Chapter 34
I come awakeon a moan with Matthew between my legs, licking my clit. I have no idea how long he’s been licking me, but my orgasm rushes through me before I can fully make sense of what’s happening.
With a pleased devil-may-care smile, he crawls up my body dropping kisses along the way. “Morning, beautiful.”
“Mm. Morning, Matty.”
His lips find mine in a tender kiss at the same moment he slides his cock inside my still clenching sheathe. His lips never leave mine as he rolls his hips, making sweet love to me. Tears slip from my eyes as we both find our releases. I’ve never experienced anything like this before.
Last night was passionate and perfect. I didn’t think it could get any better but this… this was more. So much more.
“Don’t cry, my love.” Matthew kisses away my tears. “Please, don’t be sad.”
I wrap my arms and legs around him, holding him tight until it feels like he’s crushing me, and I hold him tighter still. “Happy tears. I promise. That was…” I trail off, unable to find the words to describe what we just shared.
“Everything,” he says simply.
I nod, burying my face in his neck. “Exactly.”
* * *
“Areyou sure you won’t go with me?” Matthew asks for the dozenth time. He has to go into the club for a little while and meet with someone named Gunner. Apparently, he works at one of the other clubs and is in town for some mysterious business that Matthew doesn’t seem to want to explain since he keeps evading my questions.
“I’m sure.”
Matthew crosses the small space to me. We just got out of the shower, where he washed every inch of my body, then brought me to orgasm with his very talented tongue.
“I don’t like leaving you alone.” I smile when he pulls me into his arms.
“I’m never alone. Hannah and Slade are here. Besides… I think I’m going to take a nap. Someone wore me out.” I yawn as if to punctuate the fact that I am still tired.
He looks at me with concern as if he’s trying to gauge if I’m truly tired or if this is another symptom of my depression.
“I’m fine, Matty. Seriously, I feel fantastic.”
Thankfully, he takes me at my word, and a few minutes later, he’s tucking me into bed and leaving with a promise to hurry back.
* * *
Unlike when Iwas wrapped up in Matthew’s arms, my sleep isn’t peaceful. I dream of Nelson Grant, only this dream isn’t a memory like the others, though no less horrifying. Matthew is there, beaten and gagged, tied to a chair. He’s forced to watch as I’m raped by Mr. Brown. The whole time Grant stands to the side cackling in glee as he watches my ruination.
I’m listless when I wake up. Wishing that I would’ve gone with Matthew instead of insisting on staying home. The happiness I’ve felt since last night has been completely smothered by hopelessness. I do my best to smile and talk with Hannah as I watch her bake brownies for Slade. She smiles slyly as she gives up his version of kryptonite—baked goods. Any kind of dessert, really.
“Just wait. He won’t be able to resist coming to get one. He might be a big tough guy, but he’s got a wicked sweet tooth.”
Hannah isn’t wrong. A minute before the timer goes off, Slade wanders into the kitchen from the office where he spends most of his time while we are home. The timer buzzes, and Hannah dances over to the oven. She bends over way more than necessary as she retrieves the brownies.
Slade’s eyes are glued to her butt. He has the same smoldering look in his eyes that Matthew gets when he’s looking at me. I wish I knew why he keeps her at a distance. He obviously cares for her a great deal, and by the way he looks at her, I know he’s attracted to her. Hannah is so in love with him that it’s painful to watch her heartbreak with every rejection.
“I baked your favorite,” Hannah says cheerfully as she puts a perfect square of piping hot brownie on a plate.
Slade grunts in response.
She hands the plate to Slade, and there is so much hopefulness in her eyes that he will giveaway how he feels. He takes the plate and grunts a thanks then leaves, escaping back to the office.
Hannah’s face falls, and her eyes swim with tears and rejection. “I’m going to… uh… laundry. Yeah, I think I’ll do some laundry.”
I let her leave without a word. I’ve tried to talk to her about it in the past, but she’s made it clear she doesn’t want to discuss it. I know what it’s like not wanting to talk about painful things, so I don’t push.
