Page 27 of About Time

Wren winces. “I’m so sorry Claudia. It’s not that I forgot you were here, but I just didn’t think for a minute. I try not to bring up any of that stuff around you.”

Claudia waves her off. “Don’t be. Liam might not be that way with me, but what he did to you was fucked up. He has to live with that. You shouldn’t have to hide your trauma just because I’m here. I hope you know that.”

Bess exhales. “This got really heavy. If we’re going to rip off all of our scabs we need to find something stronger than soda.”

“Excellent idea,” I agree. “If I’m going to continue this story we’re going to need the strong shit.”

Wren jumps up and goes to the fridge. From the freezer she pulls out a bottle of vodka. “Will this work?”

“As long as you have something to go with it,” Bess says.

Wren grabs a pitcher out of the fridge. “Uhm, how tacky would it be if all I have is Kool-Aid?”

Harlow rubs her belly and grins. “Suddenly I’m not so upset that I can’t drink with you.”

“I think it sounds like high school. Hand it over,” Bess says and goes about making herself a drink.

I cringe. This sounds worse than dropping a Jolly Rancher inside of a Zima, but I’m not about to start drinking straight vodka. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said that this story was going to need some liquid courage.

Every spare minute I have when I’m not working is spent with Charlie. Sometimes it’s with his hand wrapped around my throat while he drives me out of my mind with pleasure, and other times it is in bed with his arms wrapped around me. It took me a couple of weeks before I was willing to trust this change in our relationship, but now it feels like it has always been the two of us against the world.

The only problem now is that the world doesn’t know about us. I’m not great at hiding things from Elisa, so I’ve been making excuses about working overtime. This can’t go on forever, because sooner or later my sister is going to show up at the job she thinks I’m working an excessive amount of hours at, and she will find out that I work a straight forty hours every week, and not a moment more. That will inevitably lead to her and Martin demanding to know why I’ve been lying. I would fold like a house of cards and answer all of her questions and some they might not think to ask.

Charlie and I have talked about telling people, but the risk isn’t the same for me as it is for him. Martin, Elisa, and even his friends might look at him like he groomed me to be with him, or used his friendship with my brother-in-law to get close to me. I will be the poor girl taken advantage of by a nearly thirty-year-old man. It doesn’t matter that none of that is true. My poor,love-sick teenage self knew without a doubt that Charlie barely knew I existed when I was sixteen and seventeen. It wasn’t until I came back after being gone my freshman year of college that things changed between us. If there was pressure used to start this relationship, it was by me. I saw that the way he looked at me had changed, and I took advantage of it until I basically wore him down.

I guess what bothers me is that he doesn’t see me as being worth the risk, which can only mean that he doesn’t see us lasting past the summer. I don’t know why I’m finding this so shocking. It isn’t like something has changed, but that’s the issue. I thought it had changed when we went from just being about sex to being something more. Stupidly, I let myself believe that it meant the deadline for the end of our relationship went away with our previous deal. You know what they say about assumptions because I certainly feel like an ass for letting myself get carried away by a childhood fantasy.

Now, there are a couple of weeks left of the summer before I have to return to class. I’ll be giving up my apartment and moving permanently to Centralia because even though it’s less than an hour to drive there, it’s still too far to do twice a day. I believe we could make it work, but I can’t put in all the effort by myself.

Late on a Friday night, Charlie and I are lounging on the couch watching a movie. It’s a mindless action flick, not mentally stimulating enough to pull me out of my head. Without meaning to, I withdraw into myself.

Charlie stretches out his leg and pushes my thigh with his bare foot. “What is going on in that pretty head of yours? You have been really quiet lately.”

This is my opening, if I’m brave enough to seize it. I wet my lips and steel myself to face this. “I’m just thinking about howfast the summer has passed, and that I’ll have to go to Centralia to start classes soon.”

I hold my breath waiting for a response, but there’s no change in his demeanor. Inside I’m shouting, “What does that mean for us?” But I just can’t get my mouth to form the words.

“We need to get your mind to relax,” he says with lust deepening his voice.

My mind wants to revolt, but my body is completely on board with his plan. He hasn’t even touched me yet, and I can feel myself growing wet. The stress and uncertainty reach a crescendo and even my mind comes on board with Charlie’s plans to seek a reprieve from the spiral of anxiety.

The addictive aspect of Charlie’s games is handing him control and shutting my mind off completely. He stands up and holds out his hand. I take it without question, and he leads us to his bedroom.

He doesn’t say a single word to me, and I allow myself to slip into the space where the only thing in my world is what he wants. His fingers grab the hem of my tank top, and he pulls it over my head. Then his dark brown eyes grab and hold my green ones. I can feel his fingers land on the button of my jeans, but I don’t dare look away.

Charlie shoves my jeans down my legs. Even as he bends down to pull them past my knees, I don’t dare look down at him. I feel a tap on my ankle, and that is my only command to step out of my jeans. He reaches behind me and unhooks my bra. Even this many weeks later my first instinct is to cover my nakedness. I fight against the urge and leave my arms loose by my sides.

He still says nothing to me. At least not verbally. His eyes tell me he is enjoying this game, but my glimpse of them is brief. Charlie circles me slowly. Once he is behind me his hand grips the back of my neck and he silently guides me forward toward the bed.

Instead of putting me on the bed, he bends me until my chest is on the bed, and my feet are still on the floor. I know without him telling me not to move. He moves around, stretches my arms out above my head, and secures each with a restraint and cuff to rings built into the bed frame. Then he moves behind me again. Charlie pushes his foot between mine and kicks my legs apart. I hear rustling under the bed, and then he binds each ankle.

Despite the fact that I can’t move, he places his hand on my back to hold me down. His other hand reaches between my legs. His fingers stroke my mound and slip between my folds. No doubt he feels how turned on I am. He uses my wetness to stroke his finger over my clit until I’m flooded.

The sound of his zipper being undone fills me with a delicious anticipation. Being with him has helped me discover who I am more than an academic year in Florida did. I never in my wildest dreams would have imagined I am submissive, how much I crave being used for his pleasure. I definitely wouldn’t have thought I liked being fucked more than making love. I wanted it rough enough that I could still feel him the next day. It’s going to be so hard moving on from him.

I exhale a puff of air trying to force these thoughts from my head. I haven’t been told I could make a sound, so undoubtedly he would punish me for disobeying him.

The head of his cock presses against my opening. He grabs my hips with a firm hold, his fingers indenting into my skin. He pulls my hips back and slams his cock deep into my cunt. I cry out with the delicious feel of his invasion like he knew I would. I love the way he takes me so animalistic. As if he couldn’t wait another second to feel me wrapped around him.

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