The Dominator : a dark mafia romance

Chapter 4 .4

Patrol. There were men here, guarding. Were they doing more than making sure I wasn’t escaping? I’d seen enough mafia movies to know that most organized crime families considered themselves under threat from some enemy or another most of the time.

“Let’s go,” he said to me and took my hand, moving us to head up the stairs, leaving her standing there still smiling goofily.

Following him up to the master bedroom felt ominous. The instant I shut the door behind myself, he pinned me against it. He wasn’t touching me with his hands as both palms were flat against the door, but his hips were against me and I was stuck. He was breathing heavily, looking down at me. I looked up into his eyes and swallowed hard. It seemed like an eternity passed before he finally spoke.

“So?” he breathed.

He threw his suit jacket on the floor and then undid the silver chain around his neck and tucked it into his pants pocket. Then he undid the buttons of the dress shirt and shook it off, and held it in his hand. He did all this while continuing to pin me with his hips. I felt his erection against my stomach.

I took a deep breath. I was torn between wanting to stare at his beautifully sculpted naked upper body and looking away due to the darkening look in his eyes. Obviously, our little date was over and now he was back to being himself. Ice Cream Parlor Hottie was long gone, if he’d ever even been there at all.

“Think you passed tonight?”

I regarded him for a second, trying to read his eyes. They were smoldering with something. Was it passion? Was it anger? Was it both? Whatever it was, it made me bristle.

“I…” I started to answer but was lost for words.

“You’re a damn fine actress,” he said, shaking his head, and then he caressed my cheek with just a graze of the back of his hand. The touch was gentle, but the look on his face – it wasn’t. I felt heat coming off his body and it left me lightheaded. Speechless.

“Aren’t you the perfect little liar?” He looked upset.

Oh no.

“How am I a liar? I wasn’t lying,” I whispered.

He looked at me with disbelief. His face looked on the verge of turning from upset to a sneer and a sneer couldn’t possibly bode well for me.

“I was pretending,” I said quickly, feeling like I was in very dangerous territory.

“What’s the difference?” He frowned at me. “There’s no difference.”

“You told me to behave a certain way and I did. What did I do wrong?” I was trying to not sound snarky. I was trying to not provoke him.

“Nothing. You were perfect.” He looked at me with sourness.

Why was I so pissed off?

Because if this girl could, on a dime, play me like this, make it feel that real, I was in serious fucking trouble. She’d already dinged my armor somehow. She was looking up at me with huge eyes and a trembling bottom lip asking what she’d done wrong and truthfully, I didn’t know how to answer her because she’d done just what I’d told her to do. She’d done a masterful job of acting like she wanted to be with me. I felt guilt sweep through me. I didn’t fucking like it.

“Do you really want to know what the difference is?” she asked me.

“Yeah, why don’t you enlighten me?”

I needed a fucking drink.

“I pretended you were the guy from the ice cream parlor,” I said quickly.

He looked at me weirdly for a second, and then it started to dawn on him, I think.

I continued. “When you came into the ice cream parlor, when you flirted with me, I fell into total crush mode. I thought, wow Tia, imagine if this gorgeous man, not a boy, a man, took you on a date? What would that be like? I imagined what I wanted it to be like. A nice restaurant instead of fast food. All dressed up. Romantic. I thought about you for days. You were on my mind right up until I graduated. When I met you for the second time you shattered that image, that fantasy. Shattered it. Tonight, it felt like my life was on the line and I couldn’t lie, couldn’t pretend to like you, not after everything that’s happened. So,” I took a deep breath, “I tried to rewind things. I pretended you were him… the guy I first fantasized about, how I’d thought you might be.” I swallowed and then continued in barely more than a whisper, “and the date was kind of like I’d imagined and you kind of were like that, too.”

His expression dropped. He was two inches from my face and he just stared at me. He stared at me for the longest time. I didn’t look away. I just leaned against the door.

I finally spoke, “Tommy, please don’t hurt me tonight.” It came out in a flurry of words, almost like two words, his name and then the rest.

He dropped the shirt on the floor and slowly backed away from me, palms up, like I might shoot, then he was at the bar, pouring whiskey in a glass and he drank it straight in one gulp, then slammed the glass on the bar. I flinched, but stayed put. He poured another few inches in the glass and downed that, too. Then he was staring at me and I couldn’t get a read on him. Finally, he slammed the glass down again and strode over to me.

Here we go. I felt sick to my stomach. I felt like I was gonna throw up.

“Go to bed, Tia. Your reward for this evening’s exemplary behavior is that you don’t have to sleep with me tonight. Excuse me.”

