Chapter 22
The weekend passes in a relative haze of alcohol. The sickly sort that numbs the noise, but crushes the soul. Kara finds that drinking alone makes her feel better, the way it drowns out all her worries and self-doubt once she hits a certain point in the bottle. She doesn’t like the side effect of her brief respite. She wakes up feeling weak and ill, takes pain pills, then starts all over again when she’s thinking too clearly once more.
An old habit that she falls into far too easily. Unhealthy, oh so unhealthy, she knows but can’t bring herself to stop whenever the sun gets low in the sky. She’s tortured by thoughts of her father, the constant fear in the back of her head that he’s going to appear on her doorstep, winning smile and dangerous eyes, black as the pits of hell.
She dreams of him often, hears his voice in her thoughts.
Alongside her old mental wounds, a new one has come into being, festering. A bleeding gash in her heart, attached to the name ‘Nicholas Havenwood-Calais’.
Why him, out of everyone? Why can’t she just get him out of her system? Every time she thinks she’s ready to forget Nick’s face, she’s got herself pulled right back in. A sick obsession that makes her feel dirty afterward.
It’s like poisoning herself. He’s like suicide.
She knows he’s not good for her, but she can’t stop wanting him.
Why can’t she stop thinking about his hands, rough on her body, his stony features, or the way his cologne makes her melt inside? How terrifying he is when he slips into his vicious, predatory alter-ego, how no matter how she struggles, she’ll never win. He’ll always take what he wants.
He wants her body. Sure. But, does he want her ?
The very fear that he’s been entertaining himself with someone else over the weekend practically makes her sick, makes her want to dig her fingernails into her own wrists. How can she feel this way? About someone as horrible as him?
It’s sheer madness. Jealousy isn’t an emotion she enjoys feeling. She damn well shouldn’t feel it about a man that pretended to ra-
No.
She can’t think of it that way. Whenever she thinks of that word, that horrid, final word, she drinks all the more. Kara doesn’t want to acknowledge that there is something wrong inside her, that her need for a painful outlet, some sort of control for all her miserable internal suffering, is blasphemous.
Women with healthy minds don’t enjoy being with men who bruise them and get off on violence towards them. Except her, it seems. Good old mentally twisted Kara.
Thanks, Dad. You made it seem normal.
She can almost forget and forgive the hazy blow job in Nick’s limo, because he’d thought her to be any regular whore he’d hired for a night out. The very idea of touching him should make her feel ill, but it doesn’t. She can’t, however, get over what happened in the parking garage.
If she hadn’t figured out it was him, it would have been rape. Perhaps he wouldn’t have let it get that far without telling her, but the horror of it still remains, the disgustingness of how her body still responded to the act, despite her terror.
Her shame is killing her inside, but she can’t help but want more from him. Is this what addiction feels like? No one has ever gone straight to the dark side with her before, none of her boyfriends or lovers had been into it. Now that she’s found someone as twisted up as she is…why now does she crave affirmation of…caring?
Kara can’t stop hoping that maybe she can have the outlet for her pain, yet somehow have a normal relationship with him as well. Is it even possible?
Then, she remembers Dietrich Bittinger and his pretty green eyes, the way he’d gleefully told her there was no other way that Nicholas Havenwood-Calais would be able to have a sexual relationship with her, except through violence.
She doesn’t want to believe it’s true.
Almost exactly a week later, Kara gets an unexpected text from him while she’s finalizing documents for court, ducking and dodging angry calls from Debra Mills. She’s left a voicemail for Ray Wellis, but hasn’t been able to catch him the past few days. Kara can only assume he’s out on a stakeout, or perhaps he’s finally been given some days off. Either way, she’s shocked when Nick’s name finally pops up on her phone screen.
Are you free tonight?
Her heart nearly pops out of her chest in sheer excitement, just the fact that he’s reached out to her at all. Then comes the irritation, at herself, at him. It sure took him long enough. Then comes the shame, remembering last time .
You shouldn’t see him again. It isn’t right, a voice in her head says, perhaps the voice of reason that she chooses to ignore. You aren’t doing alright.
She tells herself that it’s only the situation with her father setting her on edge. A lie.
Staring at his text, she forces herself to not respond. Let him stew over it. Let him wait for once. She can’t let him think she’s been dying to hear from him. That would expand his ego far too much. It’s a physical pain to ignore him for an hour more, her fingers itching to reply. Wait, wait, wait…then it happens.