I clean up the brownie mess and decide to make dinner. Matthew should be home soon and keeping busy is a good idea right now. I’m mixing pancake batter when he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me. I don’t think I react. The bowlful of batter crashes to the ground, and I scream, struggling against the suffocatingly tight grip.
My mind breaks from reality, and I’m shoved headlong into another time and place.
I’m stirring eggs. It’s three in the morning. I had just gotten to sleep when Mr. Perfect pulled me from my bed by my hair and demanded I make him eggs and bacon. I limped behind him to the kitchen, my whole body aching from tonight’s client.
Heat trickles down my thighs, and I gag. Usually, after I instantly shower, scrubbing myself clean until my skin is raw. Not tonight. Tonight was Mr. Brown’s night, and he uses me like he wants to kill me. Part of me thinks he does, that same part of me wishes he would. At least then this would all be over.
Arms wrap around me from behind, and Mr. Perfect’s alcohol-laced breath surrounds me. “Such a dirty fucking tease. You’ll fuck anyone and everyone, but I never get my piece.”
He grinds against my aching backside. I cry out as his zipper digs into my skin. I want to scream at him that I don’t have a choice. It’s his fault that I’m forced to endure the life of a whore. He stole me away, and there’s no escaping.
I whimper when he bends me over the counter, the egg mixture falls to the floor in a crash of broken glass and egg. Mr. Perfect jumps back and curses. His hand whips out and backhands me so hard my vision blurs. “Stupid fucking bitch. Look what you did!”
He grabs my hair and yanks me down to my hands and knees. Glass digs into my palms, ripping open the skin. “Clean it up.” With a booted foot, he shoves against my backside, sending me crashing to the floor, unable to keep my balance on the slippery eggs.
“Rose!” A panicked voice breaks into the memory. “Stop, sweetheart. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
I blink and realize I’m on the floor on my hands and knees in front of the spilled pancake mixture. Matthew crouches in front of me a horrified look on his face. I look down at my hands and see the tiny cuts from the broken glass. A broken sob is ripped from my very soul.
“Oh, God. I’m sorry.” I wrap my arms around myself and rock back and forth, chanting sorry on repeat as I cry brokenly.
“It’s okay, love. It’s my fault… I should’ve known better than to sneak up on you like that.” I cry harder at the brokenness in Matthew’s voice. I did that to him. He should be able to sneak up on his girlfriend and wrap his arms around her.
Instead, he has me. He would be so much better off without me. I cause nothing but heartache wherever I go. I’m not good for him. No good for anyone.
“Can I pick you up?” Matthew asks calmly. “We need to get that glass out of your hands.”
I spread my palms out in front of me and see the little pinpricks of blood where the shards of glass cut into me. Words fail me, so I just nod. He lifts me from the ground and cradles me like I’m the most precious bundle in the world. After he cleans my hands and puts a bandage on the worst of the cuts, he carries me to the living room and sits me on the couch.
“I’m going to clean up the mess. Will you be okay here for just a minute?”
I nod again even though I’m not okay. The darkness is back, and it’s swallowing me up like quicksand. Numbness has already set in, and everything outside of me feels other. I don’t exist in the now. I’m nowhere and nothing.
Lost in a fog, unable to sit still while my brain is replaying nightmares that I can’t seem to shake. Maybe some fresh air will help, I think idly. Between one blink and the next, I’m on the balcony. I don’t remember moving from the couch. The wind whips around me, bringing the scent of stale cigarettes from the rooftop. One of the maintenance workers spends his breaks up there, smoking like a chimney. The smell is one reason why I don’t spend much time out here despite the amazing view.
I pace the length of the balcony, trying to escape the stale cigarette smell, but it’s no use. I’m thrust back into another memory.
