Strapped Down (3 page)

“I’m not concerned about that. His credibility is nil. I have ways of keeping my past in the past. If anyone spoke a word, they would be so tied up in litigation and legal fees they would never see the light of day again. And I always have far more on them than they do on me. Plus, I am a major contributor to Mayor Roth. This will ensure the
d
etectives go easy on us. Eric had this coming. In the meantime, I want you to stay here until they catch him and I don’t want to hear a single complaint from you about that.”

“You won’t. I want to stay here with you.”

He looks at me in silence for a few seconds and then glides his finger over my forearm. “Don’t do this anymore. We can do whatever you want, but please, don’t do this to yourself.”

“I wish I hadn’t. I feel so stupid, so juvenile. There’s just been so much to deal with. More than I ever imagined I could handle”

“I’m not trying to belittle you, you’re strong. What you have dealt with these past couple of days would have broken anyone. I just don’t want you to feel so lost that you need to resort to this. When you need to feel something physical to work through things, that’s my specialty. You keep telling me I need to open up to you. It goes both ways.” Taylor pulls out his medication from the nightstand
and
takes a few pills.

“You’re going to sleep until Monday.”

“I know, but I can’t risk it. You don’t need any more bullshit piled on top of you today.”

“It seems as though it’s working.”

“I think so, but I think what’s working most is having you in my life. Today was a high stress day though, and it brings out the worst in me.”

“I understand. Hey, Eric said something weird. He asked me about Emily Brown.”

“Really? What about her?”

“Well
,
just before he left,
he implied that there is something I should know about her
.
Is there something I don’t know about?”

“I’ve told you everything about her, I swear. I haven’t seen her since she left.”

“I just felt like he was trying to drop a bombshell or something.”

“I think he’s just messing with your head. If you want me to find out how she is doing, I can do that. I won’t get in touch with her personally, but I can have my attorney find out about her. I have nothing to hide about her and if it puts you at ease…”

“That would make me feel better. It’s not that I don’t trust you…I just…maybe there’s something we both don’t know.” I decide to let Taylor take the reins on this and leave MacAllister to his work on C.O.S. I doubt Taylor would risk lying to me about her, it would be too easy for me to find out.

“You’re right…” Taylor’s voice trails off
,
followed by a heavy silence. There is still so much to talk about, so much left unspoken:
t
he threatening texts I have yet to mention to Taylor, the news about his mother. I continue to pile up a list of secrets from Taylor despite my intentions to be open. But when is it the right time to tell your protective boyfriend, whose brother has violated you, that you had warning signs, but you chose to keep them to yourself? How do you tell him that you trust him, while at the same time
hire
a private investigator
to
research his family history? How do
you
break the news to him that his mother, who
m
he has long accepted as dead, may still be alive?

And then there’s last night. I’ve never been the spiritual type, but we were two bare souls: open, raw, and exposed. I haven’t even had the time I needed to process what happened, but here I am, back in his bed. Despite it all, it feels like home. And for some inexplicable reason, I want to connect with him like that again.

Taylor breaks the silence. “About last night…”

"Yes?”

“Do you want to talk about it? The events that happened afterward brought you here, but I need to know if you would be here if Eric had never showed up.”

I take a moment to think, even though I already know the true answer. “I would be. I knew I would be when I walked out the door. I just thought we needed some
time to let the air out, to settle. I’ve never experienced anything like that in my life.” I look away because I am almost ashamed to admit it. “It was so painful, but so…intense. I just wanted to help you take the pain away.”

“I thought if you saw that side of me, you’d be terrified.”

“I don’t blame you, but the thing is you showed me that no matter how angry you are, no matter how hurt, you would never do anything I didn’t want to do. I understand the need to manifest the emotional world into the physical.
I get it
.”

He glances at my arm. “ I guess you do.”

“I want to see the real you. All sides of you. We all have our ugly sides.”

“Are you sure?”

“I have never been more sure. I want you to do with me whatever you want. I want to make you feel complete.”

“You want everything?” He asks.

“I do. I want to learn everything. I want to be your everything.”

