Addicted to Mr. Parks (The Park #2) (39 page)

“What the fuck is going on?” His glare batted between his father and I.

“Wade. I was just…” My hesitation was cloaked by Clinton getting to his feet, his expression showing clouded content towards his son’s anger.

“We were just getting to know each other over a drink.”

“No,” I disagreed with Clinton, my eyes pleading with Parks. “I didn’t touch it.”

“I saw it with my own fucking eyes,” Parks raged, waving his hand over the glass he’d just smashed. Then he turned to his father. “And what the fuck are you doing here? Didn’t I warn to you stay away from Evelyn?”

Clinton’s mouth crept up a grin. “Evelyn invited me around for dinner. How could I decline an offer like that?”

I watched on in horror as Parks grimaced under his father’s words, his complexion pale. Then he turned to me, his eyes burning into my soul. “You would deceive me and meet my father behind my back? Even drink with him?”

My body winced under his scrutiny. “I… I invited him around for you. I didn’t know you were working late. I tried to cancel, but he wouldn’t answer his phone.”

“You think I believe that?” he barked.

My body took an automatic step back. “What?”

“You see, Evelyn,” Clinton went on, his voice soft but holding a whole load of mischief. “When Wade’s temper comes out, you get to see the real him.”

“
You.
” Parks pointed to his father vehemently. “Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

“You need to calm down, son.” He smirked, loving every ounce of the drama he was causing. Loving that he was goading him. “You’re showing Evelyn your true colours.”

Parks lost it and reared back, punching his father in the jaw. Clinton stumbled back from the blow, almost losing balance. “Get out,” he yelled so viciously his body shook.

Clinton gently touched his blooded lip. “Fine. Evelyn, call me if you need anything.” He winked at me.

“You motherfucker.” Parks turned completely insane. He laid into his father, pounding punch after punch. Clinton wouldn’t even defend himself. I was screaming, crying, and pleading for Parks to calm down, but he wouldn’t. He was like a crazed animal. “Why can’t you just stay out of my fucking life?” Parks roared. The cracking of bones, the blood, and the feral sounds coming from both men gave me no choice but to bash a button that called security.

“He’s a fucking lunatic, Evelyn,” Clinton yelled, getting beat up but still goading Parks.

Thankfully, two men came bounding up the stairs in an instant.

“Get him the fuck out of my sight.” Parks heaved to the security men, who dragged a battered Clinton to his feet. I hardly recognised him. His face was black and blue, blooded and swollen.

My spine was cold. Paralyzed by utter shock. I knew Parks had a temper, but Jesus.

“Is that what you wanted?” Parks yelled, his white shirt scattered with blood. His eyes dark and anything but the emeralds I was used to.

“Of course not.” I was crying out of shock. Feeling pain for Parks but confusion as to why he would beat his own father.

“Then why deceive me, Evelyn? Why the fuck do you have to meddle in my life?”

“I was trying to help.”

“By calling my father?” he spat, still heaving from the beating he’d given out. “Being alone with him? Drinking together? You’re both disgraceful.”

“I never touched it. I swear to you.” I pulled on his arm, only for my hand to be knocked out of the way. He was over the boundaries of anger, burning up physically but mentally cold.

“You deliberately betrayed me, Evelyn. I swear to God I want to spank the shit out of you right now.”

“Then go ahead,” I screamed in his face, tears of anger streaming. “Do it! Because it’s so much better than you ignoring me. Leaving me. All I wanted to do was help you like you help me. I want to be there for you, Wade. Like you are for me.” I went to touch his arm again, but he brushed me off and walked away from me.

“I don’t need your fucking help.”

Wow. That stung. How much he persisted with his statement of not wanting help didn’t falter my need to help him, though. I wanted to help my wounded solider, but I needed to know the cause.

I was almost whimpering. Talking to his back. “How is it okay for you to help me and not me help you?”

