CHAPTER 26
“Michael?” I sob into the phone. “Can you hear me?”
“Are you okay?” Michael’s concerned voice washes over me.
I’m crying harder now. His voice has done it to me. I love the sound of his voice. I can’t hide that I’m crying and there’s no way he’s not going to realize.
“What’s wrong? Tell me.”
His tone is forceful. In another life, he must have been an amazing Dom. I can’t resist the command and the dam breaks.
“He’s married, Michael. The sonofabitch is married. He just told me. I thought he loved me! I thought… oh fuck, I thought…” I get stuck here for a moment, enough time for me to hear Michael’s sharp intake of breath. “He cheats regularly. I was just another one of his fucks. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.”
Here I am stuck again, and again Michael saves me.
“Kim, are you home?”
“Oh god oh god…”
“Kim! Are you home?”
“Y-yes.”
“Listen to me. Are you listening?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good girl. Stay right where you are. Don’t move. I’ll be right there. Understand? I’m coming to you. Stay there. Tell me!”
He’s a dark knight, my dark knight, and my blubbering drowns out my answer, so I try again. “You’re coming here. P-please… hurry.”
“I will. Stay there, Kim.”
We hang up, and I drop the phone to bury my face in my hands.
And let the tears flow.
Time passes. Or, it doesn’t. I realize my tears have stopped. I don’t know when that happened, or what time it is, or what the hell I’m supposed to do now.
I’m on the floor in front of my couch. I guess this is where I landed when I could no longer support my own weight. The cell phone, Michael’s cell phone is beside me, and I remember that he’s coming. He’s on his way. On shaky feet, I stand and make my way to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face.
I glance in the mirror above the sink. What a mistake. I look like shit. Puffy red eyes aren’t flattering on anybody. I sigh and run my hands through my hair in an attempt to wrangle the errant locks, and that’s when thunder strikes my front door.
At least thunder is what it sounds like. It’s really the insistent pounding of a fist against the wood.
“Kim? Kim!”
Michael!
I run to the door and throw it open, and there stands my savior. He steps inside, and the anger that enters with him is palpable. I know it’s not directed at me, but it’s frightening all the same.
“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to fucking kill him!” He storms past me and into the living room, holding onto his anger with clenched fists at his sides.
“Oh, no. Oh god no, Michael! That’ll only make things worse. Please.”
He pulls me into his strong, secure embrace, and I don’t want to start crying again, but I do.
“It’s alright, Kim, it’s alright. My god, I’m sorry for everything.”
“I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know. The sonofabitch is married, Michael.”
“I know, baby. It’ll be okay, I promise.” He strokes my hair, my back, and his touch is so comforting that for a moment, I believe him.
He leads me to the couch and sits me down. He paces. I’ve never seen him so agitated.
“Promise me you won’t do anything.” The image of blood spurting out of El Disgusto’s nose as Michael punched him floats before my eyes, and my worry increases.
“He deserves it, Kim.” His expression is fierce, and I gape at him. He realizes and softens, offering me a small smile. “It’ll be okay. I promise.” He looks at me and strengthens his smile. “I’m going to get us some coffee brewing, okay?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer and strides off to the kitchen. I watch him go. I like how he looks in my apartment, like he belongs here.
Soon enough, he’s back and pressing a mug of steaming coffee into my hand. I gratefully sip while Michael resumes pacing. The coffee helps to settle me, but I can’t help thinking about how, in an instant, my whole life has changed.
“I guess now I know why you don’t believe in love. It’s not worth it, is it?”
Michael’s mouth drops open. I’ve stunned him to silence. I guess he didn’t expect me to say something like this.
“No. Jesus, no. Now you sound like me, Kim. And that is not the direction you want to go in. Believe me.” He stops pacing and just looks at me with the saddest expression I think I’ve ever seen. “Don’t turn into me. You are so beautiful, so warm and caring. You deserve so much love in your life, not the shit that guy handed you.”
“It’s not out there for me.” My voice breaks; I’m on the verge of tears again.
“Yes, it is,” he says with fierce determination. Then, after a pause, he nods and sits down on the couch beside me. “I’d like to show you something. Would you come for a drive with me?”
