Domesticated (16 page)

Sam stopped me, holding me down with the weight of his body. “There isn’t going to be a next time. I can’t be that person. I can be this person, the one that just caused you to relinquish four orgasms,” he replied, brushing my cheek with his thumb.

“I do that by myself all the time,” I assured him, bursting his egotistical male bubble.

“Can Garrison?”

“Let’s leave Garrison out of it. I want to go eat more pizza. I’m still hungry,” I said, getting up. I wasn’t hungry at all. I wanted to get away from a conversation that I didn’t want to have. I was embarrassed and feeling things I didn’t want to feel. “You can go now,” I casually explained, slipping my silky robe over my shoulders.

I heard some sort of growling noise to my back as I descended the stairs. Not turning to look, I went to the kitchen and poured a glass of wine. He was leaving. I didn’t have to go by his rules anymore. My eyes flinched, slamming shut with the sound of the banging door. He left. Just like that, he left. I guess I was expecting a little more fight than that. I didn’t get it. Sam left.

Feeling like a piece of shit for treating him the way I had, I downed the glass. It wasn’t my fault. It was his. Sam knew from the get-go what this was. It wasn’t about all this fucked-up feelings shit that he was bringing to the table. It was about what I wanted, not what he wanted, and I was dealing the cards, not him.

It was only nine. I wasn’t tired and I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts. I dressed in casual shorts and a pullover shirt and walked up to The Strip. It helped. Watching drunks fill the streets, I walked along the sidewalk, observing the way people behaved. Everybody had someone. Not one person was there alone, just me. I was the only one out on the town without someone. Why it bothered me was all Sam’s fault. I had always been alone; from the time I can remember, I was alone.

I barely remembered being a family with my mom, dad, and me. There was far too much of Adriana for that. I sat on the yellow curb, sipping RumChata while watching a line of drunks play Limbo. Katie had that game at one of her birthday parties. I felt the déjà vu of that. I sat on the piano bench in the corner, watching while her friends played, laughing and having fun.

“She’s so pretty, isn’t she?”
Adriana asked, sitting next to me.
“Sit on my lap,”
she ordered, smiling at my father from across the room. It wasn’t an offer to show me a little love or attention. It was a front for my father to see how good she was to me.

With my legs drooped across her legs, Adriana played with my hair
. “Maybe if you’re a good girl, you can have a party for your birthday, too,”
she lied. I just had my birthday. I was nine and got three really big law books. My dad was ecstatic that I had asked for them. I didn’t ask for them. Adriana had asked me in private what I wanted. I wanted a cell phone so I could call my mom.

“You’re not allowed to touch that, okay, sweetie?”
Adriana said, scraping her long pink nails down my back when she noticed the way I admired Katie’s new dollhouse. It had everything, even a swimming pool.

“Come play, Kendra,”
my dad cheerfully called, trying to limbo his way under the pole, too.

“Tell him you’re tummy hurts,”
Adriana whispered in my ear. Of course, I did, and then I sat on her lap while she told me how ugly I was, and how Katie and Paris would always be prettier than me. And then she told me how ugly girls didn’t get what pretty girls did, how my ugly mother didn’t deserve my father, and that was why she won.
“I’ll always win, Sewer Rat, always,”
she whispered in the evil stepmother tone I had grown accustomed to.

The couple of times I did try to tell my mother about what Adriana did to me, she scolded me, telling me I had to stop acting like I was. She wanted me to stop making up lies about Adriana and give her a chance. I begged her again to come live with her to no avail. She was too busy to take care of me. Adriana didn’t work. Adriana was at home with me where she could help me with my homework, take me to my imaginary appointments for my behavior, and make sure I was getting the proper nutrition. Never mind the fact I was abused on a daily basis by not only my wicked stepmother, but my half-sisters as well.

I remember trying to explain to her why Adriana was mean to me. The only thing I knew for sure was she was jealous of my mother’s beauty and for passing it on to me. Adriana wasn’t ugly by any means, but she had nothing on my mother, and neither Katie nor Paris had anything on me. Adriana barely knew how to read, my mother was exceptionally smart. Katie and Paris struggled in school, I was a natural born brain. Even when she wouldn’t let me study, I did well on my tests.

The intellectual conversations and debates my father and I had over supper were often snuffed out by something trivial Katie or Paris had done, like Paris learning to tie her shoes. Big fucking deal. We were discussing the evidence for the direct decay of the 125 GeV Higgs boson to fermions when Adriana interrupted.

“What’s a boson and a fermion,”
Katie then interrupted.

My dad proudly smiled, handing me the reins.

“Bosons are force-carrying particles, like photons and electrons. Fermions are mass-carrying particles like protons and neutrons,”
I explained, boasting with pride. My stupid stepmother and her stupid spawns all looked at me like I had just recited the Hindi alphabet or something.

Of course, I got a spanking and a cold bath for making Katie look like the dumb one, when I knew darn well I was the stupid one and had made the whole thing up. I longed for a hint of nostalgic childhood happiness. There wasn’t any. Not one.

