forward to a future that his evil can’t touch. I want to one day be able to make love to you and not be scared of you touching me. Most of all, I want to know why.”
“Why what?”
He tugs off his dress shirt and yanks the tank over his head. He balls it up and it joins his tuxedo jacket on the chair. His dress shirt slid to the floor and he didn’t pick it up. I’m wearing more clothes than he is now.
“These are so beautiful.” I brush my fingers over the tattoos covering one of his biceps.
“You don’t think they’re ugly? Some of the women I’ve dated thought so.”
“No. Stella has a dove on her shoulder. She says it symbolizes peace. Peace she fought for reconciling her past. Maybe one day I could have something like that. Something to symbolize what I’ve lived through.”
“I’d like to be there.”
“I’d like that, too.”
Gage turns me around and slowly pulls my zipper down.
“Why what?” he asks again.
The dress slithers down my body into a heap of material on the floor. I stand in front of him in a hot pink strapless bra, matching panties, and a black garter belt. “Why he hated me.”
“He’s a sociopath, a psychopath. He hated Stella and he hated your brother, a man he claimed to be his best friend. There is no why, Zarah, no blame, no responsibility. Holy fuck, I need to stop talking.”
I laugh, and it feels good to have a positive reaction from a man. I feel beautiful, not dirty.
“Come here.”
I sit on his knee, his hand warming my waist.
“We’re not going to make love tonight, but not because I don’t want to. Your mental health is more important than my wants. I’m between a rock and a hard place here, and I hope you understand that. I don’t want to do more than you can handle, but I don’t want you to think I’m holding back because of what those bastards did to you. As far as I’m concerned, there’s only you and me. This is a clean slate. There’s nothing before the day we met on the sidewalk outside your building.”
His words bring me to tears. They were exactly what I needed to hear, I just didn’t know it.
“Thank you.” I press myself against his chest, rub my lips under his jaw, and whisper kisses down his neck. Fluttering my fingertips over his nipples and abs, I stop when I reach the waist of his pants.
He hisses out a breath.
His reaction is intoxicating, but I’ll always have mixed feelings about having power over someone else. I love how he responds to me, but even now I feel guilty. I’m not ready to deliver one hundred percent on what foreplay should lead up to.
“I know what’s going through your brain. I’m an adult and I can control myself. Zarah, we can have fun.”
“Okay, I’m sor—”
He cuts me off, covering my mouth with his. He tangles his fingers in my hair, and I whimper. This is what I imagined seduction could be. Two people desperately in love, hungry for each other.
I break the kiss, and woozy, I gasp for air.
His chuckle is low and sexy. “Can I take your stockings off?”
“Yes.” I stagger to my feet, and he flicks the snaps open. Kneeling on the floor, he slides the silk down my leg. His touch zaps all of my nerve endings and I twist my fingers in his hair to touch him as much as to steady myself. “Gage.”
“Shh.” He reaches my ankle and I lift my foot allowing him to slide the scrap of material over my toes. He throws it aside, though the weightless piece of fabric doesn’t go far. Meeting my eyes, he deliberately unsnaps the other leg. I blink and swallow. Inch by inch, he rolls the silk down, kissing everywhere his fingers touch. Heat pools in my belly.
I try not to think where he learned all his moves. His sexual history is more extensive, and definitely more positive than mine has been. Now would be a good time to talk about STDs and birth control and all the rest, but I can’t say anything. I’m being irresponsible, but I don’t want to break the spell for something so clinical.
He does it for me.
“I know you want to mess around and experiment, and we’ll only do what you’re comfortable with. I don’t have any diseases and I haven’t had sex in over a year.” I open my mouth to ask about the barista, but he reads my mind. “Even Sierra. I don’t want to do this if you’re too scared to tell me what you want...and what you don’t.”
“Use my words.”
“Yes. You’ll have fun if we keep communication open, and I want it to be fun for you, sweetheart. Have a good time. Get to know me.” Gage stands and presses my hand to his cock. I can feel the heat through his tuxedo pants.
“You’re big.” I voice the fears I’ve been thinking about since the night we made out on his couch.