I look up at him in surprise. He looks terrified that I might turn him down.
How could he think for a second I’d say no? I nod and stand. “Let me just go freshen up.”
Moments later, I return dressed in black jeans, black short-sleeved shirt, and boots. I’ve run a brush through my hair and even managed to put a dab of lipstick on. I can’t do anything about my red, puffy eyes, but I get the feeling that I’m not done crying yet today, so it doesn’t matter.
The first big fat droplets of rain hit Michael’s windshield as he pulls away from the curb. He turns on the wipers, and the rhythmic thumping lulls me to silence as he drives. It’s cooler this afternoon than it has been. Autumn is in the air, and I wish I’d brought a jacket.
Michael sneaks peeks at me every so often as he drives. He doesn’t break the silence and broods, but his hand does find mine at one point and squeezes it reassuringly. I look at him, he glances at me, and we smile.
It’s a moment I’ll remember forever.
Weird what sticks with you and becomes a treasured memory.
I must fall asleep because the next thing I hear is Michael calling my name. The pain of Scott’s betrayal hasn’t resurfaced yet, and I want desperately to stay in this semi-awake state forever. As soon as I open my eyes, I’ll feel the crushing agony and reality will bear down on me with all of its weight.
But Michael is insistent. “Kim, we’re almost here. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how long the drive would be.”
I force my eyes open. It’s still raining, and the sun has set, but I’m still able to make out the name of the road he’s turning onto. “Where are we?”
“Westhampton Beach, the tip of Long Island.”
“So, we’re on Dune Road. The Dune Road?”
Michael laughs. Is he embarrassed?
“Don’t say it like that. It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal? Michael, Dune Road is beachfront property and has some of the highest real estate prices on the entire island. Multimillion dollar homes! What are we doing here?”
He doesn’t answer right away and just continues navigating the road. In a few minutes, he turns down one of the driveways. None of the homes on Dune Road are visible from the road. Massive landscaping of trees and giant shrubbery and very long driveways block them from view. I’m practically bouncing in my seat, hoping to catch a glimpse of one. I’ve been on Dune Road before but never had a chance like this.
“What are you doing? Aren’t we trespassing? We’ll get caught!”
Again, he says nothing and continues the drive to the house. Eventually, it comes into view, and it is palatial. Three stories, at least as many balconies, and ceiling to floor windows doesn’t begin to describe how spectacular this house is.
It sits up on a little hill facing the ocean. A wooden walkway and steps lead down to the white sand beach. We’ve just missed the sunset, but I’m certain it was breathtaking despite the rain.
We’re just a few feet from the house now and Michael parks, turning off the car’s engine.
“Michael, seriously, we should go.”
“Why?” he asks, his face once again a mask I can’t read.
“Because we’ll get caught. We don’t belong here.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. We do belong here. This is my home.”
I stare at him for a long minute, waiting to see if he’s joking, but he just smiles and gets out of the car. He comes around, opens my door, and extends a hand to help me out. My fingers linking with his, he leads me up to the covered deck overlooking the ocean.
While the rain beats down and I stare at the view in open-mouthed appreciation, he unlocks the front door and motions for me to enter.
A tiled foyer leads onto an enormous hardwood floored living room. It’s an open floor plan that joins an equally large ultra-modern kitchen and dining room. The furniture is exquisite and very masculine with black leather sofas, and black wood and glass tables. A large plush red area rug complements the sitting area. A wood burning fireplace dominates the wall across from the windows. It’s all stunning but lacks a woman’s touch. The furniture alone is worth more than I can even imagine earning in one year.
I stop to pull off my boots — it seems wrong to wear them in a house like this — and then move deeper inside. I’m flabbergasted, and as I explore, I turn back to Michael to find him watching me. “This is really yours?” He nods. “Oh my god, you’re rich.” I press my fingers to my temples trying to comprehend it all. “You don’t need to have sex for money at all.”
He walks to the big stainless-steel refrigerator in the kitchen, pulls out a bottle of beer, and twists the lid off, extending it to me. I take it and he grabs a second, twists off the top, and takes a long sip.
