“Small. Why can’t I go with you?”

I shake my head and pull a black T-shirt over my head. “No. Listen to me. I’m going to trust you to not touch my shit while I’m gone. If I find out that you touched any of my stuff, I will fucking spank your ass raw. Come with me.” I head out into the living room and she follows me. “I want you to sit on this couch with the cat and not move, all right?”

She scowls at me like a child. “What is your problem? I’m not going to steal your stuff.”

I’m not worried about her stealing anything; I’m worried about her finding something with my name on it, and I don’t have time to go through the entire house to see what’s lying around. I keep this place really clean and don’t really have mail sent here, but I’m sure there must be something with my name on it somewhere.

“I know you’re not. I just don’t like people going through my personal things.”

She flops on the couch, pulls the cat onto her lap and picks up the television remote. “I have zero interest.”

“Do you need anything? Any kind of food you want?”

“No thank you. I barely eat anymore.”

“That’s changing tonight. I’m making us dinner.”

“You can’t make me eat. I’ll use the safe word.”

I roll my eyes. “You can’t use the safe word for dinner. That’s ridiculous, and not even funny.”

She shoots me a dirty look, and I suddenly feel as if I’m living with a teenager.

“I won’t be gone long,” I tell her, picking up my car keys.

“Should I expect any random women to show up while you’re gone?” she shoots back.

I smirk and cross the room to stand over her. “Were you jealous of Evelyn?”

“Who’s Evelyn?”

I want to spank this girl so bad I can taste it. She’s such a little instigator. She flip-flops from being quiet and depressed to sarcastic in about two seconds.

“You’re begging for a spanking, ya know.”

“Just go already.” She’s not even looking at me.

“Stand up.”

“Why?”

“Don’t question me. Just do it.”

She puts the cat gently next to her and stands up, twisting her hair around her finger and chewing her lip.

“Kiss me goodbye.” I soften my voice to ease her nerves.

“I don’t like goodbyes,” she says, her voice thick with sadness.

“I can understand that. Then just kiss me because you like me.”

She peeks up at me beneath her messy bangs. “Maybe I don’t like you.” I know she’s only half teasing, but her words cut me and kill my mood. Which is really different for me, because I don’t like many people and couldn’t give two shits if anyone likes me. But I want her to like me, and even more than that, I want her to want me.

“Hey, I’m used to people not liking me. Join the fucking club.” And with that I leave, slamming the door behind me.

I take the car I keep up here instead of the bike because I can’t cram too much stuff into the saddlebags. On the way to the store I blast some music to try and raise my mood, but it’s not working. Maybe I should just take her home and stop playing with fire with this situation I’ve created. I should not be fucking around with the widow of someone I accidentally killed. It’s pretty much the most fucked-up thing I’ve ever done. Lukas would kill me if he knew, and Storm would have a goddamn coronary. Ash would try to ban me from the fucking planet. Self-righteous assholes.

But this girl … this little broken doll of a girl that used to smile and write silly status updates like “omg! This cookie is amazing!!” she has entranced me. She’s woken my desires and eased some of my pain already. I crave both her dark silence and her sensual innocence. I want to catch her smile with my lips, feel what she feels, see what she sees. I need her to be happy, because I believe it’s contagious and I want her to infect me with it. I don’t want to give her up.

I pick up a few grocery items, some small sweatpants, T-shirts and panties for her, and then wander into the craft store that is conveniently located next door. She’s way too delicate for my usual industrial ropes and chains. Instead, I want to bind her with silk ribbon and long strings of pearls, to tie her beauty within beauty, and then defile her with my ugly darkness just so I can undo it again.

As I drive back to the house, I play last night over in my mind. I’m surprised at how willingly she came with me, and let me touch her. I don’t think I misjudged her in thinking she’s a good girl that doesn’t sleep around. She turned me on like mad. I want to believe that she wanted me just as badly, but I know that’s far from the truth. It must be that she has reached a level of destruction where she wants me to ruin her and is using me to facilitate her own mental demise.

Shit.

