Vandal

“That’s not fair. We’ve never talked about what we are to each other. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say or how to act. I’ve asked you several times about us and what’s going to happen, but you ignore me. And where have you been all day? Visiting another girl you used to fuck, like last time? Do you tell them you have a little fucked-up, depressed sub waiting in your house for you?”

“I don’t discuss my personal life.”

I scoff at him. “Oh, so that’s okay? You’re a hypocrite.”

“It’s different. I’m in the fucking public eye, and I don’t want you to be part of that. And let me remind you, it’s not your place to question me.”

What the fuck? “Oh, please. How convenient. What public eye?”

“I’m in a band, Tabi. A pretty popular one. The fans and the press can be brutal.”

“You couldn’t have told me this sooner?” I ask.

“I just thought I meant more to you than this.” He throws the paper into the air and looks away from me, shaking his head and clenching his fists. He cares. It’s not just a game to him after all, and it’s scaring the shit out of him.

I gently put my hands on his legs and brace myself. I have to be honest with him. I can’t stand to see him so pissed off and upset like this. “Vandal, please. I’m falling in love with you…”

He looks at me as if I’ve poured acid on him, his face contorted with disbelief and pain. “Don’t you dare fucking say that to me.”

“Why? It’s true.”

He stares at me, his eyes dark and icy.

“You don’t want to love me, Tabi. And you definitely don’t want me to love you. Trust me.” He whispers, “Love has no part in this.”

My heart plummets. “You’re lying,” I say, tears running down my face. “I can tell you love me.”

“You’re fucking delusional.”

I wince from his words. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because this is who I fucking am.”

“No,” I sob, “it’s not. This is who you’re telling yourself you are. If you don’t love me, why do you care about Jason? You wouldn’t be jealous if you didn’t care.”

He sneers at me. “Jealous? I don’t get jealous. I just don’t want some douchebag touching what’s mine.”

I almost fall back on my ass. “Yours? You don’t own me.”

“I guess you’ve learned nothing, then.”

I shake my head in disbelief at him, more tears streaming down my cheeks. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Standing, I pull the hem of the dress down, trying to cover myself, and kick off the stupid shoes.

“We’re not done,” he says, leaning forward.

“Yes, we are.” I turn to walk away, and he grabs me around the waist, pulling me down on his lap, crushing my back against his muscled chest, his arm snaking around the front of my waist to keep me from getting up.

“Let me go,” I try to push his arms off me, but he doesn’t budge.

“Not until you stop crying and put your shoes back on.”

I sniff and wipe my eyes, smearing the black eyeliner that just an hour ago I tried so hard to get perfect.

“You used to wipe my tears away,” I say to him, heartbroken.

He leans his forehead against my back. “I’d take all your tears away if I could. Believe me.”

Still with his arm wrapped around my waist, he leans down and grabs one of the shoes. “Slide your foot in.”

“No. Go to hell.”

“No means nothing to me, Tabitha. And I’ve been living in hell my entire life. Put the shoe on.”

“I don’t want to,” I say childishly.

“You know what I do when I ride?” he asks. “I think. In fact, it’s pretty much the only time I can clear my head enough to think at all. Sometimes I think about music, and write it in my head. Other times I think about my daughter and try to remember her smile. And sometimes, like today, I think about what I’m going to do to you.”

Maybe I am just some kind of toy for him and I’ve misread what I thought were signs of care, and possibly love. It’s possible that I’ve traded my grief for lust and he’s right, that love has no part in this at all. Is every touch, every word, every glimpse of affection between us just part of a game that I didn’t realize I was playing? Screwing my eyes closed to shut out more tears, I refuse to accept that. I can’t accept that. I know I love him; I’m sure of it. I want his happiness. I hate his pain. I want to be the one to show him that he can have a good life, and that he can have a relationship with a woman that doesn’t require being tied up to achieve a sense of control and mask his fear of being left. This isn’t a whim for me anymore.

“I read that shit online with Jason this morning and it really fucking pissed me off. I knew tonight would have to be different because I have to show you that what you did hurt me and that I don’t ever want to read words like that again,” he continues, turning the shoe over in his hand. “As you know, there’s a reason for the dress and the shoes. All day I’ve been thinking about how I can discipline you and how much I’m going to enjoy it.” He lifts my foot and slides the shoe onto it. “You’re going to enjoy it too, aren’t you?”