He texts again, just a simple question mark. Kara grins with delight. He wanted to hear from her badly enough that he sent a follow-up text. Her interest is hidden…his has been exposed.
Score one for Kara.
Feeling bolstered, she presses dial and calls him, feeling her chest tighten when he answers, the husky sound of his voice like water in the desert to her. “Kara,” he says. “Something you’d like to say other than a yes or a no?”
Oh, he still wants to play it cool, does he? “I’ll only say ‘yes’ if you pique my interest. So, tell me; what is it you’re thinking we do? I figured whatever it is you have planned, it’s better if you say it aloud, rather than in text. Considering...”
“Afraid I’m going to type out something…unnatural?” His voice dips low, coiling in Kara’s belly. “Last I checked, I’m not an imbecile.”
“Perhaps I want to hear you say it,” Kara quips, because she does want to hear that sex tingling rasp in his tone.
She can almost hear him smile, almost feel it against her skin. “I’m flattered,” he says, his voice not disappointing her libido, her skin prickling. “Midnight. In the park. There’s a few trails, some completely in the trees. Out of sight.”
Kara’s stomach flips in anticipation, wondering what deviousness he’s cooked up in his terrifying mind. “You want to take me on a picnic? Very cute, Nick.”
His laugh is low. “I was thinking you’d be the picnic, actually.” The words are ominous and Kara feels her breathing go shallow.
“And? What else? I’m not intrigued yet.” She asks breathlessly, because she sort of likes it when he tells her what he intends, even if he leaves details out. “Maybe I have other plans…”
Nick scoffs, a noise of derision, hinting that he’s not believing her in the slightest. “Take a walk, sweetpea. I want you to wear a dress or skirt, something easy access. I want it loose, because I want to pop your cute tits out of your neckline.”
Kara’s mouth grows dry, because, oh .
“You know where all the thickest trees are?” He’s still talking. “Hidden from the path? Pass it by. I’ll find you.”
A whisper of fear and adrenaline is like a ghost passing over Kara’s flesh. Remembering the moment of terror from the parking garage, truly having no idea. Will it feel different this time? Or will it make her feel sick and used inside when all is said and done? “What if it’s not you?”
“It will be.”
When he hangs up, she repeats his story to herself, already feeling heat coiling in her belly, thinking of what he intends to do to her.
It’s how she finds herself pacing her apartment restlessly for hours, watching the clock, waiting for time to pass until she can make her way over to the park to meet him. To walk the path and be taken by surprise in the dark.
Well, sort of by surprise.
Before she leaves her apartment, she takes a shot of vodka for courage, to nullify the voices in her head saying no.
Around the midnight hour the park area is mostly empty, save for a few people that slink on through. Usually drunks. Kara walks the path carefully, heading towards where she knows the foliage gets thick enough to hide a person from view. She doesn’t try to hide her nervousness; she’s afraid, slightly. It’s dark. She’s alone.
Bad things happen in the dark when you’re alone.
Remembering that she needs to act like she has no purpose for being out alone at night in her loose floral dress, she slows her pace, meandering even though her pulse is pounding. She feels excited, terrified, practically salivating with need, wondering how it’s going to happen.
She feels alive, better than she has in days, barely keeping it together.
She knows his eyes must be on her. He must be watching her from somewhere. A predator, eyeing his helpless, unaware prey.
He doesn’t disappoint, not as she drifts into the leaves, taking a quick glance around to make sure no random walkers are nearby to see her disappear from the path. As Kara walks into the covered darkness, someone grabs her from the left and propels her forward, pressing her front against a tree. It happens so fast that her shriek of surprise is lost in the wind. She loses one of her shoes in the process, the assault of her person so swift and precise.
Another instinctual scream nearly breaks loose from her throat, but a hand covers her lips quickly, a body warm against her back. Fear and knowledge are at war inside of Kara and she shivers in what could either be sick desire or an aftereffect of terror.
With a burst of adrenaline, she tries to yank herself sideways, then tries to throw herself rather physically back into him, but he only grunts when Kara manages to get him to take one step backward. Her momentum is simply not enough to shift his body off balance.
She flings her hands out, tries to claw at his hand on her mouth, kicking at his shins, but he slams her front against tree harder, restricting her movement with finality.
