Page 3 of First Time

The scent of comfort and warmth rose up my nose, and I closed my eyes, smiling from finding pleasure in the small things.

Cooking had become my meditation, how I relaxed my mind and quieted my thoughts toward the aspiration of a more pleasant future rather than feeling sorry for myself.

I had to believe that Stephen and I could get back to where we used to be—loving and kind to one another. Hope had become the lifeline I clung to. What other choice did I have? My parents were both gone. I had no siblings, nor did I have the education or means to support myself.

Stephen loved me. I just had to help him through his latest unsettled time so he could remember how to find happiness in our relationship.

I’d baked homemade bread earlier in the day and took my time cutting it into even slices. Butter sat on a small dish on the counter, room temperature, exactly as Stephen liked for easy spreading. I dished up a small bowl of strawberry jam to go with it too.

The front door opened, sending adrenaline rushing through me—partly excitement to see him and an equal measure of trepidation over his mood.

“I’m in the kitchen!” I called out to Stephen since he liked to know where I was at all times in the house.

Ever since he’d started to upload videos of us to a porn website, he’d become overly protective. Possessive. As though men who enjoyed watching the stuff he did to an overweight woman like me would turn them obsessed to the point they would attempt to kidnap me. He’d even bought extra deadbolts to keep anyone from stealing me away. I was his perfect pain whore who helped ease his tension when he got riled up.

But I hated his newfound kink. He’d taken it to the extreme in attempts to turn me on.

I never climaxed. Ever. Not even back when we were young. He called me broken but loved me anyway. I’d been lucky to have such a man.

These days?

“Becky—

I flinched before I could stop it as Stephen strode into the kitchen, work boots trailing slush from last night’s snowstorm across the vinyl tile I’d scrubbed an hour earlier.

“—get me a beer, would ya?”

“I just mopped the floor,” I stated quietly while opening the fridge.

“I just mopped the floor,” he mocked with a high tone while tossing his lunch box onto the counter. “You should see the shit I had to take care of down at the shop today. Davis spilled a quart of oil—fucking motor oil—and didn’t have time to clean it up. Guess who got volunteered for the job?”

I tuned out Stephen’s complaints, the same as always, and retrieved dishes to set the table. Murmuring agreements and the occasional nod allowed him to think, and I listened intently as he expected me to.

“I want to leave by seven. Can you hurry your ass along to be ready on time for a change?”

Shit.

My hand trembled as I set a spoon atop the napkin beside his bowl. I’d missed whatever he’d been talking about. “Um…yes?”

Snickering, he walked past me and swatted my ass—hard.

I bit back my grimace, not wanting to turn him on and end up in the dungeon he’d built for us—him—in our basement.

“Fuck, I love how squishy you are under my hand,” he claimed before slapping me again.

A soft squeak escaped me, and he grabbed hold of my flesh, resting his chin on my shoulder. Easily done as he wasn’t much taller than me, but I had a good seventy pounds on his thin frame. Hot breath on my ear sent a shiver down my spine. “I don’t know how I got so fucking lucky.”

Warmth flooded my chest, and I smiled, ready to curl up his arms.

“That woman from the BDSM club claimed I filled out the entry form two months ago. Must have been drunk off my ass.” Snorting, Stephen released my ass and moved toward the sink.

Slowly, I returned to setting the table, deciding to pay attention for a change since I’d misread what I’d thought had been a nice compliment.

Water ran behind me as he washed up. “She contacted me through the site I uploaded our latest video to—the one where I caned your ass and emptied my balls all over your back.”

His words caused me to wince. The memory of that night made me want to vomit.

He’d been out of control. Drunk. Angry at his boss at the car shop for something or another.

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