Startled, I stepped away from the door.

He left.

I stood, chin to the floor for a moment, then I walked over to the bar, and shakily poured a bit of whiskey into a glass and I downed it. It burned like a sonofabitch.

I got ready for bed, washing the remnants of my ruined make-up off and putting on his dress shirt from the floor.

I tossed and turned almost all night. I thought about Cal and Rose, I thought about the Carusos’ apartment, thought about my friends, about school in the Fall, and most of all I pondered the enigma that was Tommy Ferrano. I didn’t know what to make of him, of the events of the evening. I lay there, lost in thought, torn between stressing about my future and remembering the way that kiss on the beach at sunset felt.

Wearing his shirt with his scent on it felt so intimate; it was almost like he was beside me and that scent was Ice Cream Parlor Hottie to me. Not the gangster, the abusive jerk, but the guy who’d kissed me like I’d never been kissed in my life, who’d smiled at me, who’d laughed at the puppy, held my hand while we walked down the beach, carried my shoes.

I fell asleep probably just before dawn, so slept late. I glanced at the small clock on Tommy’s nightstand and it was 11:30. I sat up and stretched. I got up, used the bathroom, took a shower, and put on his bathrobe, which was hanging up on the back of the bathroom door. It was just the tiniest bit damp around the collar, telling me he must’ve used it today. He must’ve showered in here while I slept. It felt too intimate wearing it. I changed my mind and got out of it, staying in just the towel while I brushed my teeth. I then dressed in more of Sarah’s clothes and made my way downstairs, finding Sarah on a stool at the kitchen island doing something on her phone, laughing.

“Hi,” I said, hesitantly.

She waved me over and showed me a picture of a bunch of old men in Speedo bathing suits with some silly caption below it. I didn’t even read what it said; I just scrunched up my nose at the image and backed away.

She cackled all the way to the coffee maker and brewed a cup for me. I watched her put in two full and then three quarters of a spoonful of sugar. Yep, the weaning off had begun. She stirred it and passed it to me.

“Today I’m going grocery shopping. Anything you fancy, let me know and I’ll add it to my list. Tell me what you like to eat. What do you want for breakfast today?”

“Nothing, I’m not hungry. And um…” I so did not want to have this conversation. It would mean I was settling in here.

“I’ll get you cereal, at least, so you have something in your stomach. I’ll get you some more clothes to wear. What do you like to eat in the mornings? What are your favorite foods? What do you like to drink?”

I was about to tell her that Tommy said my belongings were downstairs, so I didn’t need any more clothes, but her phone rang and she picked it up.

“Yes, Sir?” She mouthed the name Tommy at me.

I backed away from her and walked through the kitchen to the dining room where there were more patio doors. I took my coffee outside to the patio.

A moment later she came out. “He says I should bring you grocery shopping. We’ll go after your coffee and breakfast. He had this delivered for you.”

She passed me an Apple iPhone box. The shrink-wrap was loose. I put it on the table and held my lips tight together.

“What do you want to eat? I’ll make you something. At least have some cereal? Open it. There’s a message.”

“Cereal’s fine; thanks.”

She disappeared into the house.

There was a black iPhone and when I turned it on, there was a text message alert. I opened the text, which said it was from “T”.

“Keep this phone with you at all times in case I need to reach you. It only dials to me and won’t make any other calls. I’ll be home @10-11. Behave.”

I said ‘whatever’ aloud then I put it down. I liked my phone. I didn’t know where my phone even was. Why did I have to use this phone? I wanted to throw it in the pool accidentally-on-purpose.

Sarah came out with a bowl of cereal for me.

“Sugar Crisp?” I asked.

She smiled. “Is that okay?”

I hadn’t had a bowl of Sugar Crisp since my mom walked the earth. I started to bawl. Hard. Ugly cry. She sat down and wrapped her arms around me and let me howl it out. Damn, but it felt good to wail. I think I went on for fifteen minutes until I was doing that stuttered breathing thing. She just let me. She just sat with me and patted my back and stroked my hair and let me cry it out. She was about the age Mom would’ve been if she hadn’t died. God, I missed having a mother.

Rose was amazing and I’d had some other amazing women help raise me, but I really, really wanted my mom. Mom wouldn’t have let Dad sell me to the mafia. If that’s what he’d done.

By the time I let her go, my cereal had gone soggy. She got me another bowl, telling me that she always kept it on hand because it was Tommy’s favorite. I told her through the last of the tears that I wouldn’t hold that against the Sugar Crisp and she laughed at me and rubbed big circles around my back with her palm. Mom used to rub my back like that.