He cursed under his breath. “Get out, Evelyn. You’re not safe around me when I’m like this.” He turned and left me alone in the kitchen, heading downstairs in a fiery rage. My feet stayed, my mind contemplating what to do. Follow the Incredible Hulk? Or leave? Leaving wasn’t even an option. Running wasn’t a choice. Stay and confront was my decision.

Heading downstairs, I heard the thuds of the punch bag Parks had in his gym. I didn’t hesitate to go into the room, but what I saw halted my breath. Parks was standing naked, his fists bruised and full of blood as he pounded them viciously into the punch bag. His powerful biceps were tightening. The hard abs of his stomach tensing between each blow, sweat falling from his temples. The room filling up with the sounds of his jabs and curses.

“Wade, please let me in.” My begging was ignored as I held on to the doorjamb, my heart puncturing the longer I stared at his tortured expression. My heavy lids began to close at the cruel sight of a powerful man who was so in control of himself, his biggest fear was losing it. Tears flowed at the mental torment Parks went through on a daily basis. His demons were stored away in his head, and the only person who knew of his pain was him.

“Just talk to me,” I yelled after a moment of silence.

“Go away, Evelyn,” he growled, punching harder. My instinct was to reach out to him, so I began to move forwards until his green, piercing eyes looked up and pinned me fiercely in place.

“Don’t,” he warned, his entire body straining, his muscles growing thick and hard from tensing.

“Why?” I swallowed what felt like a pill in my throat. “Do you want to hurt me?”

“I want to punish you so fucking severely, you won’t be able to sit down for a week.”

“Then do it,” I screamed, my voice echoing around the room.

Like a predator about to kill, he marched towards me and caught me harshly by the wrists. He was pushing me backwards, forcing me out of the room.

“No.” With all my might, I struggled against his grip, pushing and digging in my heels. Begging him not to shut me out. “Please, don’t close the door on me.”

“Then you shouldn’t have interfered in my business, Evelyn. I told you to stay away from my father, and you disobeyed my wishes.” He threw me out of the gym, making me fall back onto my arse and slammed the door in my face. Even locking it from the inside. I scrambled to my feet and began punching and kicking the door.

“Wade, let me in.” The persistence of my banging, screaming, and crying went on for some time. My body was aching, but I persevered, trying to make him open up. “Please,” I begged weakly.

After at least thirty minutes, the door swung open. Dark eyes hard and wrathful hit me insidiously. “You just won’t fucking give up will you?”

“What are you doing?” I stumbled as he took hold of my arm.

“Sending you home.” He was about to drag me to the lift, so I pushed myself away from him and ran up the stairs, knowing he’d follow.

When he rounded the top of the stairs, he was about to lunge at me, but my fingers caught the bottom of my dress, pulling it up over my head, making him come to an abrupt stop.

“You see, these are the scars I have to live with.” I pointed to them as they were exposed across my stomach, then I pointed to my temple. “In here are cruel memories that never seem to go away. But you, you erase them with one touch of your hand. You make them disappear by telling me it’s going to be okay. Please, let me tell you it’s going to be okay. Let me be your happy. Be your safe.” Both of us were exposed, and there was nowhere else to hide.

I watched his eyes fall, glancing over my body and painful scars. Sweat was dripping from him, breaths heaving from him. “Fuck.
Evelyn
.”

“Please.” I edged towards him slowly. “Tell me what’s inside that head of yours. I love you so much it hurts, but it hurts even more when you shut me out. It’s like you don’t trust me enough to tell me what those things are that keep you awake at night.” I hesitantly touched his chest, but he tensed again.

“No. I can’t do this.”

“Why can’t you do this? What are you so afraid of?”

“Fucking this up.” He waved a hand between us. “You are the only good that has ever come into my life. I can’t ruin that.”

“You need me as much as I need you. If the way to get your anger out is to spank me because of my stupid idea of asking your father around, then do it. I can’t cope with you walking out on me.”

He groaned loudly and lunged forwards, grabbing hold of my arm and pulling me upstairs to his bedroom. He threw me in, then booted the door closed.

