Trust Me II (29 page)

The clock continued to tick on and he realized a while later that he was hungry. If the articles and books he had read on pregnancy were correct, Sandra would need something to eat before the pangs of nausea took hold. He closed the top of his computer and returned to the kitchen, removing the bangers and eggs from the fridge and mixing them together in a pre
-made frozen pie shell. It was a simple dish and quick to make and one he was sure she would enjoy. Together with a few spices, some sliced carrots, frozen potatoes and shredded cheese; he slipped the pan into the oven and turned around in time to see his wife stagger out of the bedroom.

She was glorious; hair mussed and completely starkers. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, wondering over to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. Creighton’s overactive libido immediately woke as he kissed her on the top of her head, pulling her tighter against him.

“Sleep well?” he asked when she yawned again, nodding. “I have to tell you, seeing you like this makes me very grateful we’re on our honeymoon. If I’m not mistaken, I did promise at one point to keep you as my naked hostage until you were too old or too content to object to my perverted ways.”

Sandra laughed and snuggled her head against his warmth a little further, enjoying the feel of his large hands as they caressed her naked back on hips. She had awoken to find herself alone and without thought of consequences or reactions, she went looking for him. Her stomach felt a little jerky, but she didn’t stop to think about what was happening; all she wanted was to have his arms around her.

“I have breakfast cooking,” he told her in a husky tone. “It will give you enough time for a bath if you want one.”

“I’d love one,” she answered through another yawn. “Will you join me?” Creighton smiled, his hands pressing her hips against the hard bulge in his pants.

“I can’t think of a better way to start out the day. Go fill the tub, I’ll be right there.” Sandra turned and walked back into the master bedroom and straight to the bathroom where she turned the faucets on and filled the tub. Before she knew it, the pangs she had been feeling began to grip her stomach and caused her to feel queasier than she ever had before. She felt suddenly very hot and was certain the room was growing dark around her, her head began to spin and then she felt herself being eased down to the cool tile floor.

“Easy my love,” Creighton told her, pressing the rim of a glass against her lips. “Drink this; it will help you feel better.” Sandra closed her eyes feeling like she had just come off a roller
-coaster, but did as he told her and swallowed the bitter-sweet juice. It took a few sips before she felt like she had landed back on the ground and was secure enough to open her eyes.

“I don’t know what just happened,” she said softly as he ripped off a piece of a croissant and fed it to her.

“I do,” he began, feeding her the soft buttery bread in small pieces. “You haven’t eaten in over twelve hours. You can’t do that anymore, at least not for another eight months. From what I’ve read of those books the doctor gave us, you’ll need to eat more frequently in order to provide proper nutrition for you and the baby. Nausea is a good sign that everything is going well, so I suppose that’s one way of looking at it as you face the next few weeks.”

“Is this going to last all nine months?” she asked, swallowing the croissant and taking another bite. It was very good and she was slowly beginning to feel better, though she felt weaker than she did since she had the flu last year.

“According to the books, it will only last the first trimester. We’ll just have to make certain you are well hydrated and have snacks on hand whenever we go out.”

“That’s enough,” she said a few moments later, turning her head when he offered her another bit of bread. She took a drink of the juice and watched as he rose above her, shutting the faucets off and reaching a hand out to steady her. She stood up with his support, smiling in amazement at how much better she really did feel.

Creighton set the plate of croissants and fruit he had brought in with him on the sink’s counter and pulled off his clothes, watching as Sandra stepped into the steaming water. She sighed as she sat down causing him to smile. She was an incredible woman, strong and independent and eager to take on the world as it came to her. She was more unique than anyone he had ever known and as he joined her in the hot water, he realized again just how lucky he was to have her.

“What are the plans for the day?” she asked him as she sat embraced in his strong arms.

“I have an idea that I needed to address with you.” His hands continued to massage her arms as he spoke, slowly moving to her breasts and eventually down her stomach to rest on her lower abdomen.

“The plans for the Kansas project are complete
. I have a contract for your grandfather to purchase his land and the oil rights that go along with it,” he continued. “I need to either arrange to have them sent to him or…” Sandra turned suddenly to look at him, eyes wide and mouth opened.

“Can we go to Kansas?” Her tone was filled with excitement and Creighton had no choice but to smile, nodding his head.

“If you feel up to the long plane ride we can. I’d rather discuss the contract with your grandfather in person.”

“I want to go. We can sort out my stuff while we’re there and I can say good-bye to my friends.”

“Why good-bye? We’ll be visiting often, especially once the plant is up and running. I am going to keep a close eye on this project; it’s a first for me and one I’m very interested in. We’ll be going back at least a couple times a year.”

“That’s wonderful!” she said, her smile widening across her delicate face. “I can visit my family and friends and still have you by my side.”

“I’ll never be far away,” he assured her, easing her back against his chest.

“When can we go?”

“I need to have Michelle make arrangements, but we should be able to leave as early as tomorrow. I’ll call Captain Davies and have him bring the plane over.” Sandra drew a deep breath.

“Do we have to let that woman come along?” she asked, knowing full well he knew whom it was she was referring to.

“Eryn is the flight attendant and you have nothing to worry about. I’m not interested in her.”

“I don’t want her there. Why do we need her anyway?”

“Because she keeps things running for us, makes sure we have meals and drinks available and she’s there in case of emergencies. She’s a trained flight attendant; it’s her job.”

“I don’t want her there,” she said again, though slightly under her breath. Creighton sighed, wrapping his arms around her a bit tighter.