“I’ve never hurt a woman because of my size,” he says, surging against my hand.
I trust that he’s telling me the truth. “Okay.”
He pushes his pants to the floor, and they crumple near my dress. “Will you lie with me?”
I nod, sit on the edge of the bed, and scoot toward the headboard. I’m aware of every movement, every ungraceful thing I do.
My head isn’t quite on a pillow when he lies next to me on his side. Propping himself up on his arm, he plays with the lace of my bra before leaning over to kiss me, partially covering my body. His skin is blazing hot, and I want more. I rest my leg on his hip, and our bodies meld together.
He brushes a hand down my back, and he cups my butt, pulling me toward him even more. His cock is hard between us. I have to remember to use my hands, too, and my fingers roam over every inch of his hard body I can reach. Gage’s kisses are light, but there’s an urgency hidden under the softness and I can tell he’s reining in his emotions. Our tongues tangle together, and losing some inhibitions, I wiggle even closer and explore his mouth. He tastes spicy, the flavors from our dinner gone, and I savor his passion for me.
He pushes me back until he’s lying on top of me, but not suffocating. That’s important. I can’t feel trapped or I’ll panic, and I don’t. I don’t feel anything but love and trust. He moves his mouth down my jaw, to my shoulder, and to my breasts. My nipples are hard, and he nudges the lace away.
“You are so gorgeous,” he whispers before licking the delicate skin. His hot tongue hardens them even more, and the sensation travels to my core. My panties are sopping wet now, and the scent of arousal permeates the heavy air. My stomach trembles, but I control it. The musky scent of sex won’t always be dirty. It won’t always symbolize pain and shame. It can mean desire and love.
He sucks my other nipple into his mouth, and I arch into him, needing more even as I fear it. With a final lick, he moves down to my belly, his tongue blazing as he delves into my navel. I laugh. It’s such an unsexy place for a kiss. He chuckles against my skin and his fingers dip into my panties. “Zarah, I want to taste you.”
“No one has before.” I’m nervous. Not that he’ll hurt me, but because he won’t like how I smell or how I’ll taste. It can’t taste good to a man, can it?
“Then I get to be the first.” Gage pulls my panties off leaving my garter, and the snaps shine in the hallway’s light. “You are the sexiest woman I have ever seen. Can I kiss you? I promise I’ll be gentle.”
I widen my legs, offering myself to him.
He opens me, and embarrassed, I try not to squirm. I keep groomed down there as part of my feminine maintenance, but I do that for myself and no one else. I feel exposed.
I gasp as he covers my cleft with his scorching mouth, and already an orgasm starts to build, pressure mounting between my legs. His tongue laps at my clit, and I lift my hips, my body instinctively looking for more, searching for release.
“Gage,” I whimper.
“Is it too much?” he asks, lifting his head, meeting my eyes in the scant light.
“No.” I panic. I’m almost ready to come, and I would die now if he stopped. “More. I need more.”
“Can I touch you? Push my finger inside you? I want to feel you come around me.”
“Yes, yes,” I beg, fisting his comforter in my hands. “Please.”
Gage lowers his head and devours me. He glides a finger inside me, and I moan. This feels nothing like what those men did, and separating how they treated me from what Gage is doing is so easy. He loves me, and every movement, every request, proves he’ll never hurt me.
“More,” I say desperately. “More.”
He slides another finger inside me, filling me, and I bear down and rock against his mouth. I need to come, the need of it so strong my apprehension falls away. “Please,” I moan. It only takes one more flick of his tongue and I come, pushing my sex against his lips until I think I’m the one hurting him.
The orgasm crashes through my body, lighting my skin on fire, and I feel like I’m fizzing, like a sparkler, until I die out and I’m lying on Gage’s bed sweaty and depleted.
Using the edge of the comforter, he wipes his mouth. Never breaking eye contact, he crawls over the mattress and covers my sweaty body with his.
“Taste yourself on my lips. How sweet you are,” he says, and he kisses me, lapping at me like a hungry cat happening upon a bowl of cream.
The flavor isn’t unpleasant, and I kiss him back, thankful he loves me, thankful he’s patient and willing to show me a different side to what sex can be.
