Page 30 of Reclaimed

“Look at me.” I obeyed, leaning back to meet his gaze, and was taken aback by the ferocity in his eyes. He slowed his movements, and I whimpered pitifully for more. “Who do you belong to, Callie?”

“You, Master.”

It took me a few seconds to realise what I’d said. Luckily, Ray had once more buried his face in my neck and didn’t see the horrified realisation on my face.

“Yes, sweet girl,” he murmured against my skin. “You’re mine.”

I could practically feel him smirking in satisfaction, and he came a few thrusts later, pulsing strongly inside me. He allowed his heavy body to rest on mine for a moment before lying back and letting out a long, slow breath. His fingers found mine and he laced them together.

“You’re exquisite, you know that?”

“Thank you,” I whispered, but I couldn’t take any pleasure in his compliment – I was too dazed.

“Feel better now?”

I nodded, but truthfully, I had no idea what I felt.

13

It didn’t take Ray long to drift into sleep, for which I was intensely grateful. In allowing myself to be vulnerable to Ray, it felt as though I had also made myself vulnerable to the numerous thoughts now cleaving to my brain, each one a fresh torment, another demon to wrestle. I rolled over for what felt like the hundredth time, but sleep was refusing to claim me. The room’s silence felt indecent, unbearably oblivious to the earlier chaos.

What would Ray be like tomorrow? Change seemed inevitable after everything that had just taken place between us. Everything that we’d endured, every cruel word, every soft touch; it had all been leading to this – and now it was done. Was this the beginning of a lighter phase between us? Was it even possible for us to have such a thing? Perhaps Ray would be pleased enough with me to ease off for a while, or perhaps he’d feel more affectionate and sympathetic, and regret his earlier treatment of me. Was it a case of ‘job done’ now? My body, at least, was officially his again. Would the attainment of that goal appease him, even if just temporarily? Or what if this was just the beginning, and now his hunger had been reawakened, he would expect this much more frequently? He’d demonstrated uncharacteristic patience in waiting even this long to take me; could I really expect that to resume after tonight? The need he’d had for me… I couldn’t imagine that being satisfied by just one night together. I wondered how long he’d been planning this. How long had he been obsessed with getting me back? It didn’t seem as though he’d thought of much else for the last year.

I remembered his outward stoicism the day I’d come to collect my belongings. I didn’t think it was because he hadn’t cared. Looking back now, it seemed as though he simply hadn’t believed I’d be gone for long.

His reaction had been very different when we’d met a few weeks later and he’d asked me to come back to him.

David had warned me against going to meet him, but I had been naïve and thought we could stay friends. I hadn’t been ready to let go of Ray completely. We’d had a pleasant enough meal together, but then we’d gone for a walk in the restaurant gardens so that I could have a cigarette, and Ray had moved the conversation to our relationship. He’d been so insistent that I go back with him, there and then, that I’d ended up confessing about David to try to get him to back off. His voice had stayed calm, but he had started saying things that sounded so insane that, for the first time, I had started to feel frightened of him. I had run all the way back to my car, but he hadn’t followed me.

Had that been the moment he decided on all of this? If I’d stayed on that bridge with him, would I have seen this plan start to take root in his imagination? Was the man I had just slept with so unhinged that he had been determined enough to plan this whole thing over the past year? It seemed such a disproportionate reaction – why go to so much trouble? And then an aching worry began to toy with me. What if he’d built this up in his imagination so much that the reality was a disappointment? What if, after all this heartache, he decided I wasn’t worth the trouble? You’re being ridiculous, I chastised. The last thing you should be caring about right now is whether or not he enjoyed the sex!

I replayed our encounter in my brain again. He’d enjoyed it – hadn’t he? I looked over at Ray who, now he was asleep, no longer intimidated me. His brow wasn’t furrowed in disapproval, his mouth wasn’t smirking at me: he just slept. For a moment, I felt the urge to shuffle closer and tuck myself into his body – that warm skin… I couldn’t deny any longer that my feelings for him had returned. It turned out they’d never gone away, only lain dormant, waiting for him to call them up again. But I knew I shouldn’t have them.

And then instantly, my mind and soul were filled with David – his voice, his smell, his softness, and I knew I had to get out of that bed.

Ray was a deep sleeper, and I managed to slide out of bed and tiptoe out of the room without him stirring. I took myself to the bathroom first to wash, thoroughly. Catching sight of myself in the mirror, I paused to take a good look at my body. What was it about this that Ray needed to possess so desperately? And why had it betrayed my better judgment and returned his desire? I turned away from the mirror and hid my body inside my dressing gown. I shouldn’t have had that last drink. I shouldn’t have gone into his room. I shouldn’t have frozen when he backed me into the bed. Why did I always freeze? Why couldn’t my body have chosen to fight back or run away instead? The end result might have been the same, but at least I could have said honestly that it hadn’t been my choice.

It felt stupidly freeing, even rebellious, to be wandering around Ray’s house at night without him, though I was pretty sure it wasn’t against any “rules”. I went to make myself a cup of tea and saw the empty wine bottle sitting on the side. Alcohol would quiet my head a lot more than tea. Now I was breaking the rules. But who cared? I’d already given away my last shred of pride; it didn’t seem like I had much else to lose.

I’d just experienced so much pleasure, and affection, and tenderness, but at the same time, it had been animalistic and felt somehow sordid. While we had been making love, I’d felt safe, like I could trust Ray, and yes, I’d felt myself submitting, I’d wanted to completely give myself over to him. His possessiveness had almost been intense enough to send me into subspace. And then I’d called him ‘Master’ and the enormity of that had shocked me back into myself. Was sex all it took to weaken my resolve? I could picture David’s face looking at me with absolute disgust. I felt like he knew – miles away though he was – that I had betrayed him. But that taste of relief…

Opening the cupboard I’d seen Ray take wine from, my spark of rebellion was pleased to find several spirits to choose from, and even more glad to find the packet of cigarettes Ray had stashed there when I had first arrived. I took a couple of bottles down and set myself up at the breakfast bar. I hadn’t often felt the desire to smoke since quitting, but I was in the mood for reckless abandon, and my options for rebellion were limited. I wanted to do anything that might get the tumultuous thoughts out of my head so that I could sleep. I finished my first drink and poured another. The house was eerily quiet, so I went over to the iPod and put on some quiet music. It was starting to work – I felt slightly exhilarated, but not quite calm yet. I downed my second drink, lit a cigarette and swayed slightly to the music.

“Having a party, are we?”

I froze but didn’t turn around. I didn’t want to give Ray the satisfaction of seeing me frightened again. The music stopped abruptly, and I heard his footsteps behind me. I waited, still and silent. Was he going to hit me? His aura felt intense, like a pulsing presence in the atmosphere. The skin on my neck prickled. I waited for his reaction. He calmly took the cigarette from my hand and put it out in my empty glass. I heard its hiss cut through the ominous silence. Still not speaking, Ray took the spirit bottles and placed them back in the cupboard. Finally, he turned and looked at me coolly.

“Drinking without my permission is against the rules. Had you forgotten that?”

“No.” I felt suddenly fidgety under his gaze and wished I still had the drink or the cigarette to occupy my hands. He walked slowly over until he was standing beside me. He held out his hand.

“Come on then.”

“I don’t want to go back to bed; I can’t sleep.”

“We’re not going back to bed. You broke a rule, and knowingly. There are consequences for that.” I was too intoxicated from the drink, the emotions and the exhaustion to argue. I took his hand. It held the promise, not of safety, but of relief. He led me back upstairs to my room.

“Take off your robe and kneel on the bed.”

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