Page 37 of Shattered Dreams
She tipped her head up to look at him. “Well, that was before you went to sleep, and when you started groaning and humping the blanket, I figured I could help you out.” She bit her lower lip. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt you in my mouth and I thought…
“…It would be okay to disregard an order from your dominant?” He snapped out, as the pain that the pleasure had held at bay came flooding back. He’d obviously missed a dose of his pain meds while he’d slept. “Did you ever think that perhaps I had a reason for it? That perhaps my body wasn’t up to satisfying your needs? Or that I might be in too much pain to enjoy it?”
“I didn’t think…I…” She shifted away from him, wincing when he hissed as the movement jostled him. “…I’ll go get your pain meds. I’m sorry.” She eased off the couch and disappeared into the kitchen.
He hissed and tried to breathe through the wave of pain the moving had caused. “Goddamn it.” He swallowed hard, to keep the bile from rising in his throat. Yep, definitely missed his scheduled pain med. “I’m not gonna puke. I’m not.”
Several hard swallows later, he’d just gotten the need to vomit under control when she returned with a glass of water and two white pills in her outstretched hand. He wordlessly took them from her, popped them into his mouth and carefully sipped the water. He knew from experience to not just down the meds, because they would most likely come back up. After taking two additional sips, he handed the glass back to her without even looking at her. The last thing he wanted to do was make things worse by snapping at her. Part of him understood, that she had only been trying to please him, but the other part was pissed that he was in so much pain again.
“Leave me alone.” He leaned his head back, and closed his eyes to wait for the meds to kick in.
“Fine. I really am sorry, Master.” Her voice sounded teary. “It was foolish of me to not listen. I’ll let you rest by yourself.”
He barely heard her run up the steps, but was lost to a world of pain. He knew that something important had happened and he needed to address it, and he would, just as soon as he could breathe without wanting to puke. Once the pain was back to reasonable levels, he’d sit her down and explain it to her. His wife deserved that at least.
* * *
Elliot pocketed his keys before walking up to the front door of the Rodkin’s home. His visit with his daughter had gone surprisingly well after their dual bombshells. She seemed pretty accepting of his desire to be with both Maxwell and Elizabeth, and while he hadn’t ever dwelled on her sexual relationships, he was happy that she’d found her partner. It tickled him, in fact, that she, like her old man, had gone into the military looking for one thing but ended up finding a person to share her life with.
He'd just punched the code into the electronic lock on the front door and opened it when he heard Maxwell yelling.
“Damnit, Lizzie, get your ass down here and talk to me!”
Moving through the living room, he found the other man sitting in his wheelchair red-faced at the bottom of the steps. What the hell was going on? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good because he heard Elizabeth tell her husband to get bent before a door slammed. Which, of course, set off her husband.
“Don’t make me come up there and get you, woman!”
“Okay. I think it’s time you took a break.” He grabbed the handles of the wheelchair, spun a surprised Max around then pushed him back through the formal dining room and into the family room. After parking him in front of the coffee table, Elliot locked the brakes and crossed his arms over his chest.
“What the hell are you doing?” Max glared up at him. “Lizzie is in trouble and…”
“…and verbally berating her is the answer?”
“Fuck, you don’t get it.” Max ran his hands through his hair. “I fucked up and she’s now hiding upstairs and won’t come down to talk to me.”
“Maybe she needs time to cool off.” Elliot said after a moment. “Women do occasionally need to do that. Once she calms down, she’ll come back down. Pushing is a sure way to make matters worse.”
The other man looked at him torn. “You don’t get it. Leaving her alone makes things worse.”
“Really? I found with my wife, that allowing her to cool off was the best thing. She’d throw a few pillows around the bedroom, call me every name in the book, then finally calm down enough to talk to me…”
“Lizzie is not your damned wife, Elliot!” Max snarled. “I wish all she did was throw things around or cuss me out. She’s a cutter! That’s how she deals with stress. She grabs a razor and cuts herself to ribbons unless someone stops her!”
Elliot’s blood froze in his veins as he looked up at the ceiling. “How long has she been up there.”
“Thirty minutes. But all she needs is ten.” Tears filled Max’s eyes. “Just go up and check on her, please.”
“Stay put.” He gave Max a hard look. “I mean it. No matter what you hear, don’t move an inch. Trust me to deal with her.”
Max swallowed hard. “Yes, Sir.”
A fissure of pleasure jolted through Elliot at the other man’s response. Along with the desire to prove himself worthy of the title. “I’ll be back.”
Max nodded, then Elliot moved quickly up the steps and down the hall to the room he’d briefly shared – had that been just last night – with Elizabeth. As he suspected, the doorknob turned under his hand. Elizabeth had obviously realized that her husband couldn’t make it up the steps to reach her and therefore hadn’t locked it against him.
He followed the sound of running water into the bathroom. She was standing in front of the mirror - a razor in her hand. It dropped into the sink with a clatter when she saw him in the mirror.
“Daddy…” Shame flooded her expression as she slowly turned off the water. There was no blood anywhere nor did he see any marks on her arms, but her intent had been obvious.
