I Know What Love Is (31 page)

He remains silent and I pull back so I can look in his eyes. His face is hard but I can see the softness for me in the depths of his gaze. He may be my weakness, but I make him weak as well. He doesn't want to lose me. He'll do anything to keep me. Some things never change. “I can't change that part of myself,” he says. “But I love you. I don't want to hurt you anymore.”

“Some hurt isn't so bad,” I admit. “But I'm not your slave. I never was and I never will be.”

“
Fair enough,” he whispers, pressing his lips to my temple.

“
No more leashes,” I repeat, closing my eyes and leaning into him. My body throbs and aches and suddenly, I'm exhausted. But his warmth surrounding me is a comfort.

“
No more leashes. No more cages,” he affirms, trailing his mouth down to my ear. “But handcuffs and rope and belts...” he trails off, his voice promising all sorts of deviant, dirty things.

“
Mmm,” I purr, throwing my arms around his neck and pulling him close. He hikes me up onto his lap and I straddle him, my robe parting to give him a good look. He  takes advantage, sliding his rough hands between the cotton fabric and my skin. His fingers dance up my back as I press light kisses over his face. First his cheeks, then his nose, then both of his eyelids. I roll my hips against his, too sore for sex but craving his cock anyway.

Bang!

Bang!

The front door rumbles with the force of someone banging their fist against it. We both freeze, my wary expression mirrored on his face. I scramble off of him and stand, my eyes darting to the door. The early morning sky is lightening by the second, and I can see the dark figures silhouetted in the frosted glass panes. Two of them, I realize. Probably men.

“Seattle P.D., open up!” A man's voice calls out, muffled by the door. He raises his hand and bangs on the door again. I glance back at Elliot, who's crouched behind me on the floor. The manic light is flaring up again in his eyes, and I know if he feels like he's shoved in a corner, he'll become violent. I hold out my hand, gesturing for him to stay down. He scowls, because he knows what I'm going to do.

Pulling my robe around me, making sure to cover any marks that might be on my neck or my wrists, I hurry to the door. I unlock the deadbolts, take a shaky breath, and open the door a crack.

“Hello?” I rasp, making my voice hoarse, like they've roused me from a deep sleep.

“
Joan Vasquez?” The older cop says, leaning forward. They're wearing suits, not uniforms. These aren't just beat cops, I realize. They're detectives.

“
That's me,” I say, opening the door a little wider.

“
A missing person's report was filed on a Joan Vasquez,” the younger detective says, stepping forward. He's almost cute, but looks like too much of a Dudley-do-right to fit my tastes.

“
Let me guess, my mother?” I say with a rueful smile. The two detectives share a look and I know I've hit the nail on the head. Leave it to Blanche Vasquez to overreact to a few missed phone calls.

“
She said she couldn't get ahold of you,” the older detective continues.

“
I was in Denver for a few days. I forgot my cellphone at home,”  I say, acting like everything is a silly misunderstanding. “She's very protective.”

“
Miss Vasquez, do you know an Elliot John Pritchard?” the younger man says, his eyes softening as he looks at me. My heart hitches in my chest and I don't have to fake a reaction to the name.

“
Yes,” I whisper.

“
I apologize, but I have to inform you that he escaped three days ago from Huntsville Penitentiary.” He digs around in his pocket, and I grasp the doorknob like I need it to help me stay on my feet. “There's a manhunt, but he has yet to turn up.” He holds out a his card and after a moment, I reach out and take it. “We have reason to believe he's headed this way. If you have any problems, you call me at that number.”

I stare down at the card dumbly, like I'm in shock.

“Because of me?” I murmur. “You think he's coming this way because of me?” The detectives share another look. Bingo.

“
Just give me a call. Any problems. I'll answer.” The younger detective ducks his head, and I know he's sincere.

“
We'll catch him,” the older detective says. “They always fuck up eventually.” I drop my gaze to the card again. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Elliot to the side of me. He's got my gun in his hand and his finger's on the trigger.

“
Thank you,” I whisper, my eyes filling with tears on cue.

“
You have a good day now,” the younger detective says. He feels bad for me. If it were up to him, guys like Elliot would be shot on sight. I appreciate the sentiment, but I hate being pitied. I nod slowly, staring at him until he looks away. Then they turn and walk down the slate stone path back to their black sedan. Beside me, Elliot drops the gun and rolls his shoulders. Nervous tension rolls off him in waves.

I know he would have shot them. Thankfully, it didn't come to that.

Our secret's safe for now. The future is a mystery, but today we'll get to sleep together, side by side. We'll get to eat together and fuck and laugh and live.

Like normal, everyday people.

A cool breeze kicks up, lifting the hem of my thin robe and causing goosebumps to prickle over my skin. Fog settles across the grass of my lawn like smoke. I glance up at the early morning sky. It's already cloudy. I predict another gray day in lovely Seattle.

With a smile, I slam the door shut.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

My name is Whitney Bianca and I'm a new dark erotica writer. My debut book,
I Know What Love Is
, will arrive in August 2014.
I'm a true fan of LOVE, romance, and sexy times.
I enjoy writing about power plays between two people, whether they're in love or in lust. I love taking my characters to the edge and shoving them off.
If you like to take a walk on the dark side, you're my kind of person. Maybe we can be friends.
Shoot me an email:
[email protected]

Thanks for reading!