“I have a confession to make,” he said, his mouth against her ear. “I saw you go into the bathroom that night and I waited for you to come out. I used Eryn to make you jealous. I sort of encouraged her affection because I knew you would see it.” Sandra narrowed her eyes and turned to look at him again.

“Why would you do that?” she asked in a threatening tone.

“Because I wanted to play with you; I thought it would be fun to have you jealous. I like how it feels when your green eyes come into the picture. I just wasn’t counting on it backfiring and was not considering the consequences. I’m sorry and I promise I won’t do it again. If you don’t want her there, I’ll tell Davies to leave her in England, but it wasn’t her fault.”

“Did she know you were using her?”

“She picked up on it when I laughed at your reaction and you slammed the bedroom door. I can guarantee she won’t allow me to use her again.”

“Neither will I,” she warned. “If you even think of doing anything like that again…”

“I won’t. I don’t like sleeping alone on the sofa while you’re crying in the next room. That’s why I started drinking; I couldn’t bear the thought of what I had done causing you such grief.”

“Do you always like pushing your limits?” she asked with a soft growl, turning back into his arms and propping her feet up on the end of the tub’s rim.

Creighton was silent for several minutes, his hands caressing her torso. He let out a heavy sigh and leaned his head back against the wall behind the tub. Now was as good a time as any to come clean with her, he thought.

“Why do I have a feeling you’re hiding something from me?” She turned her head up to look over her shoulder at him and frowned. He held a haunted look in his eyes, his jaw clenched and there was a brief moment of tense regret pulling at his mouth.

“When I told you I don’t like hurting women, it wasn’t exactly the truth,” he said with a frown. “Many years ago, while I was still in school, I made a mistake that nearly cost my sanity.” He closed his eyes as the memories began to wash over him.

“You asked me once why I liked to play the way I do. It started with Miriam’s visit to me, but the truth is, I explored the depths of her teachings much further than she could have taught me. I eventually found a level I was comfortable with, but it wasn’t an easy journey.

“There are many underground clubs in London where people like me go to explore their sexual fantasies. I found one that I particularly liked. It had several rooms upstairs that were soundproof and equipped for exploration, sort of a miniature version of Miriam’s place. I had begun to explore the female body, learned how to make women come, how to make them have deeper orgasms then even they knew was possible. I went on a lot of dates that all ended the same way; in bed with her screaming her release. I was very popular in school, all the girls were talking about how great of a lover I was, yet I felt I never truly understood the restraints I had on my own control.

“One weekend I went to the club and found a very beautiful Iranian woman, a few years old than I was, who loved to have hard sex. The harder the better, the stranger the better; she loved to be beaten and wanted to know how far she could push a man until he lost control. She was darker than even Miriam could have handled. She paid men to rape and beat her; not an unusual request in that type of establishment. It seemed like the perfect match; I wanted to lose control and she wanted to push me past my breaking point.” He drew a deep breath and raised his head, staring down at her shoulder as he relived the past.

“We met on several occasions and each time she would push me further, making my control slip each time. It was fascinating; erotic, dark. I couldn’t resist it, she was like an aphrodisiac. I went crawling back to that club night after night to the point I nearly failed two of my classes because I was so consumed with sex and orgasms.

“I couldn’t concentrate, I could barely sleep. One night she told me we weren’t going to stop; she wanted to see me out of control and she wanted to fall to my mercy. We met the next day around noon, it was a Sunday and the club was open only to specific clientele. By then I was making some pretty decent money and could afford the place. We chose a room that had a multitude of machines; I mean real machines, like those you’d find in a torture chamber. There were chains on the walls, a table where your partner was tethered by the hands and feet, spread eagle as a drill type vibrator penetrated the body.

“It was darker than anything I had ever done up to that point. She liked the table, but she liked the restraints on the wall better. There were straps that wrapped around the neck and stomach and held the person so tight they could move nothing more than their fingers or toes. We used the table and a chair that had no seat, just a vibrator below it that moved in and out of the body on a remote control. I was afraid of the wall; it looked far beyond anything I could stomach, but she kept begging me until I broke and chained her to it.

“She wanted me to whip her with a flogger, much larger and much meaner than the one you have. I used it for a few minutes, but it wasn’t hard enough to satisfy her. She begged me to hit her, with my hands and to not stop. She knew what buttons to push; she called me names, criticized my family, anything she could do to make me angry and it worked. One sting after another and I quickly lost all control.

“I was transported into a very dark, very evil place that I wasn’t sure if I could ever come out of. I hit her over and over, ignoring her when she begged me to stop; she told me to not stop and I listened, it was about the only thing I remembered at the time. I felt like I was a different person; like a schizophrenic and I was watching all that was happening from somewhere outside my own body. When I finally realized what I was doing and stopped, she was unconscious.”

Creighton drew another deep breath and closed his eyes, swallowing hard as he tried to fight off the visions that were surrounding him. When he opened his eyes again, there were tears brimming the dark blue depths and he looked out the window above the sinks, staring at the empty sky.

“The club had a strict gag-policy; whatever happened there stayed there. The bouncers took her back to her flat and called the paramedics. She spent two weeks in hospital. When she recovered I was told she went back to her home in Iran. The last time I went to the club to see if they had heard anything more from her, I was told she had been killed in the crossfire of an enemy attack.”

Creighton sighed, closing his eyes as the tears slid down his cheeks. When he opened them again, the regret and remorse shone in the dark depths like clouded ghosts. Sandra could see how deeply this had affected him and the depth of the scars it had left on him. When he looked at her it was with a sadness that made her heart ache and she had no choice but to reach up and touch his cheek.