He leans in and guides my face so that I look into his eyes. “You need to know this: I will protect you. I will provide for you. I will give you all the physical pleasure you could ever imagine in ways you didn’t even know were possible. You’re mine, and when someone tries to hurt or take what is mine, I get vicious. It’s like taking a bone from a dog. I will fucking bite, I will rip flesh off of bone.” Chills run along my arms and back. He is reciting a vow to me. He is making a promise, one I am terrified he will keep.
I nod, but have no words
;
he is not asking for my opinion, he is telling me the way things are now.

We lay in silence, my head on his chest; I listen to his heart, counting each beat. Finally, my eyelids begin to feel heavy. I try to fight the sleep, to stay in the stillness here with Taylor before we have to face all the chaos of the world again.

“Taylor,” I murmur in a sleepy voice with my eyes half closed, “Who did that to Eric? Who beat him up so bad? Was it you? Harrison?”

There is no answer. I open my eyes to find Taylor asleep
,
h
is peaceful exterior hiding the storm brewing inside.

CHAPTER THREE

I wake up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding so hard I can barely catch my breath. I sit up and look at the clock: it’s three thirteen in the morning. Normally, Taylor would wake up at the slightest flinch, but his medication has put him in a deep sleep. After staring into the darkness for 15 minutes, I rise to get a glass of water, maybe find something to read in Taylor’s library. I now know the restlessness that wakes Taylor late into the night; I guess this is the price I must pay to be with him. I throw on my chunky cardigan and slip out of the bedroom quietly
.
T
he house is so still and its vastness in the dark is like a terrifying black hole. The light switches are impossible to find amidst all this wall space, but finally, I find one for the kitchen. As I drink an ice cold glass of lemon water, I spot the faintest spot of marinara sauce on the wall, evidence of the rage Taylor experienced.
I must find the cleaning supplies. I must erase this.

I wander to the sliding glass doors that lead to the back of his property
,
hoping to find what I seek. The cool breeze lifts my hair off of my shoulders and I inhale its purity deep into my lungs. In the garden, the various colors of foliage are barely visible in the
light of the
full moon
.
There is a bed made from rose petals, hundreds, maybe thousands of them that I had never seen before. Then two large, warm hands, such a contrast to the chilly late night air, rest on my shoulders. I jump and almost vocalize, but the person behind me simply leans towards my ear and whispers “shhhh.”

The hands slowly slide down my front side onto my breasts, gently caressing the nipples through my satin camisole. He knows just how to do it, and I cock my lower back to signal he is on the right path. One hand covers my breast, while the other slowly glides down past the edge of the slick camisole into my panties. He massages my lips with his fingers in a circular motion, stimulating the clitoris beneath. I lean back to accept and feel his hard cock against the small of my back. It throbs, with each pulse, begging me to pleasure it. I pull down my panties and beg “please, fuck me.” He slides a single finger inside and I am so wet, so ready for him. “Please,” I beg. He places the finger to my lips, I purse my lips around it, sucking on it just as I would him. Once he is satisfied, he turns me around and raises my camisole overhead, lightly kissing my breasts, then my stomach, and grabs me by my waist, lowering me onto the cool, velvety bed of petals. He buries his face in my neck suckling so softly, making goosebumps rise all over my body.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” The familiar voice asks.

“Yes.”

“Hold it.”

I put my hand around his girth, it’s so hard, so ready. The outline of this beautiful, thick, phallus makes my clit throb.

“Do you want this to fuck you?”

“Yes,” I beg.

“Rub it on that beautiful pussy of yours.”

I obey.

“Please don’t tease me,” I beg of the shadowy man.

He slides it in slowly, each inch a new threshold of pleasure.
I let out a moan. He slowly winds his hips in and out. My clit engorges, and his slow pace only draws out the pleasure. My nails dig into his muscular back as I hold on for dear life. Then my moans become louder, my breath shallower. I feel hot, and tense all over, I can’t hold on any longer.

“Say my name,” he says. “Say my name or I’ll stop.” He holds me hostage with his dick. The moonlight finally catches his face, the light hair and pale eyes, and despite my horror, it’s too late.