I’m blindfolded and bound to my bed. I can smell stale cigarettes, sweat, and his putrid breath. I can feel fat, probing fingers cruel and unyielding. I hear his vulgar descriptions of what he’s going to do to me next. My mouth is dry, and my throat is sore from screaming. The blindfold is soaked with my tears. I’m thankful for it… maybe if I can’t see, I won’t remember.
I was wrong. So very, very wrong. Scene after scene plays out in my head until I’m drowning in them. I can’t handle it anymore. I have to make it stop. No one should have to live with this. I won’t survive it again… not even if it’s just in my memories.
The memories are worse than the actual physical act of what happened. The bruises fade away. The memories? Those never go away. They torture me with the abuse over and over again. Making me relive it on a vicious loop.
I thought I was getting better. That I was moving past the horrors of Red House, but now I can see that I’ll never be free. I’ve been happier than I ever have been these last months with Matthew. Even at my lowest, it was still better than anything in my past. I have friends. Hannah, Slade, and Kisten treat me like family. I just wish it was enough. Red House twisted my mind, leaving a broken shell behind.
No matter how much happiness I find here with my new-found family, it will never be enough. The damage is done.
Somewhere in the distance, I can hear my name. People are looking for me, they sound frantic. I should call out and let them know that I’m here, but I don’t. Eerie calm settles over me the ugliness in my head stops as the wind whips around my body. My dress flaps in the wind, sounding like the wings of a bird.
I wonder if I could fly.
I could just let go. Give in to the darkness and be free of this torment. There’s freedom right there for the taking if I just make the leap. Who could blame me, anyway? I’ve survived more than any person should ever have to. This moment of peace—of clarity—could be the rest of my forever.
“Oh my God, Rose!” Hannah cries out in horror. “Slade! Matthew! She’s out here.” Distantly I think about how odd it is that she didn’t call Slade Master. Is she still upset at him for earlier?
“Holy fuck!” Slade shouts.
I was terrified of him when I first met him. I feel silly now. He’s been by my side, keeping me safe for weeks. The real threat was never Mr. Perfect or Damon. No, the danger has always been the darkness within me. No one can save me from it.
“Rose, sweetheart, you need to come on back down here,” Slade coaxes. I’m confused as to why he doesn’t want me on the balcony. And why he’s moving towards me so slowly with outstretched arms. “Just grab my hand, sweetheart.”
I close my eyes, just wanting him to go away. For everything to just go away. I turn my focus back to the skyline and think again about what it must feel like to fly. To soar high up in the clouds free from everything. I close my eyes and spread my arms, pretending that they are wings.
Just before I take flight, his voice breaks through the numbness.
“Stop!” Matthew demands. “Don’t you dare.”
I drop my arms to my sides uselessly. I look over my shoulder toward my salvation. “Matty?”
Seconds later, he’s yanking me off the ledge and into his arms. He holds me so tight my ribs creak. I don’t have a chance to complain because his mouth crashes down on mine in a punishing kiss. He kisses me like I’m his first and last breath. Like I’m essential. Abruptly he stops the frantic mating of our lips and tosses me on his bed. Before I even stop bouncing from being tossed so forcefully, Matthew has me rolled onto my stomach and pulled up onto my knees.
My brain still hasn’t caught up with what’s happening when his hand cracks down on my left butt cheek. Hard. So much harder than last night. “You think you can just walk away from me?” He sounds furious. He hasn’t even finished the question, and he lands two more solid smacks on my ass, alternating from my right to left butt cheek.
“Ow! Matthew, what the…” I start to ask what the hell he’s doing, but words fail me when he spanks me two more times. Each spank harder than the last.
“You don’t get to question me. You took ten years off my life with that little stunt you pulled.” His words are angry, but his tone is fearful. Three more spanks land, this time on my upper thighs. “You tried things your way. Now we’re going to do it mine.”
“What does that mean?” I choke out between spanks.
“It means that from now on, you’re not just my girl, you’re my submissive. It means that I own your pleasure and your pain. It means that when you’re lost, I’ll find you.”
“H-how?” I stutter.
