Dear Sir, I'm Yours (21 page)

“Evidently not,” she retorted. Her hips jerked, straining to get away from the constant torment. It felt incredible, yet it almost hurt, too. The pleasure was too great. Muscles ached in her thighs, strained wide by his shoulders, his hands gripping just below her buttocks, pushing her knees up.

“Every time you come for me, you submit. You surrender to me. Every time I don’t come, I master myself. I master my self control by claiming your surrender. It’s not about controlling you, Rae. It’s about controlling myself to give you maximum pleasure, to gain your maximum submission. Now do you understand?”

She jerked harder on her legs, trying to get out of his grasp, but he was too strong, easily holding her spread. “You’re controlling me right now.”

“No. I’m controlling myself to drag out your pleasure as long as possible. I want your ultimate trust, that you can give me your surrender over and over and over, and you’ll feel nothing but pleasure in my arms. It’s my job to test your boundaries, to take you places you wouldn’t go on your own, while controlling myself so you’re safe. If you trust me, really trust me, you’ll go to that boundary. You’ll trust me to pull you back to safety every single time, knowing the power is yours, always yours. Only you can give me what I want.”

“What’s that?”

“Trust me with your surrender. I’m going to make you come again and again, darlin’, until you give me your safe word. I need to know you can say it when you’re ready for me to stop.”

He brought his left arm up over her stomach to better pin her hips for him, his fingers sliding down to spread her folds apart. Light and soft, he stroked his tongue everywhere, until her legs wouldn’t stop trembling, her stomach muscles quivered beneath his hand. She couldn’t recognize the sounds coming out of her mouth, desperate gibberish. She’d never made such noise in bed before for any man, but the louder she got, the more he seemed to enjoy it.

She felt the orgasm building, an inexorable wave cresting deep inside her, black and monstrous, a category-five storm she didn’t know that she’d survive. Each orgasm had been more powerful, more devastating.

This one would tear her apart.

“You can put your hands on me if that’ll help.”

Immediately, she dropped her bound hands down to his head, her fingers twisting in his short, dark hair, gliding over his forehead, his eyes. She pulled him closer, ignoring the prickle of his jawline. Murmuring against her, he buried a finger inside her again, holding deep, swirling, and tension mounted in her, humming higher, winding every muscle tighter.

“It’s not enough,” she cried. Emptiness gnawed at her, her muscles clenched like a vise.

“I need you inside me!”

Adjusting his hand, he pressed harder, another finger. Sweat dripped in her eyes and her lungs locked. She felt it, the first tremor inside, growing, ripping her apart. “Conn, please!”

Her head slammed back, her body lost in the storm.

With his fingers still buried inside her, his thumb pressed against her tight anal opening.

A sheet of ice ripped down the back of her head and spine. She remembered her face buried in the pillow, Richard behind her, coming inside her like that. Pain had ripped through her. She’d cried, begged him to stop, that it hurt, and he’d never cared. He’d do it again, despite knowing she felt nothing but pain.

“No!” Scrambling, bucking, she fought in earnest. Great sobs ripping from her chest, it took her a moment to remember who she was with. Conn’s head jerked up, his gaze intense, all penetration stopped.

Conn.

“Ozymandias,” she gasped. “Ozy—”

He came up over her, his arms wrapping around her. “Shhh, darlin’. It’s alright. I’m here.”

But she didn’t want his arms. She didn’t want him to hold her and soothe away the fear screaming through her. He might coax her further next time. And for him, for Conn, she would go. She’d let him hurt her like Richard had, and then… She’d hate herself. And eventually him, as much as she hated her ex-husband.

“Let me up.”

“Rae—”

“You promised! I want to leave right now!”

What the hell had happened?

Teeth clenched tight, Conn let her get up, but every instinct bellowed at him to wrap her up tight against his chest and hold her until she told him what he’d done wrong. Obviously something horrific in her mind, because she twisted her wrists hard, ignoring the burn of silk.

