Then, his movements were finally long enough, and I felt his hand slide slowly downward until it completely covered my sex.
Brad was watching, but not participating. Is this cheating? Is this allowed? Alarm bells rang in my head, but I was unable to listen, a need so great pulsing between my legs, his hand moving slightly as he pulled it away, north along my body, and then back downward. The sheet between us was now soaked, one hand passing aggressively, then softly, then aggressively, down between my legs, the other hand moving back and forth along my breasts, strumming my nipples, my body beginning to arch from his touch. Fuck rules and commitments, anything sane or rational. Brad wasn’t going to open my sexual boundaries, send this madness in, and not expect me to fucking enjoy it. I moaned, the sound loud and begged, my lips parting, my eyes opening, and I propped myself up, the sheet falling from my breasts, and stared into the masseuse’s eyes.
“I need you to fuck me. Now.” I gasped the words, my mouth hanging open, the cold air against erect nipples, his hand cupping me, and one finger moved, swiping under the sheet; he slid it inside of me, and my world went dark.
My arms gave out, and I fell back, arching, a second finger joining the first, and he moved them together, his other hand sliding the sheet farther down, baring my upper half, my body offered to him as I pushed against his hand. He curved his fingers, stroking my g-spot, his other hand worshipping my breasts, now lifting, squeezing and then the additional stimulation of his mouth, hot and wet, sucking and pulling me against his tongue. I reached out, gripping his shirt, my eyes squeezed shut and bucked, my orgasm flooding uncontrolled, an explosion of De Luca proportions. He kept up the movement, my other hand reaching out and finding his shoulder, holding on for dear life as my body let out a final shudder, and then I collapsed on the bed, aftershocks twitching like erratic tics through my body.
My eyes closed, and I heard footsteps travel, latches click, the door open, and then shut. I opened my eyes, turning my head until I could see Brad, at my side, his eyes on my body. I watched him, watched as he placed a hand lightly on my ribcage, running it down my body as he circled the table, his eyes traveling along my skin, an intent, brooding look mixed in with his possessive standard. I murmured, a soft tone of satisfaction that had his eyes looking to mine, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly as he rounded the end of the table and stopped beside me. Bending over, he slid his arms under my body and stood, cradling me to his chest, my body curving, and I instinctively leaned into him, inhaling his scent, one that was 100% Brad, a smile crossing my face when I smelled only him on his shirt and neck. He carried me to the bed, lying me down on the pillow top, my face turning to him as he stood next to the bed, looking down at me.
“Did you enjoy that?”
I nodded, my eyes closing softly, a small smile on my lips. “Why’d he leave?”
He chuckled. “I can bring him back if you’d like. Call and get a later flight.”
“What time is it?”
He glanced at the bedside table. “Almost 4:45.”
My eyes opened fully, and I pushed off the bed. “Shit! We’ve got to go.”
He pressed me back down, black need in his eyes. “Not yet,” he said, unbuttoning his pants. “Not yet.”
Chapter 33
Sex with Brad was always different after a threesome. Sometimes it was tender, such as when we were with the Russian girl. Other times it was possessive, as if he was claiming me back, reasserting his dominance with his cock, hands, and mouth. And sometimes it was fire, two souls battling each other, passion and fury in between our bodies, the giant need for each other frenzied in its intensity.
That day, with precious minutes ticking by, I expected it to be fast. But he took his time, laying me back on the bed, his eyes moving slowly over my skin, drinking me in. His hands dropping his pants, then his underwear, until there was nothing but raw, hard cock. Ready for me. Wanting me. He leaned over my body, tasted with teasing kisses, my neck, breasts, the side of my stomach, the curve of my hip. His hands pulled my legs open, and I squirmed as he drug soft lips closer, along the cut where my panties would lie, his eyes catching mine as he lowered his mouth to my sex.
God. I bucked under his mouth. His tongue was a velvet soft flutter over my sensitive clit. I was so aroused. On the edge of everything. He took me to the peak, keeping the rhythm up until I cried his name and clenched my legs. Until I came, my back arching, my hands finding and gripping his thick hair.
He moved up my body, joining me on the bed, his knees pushing my legs apart, his cock settling and thrusting into my hot and ready core.
“Are you mad?” I whispered, staring into his face.
He cocked his head at me, confused.
“At what he was doing ... when you came in.”
He chuckled, shoved fully in, a place he didn’t typically go, the extreme depth of him usually painful. I winced, slapped his chest, warning him with my eyes. “I’m only mad if he was doing something you didn’t want. or, if he was making you uncomfortable. From the looks of it, you were very comfortable.”
“But you didn’t mind just watching?”
“Watching you being pleased?” He shook his head, dragged his hips backward, then gripped my legs and pushed back in. “Seeing your face when you come, your muscles when they clench. The arch of your back at a time when I can focus on it, enjoy it. I lose so many sensations when I fuck you. Your sounds, the flush of your cheeks. Sitting there, watching you come ... it was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. It’s not about ‘minding.’ It’s about enjoying.” He quickened his thrusts, the movements of his hips, and dropped my legs, returned to my mouth. Then he wrapped his arms underneath me, pulled me to his chest, and rolled us over, our bodies joined as one, until I was astride, and he was below. And then he gave me a brief moment of control, and let me ride him to completion.
