Delecto - Games of Mastery (part 1) (15 page)

“
Oh
God...there's nothing to understand, apart from the fact I don't
love you, not the way you want me to...this is so upsetting, please
don't make this worse, Calvin. Just go...I beg you,” I replied, my
heart shriveling up inside me. Could anything be any worse than
saying this. It was going on and on, like the eternal fires of hell
licking around me. I felt sick to my stomach and in real
pain.

He'd glared at
me and pushed me away from him so hard, I'd shaken with shock.

I rubbed my
shoulder where it still ached from the jarring effect of his
hand.

He'd got up,
and dressed silently, his body language a picture of pure rage and
deep, deep hurt. His eyes averted themselves from me as I lay
watching him, feeling despicable, cold and truly disgusted at all
the things that had gone through my mind as he made love to me so
sweetly.

Before he left
he'd said, “When you finally come to your senses, call me. I won't
be calling you.”

His voice had
been livid. He was angrier than I'd ever heard, or seen him. But
how else could he feel? He'd just lost his best friend and possibly
his future wife.

The loss of him
from my life had hit me so hard, the second he left. The floodgates
opened like Niagara falls after a rain storm. I'd cried like my
heart was breaking.

I took a deep
breath and turned to my other side, the drier side of my pillow. It
was too early to get up and I couldn't face the day yet. I needed
to collect myself somehow. To recover from the trauma.

Calvin had
gone. I was now officially friendless. My other two friends had
stopped calling months ago. I never called them back or went out
with them. It was my own fault that I was a social disaster. But
perhaps it was all for the best. I had less distractions now. Just
my work and family. My focus should be solely on that, not outside
influence or enjoyment.

I rose a short
time later. It was pointless lying there. I could hardly go back to
sleep or have a pleasant lie in after my upsetting start to the
day. As I stood in the shower, washing the remnants of Calvin from
my life, I felt such shame.

How could I
have done that to him? Why hadn't I said no last night and spared
him all this pain?

Sleeping with
him was such a stupid, heartless thing to do. I'd hurt him so much.
He must be in agony. And he didn't deserve that. Unlike me.

By 8 am,
Abigail was washed and reclined on her bed, dressed in her pretty
peach leisure suit. I'd fed her breakfast, which consisted of a
thin porridge. She had to have all her food pureed. Her chewing
mechanism was poor.

Today, we could
walk round the park for a few hours. She liked to see the pond and
watch the children playing and the dogs being walked. Perhaps we
could share an ice cream.

In some ways it
was like having a baby to look after. She was totally helpless and
reliant on us for everything. She wore adult diapers, which I
frequently changed. It was a constant round of cleaning her,
feeding her and small pockets of entertainment. She loved music and
movies, and for me to read to her. Our Saturday and Sunday
afternoons were usually devoted to that. Sometimes I made her face
up with children's face paints, creating all kinds of works of art
on her cheeks, which she enjoyed admiring in her mirror. My eye
strayed to her cork board. Images of her face paintings, stared
back at me. That and special reminders of our days out. Huge ice
creams, her chocolate covered face. Sunsets from our deck. Dad and
Mom, all of us in years gone by. It was our memory board.

My mind
stirred. I wondered, if I could rewrite my past, and the last
twelve months hadn't occurred, what my life would be like now?
Would I love my sister as much as I do? Would I take more care of
myself and enjoy life to the fullest? Would I still be a lawyer,
and work for my father with the prospect of taking over his
practice? And what about love? Would I have fallen in love with
Calvin naturally? With no Sebastian Shaw in my path, would my dear
Calvin have become my beloved Calvin? Whatever my alternate life
may have been, I imagine the pictures on the board would be so very
different. Full of present joy, not wistful memories which only
serve to remind me of happier times.

I gave Abi a
quick massage with my fingertips, stimulating the senses of the one
place on her body she could actually feel something. Above the
neck.