“I’m comfortable,” he says slowly. “I guess you could say well-off, but I’m not like Bill Gates rich.” I get the impression he’s being modest, downplaying his wealth. He pulls out a stool for me at the island, and we both sit facing a glorious view of the ocean. “As for the sex for money thing? It’s fun. You know that. I have to do something, right? I don’t do idle rich very well at all.”
Again, he laughs, and again, I get the impression that he might be embarrassed.
“So, ummm… why did you bring me here?”
He takes a long pull of his beer then runs his hand through his shock of dark hair that tends to fall into his eyes. He rubs his face then stands. “Come on, let’s get more comfortable,” he says and leads me to the black leather couch in the living room. It too has a breathtaking view of the ocean, but my eyes are on Michael.
I remain silent. Something is about to happen. I can feel it. Something that might change my life. My heart is thumping so loud I imagine that it is drowning out the crashing of the waves onto the beach and the beating of the rain against the windows.
Michael sits beside me and sets his beer down on the coffee table. He turns to me, and I see a storm brewing in his eyes. “To answer your question, I thought it was time. Finally time.”
I swallow hard. “You’re going to tell me—”
He lifts a hand, and I fall silent again.
There is a long pause while he looks past me, maybe watching the ghosts of what he’s about to reveal.
“Oh, Kim,” he finally says, and as clichéd as it sounds, the very weight of the world is contained in those two words. I want to hold him, hug him, take the pain away, but I just sit there and wait. “I never talk about this. You understand that, don’t you?” I nod and remain silent. I think that if I speak, he’ll never get the words out. “I was married. Happily married.”
I gasp and then do my best to focus on the word was. He was married. He isn’t now. “Okay,” I say very softly.
“I had the life. I was a stockbroker.” He hadn’t been looking at me, but he turns, and I see the wry expression on his face. “Yeah, me. Can you imagine? I wore a suit every day, worked with numbers, and well, I was stuffy.” He barks out a short laugh then grows somber again. “My… w-wife… she was gorgeous. Like you. We had a nice house on Long Island, and I did the commute five days a week. And we were so fucking happy.” He takes a deep breath, and I know more is coming, something worse than a failed marriage.
“We decided to have a baby. It was time. Three years of marriage and end the honeymoon with the arrival of a kid. Everything picture perfect. She didn’t have any trouble conceiving. We used to joke that we didn’t even get enough practice in before we got the news.”
I curl into a ball, maybe for protection from what he will say next.
“You should have seen her. She glowed with pregnancy. I know people say that, but I swear. Her aura changed. She was an… an… angel.” He takes a breath and then plows on. “She nested, and I purchased whatever she wanted for the baby’s room. She didn’t even know how to hold a paintbrush, but she managed to paint the room a beautiful bright yellow. And she even put up stencils of ducks around the room. It was… ah fuck. It was perfection.”
Tears form in my eyes. I want to be wrong. Please let me be wrong, but I know I’m not. I raise my hand to lay it on his arm, but pause, and drop it again. I still think that anything I do or say now will destroy the moment and Michael will clam up again.
“When her water broke, it was like a scene out of some bad sitcom. You know. All the running around. I didn’t know where the fuck I’d put my car keys or where the hell her overnight bag was. Things like that. But we managed. We got to the hospital. The doctor met us there just like he’d promised. And then… then… Jesus. When she was dilated enough… they… fuck… they took her away… from me. And…”
He stops talking, rubs his face with his hand, sighs heavily. His breath catches in his throat, and I know he’s trying not to cry. So am I.
“That’s the last time I ever saw her. She died in childbirth.” He takes another shuddering breath.
Oh god. His pain stabs me in the heart like it’s my own.
“The baby…?” I ask in a whisper.
He shakes his head and groans. Oh god. My heart aches.
“When…?”
“Four years ago.”
“So this house…?”
“No… I bought it around two years ago. I sold the other house as soon as I could. Took a beating on it, but I didn’t give a damn.”
I can’t help but be glad that this is not the house he shared with his wife. But now it makes even more sense why it feels like it needs a woman’s touch. It seems somehow empty even though it’s filled with the very best furniture.