I don’t say anything, but his words affect me in so many different, naughty ways. I want to know what he wants to do to me and I shiver thinking of the ecstasy he has in store for me. I keep my bare feet flat on the floor in defiance, knowing that it only ignites him. I know it’s bad, but I enjoy taunting him and provoking him because the feeling of the unknown with him turns me on and sends tingles straight to my core.

“Now put this one on.” He holds the other shoe up and I slide my foot in.

“They’re really hard to walk in,” I say, sniffling.

He moves my hair to the side and kisses my exposed neck. “You’re not going to be walking,” he whispers against my ear. “I think we need to have a little lesson.” He reaches into his pocket, and I hear the jangling of something metal.

“Give me your hands, Tabitha.”

I put my hands behind my back, and he wraps what feels like a thin, metal chain around my wrists. No silk ribbon tonight.

“Stand up.”

I stand, wanting to pull the dress down that has ridden up to my ass, but I can’t as now my hands are tied. I feel horribly slutty in this dress.

He runs his hands from my ankles, up my calves, over my thighs, tantalizing me slowly until he squeezes my buttocks. I feel his lips and then his teeth on my ass cheek as his hand slips between my thighs. His middle finger slides between my delicate, wet lips.

“You still want me, don’t you?” he asks, pushing his finger up inside me.

“Yes.”

He pushes another finger inside me. “You don’t even hesitate to answer.”

“Because I know what I want, unlike you.” The words come out before I can stop myself, and his fingers tense up inside me, no longer caressing me.

“Is that right?” A hint of sarcastic amusement laces his deep voice.

He stands, his fingers still inside me, and pulls my head back to him by my hair with his other, causing my scalp to burn. “I know exactly what I want, darlin’. And I’m going to fucking show you. While I’m at it, you’re going to learn how to behave so we don’t have any more social media fuckery.”

Fuckery?

He lets go of my hair and pulls his fingers out of me, causing me to lose my balance a little. I wobble for a moment before he catches my arm to steady me. He pulls something else out of his pocket and holds it up in front of me.

“I bought you a present today. You know, while I was out meeting other women, as you so nicely accused.”

I try to focus on the object and realize it’s a small vibrator. “Spread your legs a little more,” he commands. When I do, I feel him slowly slide the vibrator into me, flipping the tiny switch. It buzzes and vibrates deep inside my pelvis.

“Turn around.”

Once I’m facing him, he takes the sunglasses off the top of his head and places them on the table, then slowly takes off his faded leather jacket. My vintage leather fetish sparks up and the urge to feel and smell the leather rises.

“Do you want to know what I want?” he asks.

“Yes,” I answer, trying to ignore the vibrator, how wet it’s making me, and how my muscles are clenching involuntarily around it.

“I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay here, in my house, and be my sub. I want to come home to you waiting for me, dressed in lingerie or whatever other outfit I left for you. I want to tie you up and fuck your brains out all night and hear you whimper my name.”

He pulls his shirt over his head and starts to unbuckle his belt, then continues. “I want you to fall asleep naked in my arms so I can take you whenever I want to.” He pushes his jeans and boxers down, kicks his boots off, and steps out of his pants. “And I’d like to wake up with your lips around my cock.”

Please tell me you love me. Give me something to show me it’s not a game.

He reaches between my legs and gives the vibrator a push. “You better not come unless I tell you to.” Kissing my lips softly, he pushes down on my shoulders. “Get on your knees and don’t let that fall out.”

I kneel awkwardly, trying not to fall on my ass while clenching the vibrator in my core. He leans back against the edge of the table in front of me. “I want you to suck my cock before I tell you what else I want.”

I muster up a little courage. “Can I ask for something?”

He tilts his head to the side and stares down at me. “That depends on what it is.”

I lick my lips, knowing it drives him crazy. “Will you wear your leather jacket while I blow you?”

His brow furrows, and a crooked, sexy grin crosses his lips. “Um, can I ask why?”