He presses his cock into my cleft, hot and hard, reminding me I need to return the favor. I’m not scared. Well, maybe a little bit, but I want to make him come. I want to see how he feels when I touch him.
I push on his shoulders and he lets me roll him onto his back. “I can’t give you a blowjob...” I’m not ready to have his cock in my mouth. Only time and an extreme amount of patience on his part will let me decide if I can ever be comfortable doing such a triggering activity.
“You don’t have to do anything,” he says, cupping my face between his hands.
“I want to. Can I play?”
“Yeah, but if I die, will you call Pop and take care of Baby?” He’s teasing me, his eyes bright, and I love him even more if that’s possible.
Reaching behind me, he unhooks my bra. “Take your garter belt off.”
While I do, he wiggles out of his briefs, and we’re naked on the bed. This is a new feeling and one I’m grateful for. The men Ash sold me to never undressed me. Maybe having sex in a gown will be one of my triggers—I won’t know until I try—but lying with Gage in his apartment without a stitch is about as far from being in a sterile hotel room in a ripped dress as I can be.
I straddle him, resting my palms on his chest. He skims his finger up and down my spine and it feels so good I shiver.
His cock is thick between us, the lips of my sex cradling the base, the long shaft poking out from between our bodies. It would be so easy for me to rise onto my knees and position myself over him, but I haven’t had sex in six years. Late one night, I asked Stella how it felt when she made love to my brother after so long, and she told me the truth. He’d been rough and unkind and he’d hurt her. Gage would never hurt me, but it will be important to tell him how I’m feeling so he knows what I can handle and what I can’t.
I sit back and hold him in my hand. The tip is wet, and I gingerly touch it with my fingertip.
Gage twitches.
“You don’t like it?”
“I do. Very much. I won’t need much to get off.”
I trace the veins and the wide crown of his head. It sounds silly, taking stock, but I love looking at him. Associating his cock to pleasurable things and not power and violence.
This is how two people start a family, and we will, when Gage and I are ready.
“Do you want to marry me?” I bring it up because I’d like to be married first. Before babies.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, brushing my hair away from my face.
“Sex can make babies, and I want to be married first.”
“I don’t think we need to worry about that for a while. Besides, once you’re off those drugs, you could decide you want something different.”
I lean into him, my nipples grazing the sparse hair on his chest. “Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll be a different person. Maybe I’ll be a person you don’t want anymore.”
There’s no reason to deny the drugs change me. They repress my feelings, they hide my memories. I’m only half of who Zarah Maddox used to be. Gage could not like the person I’ll be when I’m back to my old self.
Maybe that young, na?ve girl is gone, but still. I could turn into someone he won’t like. A rich socialite who still doesn’t know what she wants to be when she grows up.
“Then we have similar fears. There’s nothing we can do about that except wait.”
At least he doesn’t lie.
“But if things work out like I hope they will, I’d like to marry you. If you’ll have me. Because I don’t have much to give you except—”
I press a finger over his lips. “You’re enough.” I brush kisses over his belly and puff a hot breath onto his cock. I lick my way up and down his erection, his skin soft. Gage moves his hands, but I say, “Don’t touch me. I need time to get used to this.”
“Zarah, you don’t—”
“I’m tired of being afraid.”
This quiets him, and I return to my exploration. I cup his balls, and they’re heavy in my hand. Lightly, I touch my tongue to the tip and taste the pre-cum there. It’s salty, and I go back to kissing his chest. I’m not ready to taste his cum. The men who paid Ash liked to force me to swallow as they came in the back of my throat. They’d slap me if I gagged.
“I want you to make love to me.” I think I’m ready. The bedroom’s warm, and I feel safe in our cocoon because Gage loves me. He’s been between my legs and I’ve held his cock in my hands. I can do it.
He shakes his head. “No. Not tonight. I want to show you how to get me off without sex and without a blowjob. Lie next to me.”
We lie side by side, and I use his arm as a pillow. He guides my hand to his cock, and as I grasp him, he caresses my breast.
“Stroke up and down. I’ll come in a second. Can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” I breathe against his lips.