My phone rang, interrupting a meeting – a meeting that was dragging on enough as it was, and I didn’t need something else slowing it down. It was Sarah. I declined the call. Then I got a sinking feeling about Tia. I had seen her in my bed that morning and it’d stirred something in me that I couldn’t put my finger on. She’d been asleep in my shirt, the blankets kicked off, giving me a raging hard-on.

She’d been on my side of the bed, snuggled in to my pillow. I wondered if the only reason she stayed cuddled up against me at night instead of rolling away was because I was on her preferred side of the bed. But seeing her in my shirt just hit me hard. I had to stop myself from climbing on top of her. I got a quick shower and had left before she woke up. I was about to call back and then Sarah called again.

“Excuse me,” I said to Dare and to the three men I was sitting with, brokering a deal for a very lucrative upcoming construction project. I answered and stepped away, asking, “What is it?”

“That girl just spent twenty-five minutes crying on my shoulder like her life was over. She won’t talk, just keeps crying. What are you doing to her?”

The fuck?

I ended the call without a word. For fuck sakes. Few people in the world dared talk to me that way. Unfortunately, Sarah was one of them.

My head was barely in the rest of the meeting. Thankfully, Dare picked up the slack. By the time it was over I knew that Sarah and Tia would be out shopping. I called Earl to check in and make sure everything was okay.

Grocery shopping with a six-foot-six mean-looking Black guy in a suit along with a sweet Latina woman who never shut her mouth for more than five seconds was interesting. It broke up the boredom of lying in my torture chamber (a.k.a. his room), at least.

I was quiet, just pushed the cart while Sarah filled it and talked about recipes, about prices, about what was in season, while she asked me questions about whether or not I preferred crunchy or smooth peanut butter, about whether I liked fruit bottom or stirred yogurt. She told me what Tommy liked to eat, like I cared. But this was a diversion, at least, from the pit of despair I’d been in.

Earl was on the phone, saying, “Yes, Sir. No, no problems, Sir. Yes, Sir. Right, Sir. Fine, Sir. Bye, Sir.”

Fuck off and die, Sir, I thought to myself, or so I thought, but guessed I had actually muttered it aloud because Earl was staring at me with a funny little smile.

I tried to smile back; I definitely blushed. I was grateful I wasn’t being babysat by burly number one or burly number two or Tommy’s very intense angry brother. I guess I kind of liked Earl so far. He seemed nice. He had kind eyes. As kind and nice, I guess, as a guy can be who’s helping another guy hold me prisoner.

As my neck was coming around to face forward after smiling at him I saw my foster mother push an empty shopping cart past me. Rose! She made eye contact briefly, and then kept going. This wasn’t her neighborhood. She glanced back at me and subtly made the sign language sign for toilet.

I knew a bit of sign language because last year we’d had a deaf girl named Shelly live with us for four months. They were four hellish months because she was a nasty piece of work that brought too much drama to the house. Me and the other girls threw a little “Ding dong the witch is dead” party with chanting and everything when she was relocated.

Rose wasn’t happy about our celebration at the time, lecturing about being patient, trying to be helpful, and turning the other cheek, yada yada, but that girl had stolen something or another (clothes, money, books) from every one of us, had spread lies about Bethany at school and online, and she was just really unpleasant. Anyway, I knew a few signs because of that.

I waited until we turned another corner and then tried to be nonchalant. “Is there a public bathroom in this store?” I asked Sarah, careful not to look at Earl.

She pointed behind us. “Yeah, back by the customer service desk.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you in ice cream in five?”

She smiled at me, “You want ice cream?”

I smiled back and nodded. “Be right back.”

Earl said something to her and she took the cart from me. He followed me to the bathroom. I felt my face get hot. I didn’t make eye contact with him. Thankfully, he at least waited outside the door.

The bathroom had two regular stalls and one wheelchair one. I saw Rose’s feet in the wheelchair one, so pulled the handle and stepped in. She grabbed me and clutched me tight against her.

I tried not to make a sound but wanted to fall apart.

“Let’s go. Quick!” she said.

I put my finger to my lips and pointed at the door. “Bodyguard,” I whispered.

She gasped and covered her mouth, then said, “I’ve been so worried. Are you okay?” her voice was barely above a whisper, “You don’t look well.”

I nodded and dashed the tears off my face.

