Chapter 29 Lucy
LUCY
Grudge leans broodily against the doorframe, cast in the backlight from the hallway beyond.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Luce,” he says. “Always thought you were a pretty girl, but you’re older, wiser. It looks good on you.”
I touch the corner of my eye. “I have the fixings for wrinkles. Crow’s feet. And there are clearly much younger and prettier options on offer around here.”
“Not from where I’m standing.”
I look around the empty kitchen. “That’s because, from where you’re standing, there isn’t anyone else in here but me.”
His gruff huff tells me my first thoughts about him brooding still stand. “I mean, if you want to argue technicalities, you’re right. But if you want to take that in the spirit I meant it, you’re wrong.”
Glancing at my reflection in the kitchen window, I put my thumbs on my jaw and my fingers on my temples and pull back the skin. “I’ve been debating some tweakments. Might have to get them.”
“Some what?” He pushes off the doorframe and walks toward me slowly.
“Tweakments. You know, treatments that tweak how you look, rather than surgery.”
He shakes his head. “I’m never gonna tell you what you should and shouldn’t do. But I think it would be kind of cool to grow old together knowing that any lines on your face were proof we had a happy life.”
I sigh and look back at him. “That’s a sweet thing to say.”
His boots thud noisily on the kitchen floor as he walks to me, coming to a stop on the other side of the steel counter before placing his palms on it. “Bit rusty in saying sweet things. Not had much reason since you left.”
I close my laptop and look up at him, sensing what he needs. We’re both a little on edge. Things are brewing that neither of us can quite put our fingers on. And while I couldn’t hear what he was talking to Catfish about in the yard, I could see him.
Could see the way he tugged on his hair, ran his hands over his face like he was exhausted. I saw him standing alone, looking up at the sky, when Catfish came inside. And the way he hoofed the beer can with a scowl on his face.
“Are there any other things you’re rusty at that might need a bit of practice?” It’s impossible to miss the flirtatious tone of my voice.
“Like what, Bug?” he asks, leaning over the counter toward me.
I offer him a coy shrug. “I couldn’t possibly imagine.”
My phone rings with the worst possible timing, but Grudge looks at it before I do.
“Who is Henry?” he asks.
“My ex. I’ve told him we’re through, but he doesn’t seem to—”
Grudge answers it and puts it on speaker so we can both hear.
“Lucy?” Henry says. “Are you there?”
“Henry,” Grudge says. “You the asshole who cheated on Lucy to go fuck some other cunt?”
“Who is this? Who are you?” Henry says. I don’t know how I ever thought I could marry that man. I can see him now, likely loosening his tie, his cheeks going red as he gets annoyed.
“I’m the man who had Lucy first, and I’m the man who’s gonna have her last. And you’re the pathetic excuse of a man who let a grade-A woman slip through those tiny little fingers of yours.”
“Lucy. Are you there?”
Grudge puts his thumb over the pulse in my neck and rubs it smoothly. “Yeah. She’s here. Wanna listen while I fuck her? Maybe you could get a tip or two. Heard you weren’t much in the length, width, and stamina department.”
“Listen, I don’t know who the hell you think you—”
“Bye, Henry. You ever call her again, I’ll get on my bike, ride to your house, and strangle you with my own hands.”
I can’t help but grin. Periodically, I had daydreams of what I would do for revenge if I ever saw Henry again. What Grudge did was better than anything I could come up with.
Grudge hangs up. “He calls you; you tell me.”
“I will. I promise.”
He reaches across the counter and strokes my cheek. “Loeb. The assault. The aftermath. Were you able to handle that okay?”
His words caught me off guard, for a second, but I remember we’re focusing on being honest with each other.
“At first, no. But there was a counselor at college who really helped. And a patient guy in one of my classes who I thought I might fall in love with. He helped me through my first time after the assault. Occasionally, I think about it, but I’ve made my peace with it.
I don’t think you ever forget about it.”
“I’m sorry. Sorry I went after Loeb in a way that left you alone. I should have asked before I even touched you in the apartment bathroom.”
I place my palm over the back of his hand. “You were the only man who could touch me the way I needed. I refuse to let Loeb take that away from us.”
His eyes search mine. “You’re sure?”
“Very sure.” My words are filled with invitation. “Can you remind me how good it used to feel?”
Then, his palm fists my blouse and yanks me closer to him, and I squeal as I’m dragged off my stool and across the counter.
My arms flail as I try to grab hold of his biceps. My shin bangs against the counter. But I don’t care as he positions me on my knees on the stainless-steel surface, bringing us something close to eye level.
When he grabs my hair, pulling it tight to tilt me so he can bite my neck, there’s a wild look in his eyes.
“You feeling feisty?” he asks.
“Are you?”
He runs the flat of his tongue up the side of my neck. “Maybe. You want it rough, Bug?”
I place my palms upturned on my thighs, close my eyes, and sigh. “Yes, Daddy.”