Chapter 34
APRIL
Days until wedding: 120
People in danger typically try to put as much distance as possible between them and their attacker. They believe that space equals safety. But they are wrong, and often get hurt as a result. You see, when your enemies are close, when their bodies are pressed flush against yours, at that range they can do very little damage. They need distance to swing a punch, to extend their hands and choke your neck. Distance to reach down and unzip a zipper. The lesson is simple: Dictate your space. Keep your enemies as close as possible until you are ready to give them space. And when you give them that space, use it to destroy them.
I had broken the triangle choke into an acronym for easy memorization. A. Arm Across. I move my attacker’s arm across his body. S. Scoot away. I slide my body away from him, moving him down my chest. L. Leg over his shoulder. Creating a noose, which I will use to hang him. A. Ankle. I grab my ankle, tucking it under my other leg, tightening the noose. P. Press. Press down on his head and squeeze until the air has left his body and he passes out between my legs. After he has gone limp, continued pressure will eventually cause death. A SLAP.
Ben had, per Brad’s wishes, become my instructor, moving us to the theatre after dinner on Wednesday nights. Brad had the room’s seating moved to the attic, blue mats now covering the large space. There, Ben and I would ‘roll,’ him training me on jujitsu defense tactics created by the Gracie family over the last three decades, tactics designed to allow a smaller individual to defeat a larger one. Ben had grown up in California, trained in their academy for over a decade. Though his instruction would never count in the world of belts and qualifications, it was priceless in the world of my personal safety, a world Brad now seemed obsessed with. I now kept a gun in my SUV, had campus security walk me to my vehicle if night had fallen, and my humble college abode was outfitted with five thousand dollars worth of security cameras, alarms, and monitoring services. I had forbid Brad from placing tracking devices on my car or cell. My stubborn stance on the item had led to a fight, which led to incredible sex, and then another fight, Brad unwilling to
drop the subject. But I had stayed firm. A life without freedom wasn’t, in my mind, worth living. I didn’t ever want my movements tracked, for someone to have a finger on where I was at any moment. There was a level of caution that was necessary and reasonable, then there was a level that was invasive and controlling. Brad was a control freak; it was in every ounce of his DNA. It was important to me that I never be controlled. He could control his work, his clients, his juries, his employees, but not me. So that argument I won, his dark eyes flashing in frustration at the outcome. The jujitsu argument he won, as there was no good reason for me not to have defense abilities.
The sport was a close contact one, most moves requiring limbs to be tangled, bodies pressed in solid contact, faces inches away from each other, breaths commingling as he straddled me, taking aggressive stances that I would try to combat. Ben was often surprised by my aggression, my intent focus on how to best administer pain while in different defensive positions. But his reports back didn’t surprise Brad. Brad knew behind my sweet exterior was a need for control, one that often asserted itself during sex, or in other small ways of manipulation. It simmered below my skin, rising to a boil if provoked.
A SLAP. Hopefully, I would never use it.
♥♥♥
“Good. Again.”
I released my arms, freeing Ben’s neck, and waited for him to stand. “I think I got it.”
“You’re still holding your breath when you choke me. And you’re thinking out the moves. It needs to become second nature to you.” He stood, his hands settling to his waist, the dim theatre room lighting putting much of his face into the shadows.
“One more time. Then I’ve got to take a shower.” I didn’t know the time, no clock in the room, but it felt late. And I had promised to meet Olivia at the library, both of us facing mid-term finals.
“I’ll step in.” Brad’s voice came from behind my head, and I turned to see him in the doorway, his dress clothes still on, though he had lost his jacket at some point in the evening.
I frowned. “I don’t want to mess up your clothes.”
He held out a hand, sending a cocky grin down at me. “I’ll let a beautiful woman mess up my clothes any day.”
“Wrong answer,” I grumbled, accepting the hand and yanking it unnecessarily hard when standing.
“I’m sorry, love. I’ll let your beautiful ass mess up my clothes any day.” He winked at me, stepping backward slightly on the blue mat, until we were at least ten feet apart.
It wasn’t about his clothes. I sucked at defending myself against Brad. He was so much bigger, stronger, than Ben. I couldn’t fully wrap my arms around his chest, my moves had to be done perfectly in order for my light weight to properly influence and affect his large mass. And I was not, as much as I’d like to admit it, perfect. Far from it. Most days, I felt like I was two steps above mediocre. I was reminded of my lack of proficiency every time Brad stepped onto the mat.
“Go ahead baby.” I gestured with my hands. “Give me your best shot.”
His best shot ended up forcibly grabbing me, moving me to the floor where he proceeded to pull up my shirt. Took his time groping my chest. I let him enjoy it, putting up a mock struggle until the moment his frisky hand wandered far enough to the right. Then I jumped into action, trapping the arm and rolling, taking it with me to a place that it wasn’t meant to go, a place that meant broken bones or disconnected sockets. And for once, my mediocrity didn’t interfere, and I heard his hand, the three strong slaps against the mats. I released him, rolling over, his arm snagging me into place, a smile on his face as he stole a quick kiss from me. “Not bad, baby. Not bad.”