Michael starts to stand up but sits back down. He has so much pent up energy it’s like he doesn’t know how to expel it. He opts for letting out a long breath. “So now you know. What the fuck is the point of love when something like that can happen? It was so fucking senseless. You get that? She was healthy. There was no hint that anything could possibly go wrong. Nothing. Do you understand? I won’t… can’t… put myself out there like that ever again.”
He is crying now, the tears a steady stream down his cheeks. My cheeks are wet too. My heart is breaking for this man, and I hesitantly, tentatively, take him into my arms and offer him my silent comfort. He melts into me, returning the hug, the simple physical contact, with a mad passion. His power, strength, despair is overwhelming. I can’t breathe he’s holding me so tight, giving over to his grief. I wonder if he’s ever truly mourned.
“I’m sorry, Michael. I’m so sorry.” The words seem so meaningless, but what else is there to say?
After a time, he speaks. The words are so faint yet so heartfelt. “Thank you.” He straightens and stands and looks down at me. “Enough of that. Come with me.” He holds out a hand, and I take it.
I think I know where this is heading and I’m not wrong. He’s leading me to the bedroom.
I move up the stairs with him, an eagerness to my pace. I don’t remember what caused my tears from earlier, what led me to this moment, what had broken my heart. I don’t dwell on it; I don’t want to remember. I don’t want anything to mar this perfect moment. This perfect healing union of two broken souls.
We reach the top of the stairs, and I see a large painting on the wall. There are four people in it. Two young men in their late teens or early twenties and two others who are obviously their parents. They’re all smiling, and I see that mischievous glint in the parent’s eyes that I know so well from Michael.
This is a family portrait of a dark haired beautiful family.
“You have a brother?” I ask, coming to a stop.
He nods. “Yes, two years younger. That’s David at eighteen. What a handful he was. I had to be the responsible one or our parents would have disowned us both.” He chuckles in what I see as fond remembrance.
“David and Michael,” I say. “Your parents gave you both such strong names.
Again, he nods. “They’re quite a pair. And, they’ll love you.”
I don’t have time to digest what he’s just said because he grabs my hand and pulls me into the master bedroom. It’s enormous, almost larger than my entire apartment. Everything is dark wood, big and very masculine. There’s a fireplace and the floor to ceiling windows that I’m certain overlook the ocean, but it is the bed that captures my attention.
It is a big, bold statement that commands the room.
Gigantic black leather footboard and headboard are interspersed with black wrought iron bars. It’s tall, the mattress impossibly plush. I think I might have to be lifted onto it. The sheets are deep red, and the blanket is black with red stripes. It is the epitome of manliness and suits Michael perfectly. I would expect nothing less.
“Wow,” I say, and he smiles.
“Do you like it?”
“Oh yes, it’s perfect. Exactly how I would have imagined it.”
His smile broadens then he bends close and nuzzles my neck. It’s like he’s pressed a button. I’m instantly wet for him.
I start to get undressed, but he stops me. I’m surprised. I always undress quickly when we’re about to have sex. “But—”
He puts a finger to my lips to silence me. “Allow me,” he says in that throaty growl that I love, and pulls my shirt over my head, letting it drop to the floor.
Oh.
He smiles into my eyes and reaches behind me, unclasps my bra, and tosses it aside. Then he steps back to admire me for a moment.
Ohhhh.
Oh my god.
This is so romantic.
My nipples pebble and harden under his appraisal, and he takes my breasts in his hands, lifting and caressing them. My back arches as his thumbs gently glide over my aching tips. I’ve never wanted him more. I’ve never wanted anyone more.
I start to unbutton his shirt while he continues to toy with my breasts, and when I’ve revealed his gloriously chiseled chest, he wraps his arms around me, crushing me to him. Our lips come together, and I’m made breathless by the intensity of his kiss. I open my mouth to him, and he plunges in, devouring me.
It is a kiss that seems to last a lifetime. And I don’t want it to end, but I also want more. I want him.
All of him.
I hungrily suck on his tongue, and he responds with a low approving growl, moving his hands to unbutton my jeans and slowly unzip them. He shimmies them down over my hips, and I step out. Now, only the thinnest bit of cotton separates me from his tender, probing touch. I’m desperate for his fingers to find my sex. I spread my legs as my hands explore every dip and contour of his back, but he’s not ready to give me the release I crave just yet.