“Don’t make a noise,” he says, his familiar, dangerous rasp like a safety blanket on her sanity. “Not a single goddamn word. You going to behave, slut?”
She nods carefully, shakily. Giving an anxious, defeated noise into his palm that she knows he’s going to enjoy.
“Little ladies like yourself shouldn’t be out at night, all alone,” he whispers mockingly into her hair, inhaling her perfume. “Makes me wonder if you’re…looking for this.”
He spins her around so that she’s facing him now, her back against the bark. His hand is still pressed over her lips and Kara blinks up at him, her chest heaving enticingly. His eyes trace her indecently exposed cleavage, nearly uncovered from their struggle. Her nipples are practically popping over the top. His eyes are dark in the shadows, lips curled in a dangerous smirk.
He’s hungry for her and his cock is hard in his jeans.
Nick’s dressed in a tight black shirt, giving him the appearance of a guy who maybe just left his bouncer job, or a tough guy from a movie. He’s a bad guy. Kara knows this, but she’s drawn to him like a butterfly to the flame.
Removing his hand from her mouth, he hoists her upwards, further up the tree, his hips practically pinning her in position. Kara can feel his cock at her center and she sneers up at him, baring her teeth. “Fuck you, pig. Let me go and maybe I won’t find a way to mace you into next Tuesday!”
His eyes flash, excited. “Shut your mouth,” he growls nastily, yanking at her hair, wrapping it around his fist threateningly.
It hurts . This time, Kara plays it the way he wants, begs nervously, “Please don’t hurt me.”
His devastating smirk widens and his cock jumps in his jeans at the sound of her plea. Aggressively, he presses his lips to hers, his tongue thrusting deep inside, tasting her, claiming her. Vaguely, Kara wonders if he’s forgotten his role in a moment of madness, because this kiss is all consuming and intimate.
Her folds are throbbing, clit aching with need. Every brush of his cock against her sends zings up pleasure up her spine.
Lust coiling with a familiar ache, the beginning of something filthy, Kara tries to shift her hips against him, tries to alleviate the ache by humping his cock. Nick chuckles, his free hand working at his belt, the ominous one seated above his groin. His knuckles accidently brush her center and she gasps, head falling back against the tree.
Kara hears the zipper just before feeling him wet against her inner thigh, rutting against her, taking control again.
He yanks her hair hard, causing her to yelp, her head tilted at an odd angle. “I thought I told you not a word, girl. Besides, this won’t hurt much,” he says against her mouth, rubbing his cockhead against her core, pushing her slim panties to the side easily. “You’re already so fucking wet.”
Digging her fingers into his shoulders, Kara releases a shaky whine of desire, of helplessness. She’s pinned like a bug against a tree and there’s nothing she can do to fight this. She wants to be pinned on his girth.
She doesn’t want to fight this. Not the way his thick cock parts her labia, not the way he fills her roughly to the hilt, helped along by her slickness. No, she doesn’t want to fight this at all. She wants to commit his groans and growls to memory, the way his fingers dig into her hips with bruising strength as he makes her his.
As he takes her.
The heavy foliage and bushes hide their indecent act well enough. Her back presses into the bark, her fingers digging deep into his shoulders as he thrusts up into her. Nick nuzzles her loose neckline down completely, seeking her tits. One of her hard nipples pokes out and he licks it playfully, growling against her sensitive flesh. Kara’s head falls backward, chest arching up as he draws on her nipple rhythmically, sucking it into his mouth.
Ravaged. Against a tree. In public .
She runs her fingers through his hair, her legs around his waist tight as he drills in. Every so often, a small, high pitched gasp will spill from her lips and he’ll tell her to shush. “Do you want to be caught, slut? Do you want people to see how needy your cunt is?”
She’s gushes around him in excitement, loving his filthy, demeaning words. He groans, feeling her slickness. He rotates his hips, stirring her pussy wetly. Kara’s going to die from it, loving when he hits her sensitive nerves, hidden inside.
Almost on cue, they hear a small trio of people walking by, likely taking the scenic route home from the bars. Kara tenses, clamping her jaw shut. The group can’t see them, but if they hear them, they certainly can come looking. They must only be ten, maybe fifteen feet away, over by the path.
Nick, shifts his hips, slowly, drawing in and out so agonizingly slow that Kara can feel every inch of him stroking her. Oh, no. Don’t, don’t make a noise, she tells herself like a mantra, feeling herself tighten precariously.
