Abuse: The Complete Trilogy (72 page)

“Fear is a
natural reaction to moving closer to the truth.”

— Pema
Chödrön

~~~

Grant
Wilkinson

I finish my
morning exercise routine, shower and jog downstairs to the kitchen to find
Renata. Whatever she’s making for breakfast smells delicious.

I find her at
the stove, her back to me. She gasps when I quietly slip up behind her. Placing
my hands on her hips, my fingers brush along her curvy ass. Her long, blonde
hair is up in a high ponytail, so I nibble on the soft nape of her exposed neck.

Blood shoots
into my cock so hard and fast it makes my head spin.

Renata does this
to me, she drives me crazy. I constantly work for control around her. No matter
how demanding I am, she always meets me halfway, eager and ready to go. We have
unbelievable sexual chemistry. It's wonderful … and brutally addictive.

“Mm darlin’,
something smells good,” I murmur, glancing down at the skillet. “Yum. An omelet.
What’s in it?”

“Cheese, red
onion, spinach and tomato.”

I turn my head, focus
on her long, slim neck. It’s very kissable, so I start by kissing over her
pulse and the edge of her jaw. My hands roam up her flat belly and ribs to palm
her soft, yet perky breasts.

“Grant, you
goofball! I’m cooking here. Talk about a serious distraction. My panties might
not be the only thing to go up in flames if you keep this up.”

I snicker at her
humor, then nuzzle behind her ear. Her sigh of pleasure makes my dick twitch.

“Mm,” she moans.
“To avoid a house fire, you might want to wait until I finish cooking.”

“I’m testing
your skills,” I say in a breathy rasp as my mouth, teeth and lips inch along
the column of her neck. The smell of coffee, breakfast and her feminine scent
fills my senses. I palm her breasts, her nipples are now hard and erect. She
gasps deliciously when I pull on them with forefinger and thumb.

“Is it true
women really can do multiple things at once?” I ask.

“Um… multiples?”
She snickers. “Oh, yeah, for sure. It’s never just one when it comes to you.”

“Oh, you are
such a bad, bad girl,” I murmur, gently nibbling on her ear.

“Mmm,” she hums
happily.

Her body softens
against me, yielding. Kitchen sex is clearly OK by her. I glance toward the
kitchen table; it’s been cleared from the night before. I remember the sound of
objects crashing to the floor yesterday and smile. Today, there’s not a thing
on it.

My attention to Renata’s
neck, ears and throat is like flicking a switch. For her, these areas are ‘fuck-me-now’
and ‘I-don’t-care-what-else-is-going-on,’ erogenous zones.

If I bent her
over I know she’d be wet and willing. The accompanying visual on this fantasy nearly
makes my eyes cross.

With a happy,
aroused sigh, Renata throws her head back against my shoulder. “Well, I don't
see any
actual
flames… yet. How am I doing? Am I passing the test?” she
murmurs.

“Mmm-hmm.”

Stiff the moment
I saw her, I grind my erection against her ass. Still teasing and devouring her
neck, I ease open her bathrobe. Her perfect cleavage peeks out of a cream
colored silk nightie.

Cream. Oh,
yeah.

Licking my lips,
I make a sound of lust from deep in my throat.

My hands
continue stroking the fullness of her breasts. They look and feel so good, so
tempting. My mouth waters, I want a taste. When I take her nipples between my
forefingers and thumbs, twisting and tugging, she gasps—then she moans.

“You pass every
test,” I say huskily.

My aching shaft
throbs and twitches eagerly. Almost shaking with desire, I’m in complete
agreement with my cock. We both want inside of her…
right now.

“Should I turn
the stove off?” she murmurs. “Should we eat later?”

What a silly
question.

The kitchen
counter is the perfect height. Earlier visions return of bending her over so I
can see her wet, swollen lips and delectable ass. I’ll keep her legs firmly
together for a change, my thighs outside of hers. She’s super tight like that. I
imagine her silky warmth already.

As I'm about to
seal this deal, my phone rings. As this is something it rarely does, I frown,
irritated by the timing.

Her eyebrows
arch mischievously. “Is my innocence to be saved by the bell?”