She said, “I don’t know much but I know when something is fishy. A man came to see me to tell me you were in protective custody temporarily, that your father was in trouble but the police were keeping you safe. He gave some cockamamie story with too many holes in it, so I called the police. I had written down the license plate and gave it to them.”

My hand came up to cover my mouth. Oh fuck. Oh no. Oh fuck.

“They transferred me to a cop who took down the information and said he’d call me back. Someone else called and it didn’t feel right. They were giving us the brush off, like you’d just run off with a boyfriend or something. Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t you. I called Susie. She started poking around and then I got another visit, from a man who said you were now engaged to a powerful man and that you had moved on with your life. When I balked because, hey, I know you…he said we’d all be in danger if we continued to try to interfere. He said if we stayed out of it we might get invited to the wedding and get to have a relationship with you. If we didn’t, we might need to find a new house to live in because old houses like ours often had electrical fires. Can you imagine? Cal was close to the house as he left with your things, I had him follow. This morning I decided to wait at that house for them and saw them leave with you, so I followed. Susie thinks you’re in trouble with the mob because of your father. Is it true? She said he’s been associated with the mafia over the years according to her contacts in the police department.”

“Oh Rose, this is too dangerous!” I was trying to keep my voice low. I didn’t have much time. “Listen,” I said, “These are dangerous people. I don’t want you and Cal getting mixed up in this. I’m okay. I’m fine. Please don’t do anything else, please just–”

“You are not fine!” Her voice was getting too loud.

“Shh,” I winced, clutching her biceps.

There was a loud knock on the door. I flushed the toilet and signaled for her to shh.

“Miss O’Connor?” Earl was inside the ladies’ room right outside the stall door. Shit.

I started to open it and tried to squeeze out without revealing that Rose was in there with me. It was no use. He pulled the door open and came face to face with her.

“Is everything okay, Miss O’Connor?” Earl asked, looking at her instead of me.

“It’s fine,” I breathed. “Let’s go.” I looked back, giving Rose a desperate look. “I’m fine. It’s okay. I’ll be in touch, okay?”

She shook her head at me and turned her attention to Earl. “What do you people think you’re doing? You can’t just–”

“Please!” I exclaimed, “I’ll be in touch. Don’t, okay? Don’t put your family at risk. Trust me. I’ll be fine.”

Earl’s eyes narrowed at me and then at her. He reached for my elbow and gently ushered me forward.

“You’re part of our family, Tia,” Rose choked out.

“I love you,” I said to her. “Thank you for everything. Everything. I’ll be in touch, okay?”

Tears welled up in her eyes and she covered her mouth with her hand.

As we stepped out Earl said, “Take my arm, Miss O’Connor.”

I did. He ushered me directly out of the store and to the Jeep he’d driven us there in. He opened the back door, and I got in. He got into the driver’s seat, then dialed a number and held the phone. Then he hung up and dialed again and held the phone and looking pissed off, punched at the screen to dial again. Then he dialed yet again.

“Sir, there’s been an incident. It’s under control, but the foster mother followed us to the supermarket and got Miss O’Connor into the bathroom and I broke up a conversation.”

He was quiet for a minute and then stepped out of the Jeep and closed the door. He moved several feet away to finish his conversation. By the look on his face he looked like he was getting raked over the coals. He made another call and talked with a cold look on his face and then seemed like he was getting in an argument with someone.

When he got back into the car he dialed another number. “Miss. Martinez, we’re in the car due to a problem, security breach; you’re almost done there? Wrap it up immediately. No, per Mr. Ferrano. It’s urgent. Or, I take Miss O’Connor home and you either wait until I have relief to come back for you or you take a cab.”

He paused, then continued by biting off. “No, I will not ask her that…. fine...” He leaned back and asked me, “What kind of ice cream?”

I let out a half laugh, half cry. He shrugged kind of apologetically. I shook my head.

“She says surprise her,” he snapped, ending the call.

He pulled out and left Sarah at the supermarket and drove me back to Tommy’s house. That phone started ringing from my pocket. I took it out.

“T” calling. Great. I stared at it. After the third ring, Earl cleared his throat. After the fourth ring, he said, “I’d answer that, Miss.”

I didn’t. I couldn’t do anything but stare at the screen. It stopped at five rings. Then Earl’s phone started ringing and he said a mix of Yes Sirs and No Sirs all the way back. When we pulled inside the gate, which Earl appeared to have engaged somehow from within the vehicle, he stopped in front of the gate and sat there for what seemed like the longest time. He dialed the phone and said, “What’s your ETA? Shit. Can’t do it. Won’t work. No, that’s not the plan. Can’t. We’ll have to reschedule.”

