Chapter 16
Moira
I stand outside of
Zach’s bedroom door, hesitating. I’m worried about him.
He didn’t come down for dinner, so I had a quiet evening with
Randall discussing what had happened today.
He’s worried
about Zach too.
Apparently, the trip
to his childhood home stirred up some bitter emotion. Randall told me
that Zach remembered some things in vivid detail. He remembered not
wanting to go to the Amazon with his parents, and how he begged to
stay with his Uncle Randall.
I suspect that Zach
is conflicted over what “home” actually means. He’s
been so adamant that the only home he’ll ever acknowledge is
the one he made for himself back in Caraica. But now, he remembers
that he had a home here that he loved very much and was resentful of
having to leave. I can’t even imagine what he must be feeling
at this moment… the dichotomy of emotions that must be
weighing on him.
It terrifies me to
think that he may be sitting inside of his room, right at this very
moment, planning an immediate return to the Amazon. It would be an
easy way for him to deny the feelings of affinity he must have been
feeling to his childhood home today. It would be an easy out for him
to take… to run back to what is most comfortable to him.
I go ahead and knock
softly on the door. “Zach… can I come in?”
I’m met with
silence, so I go ahead and try the doorknob, finding it opens to my
touch. Swinging the door open, I note that the room is cast in
semi-darkness, as he has the heavy drapery pulled shut and only one
small bedside lamp lit.
I quickly search the
room with my eyes, and I find him sitting in a plush chair
upholstered in royal blue and gold silk. He’s slouched in it,
his long legs stretched out before him. One hand rests on his thigh;
the other has his elbow purchased on the armrest and his chin resting
thoughtfully in his palm. His eyes are dark and hooded as he stares
at me.
“You didn’t
come down for dinner,” I say softly.
He doesn’t
respond but just continues to let his eyes penetrate me, although
they’re nearly devoid of any emotion.
I close the door
softly behind me and take unsteady steps across the room until I’m
standing before him. His eyes rise up to look at me, but still he
remains silent.
“Are you okay?
Randall told me all about your trip to your house today.”
Zach’s lips
flatten, and his eyes look almost dead to me. “Did he tell you
what happened there?”
“Only that you
had a memory… that you didn’t want to go to the Amazon
with your parents.”
Zach gives a
disdainful laugh as he looks up at me. “It was so much more
than that. I repetitively begged my parents not to take me. I didn’t
want to leave my home… my friends. I wanted a fucking dog and
to stay with Uncle Randall, but I had no choice in the matter.”
My heart bleeds over
the pain and anger in his voice. It is shredded by the fact that Zach
was never given the choice to stay here. Just as he was never given a
choice to stay back in Caraica when I came for him.
“I’m
sorry, Zach. It was unfair to you that you had no control,” I
tell him softly.
He regards me for a
moment, weighing the empathy in my voice. Placing both of his hands
on the armrests of the chair, he surges upward onto his feet, now
towering majestically over me.
“It’s
funny,” he murmurs as he gazes down at me, his eyes warming
slightly.
“What’s
that?” I whisper.
“That you
should use the word ‘control’. You… of all people,
know the significance of what that means to me. The need to have it.”
“I understand
you well,” I tell him simply. “Even better now.”
Zach reaches a hand
out and gently strokes my cheek. His eyes stray down to where he’s
touching me, contemplating my admission.
When he raises his
gaze back to mine, gone is the slight hint of warmth and in its place
is concrete hardness.
His hand falls away
from my face. “Take your clothes off,” he demands. His
voice is low but commanding, sending shivers up my spine.
The modern woman in
me wants to balk because I know where this is going. Zach is feeling
out of control, and he wants to gain it back. The best way he knows
how is by forcing my complete surrender. To prove he is the same as
he ever was.
But there is a
different woman inside of me as well. One that has come to appreciate
that there is complete freedom in submission. The freedom comes from
not having any choices to make, and to trust that Zach will do right
by me. That woman… the one who has already gone wet between
her legs the minute he told me to take off my clothes… that is
the woman that is stepping up to the plate right now.
That woman…
she’s the one that wants to make Zach feel better, by giving in
to what he demands, and making sure he understands that I’ve
come to crave his uncivilized nature.
Without a second
thought, I reach down to the hem of my blouse and lift it up. When it
clears my head, I drop it to the floor and immediately unzip my
skirt, letting it flutter its way down my legs. I step out of it by
taking a small step away from Zach.