He steps back and shrugs out of his shirt. It billows to the floor as I reach for the button of his pants, but again he stops me. “No,” he whispers against my ear, sending delightful shivers through me.
He grabs my ass in his hands and squeezes, drawing me against him. I moan and rock against him, seeking the friction. I know he’s hard. I can feel him straining against his pants. I grab his ass, pressing him close. I want, need him inside me and do all I can to tempt him to hurry.
But he’s having none of my impatience. He pushes me away to arm’s length and looks down at me with his devilish smile before bending his head to my breast and taking my nipple into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around the pink tip, and I throw my head back, gasping at the pleasure he’s giving me.
I brace for him to begin sucking hard and biting down but his lips and tongue are almost painfully light and teasing. I cry out with need as my breath hitches into breathless gasps. I don’t think I’ve ever been so electrified and every feather light touch of his sends orgasmic thrills coursing through me.
We stay this way for an eternity.
Finally, he slowly lifts his head and finds my lips with his. He kisses me lightly, gently, tracing my lips with his tongue until I look up at him, pleading with my eyes for him to take me.
Have his way with me.
Fuck me.
Make love to me.
He pulls back and looks at me, a sexually hungry yet thoughtful expression on his face.
“Do you trust me, Kim?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation and reach for him, but he steps away and disappears into his closet.
In a moment, he returns with two silk neckties. Taking my hand, he leads me to the bed. There are a couple of steps that I hadn’t noticed, and I climb them as he guides me until I’m lying flat against the cool, crisp sheets. He takes one of my breasts in his hand and fondles it before stepping away and taking off his pants. His cock bulges from his white jockeys, and I lick my lips in anticipation.
He moves onto the bed beside me and takes my hands in his, raising them up above my head.
“I’d never, ever hurt you, Kim,” he says.
I meet his eyes. “I know. I trust you.”
With that invitation, he ties my hands to the wrought iron bars.
“They won’t be tight,” he says. “This is our first time doing something like this, so I’m just giving us the illusion of your bonds. You can get free anytime you want with just a little tug.”
I’m sure I won’t ever want to get away, but I don’t tell him that.
When he finishes, he trails his fingers down my body, swirling around my erect nipples to my stomach and then to my inner thighs. I writhe at his touch, and when his fingers dip under the waistband of my panties, I moan and raise my hips. This time he complies, and with agonizing slowness, lowers my panties to my ankles before removing them entirely and tossing them away.
I spread my legs wide for him, and he smiles before getting off the bed and taking off the last barrier between us. Finally freed, his cock jumps up, long, thick, hard and ready.
I’m ready too. So ready.
He looks down at me, his dark eyes shining and glinting with mischief. “I like how you look spread-eagle on my bed,” he says, and I buck my hips up, enticing him, begging him to touch me.
In a quick, fluid motion, he’s on top of me on hands and knees, covering me but not touching me. I desperately want to feel his weight, and I whine a little in my throat.
“Not yet,” he says and inches his way down my body until he is crouched between my legs. He places a hand on my stomach and forces me to relax into the mattress. I gasp at his touch and spread my legs even wider.
Then his hands are on my thighs, spreading my pussy wide, and my breath catches in my throat. He bends his head low, and I can feel his breath on my sex. I’m writhing now, and he looks up at me as he takes my clit into his mouth. I cry out and shudder as he starts sucking on it.
“You’re delicious, Kim,” he says, just like he said the first time we met, and I smile even as I lose myself to him, all rational thought fleeing me.
He sucks a little harder, then starts an exploration of my folds with his tongue. I want to wrap my hands into his hair and press him even closer into me, but my ties, no matter how symbolic, prevent me. I sink into the mattress unable to do anything but experience what Michael is doing to me, how he is driving me wild, and into planes of erotic existence I didn’t even know of. He’s in complete control, and I suddenly understand the allure and pleasure of being bound.
We stay this way for an eternity.
He knows me so well that he can keep me at heights of pleasure that threatens to send me to heaven but prevent me from having that blissful release.