He growled a sound of frustration into the phone and then hung it up and finally drove in through the area between the gates.

“You can go ahead, Miss. O’Connor. I’m instructed to come with you, keep you company until Mr. Ferrano returns.”

I nodded and opened the car door and followed him into the house.

I sat at a stool at the kitchen island and folded my hands in front of me. I was dizzy.

Please don’t hurt them, please don’t hurt them.It was a chant inside my head, and I said it over and over and over.

“Do you want something to drink? Some tea?” Earl asked me. He seemed really uncomfortable.

I nodded. He put his suit jacket on the back of the chair, loosened his tie, and then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and filled the kettle.

“I didn’t have anything to do with that,” I whispered. “They’re good people. Please tell me they won’t be hurt.”

“Tommy will find a way to get them to back off. Don’t fret,” he said softly, then put the kettle on its base and turned it on.

He stepped into the dining room when his phone vibrated. I couldn’t hear his conversation. A moment later, he returned and then filled a tea pot and put it on the island with two cups, the sugar, and the milk.

A few minutes later we were drinking tea and saying nothing. Finally, he fetched a newspaper from another room and handed me the entertainment section and opened the sports section.

After just a few minutes I heard noise and it wasn’t what I’d hoped for, which would’ve been Sarah coming in with the groceries. Instead, it was Tommy who was leaned in the doorway of the kitchen, eyes narrow and on me.

“That’s all for now,” he said.

Earl left the room.

“Upstairs,” Tommy said to me very calmly and then turned on his heel.

I was frozen in place. He looked back over his shoulder at me. “Now.”

I slowly rose and then followed, taking slow and shaky breaths, wishing I could disappear.

Inside the master bedroom, he sat on the bed and untied his black leather shoes. When he took them off, he then took his tie and his blazer off, followed by taking cufflinks out.

He looked even more dressed up than usual. Great, this incident got him pulled from an important meeting; that should put him in a fine mood.

He took his silver crucifix necklace off and put it on the nightstand and removed his shirt before he tossed it on the bed. Then he stood and undid his belt. He was looking at me with intensity; biting down on his bottom lip as he did this. My heart rate picked up and my throat felt dry. He had the halved belt in his hands and he jerked his hands to make it snap loudly. This made me jolt and shudder.

“So,” he said to me. “Care to explain what happened in the store today?”

I blanched. He had to already know what had happened from Earl.

“I saw Rose in the bathroom. She followed us. She was just worried. I told her to back off. She will.” My voice was small, weak, I was quaking.

“Yeah, Rosalie Crenshaw and Susan DeLong are making inquiries. It needs to stop.”

“I-I told her I was fine, to back off.” I was not at all comfortable with the name dropping, that he obviously had information on them. I kept my eyes on the belt while bile rose in my throat.

“Yeah, you said.”

“What are you gonna do?” My chin trembled.

“You want to know what I’m gonna do?” His eyes were challenging me.

“I want to know you’re not going to do anything to… to them. I’ve talked to her, it’ll be fine. She…” I didn’t know how to finish that, to find the words to make him leave them alone.

He sighed, then pinched the bridge over his nose. “I do not need this hassle.”

I stood still, not knowing what he wanted me up here for. It was still the afternoon and he was undressing in front of me so of course I didn’t feel like, based on his track record so far, that this was going to go well.

“Come here,” he told me, dropping the belt on the bed beside him.

I blew out a slow breath. “Listen,” I said and took a step back.

He raised his eyebrows. “Here.”

I stepped up in front of him. He grabbed the back of my knees and pulled me even closer.

“I had to come all the way home in the middle of a busy workday to deal with you, so you’re going to make it worth my while,” he said and the tone of voice and expression on his face were scary. Beyond scary.

He caressed the back of my leg softly. I tried to step back, but he grabbed my hips.

“Did you disobey me?” His fingers dug in.

“No.” I whispered, my voice hoarse, gaze fixed on the ceiling.

“You snuck off to talk to her; what did you say?”

“I just kept telling her I’m fine and not to worry.”

One of his hands slid up and down my thigh. Suddenly both of his hands were pushing the pants I was wearing down, taking the underwear with them. I tried to back up.

“You refused to answer my call. Stop,” he commended.

I froze.

“Take your shirt off,” he ordered.

I chewed the inside of my cheek. No way.

“Now,” he added.

I shook my head.

“Are you telling me no?”

I stared at the ceiling, trying hard to not cry.