“Eric! Fuck! Eric!” I cry out into the dark night as he comes inside of me.

***

The immense guilt I feel as I lay awake after the dream is only compounded by the physical aftereffects of the delicious sex romp I just experienced.
It’s only a dream
, I remind myself. But goddam that felt real, too real. I should hate this man, and I truly want him to go away, but he has somehow found a way to get under my skin. He has not only violated my body, but he has violated my psyche. Taylor is right, this man is dangerous.

It’s around 10:30 in the morning
.
Taylor is still sound asleep and likely will be for a while since he took his medication so late into the night. I slide out of bed, grab my phone, and take it outside to call
Mr. MacAllister.

“MacAllister speaking.”

“Hi, it’s Shyla.”

“Hi Shyla! I was beginning to worry. I have been trying to reach you for some time now.”

“I know, I am so sorry. Someone broke into my house last night and attacked me. I suspect it was the person who has been leaving me the messages.”

“Are you alright?” He asks.

“Yes, just shook up. Listen, the police are investigating him now. I am not sure I need you to dig into the calls now that they are looking for him. That should resolve the issue.”

“Are you certain? Would you like me to pass along information?”

“No, please don’t. I don’t want you to communicate with the police. I was going to see if we could trace the calls to him so maybe, I don’t know, I could get a restraining order or something, but he already showed his hand.”

“I would always recommend we look into the calls or at the very least you file the reports as I had mentioned. The more evidence we have against him, the better your chances are of getting him put a way for a long time.”

I don’t want Mr. MacAllister getting involved in the police investigation. Like Taylor said, the less variables, the easier it will be to keep our story straight. We have proof he came into my apartment and that’s all that matters.

“I would rather not. My boyfriend doesn’t know about the texts and this will get me into more personal drama than I would like. They have plenty of evidence against this person, including video of him entering my home. I would like you to just send me what you have and then close the case. What’s most important to me is the other case you were looking into. The one about the cult.”

“Yes, this is proving to be challenging, but very intriguing. Do you mind me asking why you want me to dig into this?”

“I can’t say, but it is important to me. I know you won’t tell Kristin anything, but I have to reiterate, she really can’t know about this.”

“Of course.”

“So you think this woman could be alive?”

“The child is the only person who the police believe survived. His mother, Lyla Bordeau is a mystery. It’s possible that she may be alive, or that there was foul play unrelated to the mass suicide.”

“Could you explain further?”

“Well, all I know right now from digging into past
records
is that her son was found alive at the scene. When the investigators
identified
the bodies, everyone was accounted for
except for
her.”

“And they were never able to find her?”

“No. They used the media, no quality leads. They never considered her a suspect, just a possible witness,
since
it seemed clear that people did what they did on their own volition. Eventually, the interest faded with the press and she remains a cold case. So it’s possible she may have been murdered before the suicide even happened.”

“They just stopped looking for her?”

“Unfortunately, yes. A lot of resources went in initially, and then they just figured she may have been killed before the mass suicide. Witnesses stated that she was growing discontent with C.O.S and her relationship with Peters, the cult leader, was getting tumultuous. Police thought he may have killed her which triggered his downward spiral into leading the group into the suicide. Cult survivors supported this theory by saying they believed she was murdered. I have to say though, I get the feeling that there is more to this. I think it’s possible she is alive. It’s no coincidence to me that her son was the only survivor of the suicide.”

“So what’s next? If the police couldn’t find her…”

“Sometimes time helps. People get comfortable,
start slipping up – over time, they
leave a trail
.
They start to tell people secrets. I am going to try to find people she knew, people who were important to her, and I am going to do good old fashioned detective work. Now, I know you want to keep your reasons private, but if there is something you know, anything that can help me narrow down where she may have headed
..
.”

“I’m sorry, I thought she was dead too. This is a shock to me. If I think of anything, I will let you know right away.” Just as I complete the sentence, I hear footsteps
approaching
. “I have to go. I’ll be in touch.”

“Good morning. Who was that on the phone?”