He tugs my head back farther and assaults my mouth. There is nothing soft and gentle about it. Teeth clash, and I swear my lip already bleeds.
My breath comes like I’ve run a marathon, as he rips my blouse apart and squeezes my breast so tight, it causes me to gasp against his mouth.
“You remember your safe word?” he asks.
“Sunset.”
“Good girl.” He lifts me up and places me down on the kitchen floor. “Love when you look like this, Bug. You’d let me fuck you right here, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes.” It’s not hard to admit. I’m so turned on by the loss of control that I ache to press my fingers to my clit. I’d willingly bring myself to the edge in front of him.
“There’s no one else here. So, strip for me.”
Quickly, I do as he says. It feels wild and uninhibited to remove my clothes in what is usually such a public place.
“Bruises?” he asks.
“Yes, please, Daddy.”
He runs his tongue over his teeth in more of a snarl than anything else. “Then, you better run. Because in twenty seconds, I’m coming to find you. Twenty…nineteen…”
I sprint out of the kitchen and turn right into the bar. With the lights on low, it feels ominous. Without shoes or clothing, there is no way I’m leaving the building.
But my heart rate accelerates at the thought that every turn leads to nowhere. Dead ends.
“Eighteen…seventeen.” There’s impatience to his tone. Like he’s forcing himself to wait, to let me get a bigger lead and build anticipation.
Given Grudge knows the building so much better than I do, there isn’t anywhere I can hide that he won’t know. Behind the bar would be too obvious.
“Sixteen…fifteen…” His voice is getting fainter as I run.
My calves burn as I race down the accommodation hallway. Some doors are locked, some left open. I don’t know whose rooms are whose. But I tug them all closed, knowing it will make it harder for him to guess whether I’m in there or not.
Grudge’s room is near the end of the hallway, but across from it is a door unlike the others. When I turn the handle, it opens, and I’m presented with a black-walled staircase. I click the light switch, but the light is dim. It seems to lead up to an attic space.
Indecision floods me. Anything could be up there. Rats. Spiders.
But even that doesn’t stop wetness spreading as my thighs rub together.
The stairs are metal. Cold and harsh beneath my feet. Worried that he might see the light beneath the door from the hallway, I turn it off and climb as far up the stairs as I feel brave enough to tackle. Once I’m about seventy percent of the way up, I turn and sit gingerly.
The stairs are uncomfortable beneath my butt, but less painful than they were to my feet. And I try to remember every quote I’ve ever learned about the mastery of discomfort.
The seconds count by in my head. I can no longer hear Grudge’s voice, but I imagine it.
The way he’ll have held himself still until the very last second, and the way he’ll lick his lips as he relishes the challenge.
Whatever had him and Catfish in such moods will be gone from memory. His focus will be all on me.
Knowing what would be guaranteed to drive him wild, I shift to the middle of the step, then open my legs. I allow my fingers to drop to my pussy and glide through all my arousal. It’s thick and heavy.
My clit aches as I circle it.
One orgasm wouldn’t be so bad to take the edge off while I wait.
But hanging on the pinnacle of coming, edging myself while I wait, so the very first touch from my man makes me come?
“Ahh,” I gasp, and drop my head back.
Rational thought disappears. “You better make me work for it.” Grudge’s voice is faint. He’s down the end of the corridor. “Clever girl, closing all the doors.”
I hear one slam.
It takes a minute before I hear another.
I bite down on my lips to avoid groaning, as I slide one finger inside myself while I wait. In my head, my thoughts center on two things: how badly I want to come, and how Grudge can be the only one to get me off.
I’m punishing myself in the most delicious way.
“You wanted me hard, Luce? You win. My cock’s so fucking painful, right now. It’s gonna burn when it stretches you.”
My clit throbs at his words, and I pull my fingers away quickly. I’m so close to orgasm that it feels like I might not be able to stave this one off. I bite my tongue and press my feet down hard onto the metal staircase.
The pain is just enough to take me away from the edge.
But the ache of need remains.
I hear another door slam. “Not in my room. Bad move, baby girl. Was ready to take your throat while you tried to beg me for forgiveness for running.”
Everything in my chest tightens.
My breathing is fast, short gasps of air.
I see flickers in the thin seam of light beneath the door.
This time, when the door slams, it’s so close, I feel the vibration of it in the stairs.
“Hope your cunt is soaked for me, Bug. Because this is gonna hurt.” If only he knew exactly how words like that made me feel.
Plenty of people have a fine sex life, but many dream of more. Of being devoured. Of being overwhelmed and overcome and overstimulated to the point where orgasms and ecstasy blend together in a completely different fabric of life.
I slide my fingers back between my legs, all thoughts of how dark the space is, how scary it feels, forgotten.
All I focus on is how close my man is and how my body is shaking with unmitigated need.
I’m almost there when the door to the attic crashes open.