Page 70 of First Time

I expected I would need it regardless of my absurdity in being able to give Becky what she needed. What her body craved. What her soul required to find her footing once more so she could face forward and begin living her second chance at life.

Chantelle climbed into her Beamer in front of my house when I pulled into the driveway. She rolled down her window as I approached.

“How is she?” I asked.

“Claims to be fine, but she isn’t.” Chantelle glanced over at my front door. “She has to talk to someone. A mental health professional or something, because I can’t get through to her.”

“Do you think she’s grieving Stephen?” I asked the question that had haunted me since I’d told Becky he was dead.

Chantelle snorted. “Fuck no. She’s glad he’s gone. Vehemently told me so with enough curses to make my ears ring.”

“Then what the fuck, Chantelle?” I pulled at my hair, frustrated as fuck. “She won’t share anything with me. Won’t tell me what’s going on in her head.”

“Then take her out of it since I’m unable to do so.”

I nodded, not surprised Chantelle and Micah would be on the same page. Huffing a heavy exhale, I eyed my house as though I could see Becky inside, use X-ray vision to seek out her emotional status through brick and mortar.

“Using your ropes won’t heal whatever is affecting her thought processes and shutting her down, but it will definitely crack the walls cutting her off from you. Baby steps, Daniel. Use your intuition. Poke and pry with determined persistence. You’re one of the best I’ve ever seen. Trust yourself. Your instincts.”

My throat tightened as Chantelle’s words settled over me. She spoke of more than my being a Dom…

“Thank you,” I croaked.

Chantelle smiled up at me from her driver's seat. “I’m simply telling you the truth, Daniel. Now go in there, tie my cousin up, and quiet her mind. Love on her body and mind until she remembers what it feels like to live again.”

Teeth gritted, I nodded.

The engine of Chantelle’s Beamer faded in the distance while I studied the front of my house. My home. The life I’d built from nothing. The future I hoped to share with a healed Becky by my side.

Mind set on getting exactly what I wanted, I strode forward, refusing to be swayed.

Becky might have the power while sceneing, but I was going to remind her what it felt like to be free. Satiated. Peaceful in mind and spirit.

I wouldn’t be denied.

Somehow, some way, I would send Becky to the stars. Lighten her burdens then bring her safely back to the reality she didn’t need to fear facing. I would assure her of my support. My loyalty.

My love.

Nothing would stand as a barrier against me, especially a fucking corpse rotting six feet under. I wouldn’t allow him to have power over Becky’s and my relationship. The fucker was dead. Couldn’t touch her—wouldn’t ever touch her again.

Becky belonged to me, and it was about time I took care of my woman in the best way I knew how.

Chapter 28

Becky

I curled up on Daniel’s bed, dry-eyed and staring at the bureau across the room. The numbness that had settled over me on the day Stephen had died remained, a heavy, comforting blanket of quietness.

Chantelle had tried to rile me up. Hollered and bitched at me to get some sort of emotional reaction out of me. She’d failed, same as Daniel’s quiet insistence to share my heart with him. I didn’t want to talk about Stephen. Didn’t want to even think about the years I’d wasted on his ass. Didn’t want to face the fact I’d allowed myself to be abused—tortured both physically and emotionally—for years.

I had chosen him.

I had stayed regardless of the pain.

I had submitted in hopes of helping him heal.

And I hated myself for those three truths.

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