I shook my jeans off, reached a hand down my underwear, and started to recall the night in vivid, shocking detail.
“Shut it,” he said. “You’re going to do things exactly how I want. You will obey my every command. And you will like it.”
I had bantered with him when he said those words, but when he acted upon them, holy fucking shit. He was right. I obeyed his every fucking word. And I fucking loved it.
My fingers went slowly. The initial touch was amazing. It was only going to get better.
“Stand up and turn around.”
I’d obeyed him just as he had asked. This was the moment when he was taking my clothes off as he wanted. I was his plaything—and I loved it. I was his to do whatever he wanted.
And then he’d squeezed my breasts and pressed his cock—still in his pants—against my ass. And then he fucking bit into my neck, and it was almost unfair how such a thing could feel so damn good. A part of me had wanted to turn around and just rip his clothes off right there.
My fingers on my pussy, in real time, started to pick up pace.
“What a fucking sight.”
He’d slapped my ass. Oh, just thinking about it now pushed the present orgasm even closer. Most men just sort of half-heartedly hit my ass, whether afraid to lose a bruise or what. Trent showed my ass no mercy, and it spared no pleasure.
“You think that’s good, wait till we get to the rest. Lie on the bed. On your back. Spread your legs for me.”
I had never rushed so quickly and so fast. I had gone to the bed, but that was fucking it. I’d stood up and tried to take his pants off.
And then he put his hand on my throat and shoved me down.
My fingers started to pick up pace. I wouldn’t even get to the part where we fucked before I came in real life. Fuck me, this was incredible.
“What did I tell you? You will do as I say at the pace I want.”
The memory started to blur as the tension in my body reached a crescendo. I couldn’t fucking think about anything. I just found myself muttering someone’s name over and over again.
“Trent, Trent, oh, fuck, fuck, Trent…”
My whole body felt like it was squeezing in. You will do as I say. Even now, fuck…
“Urgh!”
The orgasm crashed through me, starting in my hips and spreading all through my entire body. Oh, fuck, how that felt. Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh—
Crying.
I heard it on the baby monitor.
Motherly instincts made it impossible for me to not jolt immediately to the need at hand. Charlotte was crying for something. Well, at least she gave me the courtesy of time to orgasm. Even if I didn’t quite finish out.
I found some gym shorts and hurriedly put them on. Nice thing about having a one-year-old was they couldn’t grasp why Mom had changed from jeans into athletic shorts in the span of, oh, five minutes. It would be a rough day when I didn’t have that luxury anymore.
I hurried over to Charlotte’s room, opened the door, and grabbed my little girl. She stopped crying almost immediately; I guess she’d just gotten put to bed at a time when she didn’t need a nap. Which, to be fair, she hadn’t.
But I had needed something too much for me not to do that. I’d needed to feel like I was back in that motel room all over again, submitting to Trent. I hadn’t even gotten to the sex, or how he’d rocked my world then, or how he had come inside of me…
Or how he had then left me in the middle of the night while I cleaned myself off.
Suddenly, this erotic, pleasurable moment wasn’t so pleasurable. His presence was still in my life through my little girl—it was scientifically impossible for it to be anyone other than him—but it wasn’t anywhere close to the same as actually having him in my life.
You’re doing what you need to do, Kelly. You’re finding him as best as you can.
And when I did, who knew? Maybe we’d have wild, bed-breaking sex again. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize me. Maybe he’d just prefer to never see me again.
I just had to give myself a chance. That was all I was asking for right now.
And heavens have mercy, at least giving myself a chance was also an opportunity to give myself a lot more orgasms.
Chapter 6: Liam
Three Days Later
My phone rang.
My fucking burner phone rang.
It took me a half-second, upon seeing the Miami area code, to realize that only one person could have been calling, and that one person would have a damn good reason for doing so—I’d called them, left a three-word voicemail, and now had their call coming to me.
“Yes?” I said when I answered the phone.
“Wow, you’re just as cheerful now as you were two years ago.”
Ah, yes, Emily. The best client I’d ever had for not making a fuss of the rules. I wasn’t going to say that I dropped my standard operating procedures for her, but I could say there was a lot more room for flexibility and casual conversation with her than there would have been with just about anyone else.
“Nature of the job, Emily. How have you been?”
“Well, in no small part because of you, I’m living a pretty good life. Haven’t heard from asshole in a while, work is good, and I’m feeling pretty at ease.”
I didn’t have
