To Hell and Back (21 page)

When the last glass is dried and put in the cupboard, I pick her up and carry her to the en suite bathroom.  She giggles when she realizes I’m making good on my promise to get her in that tub as soon as possible.  She starts the bath water and adds some sort of fizzy stuff she picked up today.  It smells like jasmine in here, mixed with something else I can’t quite put my finger on.  As the tub fills, we both drop our clothing in record time and she jumps into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist.  The curve of her ass rests on my erect cock and I’m suddenly not sure if we will make it into the tub. 

After a few kisses, Brie slides down off me and sinks to her knees on the soft rug covering part of the cold tile floor. Taking me into her mouth, she slowly presses forward until almost my entire length is enveloped by her tongue and throat.  She’s been practicing this for a while; I guess she read about it in Cosmopolitan magazine.  I’m more than happy to be the subject of her experiment.

As Brie moves back and forth on my swollen length, I feel my legs begin to shake from the pure ecstasy I’m feeling.  I try telling her to stop before it’s too late, but she only wraps her hands around my hips and pulls me in tighter.  It’s not a minute later that I’m calling out her name as my orgasm rolls through me.

When I’ve finished, she stands up with a smile on her face and says, “That ought to make sure we at least manage to get in the tub.” The little seductress is reading my thoughts again.      

I sit down in the hot, sweet-smelling water and Brie climbs in after me.  She sits with her back to me and I wrap my arms around her, playing gently with her nipples under the surface.  I bring my hands down between her thighs and finger fuck her through two orgasms before pulling her up and bending her forward.  Leaning against the side of the tub, she wiggles her ass at me, inviting me in.  Her legs are close together and it gives me an incredibly tight fit as I thrust inside of her.  I pump faster with hard, firm strokes until we are both panting and water sloshes over the sides of the tub.  Fisting a hand in her hair, I arch her back toward me until I can tell by the sound of her cries that I’m hitting the perfect spot within her.  We both race toward orgasm, finally coming together in waves before sinking down into the now lukewarm water to catch our breath.  We’ve christened our new home, but I’m still hoping to christen the bed before the night is over. I just can’t get enough of my angel.

***

It has been two weeks since we settled into this new place, and Brie and I have enjoyed every second we’ve spent here.  We’ve made love in every room of the house and on the patio already.  We’ve danced in the living room, sung along to heavy metal in the kitchen and she even sat on the bathroom counter one night, helping me shave my face.  We’ve really made this place our home and I’m sorry to have to leave it, but I have some promotional work to do in New York next week and I’ll be gone for three days.  I called Daisy and Sara to see if they could come stay with her while I’m gone, but their show runs every night and they can’t get away.  Brie assures me that she will be fine.  She’s in the final stretch of the creative writing class she’s been taking and she tells me she’s looking forward to the time alone to think and write.  I originally thought she would come with me, but we talked about my schedule and she isn’t interested in sitting in a hotel room while I run from place to place.  I can’t help but be a little uncomfortable with leaving her all alone.  It has been a while since she had a nightmare, but the thought of her waking up panicked in an empty bed breaks my heart.

In the end, we agree to talk, text and Skype as much as we can while I’m gone. I’m coming back sometime in the evening on my birthday, so she’s talked about having a romantic night in to celebrate. Whatever she plans, I’m sure it will be great. I have a feeling I will miss her about thirty seconds after I walk out the door.

Chapter Twenty-One

Brielle

I look around to ensure everything is perfect.  This will be the first time I’ve really gotten to do something for him and I want to do it right.  Carson has been in New York the last couple of days doing promotion for the movie and I can’t wait for him to get back.  I was a little disappointed he had to work on his birthday, but it ended up giving me the time I needed to set up a special night.

I’m adjusting the arrangement of roses for the third time when I hear footsteps outside.  I’m too excited to wait for him so I run to the front door and throw it open.  Everything inside me goes still and cold and it feels like several minutes before I think to push the door shut again.  I’m too late and his strong hand stops the door’s motion with a thud that seems at once too loud and too far away.  The expression on his face tells me I’m right to feel this terror inside, and I know without a doubt I’m going to die.   

