Page 9 of Mind

“Agreed.” His smirk is devastatingly sexy. He unbuttons his dress shirt one tiny white button at a time making a meal out of the process. Everything in me is hyper focused on each new piece of skin Chase uncovers. “You’re in need?” One dark, sculpted eyebrow rises in perfect synchrony with the white fabric falling off his broad chest to pool at his feet.

His question is rhetorical, so I choose to nod, then arch my back off the bed, seductively sliding my hands from my hips, covered in black lace, to the buttons of my own blouse. Chase loosens his belt under my watchful gaze. The sound of the leather as it is pulled through his belt loops is almost as heated as his groan when I pluck open all but one button on my blouse. The creamy silk spreads to the sides exposing the fair skin of my abdomen. Chase sucks in a ragged breath through his teeth.

“Jesus, Gillian. Nothing compares to your beauty.”

“Prove it,” I say as I pop open the last button revealing a cream-colored lace push-up bra with black trimmed edge, the direct opposite of the matching panties. The bra does wonderful things to my breasts, pushing them up so high I could probably lick them myself. I cross one stocking-covered leg over the other, adding a pleasing press to my sex. I moan and scratch at the silk covering my thighs, clearly desperate. Chase knows what I’m doing.

“Oh I plan to. You were bad today. Should I issue a punishment?”

Punishment.That word has never entered my love’s vocabulary, nor would I ever want it to. The word itself has negative connotations. Something given as a penalty for an offense, transgression, fault. To handle severely or roughly as in a fight. I knew exactly what the word meant, because Justin had me look it up and repeat it back to him like a robot right before he beat the hell out of me for something he thought I did wrong. Hispunishmenthe called it.

I spring from the bed, seemingly catapulted into a different time. A hateful memory bleeds into my psyche unwanted.

“You can’t do anything right, can you?” Justin screams into my face while holding my throat in a viselike grip. His fingers dig into the tender column.

“Justin, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.” Tears pour down my face in rivulets, each crystal orb should calm him, see the sincerity in my apology. It doesn’t. Crying does nothing but make him happy. Knowing he can affect me so deeply gets him off.

“I worked hard for the money that bought that chicken and rice, and your stupid ass burnt it all to a crisp!” His other hand comes out of nowhere and smacks me upside the head. I feel like one of those punching dolls. You keep it steady with one hand, punch it repeatedly with the other, and it bounces back for another go.

“I’m sorry, I swear. I was trying something new. Something I thought you’d like and it didn’t work! Really…” I’m cut off by a particularly harsh blow to my face that cuts my lip and makes my nose gush blood. The metallic smell and taste is vile, and I choke and spit at the floor.

“Now you’re spitting on my floor you crazy cunt! Making another fucking mess. That’s it. It’s time for me to punish you!”

Justin pulls my ponytail and yanks my neck back, then drags me kicking to the kitchen table, where he proceeds to bend me over it forcefully. He slams my face into the Formica tabletop, blood spatters across the shined surface. The table settings clank as Justin grabs the spatula hot off the stove. He runs the hot metal down my spine sending spikes of pain warnings to my brain. Justin pulls up my dress and rips the simple cotton briefs off me, shoving them crudely out of his way.

“You fucking scream, whore, and I’ll kill you,” his scent is mixed with body odor and sawdust from the building he’s working on. The smell swirls viciously in my gut, and I breathe shallowly through a busted nose and split lip, trying not to vomit. “You got that, slut?” he grits through his teeth.

I nod, crazily wishing, praying, hoping this will be over fast.

He palms my bare ass and for a moment I think maybe, maybe he’ll just fuck me and not hit me. Wrong. Dead wrong. The first lash of the metal spatula sears my flesh. White hot pain, rips through my ass and up my back. I cry out, but quickly muffle the scream into my forearm biting the flesh trying to compensate for the whipping lashes against my fragile bare skin.

After twenty lashes he stops. His chest rises and falls, clearly winded. Between the heat scorching my ass and the pounding of my head from the repeated knocks from his fist, I almost pass out. But the blessed blackness doesn’t come. What did set my teeth to rattle, is a punching shove against the table, hitting my teeth against the top and bruising the gums.

Then his dick pierced me. A guttural howl rips from my lungs…

Tears pour down the sides of my face as I come to. Chase is kissing the tears away. My entire body is shaking violently as I will the vile images to disappear, still stuck halfway between the nightmare and my happy place…Chase’s embrace.

“Baby, baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Chase whispers as he hauls me into his lap. His voice is my anchor, and I cling to his chest, before wrapping my entire body around him, legs locked behind his back. Large, safe arms claim my back as I burrow into the warm, naked skin of his neck. Peace. Here is where I’m safe. No one can hurt me as long as I’m right here. He is my serenity.

“You’re safe, baby. You’re safe. I’m never going to hurt you. I’m sorry, God,”—his voice cracks with emotion—“I’m so sorry.”

I nod and sniff into the warm haven of his neck. He smells of soap, and a delicate mix of citrus and sandalwood. It’s heavenly. If they could bottle it up, I’d spray the scent all over my clothes and bedding. Chase rocks me from side to side then front to back. He kisses my temples and the tears that run down my cheeks, everywhere he can reach. His giant hands skim up and down my skin in long, calming, soothing strokes.

After a time, I finally pull my head from the shelter of his neck.

“Hey, there’s my beautiful girl,” he whispers, and I smile weakly.

He leans in and barely touches his lips to mine. The touch is feather light but speaks of such promise. Chase is letting me come back to myself, to choose to accept his kiss. I do, greedily. And I don’t stop, can’t stop. Ineedhim. With me, in me, to banish this memory, this nightmare. I pull at his neckand devour his mouth with my lips, tongue and teeth. My legs are hooked around his back, and I grind my sex against his hardness. He groans and pulls back, cupping my face and staring deep into my eyes.

“Slow down, Gillian. There’s no rush. Do you want to talk about what just happened?”

I shake my head. “No, I want you to make love to me,” I squeeze my legs around his body rubbing against his erection. It feels so good. He must know that I need him. Only he can take away the sick feeling, remove the claws of this monster and replace them with light and love.

Chase leans his forehead against mine. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t know what the right thing to do is.” He sounds miserable. My big, strong man is out of his element, shattered. He thinks he hurt me, that the flashback was his fault. I have to convince him otherwise. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Look at me, Chase.” His ocean-blue eyes pierce mine. I see sadness, hurt, and fear in their depths, and I won’t have it. “Just love me. Your love takes it all away.”

His eyes close and he sucks in a deep breath. I’m holding mine until he pulls me close and stands. Slowly, he sets me down on our bed, his body coming down with me. He removes his boxer briefs and my bra, panties, and stockings until we’re both bare and as raw as the emotions filling the room.

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