His eyes glitter and
his nostrils flare as he takes in my simple white bra and panties. I
stand there, waiting for his next order.
“All of it,”
he growls.
My bra snaps in the
front, so I give a quick flick at the clasp in the center of my
chest, roll my shoulders, and let gravity take it from my body.
Hooking my thumbs under the waistband of my panties, I shimmy them
down my legs and step out of them as well… again, taking one
more step back from Zach.
His gaze penetrates
mine briefly before his eyes leisurely slide down my body. I wait for
his next command, my skin tingling in anticipation of what he’ll
do to me. A kiss? A touch? I’ll take anything he wants to give
me. I’ll die if he doesn’t give me something.
Zach takes one
long-legged stride toward me, curling his hand behind my neck. With
measured force, he turns me around and pushes me down to the ground.
My breath catches in my throat as he guides me to the floor, first to
my knees, then all the way down until my cheek is touching the soft
carpeting. His own knees hit behind me with a small thud, and he
exhales loudly.
While pinning me
with his hand around my neck, I hear the unmistakable sound of his
zipper lowering and I close my eyes, imagining the way in which he’s
deftly freeing his stiff cock.
Then he’s
pushing at my entrance, which is slick with need, yet tight with
anticipation. He works his way inside just a fraction of an inch and
stills. Another deep breath in and he releases it slowly, fanning out
across my back.
I wait… I
wait for him to come all the way inside, but he doesn’t make
another move. I open my eyes, but I can’t see anything but the
dust ruffle on his bed. I don’t dare move my body because this
is Zach’s command, and he needs to take what makes him feel
best at this very moment.
Slam.
He thrusts into me
in one violent move and my muscles stretch with a burning pain from
his invasion, then immediately settle in around his cock in a sigh of
pleasure. A gasp tears out of my mouth, and I bite down on my lower
lip.
I expect him to
start fucking me hard but he merely pulls back slowly, only to fill
me back up with an equal pace. He moves in and out of me with a
calmness that feels out of character to the intensity of the way
we’ve fucked before, and I’m immediately reminded of how
he took Tukaba in the dirt back in Caraica.
Without feeling.
Without emotion.
Only with steely
calm on a path to give himself release.
While I can’t
deny that what he’s doing feels good, it also feels wrong.
It feels lacking.
I want more because
he’s shown me that he has more to give, and while I don’t
mind submitting to Zach’s lust, I need to know I’m more
than an empty hole within which to pour himself.
Zach is utterly
quiet as he moves in and out of me. No moans to let me know he finds
me pleasing. No quickening of his breath to prove that I am
desirable.
Just a slow, quiet
movement of his body within mine that I find to be numbing to my
senses.
My eyes fill with
tears as I realize I can’t have this type of sexual
relationship with Zach. It’s wholly devoid of the intimacy that
I apparently need and crave.
My palms flatten on
the carpet and I’m about to push up to tell him to stop, when
suddenly Zach yells out, “Fuck,” as he tears himself away
from my body.
I immediately push
up and look over my shoulder. Zach is sprawled on the floor…
sitting on his butt with his knees raised and his palms supporting
his weight at his hips.
His eyes are bleak,
and his chest is heaving. “I’m sorry,” he says in
self-directed hatred.
I’m frozen in
place as I watch misery overwhelm him.
“I’m
sorry,” he repeats quietly, and his eyes drop from mine. “I
shouldn’t have done that.”
My body finally
reacts, and I turn to crawl my way toward him. I crawl right in
between his legs and push up onto my knees so I can take his face in
my hands. Leaning in slightly, I graze my lips over his, and then
kiss his cheek, then his forehead.
“It’s
okay,” I assure him.
When I pull back,
his gaze comes back up to mine tentatively. In a voice so soft, I
almost don’t hear him, he says, “I don’t know who I
am anymore.”
My heart constricts
painfully for this beautiful man that seems so lost. I turn my body
and sit myself on his lap, winding my arms around his neck and
placing my face in the crook of his neck. I’m relieved when his
arms immediately wrap around my waist, and he squeezes me in
response.
“You are
Zacharias Easton,” I tell him in a soothing voice. “You
are a boy who was taken from his home. You are a man who was taken
from his life. They are both a part of who you are. But please don’t
ever forget, my beautiful man… that you have the opportunity
now to be whoever you want to be. That will always be solely in your
control.”
I feel Zach’s
lungs expand with a deep breath, and he lets it out softly. I can