Hank pulls me outside and slams the door behind us. There is a beat up Chevy I don’t recognize sitting in the driveway and Sheila gives me a little wave from behind the wheel.

Hank starts walking me toward the car and suddenly stops, turning to face me. “So this is where you and your little prick live, huh? Ooh, Brielle is fancy now. Fucking a movie star and all, the little slut thinks she’s moving up in the world.” Hank spits this out about an inch from my face; his grip on my arm grows tighter and more painful with every word.  “You’re not moving up, little girl, you’re moving back in.  At least until me and Sheila have what we want.”

“Hank, what is it you want?  Just tell me here and now.  I’ll see what I can do,” I plead.  If there is something he really wants maybe it will be worth more to him than beating or killing me. 

Lightning fast, the back of Hank’s hand connects with my cheek. “I’m still your father, you little bitch, and you will respect me. You don’t dare call me Hank again, understood?”

I nod and blink at him, too stunned to speak. I guess I’ve already forgotten just how bad this can be.

“Now get in the car and shut the fuck up!” he roars as he tosses me in the back seat before climbing in beside me.

“Say hi to Sheila, you disrespectful little brat. She’s gonna be your stepmom soon, you know.”

My stomach roils at the thought that Hank has found someone to marry. From the little I saw of her, Sheila seemed almost as fucked up as Hank, though, so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.

“Hi, Sheila,” I manage.  My cheek throbs when I open my mouth and it’s just as well since I don’t have anything else to say.  I’ll go along with this quietly and see what Hank wants.  I just want to stay alive and get back to Carson. 

“So, I bet you’re wondering how I found you, huh? You can thank Sheila for that one.  She found the trashy little magazines under your mattress when she was throwing all your things away.  She decided to try being an artist and is using your old room for a painting studio.  She threw them all away but one.  Decided to put it in the bathroom for a little light reading,” he laughs at his poor attempt at a joke.  I hear Sheila snicker from up front. “I go in to take a shit and there’s the face of that little asshole who came to see you staring up at me from the magazine rack!  Carson fucking Malone, teen heartthrob if you believe that gossipy bullshit, was fucking my daughter.  So Sheila googled him.  Turns out he has been pretty successful and all.  Probably loaded, we thought.  Then she reads that he’s just wrapped up making a movie.  There are some pictures from the set and Sheila’s looking through them while I watch a game one night.  Next thing I know, she starts to hollering for me.  She points to a picture of the director and right there behind that fucker is a girl that looks kinda familiar to me.  My daughter.  On a goddamned movie set!  So, then I know you’re still with that little prick.

See, I didn’t bother to go looking for you. Sheila took over taking care of me and so I didn’t really give a fuck what you were doing. I heard from Davis how sorry everyone was about your ‘anxiety’ stuff and not being able to go to school and all. So I told him and everyone else you had to get away for a while. Told them you moved in with your mom’s cousin in New York and were doing therapy and blah, blah, whatever. They bought it and I didn’t have to give a flying fuck or go through all that weepy daddy shit.”

I’m just sitting there, taking all of this in. I have nothing to say to any of it. Apparently Hank isn’t done listening to himself brag, so I’m spared having to respond.

“Well, me and Sheila got to talking and we figured you owe me. All those years you spent sneaking around and fucking every boy in town, I kept an eye on you and a roof over your head. I put food on the table. You didn’t appreciate any of it. I had to watch you and punish you constantly to keep you on the straight and narrow, keep you doing your chores and homework. I figure the least you can do is pay me back for some of that, right, Sheila?”

“You tell her, honey,” Sheila pipes up.  I wish I had the strength to hate her but I just feel sorry for her. 

“So me and Sheila decided to see just how good your pussy really is.  We’re gonna ask your sugar daddy for some money.  If he actually wants you back, he’ll give it to us. If not, then you’re just going to have to be our housekeeper and work off your debt.  I’m hoping for the money.  Much better than getting stuck with you again,” he laughs and Sheila joins him.

There is one thing Hank hasn’t explained and I have to ask.  “Dad, how did you get our address?”  We haven’t lived there long enough for many people to know where we are and I can’t figure out how Hank found us this quickly.  He obviously couldn’t ask his friends on the force if they thought I was “recuperating” in New York. 