I snort. “Not a
chance. You stay right there, this won’t take long.”

Renata’s eyes
sparkle. I’m so glad she finds my need for dominance and control a turn on. I
growl and grab the source of my irritation. Caller ID informs me it's André.
This kind of interruption I can handle.

I answer it with
a big smile. “André!”

“
Oui, oui
,
it is I. How are you, my friend?”

“Excellent.”

“
Bon.
I
am calling to let you know. This week, I intend to come to Dallas to see your
Detective Bronowski. I am personally delivering the evidence the police have
subpoenaed. Do you wish for me to visit with you both while I am there?”

“We’d love to
have you. Absolutely.” I glance at Renata, she nods and smiles her agreement. “You
must come to stay at my house, with us.”

“
Merci,
I
would be honored to do so.”

We discuss
prospective dates and some details about his arrival. He tells me he’d like to
meet the rest of my family, which takes me by surprise. Alex will be fine, but
my mother? Or Betty Jo? To say I have reservations is an understatement.

I suppose if I
tell my mother André is the bastard prince of some European King, she might be
nice to him. For her, money isn’t everything. Connections, family
and
money are everything.

I can’t imagine
any woman not being nice to André—he charms everyone. On the other hand, my
sister hates all of my friends on principle. That isn’t a problem usually,
especially after Betty Jo strangled Renata.

Now I hate her
back.

By the time I
hang up, Renata has our meal spread out and ready, so we dig in to the tasty
omelets. Briley was up at five this morning, demanding an early breakfast. Now he’s
gone back to sleep. Apparently teething, the poor little guy's been having a
tough time.

Since we’re
alone, my cock and I view this as the perfect opportunity for satisfaction. Two
heads are better than one, and both of mine are smugly united in their goal.

It’ll have to be
an extra quick, quickie since I need to get to work. First, we’ll enjoy our
breakfast. Then I intend to pound myself inside of Renata.

Again.

That particular
activity has become one of my favorite things to do. Talking, laughing,
cuddling and just being together also make that list.

“So,” she says
in a conversational tone. “Don’t you think it’s time you and I discussed your
sexual fantasies?”

I’m in the
middle of sipping hot coffee when she casually mentions this. Her comment
almost makes me choke. I swallow hastily, clear my throat and cough a couple of
times.

“What?” I gasp.

“Oh, c’mon,” she
says with a knowing expression. “You’ve been holding back, Grant. You have some—no
doubt—delicious, naughty thoughts you’re hiding. I want to know what they are.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Then, I want to do them with you,” she adds cheerfully.

My gut twists.

If she only
knew. What if I tell her and she thinks I'm disgusting?

Renata's light,
pure and perfect, and I’m…
not
. Sure, I’m controlling in bed, but she
seems to like that. I always treat her with the love and reverence she
deserves. I don’t want to tarnish her beauty and perfection with my filthy
desires. What could she know of the dark, dirty crap I try
not
to think
about?

I came down for
breakfast, certain we'd enjoy a fast, fun romp. Nothing was going to deter me.
André's call was only a brief distraction. Yet, with that one statement, my
happy self-assurance turns to panic.

I take a deep
breath, let it out on a sigh. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say. “Some
fantasies are meant to remain just that—fantasy. Hell, if people acted on every
impulse, the crime rate would skyrocket. Otherwise I’d have already had someone
kidnap Betty Jo and dump her in an Australian desert by now,” I finish with a
teasing chuckle, desperately attempting to sidetrack her.

Renata smiles but
says nothing, she doesn’t even laugh. I thought it was funny. Clearly, she’s
serious about wanting to know everything.

Fuck. How do
I get out of this potential disaster?

I take a deep
breath, hold it a few beats and blow it out. “Some of my thoughts… they’re
perverse,” I admit.

“Even better!
Those fantasies are what we
really
need to talk about. Relax. It’s just
sex. No inhibitions, no shame.” She looks so earnest.

I narrow my eyes,
shake my head. A lifetime of religious teachings flash through my mind. I’m a
grown man, but images of the fires of Hell still have the power to frighten me.

“If I tell you,”
I clear my throat, “you’ll think less of me. Maybe you’ll think I’m disgusting.
What if you don’t want me anymore?”