I want, need to explode, and I cry, gasp, moan, shudder, my body slick with sweat. I know he wants me to stay motionless, to let him do all the work, and it is with effort that I keep my hips pressed into the mattress, my hands curling into fists around the cool wrought iron bars of the headboard.
“Now, Kim, now,” he breathes against me. “Come for me, now.” He sucks down hard on my clit and plunges his fingers into my channel.
On command, I cry out as shudders wrack my body. I buck and writhe through the most intense orgasm of my life, thinking I might just die before it ends.
In another moment, he enters me with his cock, and I cry out breathlessly with another orgasm or a continuation of the same one. I can’t tell the difference, and I don’t care as I’m lost to sensation while he thrusts deeper and deeper into me.
At last, my shudders start to subside, and he holds himself still inside me, giving me a chance to calm, to catch my breath. Then he starts to move inside me again, slowly, gently, in and out, in and out, rebuilding the waves of pleasure in me again.
We’ve never done it like this before. It’s almost like… like… Oh my god.
He’s making love to me.
Is he making love to me?
We stay this way for an eternity.
I cry and gasp as the waves of intensity start to crash into me, another orgasm wrapping its tendrils around me. Michael looks at me, his sun bronzed sweat slickened skin glistening. “Ready, Kim?” he murmurs, and I nod, not sure what to expect.
He bares his teeth in a predatory smile and bends his head to my breast. Biting down on a nipple, he thrusts hard into me, and I scream in shocked surprise. This is the sex I know so well with Michael, and I open myself up to it as he thrusts harder and deeper until I think my body is splitting in half.
I think I can’t take another second when my orgasm rips into me, and with a grunt and a growl, Michael comes hard too. He holds himself deep in me, his muscles taut as I clench his cock with my pussy as it spasms around him. Spent, he collapses beside me, both our chests heaving as we struggle to come back down.
“Jesus, Kim,” Michael rasps and reaches up to remove his neckties from my wrists. “You’re amazing.”
Freed, I roll over and spoon myself against him, and he drapes an arm around my shoulders. I want to stay like this forever.
“Michael?”
“Hmmm?”
I glance to a big oversized chair in the room. It’s empty, really empty. There’s no voyeur here, it’s just Michael and me. I’m glad. I don’t miss the third person at all.
“Why did you do all this? Why am I here?” I think I know what he’ll say, I know what I want him to say, but I’m a girl and need to hear the actual words.
Michael shakes his head slowly back and forth. Reaching out a hand, he caresses my cheek, breathes in deeply and lets it out in a soft sigh. “I did this because I’m in love with you, Kim. I have been from the second I laid eyes on you.”
Thunder and lightning crash as if voicing its approval, and rain beats against the windows with renewed energy. In my brain, rain becomes categorized as a good thing, a wonderful thing. I will always love the rain.
This is a moment that replaces that other moment we had a while back. What was that other moment? For the life of me, I can’t remember.
My mouth opens, then closes, then opens again.
Michael watches me, and I think he might be dying inside, waiting for me to say something.
I don’t make him wait any longer. “I love you too, Michael. Oh, how I love you!” I throw myself into his arms, and he pulls me close. Our lips find each other, and we kiss. We kiss, madly, passionately, for long minutes that turn into eternity. Time loses all meaning. I’m lost in this man and need nothing more than what he’s giving me right now.
Who would ever have thought that things would turn out this way? Surely, not me. In my deepest despair, I found exactly what I didn’t know I wanted, needed. Who could have imagined that answering a Craig’s List ad under the casual sex section would turn out to be my salvation? Thank god for the mysteries of the universe and all that.
Finally, we come up for air. We’re smiling, and life sparkles in Michael’s eyes, and I’m sure mine are the same. We’re happy. We’ve found each other.
Who am I?
I’ve asked myself this question many times, but now, finally, I think I have an answer.
I’m a strong, independent, loving, caring woman. And the happiest person in the world.
“What do we do now?” I ask.
He kisses the tip of my nose. “I think a glass of wine is called for, don’t you? Chardonnay is your preference, isn’t it?”
He smiles, and I laugh.
“Yes, it is.”
We both laugh, then he pulls me in for another kiss.