Oh, he’s thick, so hard, and hot inside her…
She gives him a furious look, but he just grins deviously, knowing how close she is, familiar with the sensation of her soaking him, tightening as she prepares to release. He’s recognizing the signs of how she cums. Her nipples, hard and exposed completely, are glistening with his saliva. He nips at them playfully, causing Kara’s eyes to nearly roll out of her head.
The voices are getting louder. Kara feels stars behind her eyelids, her pussy tightening painfully hard around him, her muscles tensing. She’s going to, she’s going to cum with a group of people slowly meandering by. She’s going to cum on his cock, squeeze him until he fills her with his own messy release. At any moment, the people can come closer and see her being taken like whore, tits out, nipples wet, a man working between her exhausted thighs.
It’s horrifyingly arousing.
Nick reaches up with one hand and presses his fingers against her clit and that’s all that’s written as Kara feels herself spasming around him, her insides fluttering madly. She bites her lip hard, trying to keep from moaning, feeling wetness filling her, covering him.
The noises of her wet sex grow louder and Nick thrusts in hard, one last time, stilling, pressing his mouth to her breast, trying to muffle the sound of his pleasure.
They stay locked together for a few seconds, Kara starting to feel a cramp in one of her legs. She taps him on the shoulder, panting hard, hoping no one can hear her. “Let me down,” she whispers.
The voices are getting faint. The trio is moving on.
Nick grunts his acknowledgement, slowly pulling himself out of her. He sets her on her feet and Kara feels all sorts of nastiness drip onto the grass from inside of her. She wrinkles her nose in disgust, wishing he would wear a goddamn condom one of these times.
Seeing her expression, he presses his lips against her damp forehead before grabbing a handful of her hair at the back of her head, giving her a meaningful tug. Kara gasps, arching backwards as his lips turn into a smile with teeth against her forehead.
She’s on uneven ground, one of her shoes somewhere in the grass.
With his free hand, Nick presses his fingers up into her swollen sex, under her dress, playing with his leavings. “That was nice,” he rasps in his usual, less dangerous tone, “I think you like almost being caught. Your cunt tightened up so hard I thought I was going to be stuck in you.”
Batting his hand away, Kara flushes, stepping a few feet to the left to get herself straightened up, looking for her lost shoe. She doesn’t know how to respond. It was thrilling, being so on the edge, yet knowing there were interlopers only a few feet away, so close to seeing her being defiled against a tree. That even if they had seen, she wouldn’t have been able to stop from cumming on him.
She would have cum in front of the audience, regardless, lost to the feeling of him filling her.
Nick grins with a certain bit of male satisfaction when Kara wobbles back to his side, following him to the path out of the trees. He says idly, “I’m hungry. Want to eat? Some place has to be open still.”
In public? Food? Touching her hair absently, because who knows what sort of leaves could be there, Kara asks, “Do I look okay? I mean, I would, but…”
He touches a lock of her hair with a grin, meeting her gaze. “Presentable, I’d say. A little well fucked, but-”
She punches his shoulder, hissing. “I never said anything about it being any good!”
“You don’t have to, I already know,” he laughs, teeth flashing. He playfully twirls her. “You’d never be able to fake with me, that’s how well I know your cunt.”
“You’re a gross, loathsome pig, you know that?”
Nick smirks, an arm going around her waist as they continue on. The act makes her heart warm, the strange act of normalcy.
She’s positively gleeful when they stop into a really grimy place, packed to the brim with late night party goers looking for something to fill their craving for greasy food. She wonders if any of the people there were nearly witness to their coupling.
They order at the counter and wait for their food. Kara grabs a small table by the window, mentally wincing at the wetness beginning to drip into her underwear. Nick brings the food over and sits with her, sipping from his soda.
Popping a greasy French fry into her mouth, Kara gives him a teasing glance that has him giving her a second look, as if surprised. “You know, old man, you’re not half bad.”
Nick rolls his eyes with a fond flair. “I’m thirty-eight, not a corpse.”
He’s a decade older . Kara blinks the thought away. “There’s a difference?”
“Hold your forked tongue, you nasty little hoyden.” He says it without heat, a glimmer of humor in his clear blue eyes, laugh lines deepening. His foot nudges hers playfully under the table and Kara scoffs.
For the first time, Kara feels like she’s out with him, like a normal couple. This is the realest he’s ever been. She beams.