I checked her
finger and toe nails. They were clean and her polish was perfect,
and why wouldn't they be? But their bright pink color clashed with
the peach outfit she was wearing. I collected her peach nail polish
from her drawer and showed it to her. She blinked once, for yes, at
me.

I sat at her
side and manicured her nails, removing her old nail polish,
carefully filing and repainting them. All twenty nails were
completed. It took an hour and they looked very pretty when they
were done. I lifted her hand and showed it to her. She whispered a
pleased, “Ssss,” at me. I lifted her foot and smiled at her,
receiving another pleased sound. Moments like this nail painting
session were tiny, inconsequential things in life, but meant so
much to her. A small measure of achievement and happiness settled
between us.

I caught her
eye and she blinked at me. Three times. That meant read to me. I
communicated with her by showing her something and blinking at her
a number of times,slow blinks and fast blinks. She then responded
in kind when she wanted that thing. It was very basic but we had
built a functional vocabulary between us.

“
Book?”
I
clarified,
and she hissed at me.

I picked up our
new book from the bookshelf. We'd just finished the second of the
Hunger Games trilogy. Abigail seemed to enjoy these books so much,
and so did I. I couldn't wait to get to the true love phase, which
I hoped was in this last book. I prayed they would get together.
Katniss and Gale. That she'd find something truly amazing with him
that took her out of herself and made her soar, that he'd be the
someone who completed her and made her stronger still. My mind
wandered back to Sebastian. Not that he had ever strayed far from
my thoughts since I'd met him.

I was quite
sure Sebastian would not complete me. Nor would he make me
stronger. In fact I was weak in his presence. I oozed like a liquid
flame all over him, flowing to his command. But the way he made my
heart pound when I looked at him, and thought about him, made me
realize I could get in very, very deeply with him. He aroused me
like nothing ever had. Not just physically either. He was a deep
thinking and complex man. And I sensed issues, massive ones. And
that scared me most of all. It was something I couldn't possibly
visit or allow myself to be sucked into. I had enough issues of my
own.

I was planning
on being out this afternoon with Abigail, when Sebastian dropped my
car off. I'd let the duty doorman know I was out and to hold my car
key for me. I had a plan. One which meant that I wouldn't have to
see him again. Although every part of me screamed for him, I wasn't
going to allow anything more to develop between us. I would invite
him to our office to complete his legal requirements, where I could
be sure I was in complete control. I would let him know, in a
straight talking businesslike voice, that I had no interest in him,
whatsoever. I believed him when he said he was coming after me and
he wanted me enough to pursue me. I'd seen the look on his face.
The utter disbelief that I'd left him high and dry, dying to
possess me and control me. I just knew he wasn't used to being left
like that. Frustrated beyond words. But no matter what his feelings
were, it didn't mean I had to acquiesce and serve myself to him on
a plate. I had some measure of self respect left. And I had no need
for this type of relationship. It would be destructive and
pointless and I guessed, ultimately painful. After what had just
happened with Calvin, I couldn't bear any more heartache.

There was good
reason to ban men. I had been right keeping men out of my life for
the past year. My focus had been interrupted for a while, but only
for a while. I was now back in the saddle and about to move on, to
keep it together, calmly, alone. My heart would take a long time to
heal over Calvin. I couldn't begin to contemplate my life without
him. His smile, his genuine warmth and happiness when he spent time
with me. How could I survive with such a huge hole in my heart and
life? My best friend had been ripped from it like he'd died. It was
almost too much to bear.

Tears rose and
I battered them back again.

No tears were
to be shed in front of her. Ever.

Abigail had the
right to cry for ever. I didn't.

I opened the
book and thumbed past all the forewords, to the first page of
chapter one. I began to read. I looked at her over the top of the
book. Abigail's eyes danced with joy, she whispered at me so
sweetly, almost cooing with pleasure. My mind closed down its doors
to outside influences. My sister Abigail, was all I needed to
survive.