Knowing what was best for me and Sam both, I avoided him the next couple of days. Sam didn’t call or text, either. I wished things weren’t so strained between us. I really wanted to go out on the yacht, but didn’t want to call him. I did spend the day on it, watching other boats and people from the top deck. It just didn’t move from its parked dock.

I tried like hell to let it go, forget Sam, and move on. Nothing worked. It wasn’t the emotional bullshit I was missing. I wanted him to calm the storm. I’d done well, taking care of my own need for two whole days, trying to convince myself that I didn’t need him. The thoughts of Sam doing it wouldn’t leave my mind and I finally gave in. I called him.

“Hello,” he coolly answered my call.

“I would like to take the yacht out tomorrow, and fulfill some of our agreement.”

“Of course, you would. I’ll meet you at nine in the morning.”

“You don’t have to be a dick about it,” I snapped, and then waited for a response. “Sam? Sam? Grrrr…” I groaned. Bastard hung up on me again.

I felt like I had the last time Sam was due to come over. I was a nervous wreck for whatever reason. I wrung my hands, flapped them in the air, and shook my head countless times, trying to shake it off. I kept reminding myself, I was paying Sam. I didn’t have to tell him anything I didn’t want to tell him.

That’s exactly what I did, too. I made coffee the way he ordered, tried like hell not to be interested in the homemade waffles he insisted we make together, and I answered his probing questions about my life with short yeses and nos. Garrison and my relationship seemed to be the topic of the day.

“So you just like coexist in the same house, but you don’t really do anything together?”

“Pretty much, now what?” I asked after whipping the three eggs the way he told me to. I was avoiding eye contact at all costs, quickly shifting them with every accidental lock.

“Stir in the flour,” he instructed. “Do you ever like watch a movie together or anything?”

“No.”

“Go out to a movie, out to eat?”

“Yes, we eat out when he has clients.”

“So it’s always a formal kind of thing? You never just run through McDonalds for a Big Mac?”

I laughed, noticing the eye trance that time. “No, we don’t eat Big Macs.”

“That’s sad, Kendra.”

I stirred the creation vigorously. “It’s sad because I don’t eat Big Macs?”

“It’s sad that you have to live like that,” Sam explained, moving my hair around my ear with one finger. I wasn’t expecting him to lean in and kiss me. It wasn’t a
wet, fuck me
kind of kiss. It was just a sweet peck.

“You’re making this very hard to keep professional,” I admitted. “Now what?”

“The milk. There’s nothing professional about this. You’re paying me to treat you like a whore.”

“That’s not what I am paying you for,” I assured him, paying special attention to the ingredients in my bowl.

“What are you paying me for?”

“Well, today I would like for you to go down on me.”

“Why? Garrison suck at that, too?”

I shrugged my shoulders and wished I had kept my big mouth shut. “I don’t know. He doesn’t do that.”

“Why? What do you mean he doesn’t do that? If you were mine, I’d have my face between your legs every day,” Sam assured me, whispering hot words to the back of my neck while helping me fill the waffle contraption thing from behind me.

“Did you have to say that? Jesus, Sam. Now I can’t eat from thinking about it.”

Sam turned the eye off, moved the waffle iron, and spun me around. Dropping to his knees, he knelt in front of me. The air on my stomach from his warm breath as he pulled me to his lips, kissing me, and dragging his tongue over my skin made my knees weak. The way he seductively unbuttoned my shorts and slid down the zipper made them want to buckle and cave.

“Here?” I breathed heavy words, watching my shorts being lowered over my hips. He answered with a moan. Yup. Right there in the kitchen. Whoa. I couldn’t do this standing up. I felt his tongue part my lips when I stepped out of my shorts.

“Spread yourself for me, Kendra,” Sam requested, kissing my clitoris.

“You can’t call me Kendra while we do this,” I warned, creating distance between my feet with one step and parting my lips with my fingers.

“I’m not calling you anything but Kendra. Would you like for me to stop?” he asked, taking one long stride with his tongue. Asshole.

Sam paid careful attention to my responses while his tongue devoured me down there. It wasn’t until he sucked my clit between his lips that I moaned and had to grasp the countertop with my hand to keep from falling. I missed. I didn’t grab the counter. My hand went flat on the still hot burner and I screamed, pulling away from Sam. The instant, painful sensations to the palm of my hand took precedence over my first real oral sex encounter.

Sam jumped up, grabbed my wrist, and held it under cold water. That hurt as much as the initial burn. I hissed and squeezed my hand in a fist, trying to block the perception of the cold water causing it to burn even more. Holy shit. That hurt.

“Open your hand, baby. It’ll take the burn out. I promise,” Sam said, pulling my fingers open. I let him and stared at the loving way he took care of me. Nobody ever did that. Ever. I had gotten hurt just like any other little girl, but I was never taken care of for it. I was told to stop being a baby. Sam called me baby. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

“Is it bad?” I asked, looking around his arm, purposely letting my lips rest on his strong bicep. Something bad was happening. I could feel it. Something that always happened around Sam, no matter how hard I tried not to let it. It was.