Whilst inside, he pushed me up against the wall so forcefully, the impact stole my breath. Then his mouth was plunging into mine, his tongue thrusting deep. He pushed his hand between my legs roughly as he cupped my sex, making my legs buckle.

“You like pain, Evelyn?” His voice made my back shiver because his callous tone wasn’t what I was used to. His eyes were hooded and clouded in temper.

“Yes,” I hissed. “Just give it to me.” Punishment was always welcome because it turned me on, but that time I welcomed it because I prayed that after it was delivered, he would calm down and come back to me.

He bit down onto my bottom lip and pulled it through his teeth. “You’re having this punishment because you fucking defy me, Evelyn.” He yanked my knickers from me and drove his fingers into my slick hole.

“Ah,” I cried out. It was painful but so pleasurable. The feeling was making my legs cripple, so I went to hold on to him for support, but he wouldn’t allow it.

“Don’t touch me.” He pulled out his fingers, took hold of my nape, and threw me onto the bed, leaving me panting. My heart pounding from the unknown. He disappeared into his wardrobe and brought out what looked like a long black bar. With further inspection I saw it had four loop holes attached all in one line. It was a spreader bar.

“Get on your knees. Ass up. Face down. Put your hands by your ankles.”

I hesitated as I took in his demand, so he stunned me with a sharp slap across my arse. “Hurry up!” he barked. My pace quickened. Kneeling with my arse in the air, I buried my face into the sheets, my hands between my legs and by my ankles. He quickly cuffed my ankles to the bar with the attached Velcro and did the same with my wrists.

My limbs were cuffed, my arse in the air and completely exposed and vulnerable to him.

“Remember,” he hissed, cold and aloof, “you wanted this. You don’t get to watch me, look at me, or speak. Understand?”

“Yes,” I panted.

He left my side again, so I turned my head and caught a glimpse of a cane he picked up. Oh God. The thought of him using his hand was well gone. A cane? Could I survive that?

My breathing became extremely deep and ragged, and I shut my eyes tight as I waited, chewing my bottom lip to bits.

Normally, he would ask if I was ready, but in that moment, he was playing by
his
rules. He was angry, his temper getting the better of him. He was damaged and saw punishment as a vital procedure in life. When I first met him, he would always give out these type of spanks. Where I was ordered not to look at him. Not to touch him. Slowly, they faded and the spanks he gave me for punishment were less tense. Then there was the angry spank. He did it once when I pushed him, but he told me he would never do it again. Now I forced him to do it, and I only had myself to blame.

I heard the cane being pulled back when he positioned himself behind me. It whistled as he dragged it back through the air before meeting my bare backside with a crack.

“Fucking hell,” I cried out, my breath being knocked out of me entirely.

“You wanted this,” he yelled behind me, whipping it back and cracking it over the same spot.

“Arrh!” My face was buried in the sheets, trying to find some support. Anything. The third time it came down, it was to the other cheek, and the blow was so harsh the noise whooshed through the air.

“Fuck.” My curse was promptly met by tears. The pain was excruciating. I kept telling myself it would be over soon. That he would realise it was hurting me and he’d stop. Or at least he would see punishment was done, untie me, and take me in his arms. His arms were what I thought of while the pain ripped through my backside and cut into me deeply. Wounding my thoughts. In that moment, I should have hated him. Should have called him fucked up, but this was the way he dealt with his emotions. Mine used to be alcohol. Both ways were unstable, both unhealthy, but it was what we had to do. How could I hate him for that? I could only love him more. Only pray that one day his demons would vanish and that I could be his happy place. His safe. Just me.

I lost count at ten. My mind falling blank. Almost numb. It was then he stopped what he was doing, threw down the crop, and quickly untied me. My aching body collapsed onto the bed lifelessly, my tears falling in silence. I heard him cursing under his breath. Pacing back and forth. Waiting for me to come out of position.