Of course, I
knew I was lying to myself, but what could I do but pretend and
hope it became enough? Everything inside this room was too painful.
But everything outside this room was equally so. At least I felt
safe and comfortable here, despite the visual pain. I stopped
thinking about my own issues and concentrated hard, trying to
involve myself in the words before me. Reading took me out of my
own head for a while. I squeezed Abigail's hand and left my world,
joining her in the world of Katniss Everdeen for an hour of
fantasy.

I woke with a
start. Rays of sunshine streamed through my window, the blaze of
light penetrating my eyelids. I'd forgotten to close the drapes
last night. I turned and looked at my bedside clock. 8.11am.

God, it's way
too early. I've only had four hours sleep.

But once I was
awake, I was awake. I yawned and stretched and placed my hand over
my usual morning erection, feeling a warm pleasure flow through me.
A flush of heat resurrected inside me as my mind recaptured the
feel of her hand. I'd had many woman touch me in this way, women
with very skilled hands, but hers were the ones I wanted most of
all.

I'd never been
rejected before.

I curled my
fingers around my cock, holding that part of myself protectively.
My other hand reached underneath to cup my aching balls. The whole
of my physical manhood had suffered badly, alongside my battered
ego.

Last night,
after my lengthy workout, which had left me physically drained, I
was still hard with remembering her touch. And I'd continued to
remember it, all damn night. I'd tossed and turned, determined not
to wank myself until I finally fell asleep, exhausted, in the early
hours of the morning.

Despite my
mental and verbal raging at Amanda's departure, and my intention to
kick her pretty little ass out of my head and life, I wanted her.
This morning, in the cold light of day, it seemed I wanted her more
than ever. I'd even dreamed about her, last night. I'd never
dreamed about women, apart from my sister, but those were tortured
nightmares. In my dream I'd been chasing her, in my garden, and
down through the woodland beyond, and she constantly eluded me. She
hid in the shadows, the sound of her laughter echoing in my ears.
In a strange warped way, I took that dream as a good sign―not that
she would constantly elude me―but as a pointer, guiding me to see
her again, to pursue her until I caught her.

I rolled up and
left the sanctuary of my bed and stood at my window. A heavy dew
was spread over the green grass, bathing the gardens in a crystal
carpet. The white and red roses glistened with the heaviness of
moisture and my breath held in my throat.

Heart stopping
beauty.

I'd wanted to
give her this; some part of it. I was shocked at myself. I'd never
felt such a strong urge to give anything personal of mine to a
woman before. Let alone one I'd only met a few hours ago. But
perfection deserved perfection and I would seek out and select the
most perfect of my roses for her. White roses, as she had said she
preferred those the most. And even better, I had a special one that
no one outside these walls had ever seen.

And I was going
to surprise her today, by arriving earlier than I'd mentioned.

I knew she
would likely try to avoid me when I returned her car, so I was
returning it when she didn't expect it. And if she wasn't home, I'd
sit and wait in her car until she was.

I wasn't sure
how I would be received.

Suspiciously,
with prickly hostility? Blasted with her cool and frosty air? With
embarrassment, full of red faced angry regret? Or more likely, all
of the aforementioned wrapped up in in an emotional storm of a
look? Her looks set me ablaze. Her eyes and her mouth possessed a
fiery magic. I was drawn to watch every movement and expression of
those features. The way she'd looked when she'd come in my arms was
beyond all description. I wanted to see that again. I wanted to see
all of her again, and again, and again.

And I couldn't
allow the possibility that she'd refuse to see me. That wasn't on
my agenda. And I had some advantages now. I no longer had to guess
how much she wanted me, I now knew the extent of that. Having my
fingers inside her sweet cunt had opened up the full range of
intimate communication channels pretty damn well. I was going to
rekindle the fire inside her as soon as I could.

I guessed her
father approved of me, it was only a hunch, but I think he saw me
as a fit for his precious daughter. I'm also guessing that's why he
sent her to my house. If I could get a little backup from him, it
would all be so much easier.