“Oh, Chad had a question about work. I’m surprised you’re up so early with the drugs and the late night.”

“Drugs and late night? You just made it sound way more fun than it actually was. Yeah, well I feel groggy, but I could sense your absence from the bed. It woke me up.” Someone who has spent his entire life sleeping alone, banishing people out his bed, can’t sleep without me. “How did you sleep?”

The dream.
I am so sickened by it, by my infidelity by REM. “It was okay. I couldn’t sleep
late
either, which as you know is a rarity for me.”

“That’s the truth. Breakfast?”

“Yes, I’m starving. Do you need help?”

“No, just keep me company. I want to make you some outstanding french toast.”

“You’re kind of perfect.” I stand up to kiss him. He wraps his strong arm around my lower back, pressing me close to him. He is already firm and I know the first course won’t be French Toast. He lifts me up and I wrap my legs around him as he carries me inside to the great room, seating me on the couch. All I have on is a long, slouchy tank top, so he easily slides it up to reveal my bare lower body.

“
Your
pussy looks like a juicy, ripe peach. Delicious.”

“Thank you,” I say coyly.

“Can I have a taste?”

“Of course, sir.”

He grins, as usual, he is most relaxed when he is being sexual. Sexuality is his home. Taylor takes his index and middle fingers and purses his lips around them, maintaining eye contact with me. His eyes smile darkly and he sucks on his fingers with his full lips, takes his moistened fingers and slowly and ever so lightly runs them down my labia while biting his plump lower lip. Then he gently separates the them. “Like a flower…” he says under his breath. I feel a tingling and start to snake my hips towards him, begging him with my body to eat me. “Do you want me to eat this luscious little peach?” His bluish eyes looking directly into mine.

“Yes.”

“Beg me.”

“Please.”

“More.”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please eat it.”

“Eat what?” He cocks his eyebrows.

“My peach,” I barely get out. He fingers gently message me as I beg. I grab a handful of his hair in my hands, trying to coax him but he resists. Finally, he leans in close, but then he stops just short of contact. I feel his lips graze below just barely.

“Take out your titties.” Just a slight adjustment of my slouchy tank top reveals them. “Play with them.” I cup them in my hands as my hips still snake towards him. My breathing shallows, and I feel that if I do not get back some control, I could come before he ever places his lips on mine.

“Please, just fucking eat me.” I beg, almost pathetically. “Please baby. I want you so bad.”

“You taste so good. I am going to savor your juices.” He purses his lips and finally presses them against me. I throw my head back, wrapping my legs around his shoulders. He slowly sucks on the clit, doing it with just enough pressure to slowly and steadily tease me. My hips snake towards him with more force and speed until I am fucking his face. Just as I am about to come, he stops. I look at him desperately.

“Wha-What are you…?” I ask.

His pants are off and I don’t ever recall seeing him remove them. His thick, hard cock, stands at attention. “I don’t want you to come too fast, I want you to enjoy this.”

“Trust me, you have no idea.”

Taylor dives back in, slowly using his long tongue to penetrate me. I moan all sorts of incoherent things
. Finally, he comes back to my clit, which is engorged and just waiting for him to release the explosion of pleasure. He takes his soft, plump lips and purses around her, gently sucking. I take one of my hands off of my breasts and pull on his hair as I moan loudly out into the world, clenching his neck with my thighs, tiny explosions erupting inside of me over and over. I look down at his face, his lips covered in my wetness so that when he kisses me, I taste myself in his mouth. He lies me horizontally on the couch and rests his body over mine, but just as he is about the enter, a panic hits me again. “Wait.”

Taylor’s eyes change as if I had awoken him from a dream. “Oh…I didn’t think.”

“No, I’ll be fine. I just want to do something for you. Tell me how you want me to suck your cock.” Inside, my heart is still going at full speed, and I secretly fear that something inside me might be broken, that something finally gave from all the recent events. But I still want to please him; I don’t want to isolate him from the act in which he feels most comfortable relating to me. “Tell me. I’m yours. I want to please you.” He stands up and takes me by that hand so that I stand up as well.