Chapter 35
Not bad was screaming its way up my shoulder. I winced, taking a break from my textbook and rolled the joint, stretching the limb carefully right and then left, the action catching the attention of Olivia.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just sore.”
She snorted, the perturbed sound catching my attention in the quiet library.
“What?”
“That from some crazy sexual acrobats?” She raised an eyebrow at me over the cover of her textbook.
“No. Working out with Ben.”
“That is so weird. You rolling around on a mat with Brad’s best friend.”
“It’s not sexual, O. It’s self-defense. You should come sometime.”
“As you’ve mentioned a hundred times before. I have Mace. As do you. There’s no need for you to be a black belt to boot. And the CIA-level security system he just installed at your house? Was the retinal eye scan not available? Plus, since when does a trophy wife need protection? You gonna get mugged while walking through Neiman Marcus?” She kept her gaze on her book, my attempt to catch her eyes futile.
“I’m not gonna be a trophy wife.” I ignored the other attacks, the ground covered ten times before. She didn’t know about the attempt on my life eight months before. Didn’t know about Brad’s family or the hidden threats that would exist for the rest of my life. It was something I would never tell her, along with the side of our sex life that involved strangers and kink. She already had enough reservations about Brad, enough irritation toward the man who had stolen her best friend.
She set down the book, her eyes finally meeting mine. “You’re twenty-one. He’s thirty-four. You’re hot. Driving a BMW. Carrying a hard-working family’s second mortgage around on your finger. Probably won’t work a day in your life. Nothing about that screams trophy wife?”
I studied her face, the anger in it. Why was she mad? Where was this hostility coming from? Was it too much to ask that she be happy for me? “You’re forgetting, in that ridiculous equation of yours, that I love the man.”
“No. You’re dazzled by him. Without the money, without his man-whore reputation that presents a challenge, you would have dropped him by now. Not run around, letting him orchestrate your every move.” She closed her notebook, capping the pen, and stood, sliding the items off the desk and into her book bag, the worn item in sharp contrast to the barely-used Louis Vuitton carryall that slouched carelessly by my tennis shoes.
I stood, fighting to keep my voice low, aware of the attention we were attracting from the others at our table. Pens had stopped scratching, eyes stopped reading, an eavesdropping silence blanketed the entire area. “Don’t presume to know how I feel. You have no idea of my feelings, and I shouldn’t have to—at every interaction with you—defend my actions and validate my love.” I watched with dismay as she bent, hefting her book bag over her shoulder.
“Whatever. Becca’s the one who blows sunshine, not me.” She pulled out her cell, her fingers moving over the screen, doing godknowswhat as she turned away. “See you later, Jules.”
I watched her go, my eyes on her as she moved past the main desk, pressing the buttons for the elevator, waiting for the car, and then stepping on, her head never lifting from her phone, never turning to look, my last glimpse the blue material of her book bag as she stepped onto the car.
I sat, trying to sort out my emotions, trying to understand what just happened, anger brewing amidst the confusion.
“Ouch.” The word came from my right, and I glanced over to see brown eyes studying me behind thick glasses, the girl’s mouth twisted into a wry grin.
“Yeah,” I muttered.
“It is a kick ass ring, though.” She smiled, dipping her pen in the direction of my hand.
I smiled politely, closing my own textbook with a sigh. So much for studying.
♥♥♥
While I planned my future, Rebecca planned my wedding, Olivia cursed my relationship, and arrangements of a completely different nature occurred in the seedy underbelly of the city. Money was exchanged, plans were constructed, and my fate was determined.
For the second time in twelve months, my life was in danger. And just like before, I was completely oblivious.
Chapter 36
“What’s going on with your law school application?”
Brad’s voice came to me through the darkness and I turned, watching the light of the pool reflect off his muscles as he pushed up and out of the water.
I leaned back against the cushion of the pool chaise, my own skin almost dry. We had been swimming almost nightly, the unseasonal heat wave perfectly complemented by laps in the pool. We aimed for dusk, the sunset through the palm trees creating a perfect oasis and a half-hour of darkness before the bugs came out. He cocked an eyebrow at me, waiting for a response as he grabbed a towel off the chair beside me. “I haven’t given much thought to it,” I responded vaguely.
“You should be giving a lot of thought to it. What’s your top choice? We can shoot for admission there.”
I shot him an odd look. “My top choice? I was only going to apply to State. It’s the only law program nearby.”
He shook his head. “State is fine, but we’d be foolish not to use my contacts. Ignore the distance, where do you want to go?”
Where do I want to go? I hadn’t even allowed myself to think that way. I was getting married, would spend the next umpteen years of my life in this city. Me trotting off to a strange city for law school didn’t seem the prudent thing to do. “Ignore the distance?” I laughed. “Brad, that’s easy to say, but you don’t mean that.”