I rub his hard cock—it’s really big—the veins pulsing under my palm. He devours my mouth like he did on the couch, our teeth colliding as he pushes into my hand encouraging me to go faster and faster until my fingers ache and the muscles in my bicep burn.
I’m about to tell him I need a break, but he comes, and hot globs of white, creamy cum cover my hand and belly.
It’s everywhere, and I still pump, drawing out his quaking orgasm. I stroke him until he laughs, and I stop and flex my hand. My fingers are slippery, and when I glide them over the head of his cock, he trembles. I fight back memories of cum filling my mouth and dribbling down my chin.
Gage kisses me, his tongue pushing between my teeth, and I kiss him back, grateful for the distraction, grateful he can pull me away from those horrible flashbacks and anchor me in his bed.
“Thanks,” he whispers.
“Was that good?”
“It was perfect.”
“Good.” We lie like that for a few minutes, and I start to doze, his body heat keeping me warm despite not lying under the comforter.
“We should clean up,” he says, rousing me. “Are you hungry or thirsty?”
“I need to brush my teeth and take the prescription my therapist gave me.”
Gage leans back and frowns. “Zane told me you’re seeing Jerricka Solis. Why is she prescribing you medication? I thought your meds were monitored by your doctor?”
“Yeah, I am, and they are, but Dr. Reagan consults her, too. Trust me, he has the last say and signs off on everything. Do you know her?”
He pauses. “I’ve heard of her.” He slides off the bed and says, “I’ll bring you a washcloth.”
“Thanks.” I press my cheek into the soft flannel pillowcase and wait, my muscles loose from my orgasm and fatigue. It’s been a long day.
Gage steps into the bedroom holding a damp washcloth, and he sits on the bed. Gently, he cleans the semen off my hands and belly. After he’s finished, he rinses it with warm water, tenderly spreads my legs, and wipes the insides of my thighs. The kind gesture brings tears to my eyes. “You didn’t want to make love.”
“Zarah. I don’t want you to rush, and what we did tonight was more than what I had planned. We have plenty of time. When you’re ready, making love will feel natural, and you’ll give yourself to me without doubts. Tonight was perfect, and I’m looking forward to sleeping next to you all night.”
My throat burns. I may never again find a man as understanding as Gage. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. No matter what you think, no matter what it looks like, everything I do is because I want to keep you safe and happy. No other reason.”
My skin is still damp, but I sit up and wrap my arms around him. “I’m sorry about Max.”
He sighs and rubs my back. “I am too, but I think he’d like this. I think he’d approve.”
Max’s father doesn’t, but I don’t say anything.
Gage kisses my forehead and steps into the hall and into the bathroom.
In my bag, I dig out fresh panties, my nightgown, and a robe. “Can I feed Baby?”
“Yeah. There’s food in the pantry next to the fridge. I need a minute. Do you want the bathroom first?”
“No, I’m okay. Thanks.”
I dress and carry the prescription bottle into the kitchen. The pills rattle inside, sending apprehension zipping over my skin. I hate the sound. In the pantry, I find a large plastic container of kibble, and interested, Baby looks up. A small shovel is wedged into the dog food, and I pull it out and pour a scoop into her bowl. She pads over and starts eating, and I rinse her dish and give her fresh water, too. While she’s crunching, I take my medication and the cool tap water tastes delicious. I didn’t realize I was so thirsty.
Gage hasn’t come out of the bathroom yet, and I sit on the floor and keep Baby company while she eats. I could go back to the bedroom, but I like Gage’s dog. Animals are so easy. Either they like you or they don’t.
Baby slops water all over the floor when she drinks, and I laugh. Can my life be this simple? Live with the man I love, feed the dog. That sounds basic, uncomplicated, but I’ll need more. Stella needed more, and maybe she found it taking classes.
Petting Baby, I consider Jerricka’s ideas. I could volunteer at one of Mom’s charities. I could fundraise for the no-kill shelter. She was so proud of the work she did for the animals.
Gage lets Baby outside one last time, and I brush my teeth and crawl into bed.