Tabitha

The little blind kitten purring on my lap has a therapeutic effect on me, his little internal motor like a lullaby. I gently rub my fingers on his forehead. One would think that a kitten that was tortured and who’d completely lost his eyes would be scared, timid, hiding from people. But he’s not. He’s totally loving and trusting, willing to give life and humans another chance.

I haven’t had a pet since I was a little girl, but this little furball is making me want one. It would be nice to have a sweet cat like this to cuddle with at night, rather than being all alone in the house. I wonder if the guy would let me have him. He really doesn’t seem like the type who would want to have a disabled pet.

“You want to come live with me, little guy?” I say in a baby voice. He purrs louder and rolls on his back so I can rub his tummy, making me laugh.

I think I accidentally upset the dominant dude. I didn’t mean to, really—I just can’t seem to control my emotions at all anymore. I’m a total mess since Nick died, and I feel as if I’m flailing off the edge of a cliff most of the time. Just a few months ago life was so different. We were trying to have a baby. We both had good jobs. We had great friends. We were happy, at least most of the time, and more than most couples I know. A lump forms in my throat as the memories play in my mind.

And now …

Now I’m lying on a some guy’s couch, a guy I let tie me up for a blow job and fuck me, a guy who threatened to spank me and wants me to submit to him. There is something incredibly alluring and sexually magnetic about him, something taboo. I want to give in to him, and I don’t even know why.

He was right about the release of control and it making me feel better. It really did, so very much, but not in any way that I have ever felt before. It was exhilarating, like falling without a net, yet knowing I would be caught. It felt dirty, too, and as much as I tried to fight it, it turned me on.

You’re a pig.

There is sadness deep in him, a darkness living there that pulls him under. He’s hiding so much from me, not letting me see all of him, and I know there is more to him than he’s letting on, more than I assumed he would be. He’s a Pandora’s box that I should probably not play with, but even after just one day, I feel hooked. I honestly think his need for control stems from a fear of abandonment and loss. If he controls the relationship, then he can’t be blindsided or hurt.

While he’s at the store, I consider calling a cab and getting the hell out of here before I get in deeper, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I’m too intrigued by him and what he’s offering. I like how he’s melting the ice around me, helping me feel again, awakening feelings I’ve never felt before, helping me find a new me.

Yesterday I wanted to die, but today I just want to kill the girl I used to be and meet the girl I could be.

It’s a start.

***

A door shutting and the kitten jumping wake me up. I look around, disoriented, and he’s standing over me, holding some bags.

“I’m sorry. I must have dozed off.”

“Don’t apologize, I want you to rest. You’re exhausted. And too thin.”

I follow him to the kitchen and help him take the stuff out of the bags. It feels strangely domestic and familiar. “I thought men liked thin.”

He winks at me and my insides melt for days. “I like some curves so I can hold onto you. You’re way too skinny. My dick weighs more than you.”

I make a disgusted face at him. “Ew. That is so … ugh. I don’t even know.” I shake my head and busy myself with the groceries while he laughs.

He’s putting things in the refrigerator, his long, black hair cascading over his muscled back and shoulders. Yesterday my head was too messed up and foggy to notice how gorgeous and sexy he is. He’s got the kind of carnal looks that stops a woman in her tracks and makes her wet instantly just by looking at him. His dark skin, facial features, and long, black hair definitely hint at him being Native American. And those muscles and tattoos … wow.

“I’m sorry I upset you earlier … before you left.”

He shrugs it off. “I don’t get upset.” He’s lying.

“I thought this worked both ways?”

“What do you mean?”

“This morning you said you needed to know what I was feeling. I need to know what you’re feeling, too.”

“I really don’t talk about my feelings. Sorry.” He pulls bottled water, assorted fruits and toiletries out of the bag. “I need to know your feelings so I can understand your needs better and help you.”

I take the milk carton he’s holding out of his hands and put it into the refrigerator. “And who helps you?” I ask him pointedly.

“I bought you some clothes,” he replies, completely ignoring my question and gesturing towards a bag on the table.

After dumping out the contents of the bag, all I see are black sweatpants, little T-shirts, and plain bikini panties.

“Geez. This is fashionable,” I joke.

“No need for fashion. I’ll have you naked most of the time and on your knees,” he says, and then pauses. “Or on all fours.”