He yanked the pants the rest of the way down, then stood up, towering over me and hauling the t-shirt I was wearing over my head, leaving me in just my bra. Then he undid it, too, and yanked it off. He did all of this methodically and then he stopped and tipped my chin up so I’d have to look at him. He was so intimidating. Bigger, stronger, such an intense look on his face. I was a quaking mess. I covered my chest with my arms. He dropped his pants. I held back the tears that were threatening.

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” I said to the ceiling.

His eyes were on me, glaring at me, making me want to cower. “I told you to come to me and you hesitated. I told you to take off your shirt and you hesitated. I think you need to learn a little bit about following directions.” His eyes burned into me with anger. He was scaring the fuck out of me.

“You don’t hesitate when I tell you to do something. You do it. And when I call, you answer the fucking phone. Understand?”

I stepped back, stepping out of the pants that were pooled at my feet. He stepped forward. I stepped back again and again and then my back hit the wall. He came up directly against me and grabbed my wrists and held them against the wall above my head.

“Disobey me again; I dare ya.”

He stared for a moment and then let go, grabbed my breasts and raked his fingers over my nipples roughly.

My now free hands pushed at him and for a split second he let me go and then my hands came up to cover myself. He smirked, then leaned forward and hauled me over his shoulder and then dropped me on the bed.

“On all fours, now,” he said. He pointed at the mattress. I shook my head and a whimper came out.

“Oh, another refusal? Did you forget rules one and two today, Tia? Not obeying me and discussing me with someone else?”

“I didn’t discuss you.”

“But you agree that you disobeyed me?”

“Please don’t.” My heart hammered against my chest wall.

He leaned toward me. “On all fours. Now. If you’re going to be a disobedient bitch, I’ll fuck you like one.” He picked up the belt from beside me. I started to whimper and cower. He smirked. He looked so evil, so like he was loving every minute of this. Part of me was ready to just do what he said to make things easier, but something rose in me.

No. No, I wasn’t going to just be a victim here, let him beat me. This sick and twisted man could not just take me over and over like this. I may not have been a strong person but I certainly wasn’t this weak, was I? I backed up against the headboard watching him move closer, a sickening glint in his eye.

Right then, right there, I was so done. Totally done dealing with this prick. I leaned over to the nightstand and grabbed for the lamp and bashed it on his head.

“Fuck you!” I screamed. He looked dazed for about a second. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough.

I can’t believe she fucking whacked me on the head. I was practically seeing stars. I saw three of her in front of me. As I shook it off, she took off toward the patio door. I caught her by the leg and we both crashed to the rug.

I knew I had gone too far with the way I was handling this, but today had been a bad fucking day so far and I’d seen red imagining her being taken from me, and now I was letting her know how fucking pissed I was.

She raked her fingernails down my cheek and it instantly burned. I gave her an incredulous look and then I quickly pinned her to the rug and held her wrists tight.

“Athena!” I hollered at her.

It obviously scared her as she stilled long enough for me to lay directly on top of her. Pinned, I parted her legs with my knee. I needed to be inside of her right now; needed her to submit. I dipped a finger into her pussy and it let me in a little. She wasn’t soaked, but there was something. She bucked, trying to get me off her, her fists flying, then she head-butted me right on the eye.

She was so fucking sexy with rage in her green eyes and her little fists flying at me. I was seeing waves of blinding light combined with the flurry of her fists and her long hair whipping around, with flashes of hatred on her face. I growled and then reached for her.

“It’s time to submit to your Master.” I laughed while I told her this. My vision returned to normal just in time to see her pale under me.

I laughed again and then licked her from the base of her throat up her cheek and up to her temple. “You’re mine, Athena. All mine. You’re either gonna be my dirty little whore or you’re gonna be nothing to me. The way you behave in the next little while will determine which one. It’s time to let me in.” I growled, tasting blood from the cut on my lip. “Open your legs.”

Until that point I’d been struggling, not because I thought I could win but because I had to. I couldn’t just do whatever he wanted. Couldn’t. I started to feel like it was stupid to fight. But, I couldn’t stop. And it was like it fueled him. Every time I disobeyed or fought back he got this look in his eyes, this fire. And the fire today seemed like it was burning hotter than it had so far because I’d really fought with him with all my might. I’ve scratched his face, I’ve bashed him on the head with a lamp, I’ve bucked and kicked at him, I’ve pulled his hair, I’ve punched him in the mouth and wherever my fists would land but he was not stopping. I guessed I should count myself lucky he hadn’t hit me back. He’s got way more strength than me. Lucky? Hah! I felt pride, though, in that I’d fought back, in that I’d ignored the urge to just turtle and let him have his way.