“Got lucky, there. I called up the production people for the movie company and started asking around. They eventually put me on the line with some girl I didn’t think was gonna know her ass from her elbow. In the end, she was very helpful.  Said she knew who you were but didn’t wanna give out any information.  I told her I was your dad.  I said we’d had a falling out, but I needed to find you.  Told her your mom was real sick and that you needed to come home and see her.  I faxed her a couple of pictures of you and your birth certificate and my driver’s license. After that she couldn’t help me fast enough.  Told me you’d recently moved but she thought she could find out where.  Dumb little thing called me back less than an hour later and told me where to find you.  People are always suckers for a sob story, Brielle.  So, we’re gonna go back to my house and I’m going to call that actor of yours. Then me and Sheila are going to have a wedding, honeymoon, and whatever else we want, all of it on his dime.  When that’s done, you can go and I don’t care if I ever see you again.”

I just sit there feeling sick. I can’t let Carson get caught up in all of this.  I don’t have my phone with me; it’s still on the kitchen counter at home.  The only way Hank can get ahold of Carson is if I tell him the number and I’m not going to do that.  Sure, it sounds easy enough.  They swap money for the hostage, me.  But I don’t trust Hank.  Something tells me his rage will catch up with him somewhere along the way and I’d rather Carson not be in the line of fire.

We pull in the familiar driveway a little while later and Hank yanks me out of the car.

“Get inside before anyone sees you out here.  I don’t need questions,” he tells me as he drags me to the front door.  He opens it and I get dizzy just walking through.  The last time I was here I woke up four days later in the hospital.  Any good memories that might have lingered in these walls are long gone, replaced by fear and pain. 

I look around at all the things I hoped I’d never see again.  Hank’s chair is in exactly the same spot in front of the TV.  The blanket on the couch doesn’t look familiar, so I figure it’s one of Sheila’s additions. I don’t know why I’m surprised not much has changed. I’ve been gone months, but it has felt like years.  My life now is so far removed from what it was before Carson.  I feel a pang of regret at the worry I’m sure he’s feeling right now.  He has to have come home and seen the dinner I prepared, seen the flowers on the table, seen my phone on the counter.  My purse is there, my car keys.  He’ll know something is wrong.  Even if I’d leave without telling him, and on his birthday no less, I wouldn’t leave everything behind. 

Hank pulls me from my thoughts by asking for Carson’s phone number.  I don’t know why he didn’t just ask get it from whatever production assistant he tricked on the phone, but I’m glad he didn’t.  At least now I have some measure of control over this situation.

I brace myself before saying, “Go fuck yourself!”

He grabs me by both arms and shakes me, saying “I don’t know what’s wrong with you!  You’re a stupid, stupid girl, but I’m going to get ahold of that boy and get some money. That bastard will pay me for you.  If I have to beat that phone number out of you, I think we both know that’s fine with me!”

He punches me in the stomach and I double over, unable to take in a breath. I don’t know where Sheila is, but, surely she can’t witness this and be okay with it. Hank asks me again for the number and I still refuse him. He twists my arm behind my back and holds it there, whispering in my ear, “I have all fucking night, sweetheart.”

I try to pull out of his grip but it’s a mistake because he only pulls harder and I feel something snap in my wrist. I’m unable to stop myself from crying out and for a second I think maybe I’m being stupid. Maybe I should just give him the number and let him ask Carson for the money. I know my love would come straight here looking for me, though, and I will keep him safe if it kills me.

I hear footsteps going up the stairs.  Now I know where Sheila is, but apparently she has no intention of stopping this.  Hank asks again and my refusal earns me another punch in the stomach.  I feel a sense of déjà vu as I hit my hands and knees and vomit on the floor.  Hank yanks me back up, yelling something at me that I don’t even understand.  He tells me to stay put and heads for the kitchen.  Before I can think of doing anything else, he’s back with kitchen towels and cleaner.  He thrusts them into my hands and orders me to ‘clean up my mess while I think about what a mistake I’m making’. I’m not sure how long this is going to last, but I’m pretty sure it won’t be long before I start to wish he would just hurry up and kill me.