“Nah, maybe a first degree burn. I’ll go get some gauze and burn cream from the first aid kit. Come on,” he coaxed, pulling me out to the deck.

“I need clothes,” I protested.

“No, you don’t. There isn’t a boat within three miles of us. Besides, I have a job to finish. I need to make you feel better after burning you.”

“You didn’t do it. I’m the one that laid my hand on a hot stove eye.”

“But you wouldn’t have done it had my tongue not been lapping up your glorious nectars.”

What the hell? I didn’t get embarrassed. I had been humiliated too many times for that, this was nothing. Why the hell could I feel the crimson in my cheeks? I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I was speechless.

Holding true to his word, Sam bandaged my hand and finished his job. I liked this angle better anyway. I could see every movement from his tongue, every lick, slurp, and suck. My injury wasn’t bad enough to keep me from lustfully holding myself open for him.

I had no control as to what was happening to my body, I was one giant pile of goo, responding to all the stimuli Sam was delivering to my pussy. His hands lasciviously made their way up my body and to my nipples. Arching my back, I moaned as he tugged on one nipple while sucking hard on my clitoris. A very loud moan escaped when I felt the finger slide across my anus. Savoring the ungodly, unexplored, sensitive touch, I raised my hips, begging for more of the unknown.

Holy jubilant, overjoyed! I got it. The instant my sphincter tightened around the foreign finger, I came. I came harder than I think I ever have in my entire life, and believe me when I say that number went well into the thousands. My paid Dom finished sucking my energy through his mouth and pulled away. Sliding my ass down the lounge chair, Sam released his extremely hard cock right into my pussy.

I was shrieking at the incredible feel within a few seconds, sucking in the sea air while Sam lost himself deep inside me. The circling of his thumb, coming in direct contact with my still swollen nub sent shocks of electricity to my lower hemispheres. And then I screamed, involuntarily coming, feeling my walls constrict around his cock. The last declaration of his fingers pinching my clit seemed to carry me over the edge. The sky went dark, like I was losing consciousness; that’s how intense the pain and pleasure were with Sam.

Sam pulled my naked body to his and rocked me back and forth on his cock seven times, I counted. And then he came, too, inside me again, of course. Sure the captain pushing the barge just got a show and a half, we both laughed when he blew his tugboat horn.

“You’re fucking amazing,” Sam said, kissing my lips.

I wasn’t the amazing one. I couldn’t do that to myself. That was a fact he couldn’t argue with. I’ve tried countless times. It never felt the way Sam made it feel—ever.

“I’m hungry.”

“You always say you’re hungry when you’re trying to avoid what I say. How’s your hand?”

“What hand?” I asked, smiling on his lips. Did I have hands?

Starting from scratch, Sam and I made homemade waffles again. I’d already given up on trying to be a cold-hearted bitch to him, at least that day anyway. He didn’t really let me act like that. No matter how hard I tried, he tried harder.

“You should wear my shirt with nothing under it all the time. I think I’ll add that to our list of musts.”

“Okay, as long as I get to add you don’t get to wear shirts at all, I’m good with that,” I countered. Dammit. I sucked at being a rich bitch around Sam. He made me melt into some mushy-brained bimbo. The part I couldn’t figure out was why. He was a nobody from I didn’t even remember where, a schoolteacher for crying out loud. I hated kids, and I wouldn’t be caught dead with a second-grade schoolteacher…or was it first grade?

“How is it?” Sam asked, smiling that damn smile that also made me crazy.

“Awesome, I’m a very good waffle maker,” I declared.

“You? It was my recipe.”

“But it was my touch that made them delicious,” I teased, biting my very tasty homemade waffles.

“I’m going to take you to the movies.”

I laughed. “You act like I am some sort of out of touch, sheltered recluse. I’ve been to the movies, just not with Garrison.”

“What was the last movie you saw?”

“
Ice Age Two
with some friends back home.” It wasn’t a complete lie. I did do that, just not by choice. It was a charity ploy. We bought out the whole theater and took donations for admission to help with a political campaign. Angelica’s idea.

“I’m not even going to ask. I’m going to take you to a real movie. Have you been to a 3D movie yet? Los Angeles has the best one in the country.”

“No, but can we do it another time? I kind of just wanted to stay out here and watch the stars. It’s supposed to be a clear night for it.”

“I like that idea. We’ll make scallops and get drunk on beer.”

I laughed but knew he wasn’t joking.

That was exactly what we did. Sam and I lay out on the top deck, closest to the sky in each other’s arms. That was him, not me. He insisted on having his arms around me the entire time. It was nice. Sam didn’t pressure me about anything. He didn’t ask questions I didn’t want to answer, and he didn’t mention my ridiculous marriage to Garrison. He flirted, rubbed his hands over my bare legs, my arms, my waist, and he kissed me uncountable times.

The black sky twinkled above us, creating an atmosphere I wasn’t familiar with. Garrison never made me feel this way. Nobody had ever made me feel this way, and I was sure the sparkling stars above had little to do with it.

“Tell me about Christmas,” Sam requested, pulling me closer to his chest, if that were even possible. I was practically sitting on him as it was.