But now, after those words and because finally he got his cock against me and started to prod and damn it but he got no resistance from my body, I gave up. The bravery in me just shriveled up and wilted.

“So perfect,” he moaned. and then he had my arms pinned above my head again. I feebly tried to buck him off one last time, but it only served to help him drive deeper into me. That’s when I gave up; I was spent, all the fight in me depleted. He had me pinned; I couldn’t move. So, I didn’t have to fight any more.

I was whimpering in my defeat and at my screwed-up thoughts, and then I whimpered harder because the sensations he was creating started to feel good. Was I crazy for not knowing if I was whimpering out of desire or defeat? It didn’t matter because I had no choices here.

“Good girl; you know when it’s time to submit.” He passionately kissed my throat, and then he got his mouth right by my ear and whispered, “No one is ever gonna be inside of you again but me, you know that?” He rolled his hips and kept pumping into me. “No one.”

I couldn’t move. I was completely pinned and he held my wrists tight, too tight. He was hitting my clit and up inside that front wall of me where it felt so good. The fight had left me because I was powerless to do anything but go limp and succumb to it, so I guess I did.

At feeling me go lax, he stopped pinning me and pulled out and maneuvered me so I was on all-fours. That accomplished, he began to drill me. He pummeled from behind, and it was so deep, so fucking deep, that I thought I’d tip over and just go limp. He was fucking me like a bitch, just like a dirty little whore like he said he’d do, and I hated that it felt good. Was I just as sick and twisted as he was? He kept going and then he started to rub circles around my clit, then at an “ah” from me, he leaned in to my ear and announced, “I win.”

I guess he did win. He wasn’t pinning my arms any longer and yet I was obeying him. I fell on my face when he said that, and that’s when his belt bit into my ass.

The feel and the sound of it hitting me made me squeal in pain even more than the sensation. “Please Tommy.” I begged.

He kept pounding into me, then he grunted, “Your body was fucking made for me.”

Goosebumps had popped up all over me. My captor laughed low in his throat, a knowing laugh, knowing that he owned me, reveling in the fact that my body was doing just what he wanted it to do. He leaned back, rotated his hips, and smacked me across the top of my ass again, but with his hand, as he drove in. My eyes rolled back into my head and I let out another loud whimper.

He hit again with his hand, making me cry out not only in pain, but also in pleasure because inside, he was hitting that spot. He grabbed my clit and twisted, forcing an orgasm that made my body ring.

He leaned forward and grabbed my throat, mid-climax and lifted me back up to my knees, grinding out a husky, “Perfect, baby.” He kept going, hand covering my throat possessively, as he used me like a ragdoll.

He went on for what felt like forever, chasing his orgasm, grunting into me. It went on so long I wondered if it was ever going to be over. My crotch was raw, sticky, and sore. He slid in and out and in and out; making me feel the ridges of his cock as they glided over sensitive places inside of me. Goosebumps were all over me as he kissed the back of my neck and tweaked my nipple, his other hand rising and lowering over my throat in a steady rhythm.

Finally, there was a long and husky groan, and oh my God, it sounded so sexy.

How? How could that thought even occur to me?

When it was finally over, I was limp on the floor, totally spent. For a brief moment he was dead weight on top of me. I heaved in discomfort and he immediately rolled off me and disappeared into the bathroom.

I was still on the floor. I could do nothing but just lie there. Maybe I would just die there.

A moment later he gently lifted me off the floor and then he had me in bed. He was covering me up. “Nap? No way I’m making it back to the office now,” he whispered, kissed my temple, and then spooned me.

He was holding me like this thing he just did to me was consensual, like I hadn’t fought back with all of my might and drawn his blood. And I was too limp, spent, and emotionally paralyzed to do anything but lay there. I just lay there as he stroked my hair, dropping kisses on the back of my head, twisting to kiss my shoulder, my earlobe. I tried to not let what he was doing comfort me, but I cried softly into the pillow until I started to feel myself drifting off. I kept fighting it. A few minutes later, I guess I ran out of tears. His breathing evened out in sleep so as I was lying there staring off into space, in a wet spot from his semen that leaked out of me, eyes so dry that they ached. I shifted the blanket under myself to cover the wet spot. It felt like my guts had been yanked out underneath his hand, which was resting on my stomach.

I was tuned into him, into his breathing, which was tickling my shoulder, into the feel of his hard body against me, his hand possessively over my tummy. My ass hurt from the belt and I needed to pee. I held it for as long as I could, alternately worrying about waking him and also thinking I should really bash his head in right now while he slept.

