Page 120 of Trying Sophie

“Shit, Soph. I’m done. This is done. You don’t want to hear this.”

“No, it’s okay. I do. Go on.”

“Why?”

I had to know why it was so important that I tell her about Natasha. Because if I were in Sophie’s shoes right now, I don’t know that I could handle hearing about her fucking another guy ten ways to Sunday. Shit, I’d barely made it through her telling me about Stephen and that had been rated PG.

“I think … I don’t …” She exhaled, long and slow. “The truth is, you have some hang-ups about it that I don’t want coming between us. So if we talk about it—get everything out in the open—maybe we can lay them to rest.”

Every time I thought to myself this girl can’t get any more perfect, Sophie went and said or did something that proved me wrong. I did have hang-ups about sex, thoughts and feelings that made me ashamed about who I was, that forced me to hold back from what I wanted, what I craved. That she was willing to take this on—take me on—was mind-boggling. She could do so much better than me.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said, swallowing loudly. “I’m sure.”

“I need you to know I hate this. I hate saying these words. I hate having you picture me with another woman.”

“I’m a big girl, Declan. I can handle it.”

“Damn it Sophie, you shouldn’t have to.”

“And you shouldn’t have to carry this burden by yourself. You need someone to talk to. Let me be your safe place.”

I wanted Sophie to be my safe place, like I wanted to be hers.

“Okay,” I answered, gathering my thoughts and trying to piece them back together. “So, taking her request as … permission, I ehm … moved things along. After awhile she told me to spank her and I did, but then she demanded I do it harder and harder … until my hand was sore. You’ve seen my hands, Soph, you know what they can do.”

I snorted with disgust. My hands were strong and rough, covered in callouses and scars. It took a lot to bring me pain.

On a ragged sigh, I continued, baring my shame to this woman. “But it felt good too, not having to hold back. That’s one of the things that haunts me the most. That when I was obviously hurting her … I … I enjoyed myself. I enjoyed the pain I gave both of us.”

I dropped my head forward and closed my eyes. There was a heavy silence between us that I hoped didn’t mean I’d scared Sophie off. She knew how I liked things, but I’d never wanted her to know that at first I’d gotten off on Natasha’s need to be punished.

“She asked you to Declan. You said it yourself, you didn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want.”

For several silent seconds, I pictured that night all over again—the things that happened next—and my tension mounted.

“After that things went bad,” I admitted on a strangled whisper.

“How so?” There was no censure in her voice, just a desire for me to unburden myself.

“She told me to fuck her as hard as I could, said she needed to feel like she was going to break. She asked me to hurt her, really hurt her,” I choked out.

Sophie gasped. “What … how … ?” She couldn’t even get the question out.

“Fuck Soph,” I groaned. “Her eyes were so dead and hollow. It was fucking eerie. I jumped off the bed, nearly puking all over her rug. I pulled on my suit and got the fuck out of there. I ran—literally ran from her place. When I stopped to catch my breath, that’s when I did puke.”

“Oh god, Dec, I’m sorry. That’s terrible, but it’s not your fault.”

“It gets worse,” I confided, a sick thread of unease unfurling in my gut.

“It’s okay. You can tell me.”

And the thing was, I knew it was true. I could tell this woman anything and she wouldn’t judge me. She might not love me yet—not how I loved her—but she cared about me and would take on my troubles as her own.

“I saw her a few weeks later and she had bruises all over her neck and arms. When she caught me staring, she smiled this crazy, unnerving smile. I swear I nearly pissed myself.”

“What was wrong with that woman?” Sophie asked.

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