He closed his hands over hers and softened his voice. “Shhh, hold on, darlin’. I’ll free you. Don’t hurt yourself.”

She held herself stiffly, her gaze averted, her body trembling. Her mouth was flat, her lips compressed, her cheeks splotched with dripping tears. Guilt and fear both churned in his gut. She couldn’t even look at him.

As soon as the scarf fell off, she dived for her dress and slid it over her head with trembling hands. If she walked out on him now…

He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he might never see her again. “We have to talk about this, Rae. I need you to tell me—”

“I don’t care what you need,” she retorted. Shaking her head, she frantically searched for her shoes. “This isn’t about you. This is about me. I have to protect myself.”

“You don’t have to protect yourself from me, Rae.”

Her sobs came louder. Bending down, she fished one of her shoes out from beneath the couch and laughed raggedly. “I don’t even remember taking them off. What else will I forget?”

His chest hurt so badly he couldn’t breathe. He reached for her, but she jerked back so hard she stumbled. If she’d only look him in the eye, he’d see the truth, whatever it was. She’d never been able to lie to him. Yet for the first time since he’d found her again, he was reluctant to know the truth.

If I lose her again…

Could he survive watching her run from him again? Could he bear to let her go if that’s what she wanted?

Cursing beneath his breath, he stood, holding his hands out at his side, fingers open, palms out, soothingly. “Rae, darlin’, look at me.”

She ran for the door. “No questions.”

Rushing after her, he slammed his palm on the door to keep it shut.

“I want to go!”

“Let me drive you. It’s dark.” Gently, he touched her back and she flinched, hunching away from him, even though all he did was help her zip the dress. She feared his touch. He’d lost all ground he’d gained in these past days. He’d failed the most important test of his life, and he didn’t even know the question which had sealed his fate. Despair made his voice rougher than he intended. “I’ll take you to Miss Belle’s. I need to make sure you’re safe.”

If only she would look at me!

Desperate, he eased closer, sliding his hand down her arm to pull her into his arms, but she skittered away. Shivering, she wrapped her arms tight around herself. She truly felt like she needed to protect herself. From
him
.

Fighting to keep his manner gentle and soft, he grabbed his black leather coat and dropped it over her shoulders. He murmured nonsense words to her, pleading with her to listen. If she’d close her eyes and feel the love in his voice, he could bring her back, but she refused to listen.

In her mind and heart, she’d already run.

He couldn’t survive another day without her, let alone an agonized stretch of years, wondering where she was, if she was alright, if he’d ever see her again.

As soon as he opened the door, she dashed for the car. She jumped inside and shut the door, her gaze locked away from his, her body rigid. One look, that’s all he needed. His fingers ached with the need to grab her and haul her against him. He knew she wanted him, needed his touch. She’d found pleasure in his arms.

How could they go from the hazed oblivion of pleasure to heartache so quickly?

Sliding into the driver’s seat, he turned to her. Silence had always worked before.

Eventually, she’d break. She’d tell him what was wrong. Staring at her face so pale and fragile in the moonlight, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t break her will, not this time. Vibrating with tension, she would shatter if he pushed her. If he violated his promise to ask no questions, to take her home when she’d asked, he would lose her forever. The proof was carved in her face wet with tears.

His eyes burned and his hands trembled on the steering wheel, but he forced himself to turn away and look straight ahead. “We
will
talk about this, but later. When you’re ready. I said I wouldn’t push you, and I won’t. You’re more afraid than ever, which makes me sorrier than I can ever say. Rae, please, whatever it is, I’ll work it out. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

She huddled lower in the seat, refusing to answer.

She needed space. She needed time. He’d sworn to give her whatever she needed, but damn it all to hell, he’d never thought it would be this hard. He never thought she’d truly want to leave. He slammed the Mustang into gear and drove. “Fuck.”