Finally, what might’ve been twenty minutes, maybe even an hour passed, and I couldn’t wait anymore, so I slowly pulled away. His eyes opened and he watched me pull the top sheet out from the mess of tangled bedding and wrap it around myself.

His eyes met mine and while I couldn’t read his hard expression, I felt shame and pain wash over me at the same time. I looked away and went into the bathroom. When I sat down to pee, I almost hit the ceiling as it stung deep inside. It felt like I was torn inside. When I was done, I moved slowly back to the bed and climbed in, staying as close to the edge as I could.

He rolled over, his arm covering me, and half his body covered me, too. His lips softly touched the center of my back and kissed upwards to the back of my neck where he stopped and fell back asleep. His lips just stayed there, on the back of my neck. I just wanted to cry because it felt so loving and tender and yet twisted me up inside like a pretzel. The guy was some sort of master of the mind fuck.

I woke up to a darkened room and an empty bed. He was getting clothes on. He left the room. I stayed in the bed. I didn’t want to get up. Ever.

I got up, while flicking the lamp on. As I pulled the blankets back, I caught sight of the belt mark across her ass and lower back. I winced. I got dressed, turned the light back out, then left, shrugging my jacket on. When I grabbed my phone and keys at the bottom of the stairs, I ran into Sarah. As I walked past, ignoring her dirty looks, I caught a flash of shock in her eyes. I passed the mirror on the wall by the front door and saw that my eye was bruised and that there were claw marks on my face. Looked like I’d have a fat lip, too.

I decided to head to the gym to punch the rest of this out. I held back with Tia this afternoon. Yeah, I’ve been holding back all along but today I let the beast out more than ever and if I was honest with myself I knew I could’ve really gone another round, could’ve blackened her eye and bloodied her lip, like she’d done to me. The difference was I deserved it; she didn’t.

I hadn’t hit her back, other than her ass; I had zero desire to hit her anywhere else. In fact, I hated how I felt when I’d hit her ass with the belt. I didn’t think I wanted to do that to her again. Right now, I wanted to hit something or someone else to work these frustrations out. I had all this rage in me that I couldn’t put a label on. I still tasted my blood on my lip as I drove away.

I knew where at least part of the frustration came from. I was so fucking mad about that woman tracking her down and getting her aside. That could’ve been anyone. It could’ve been someone who wanted to take her from me that had the ability to do it.

Pop and I both got identical anonymous letters today. They were cryptic, done in cut up newsprint, saying something about fresh new Ferrano acquisitions being redistributed. It might not be about her, but I suspected it was. And in case it was, I’ve already arranged to double security for her, but before I could pull the trigger to get that done this happened.

I felt a pang of regret at the things I said to her, at the way I took her, but I’m split in two as I fucking loved the rush of it at the same time. I especially loved it when the fight turned to submission. She was beautiful, showing fear, fighting with me and then showing more fear, and then submitting to me and coming so hard like that for me. And fuck, when she melted into me afterwards, letting me hold her and comfort her? It was what I needed; she gave that to me. The next step for me was to get her to want to give it to me. Would she get there easily or would I break her? And would I always feel guilt like this after the fact?

It was like my chest weighed five hundred pounds right now. Everything I thought I wanted was in my bed, but it felt like I was fucking it up. Royally fucking it up.

The heavy bag would take the rest of this and then I’d go back, slip in beside her and get a good night’s sleep so I could think clearly tomorrow about what to do about this foster parent problem and hope that I found some clarity somewhere on the whole situation.

* * *

When I climbed back in bed at almost one in the morning after a workout, a run, and three shots of scotch during an urgent meeting about a problem down in Mexico I found her asleep in my bed and fuck me, but she was wearing the shirt I wore earlier today.

I climbed in on the opposite side, deciding to test out my theory of whether she was just moving to the other side of the bed out of habit or not. She rolled toward me. I felt a pang of something, something that made me pull her to me and bury my nose in her hair. She let out a sound that was almost a purr and then nuzzled into my collar bone and wrapped her arms around me. It made my heart constrict when my eyes adjusted in the dark and I saw a peaceful little smile on her sleeping face.

I fell asleep wondering if she was dreaming about the guy from the ice cream shop, the guy that she wished I was.

I knew she couldn’t be dreaming about the real me with that smile on her face and it left an empty, raw feeling deep in my gut.

It was like I was consumed by guilt. This was foreign. I don’t think I’d ever felt guilty about anything in my life before meeting this girl.