I’m not waiting long before he slams inside. “It’s still snowing,” he says, tugging off the sweatpants he wore to go out. He slips between the sheets and curls his cold body around mine. I gasp, laughing, and he presses a chilly kiss to my jaw. Wearing boxers and a t-shirt, he wraps his arms around me. “I could get used to this.”
“You won’t let me live here.” It still stings he sent me home, that he wasn’t open to even the idea of me moving into his apartment.
“I would love it, but when you’re ready to do that, we could pick out a place together.”
“I like it here.” I do. I like how cozy it is. It doesn’t matter to me that Zane and Stella’s master suite is bigger than his entire apartment.
“You don’t belong here.”
His words crush me, and I turn in his arms. “Then I don’t belong anywhere.”
“You’re better than this dumpy little box. One day you’ll find your place.”
I kiss him, his beard scratching my skin. “I thought I had. Here.”
“Zarah,” he groans my name and hugs me to him, his chest solid and comforting.
“I love you, Gage. Don’t tell me this isn’t where I belong. It’s here, or the penthouse, or the country house. A different apartment, or a house in the suburbs, it doesn’t matter as long as your arms are around me, like this.”
I hitch my leg over his hip, needing to get closer, and he buries his face in the crook of my neck.
“I have nightmares,” he says, his voice rough and full of pain, “I try to keep you safe, but I can’t. There’s something in the shadows, waiting, lurking, wanting to hurt you the second I turn my back. I don’t know how to protect you, Zarah. I don’t know what to do.”
“There’s nothing hurting me.”
“I wish I believed that. I really want to believe that.”
We kiss like we haven’t seen each other for weeks, consuming each other’s souls, trying to get as close as possible. I’m wet, and he makes me come, his thumb rubbing my clit, his fingers inside me, and frantically, I give him another handjob until he explodes, shuddering, my name coming out of his mouth in gasping puffs.
“Tell me you need me,” I beg. “Promise me you want me. Don’t send me away. Don’t leave me.”
“I’m here, I’m here,” he chants, rocking me, and I fall into a restless sleep, shielded in his arms.
Something wakes me, and I fall out of bed, banging my ankle on the nightstand. The room is a blur of shadows, voices echoing in my head.
Blindly, black swirling around me, my hands grasping at nothing, I stand.
“Where are you?”
“What’s your birthdate?”
“What’s your mother’s maiden name?”
The air is sterile, and the room is cold, so cold.
I trip and land hard on my knees in an unfamiliar hallway.
A dog whines.
My thighs are sticky, and I’m tender between my legs. Is that now? Or from before?
I can’t see, as if a veil is covering my face, but in the back of my mind, I know I’m awake. I don’t know where I am, or how I got here. My skin smells like sex, but I don’t know when. Or who.
I stagger to my feet, and my hip catches the edge of a table. Something falls, shatters. I don’t know what. The noise is muted, like a pillow covering my ears.
I shouldn’t be here. I need to get out of this place.
The door’s locked, and I grapple with the deadbolts. They want to keep me here, but I’m stronger than they are.
The dog whines again.
Someone wants to hurt me.
I can’t stay here.
Finally, I throw the door open, and a wall of ice hits me in the face. The floor’s chilly under my feet, but I force myself to move.
I slam the door shut and the whining stops.
I step forward again, and then again, and suddenly the floor disappears under my foot. The ground meets my ribs and the wind’s knocked out of me. My body rolls, the pain flaring with every second.
At last, I stop, an ache under my breast so fierce I can’t breathe.
Punishment.
I don’t know enough, but it’s too much.
“What’s your phone number?” an angry voice demands.
I don’t know.
“Who are you?”
I whimper. I don’t know. How can I know who I am? I’m nothing. No feelings. No emotions. A ghost.
I push to my hands and knees and crawl to a corner, hoping no one can find me.
“Who loves you?”
Who loves me? No one. No one. Wait. A face emerges in my cloudy mind, slowly focusing like a Polaroid.
Dark hair. Hazel eyes.
He loves me.
He does.
He’s the one.
I cradle my head in my arms and cry.
He’s the one he’s the one he’s the one.
He’s the one who loves me, and I can’t remember his name.