“Do you remember that first time when you kneeled for me?”
Of course I remember. He petted my hair, and my rushing thoughts stopped. “Yes.”
“You were wound so tight after the incident with Mr. Perfect that I thought you might crack. You saw Hannah at Slade’s feet getting comfort, and you wanted that too. Without understanding what you’ve been doing, you’ve been submitting to me all along.”
Didn’t I just have this very same thought? It’s true that when he’s in control, I’m calmer. The ugliness in my mind quiets. “I have,” I admit.
“It’ll be like that, but more. When your mind goes to that ugly place, and you feel yourself sinking, I will spank you or pleasure you… or both. You’ll do what I say because it’s what you need. Together, we will silence those demons and set you free.”
It sounds too good to be true, but he’s already proved it’s possible. He quieted my mind with pleasure before we left for dinner. Afterward he mastered my body with pleasure and pain until the only thoughts in my mind were of Matthew.
“Yes, please.” I know he’s not asking for permission. I already gave that to him when I agreed that if my way didn’t work, we would do things his way, but it feels necessary to make sure he knows that I want this. I never want him to feel like he’s taking something I’m freely giving him.
He lowers my chest to the bed and puts a pillow under my hips, propping me up. There is no warning before he starts. The first few swats are gentler than the earlier ones. Before long, he’s spanking me harder. I fight my need to cover my butt with my hands. It goes against instinct to not try to protect myself, but I trust Matthew. He won’t take things farther than I can handle.
I try to count how many times he spanks me, but I lose track. My whole butt feels like it’s on fire. He moves from my butt to my upper thighs, and I yowl in pain. This time I do fling my hands back to protect myself. He must anticipate my reaction because he quickly has my hands pinned to my lower back in one of his.
The spanking continues, and I sob so hard my body shakes from it. The pain morphs, and with each stroke of his hand, my mind clears a little more. Realization sets in about what Matthew stopped me from doing. Anger flares bright inside me. Anger at myself. At everyone who hurt me. I’m just angry.
I struggle against Matthew’s hold, but he doesn’t relent. Cold fear replaces the anger at how close I came to ending it all in my numbed state. I’ve survived too damn much to let memories of Red House destroy me. Never again. Determination fills me, and I relax into the mattress, taking my spanking with as much grace as possible. Knowing deep down that I deserve it for scaring everyone—including myself.
I lose myself in the steady rhythm Matthew sets. Tears still stream down my face, but it’s not in despair. It’s a cathartic release. It’s an exorcism of the darkness.
I shiver with pleasure when Matthew swipes a finger through my wetness. Through the pain and emotional release, my body still responded. He inserts a finger, gathering my wetness and spreading it up over my clit. I moan and push back into his touch, silently begging for more.
“You’re soaked. Did your spanking turn you on?”
I nod. “Yes, sir. It hurt so bad, but…”
He leans over my body to whisper in my ear. His suit rubbing against the back of my thighs and butt, bringing the fire back to life. “You liked it. You like submitting to me. Your body knows that pain at my hands comes with pleasure.”
As if to prove his point, he circles my clit until I come undone for him. My orgasm crashes over me like a tsunami. Every thought in my brain is annihilated. He grips my hips and thrusts inside me. I don’t know when he took off his clothes, but I’m damn grateful because him filling me is the best feeling in the world.
“Fuck, so tight. Not going to last long.”
Me either, I think to myself, moaning as he hits that spot deep inside me.
He fists my hair and pulls me up to my knees, my back is against his chest. The new angle makes me see stars and groan as the heat from my spanking is reignited.
“You feel so fucking good. I love your ass still hot from my hand pressing against me.”
I nearly go cross-eyed when Matthew starts rubbing my clit while fucking me. My whole body is drowning in sensation. I’m seconds from exploding.
“You wanted to fly, my love. I’m going to make you soar,” Matthew growls lowly.
And he does. Except instead of flying away on my own, I’m flying with Matthew. Soaring into the light and far away from the darkness.