Even worse than her silence was that nagging sense of brittleness in her. Every dominant instinct he possessed told him to drag her back inside. He’d tie her to his bed. He’d torment her with pleasure until she begged to tell him what he’d done wrong. He could break this resistance, of that he was sure, but she might never recover.

In many ways, this was the harshest, grimmest test she could ever give him.

Could he truly let her walk away if that’s what she needed? If that’s what she wanted?

The few minutes to Beulah Land stretched in a painful eternal silence. Every second tested his control to the breaking point. If she might shatter, he would explode with worry, fear, and rage at himself that he’d scared her yet again.

She kept her hand on the door handle. As he rolled to a stop in front of the old house, she shook off his coat and jumped out, not waiting for him to park.

“Rae!”

Without looking back, she ran up the stairs to safety.

She ran from him.

Dear Dr. Connagher:

I finally learned how to say two very important things.

No,
and
fuck you.

I found my courage.

I told Richard no, and I meant it. I told him I wanted a divorce, and I meant that, too. I
told him to get the hell out of my house, and he did. I told him I’d shoot him if he came back,
and I will.

I will, Conn. I swear to God I’ll kill him if he comes back.

I finally realized I had let Richard ruin my life. I let him control me to the point that I
don’t even know who I am any longer. I finally realized that nobody’s going to stand up for me
but me. Nobody’s responsible for me but me.

Of course, now, it’s too late.

The signs were there all along, written here on the computer screen in countless letters
to you.

The little bursts of violence, the temper, the grudges. It was the little things, things I
didn’t even notice as I gave them up one by one. He didn’t like my TV show, so I quit watching
it. He wanted to watch baseball all the time, so now we watch baseball. He didn’t like my dress

—sound familiar?—and so I changed.

I changed for him, killing myself a little bit every single day, and I didn’t even realize it.

I’ve been mad for so long, at him, myself, even at you all these years. It kept building up inside
me, I guess, and this time, I exploded, and it was over the stupidest thing.

I don’t even remember what started it. But it finally dawned on me exactly how much I’ve
given up over the years for him. I’ve let him run me and Daddy’s business both into the
ground. The financial stress combined with Daddy’s medical bills has been killing me,
literally. I’m afraid I’ll give myself an ulcer worrying about it all, killing myself taking extra
jobs to finance Richard’s latest toys.

I finally saw it all, all the years of control and manipulation. I told him no. For the first
time in our marriage. And I meant it.

It felt damned good.

As every argument we’ve shared in the past year, this one disintegrated to sex, and I told
him no again. No, I don’t feel desire for him any longer. No, I don’t feel pleasure when we
have sex. NO, I’m not going to let him hurt me anymore. I hate it.

I HATE YOU, I told him.

I couldn’t stop myself, just like that day in your office. I pushed his buttons, deliberately.

I pushed him over the edge. But he doesn’t have your formidable self control, Conn. You gave
me a final over your desk and the best orgasm of my life.

Richard hit me.

No play acting, no seductive play, this was anger. I’ve got the bruises to prove it. He
plowed his fist into my face and knocked me on my ass in the middle of my kitchen floor. All my
weakness just disappeared. I jumped up and tore into him. I kicked his ass out of my house. I
told him to go fuck himself, because he certainly wasn’t going to fuck me any longer.

Then I called the locksmith to come change the locks. I bagged his stuff and set it out on
the porch. I called Mama and Uncle Frank and told them not to let Richard into Daddy’s
office. And then I came in here and wrote to you.

I did it, Conn. I stood up for myself and said no. Now, I feel like crying, because out of
all the people I’ve known in my entire life, it’s you I wanted to talk to. It’s your approval I want
to earn.

It’s too late in many ways. It’s too late to save Daddy’s company. It’s too late to save
myself. I’m ashamed how far I’ve fallen, all because I couldn’t say no.

Never again, Conn. I will never put myself in this kind of sinkhole again. I will never give
up control of my life to another person.