“I’ll always
want you.” Renata’s huge open smile covers her face. “Hey, I’ve got kinks
myself. I adore mirrors—watching you take me would be hot as hell. Threesomes
with either sex are fun for me, too. You don’t see me beating myself up for my
quirky kinks, do you?”

Somehow I keep a
straight face while she confides these unexpected fantasies.
Mirrors? Threesomes?
The vision of me having sex with Renata and another woman flashes into my
mind. How hot would that be?

I can’t think
of that right now.

“Listen,” she continues,
“if you have something that’s truly a shocker, I won’t go there. But I can’t
think of
anything
I couldn’t deal with unless, you want me to er… bring
a barnyard animal to our bed?”

“Hell,
no!
That's disgusting,” I exclaim, cringing and swallowing hard.

Shit. She
pulled that out of a hat. Was that her attempt at a joke? She must be joking. Thank
God I'm not
that screwed up.

“If that was
something you really wanted to do, I
couldn’t,
not even for you. Sorry,
no animals,” she says with a laugh and a blithe ‘no big deal’ shrug. “But it
wouldn’t stop me from loving you or wanting you,
nothing
could.
Nothing,
as in, it's
not possible
.”

I’m not
convinced.

“This kind of
sharing isn’t something to do with just anyone, but hey, we’re in this for the
long haul. We’re going to be married, right?”

“Of course.”

Unless she
decides I’m a pervert and wants nothing to do with me.

She crosses her
long legs. “Anyway, who knows where weird fetishes and kinks come from? Let's
not keep secrets from each other,
especially s
exual secrets. I want you
to accept every part of yourself. When it comes to thoughts and feelings,
anything goes. Everything should be able to be talked about. Nothing is
off-limits."

Holding my gaze,
she speaks from her heart.

Easy to do when
she doesn’t know the facts.

"Curiosity
and wanting to try new things is normal and healthy as hell,” she continues. “There's
really no point in repressing erotic dreams or interests. That simply adds
bricks to walls that'll grow between us. Communication is how we get together,
grow together, and stay together over time. We should be brave enough to
divulge to each other what we’d like to experience in bed. So go ahead, tell
me,” she encourages. “Honestly, whatever it is, I can handle it.”

“It’s not about
that, darlin’,” I say. “Making love with you is the most incredible thing in my
world—except for being with you, talking to you or knowing how much you
genuinely care about me. I don’t need any stupid fantasy when reality with you
is better than anything my imagination has ever come up with.”

Her eyes soften.
“Aww, that’s so sweet. That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“It’s true.” Her
smile tugs at my heart.

She leans
forward, kisses me lightly on the lips. “As nice as those beautiful words are
and as excellent a diversion, you’re still going to have to answer my question
sometime.” She smirks. “I want to know your fantasies, then I want to act them
out.” Her eyes glitter mischievously. “Role play is a blast.”

My face heats. “Renata,”
I rasp hoarsely, but further words fail me.

I can’t believe
she wants to talk about this! Of course, other than André, I’ve never known
anyone who’s as open-minded and straightforward on the subject of sex. I try
not to squirm, to let my roiling emotions show.

“You don’t have
to tell me now,” she soothes. “I just want you to think about it. Once we act
out your fantasies, you’ll get past your hang ups. Honestly, it’s just sex! But
first you have to tell me, right?”

My lips press
together, I run a hand through my hair.
Will I tell her? Can I? I’ll have to
eventually.

“Oh, c’mon! Cluck,
cluck, cluck, chicken!” Her blue eyes flash with determined resolve.

Shit. How am
I going to get out of this?

My phone rings
again. Two times in one morning!

“Saved by the
bell,” I say and fall on my cell with intense relief. The number is unlisted.

“Hello?”

“Grant? It’s me,
Alex.” He laughs in a strange way—weird, stilted. There’s no trace of real
humor in his laugh.

“Alex? What is
it? Are you OK?”

I hear a shaky
intake of breath. “I’ve been arrested for the murder of our father,” he says.
“This is my one phone call.”

“Jesus,” I whisper,
as a jolt of fear slams into me. I stand up and begin to pace across the kitchen.
“Was a detective named Bronowski involved?”