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Chapter Nine

Never underestimate the lengths a person will go to for revenge. My father said those words to me the day I left. I didn’t understand if this was a threat or a warning. Who would ever want to exact revenge against a girl who’d been kept in a basement for most of her life? Well, now I know that he wasn’t issuing this warning to me.

It’s been two days since I watched my father’s Audi S4 drive away and I’ve been a busy bee. I’ve been playing the part of Detective Alex Carmichael. I’d make a great detective.

After renting a car and staking out the Central Community police station on 6 ^th Street, I finally got a tail on Detective Daimon Rousseau. Turns out he really is a detective and he either has anger issues or he takes his job way too seriously. I watched him get in a fight with another officer while walking to his car.

Or maybe he’s just stressed about something. Maybe he’s feeling the heat from that murder he committed three weeks ago.

Either way, now I know his face, from a distance. I couldn’t see much, especially when he was scuffling in the parking lot, but it’s obvious he’s handsome. He carries himself with immense poise and an air of mystery. A bit of a loner.

Even after discovering these new details about him, I still don’t feel like I know the real Daimon. But I do know he’s coming to see me tonight. I watched him walk into a flower shop earlier today. Then he drove to his swanky apartment complex in Venice Beach.

I’m ready for you, Daimon.

I’ve resisted touching myself for eight days while waiting for him to knock on my door. My body and mind are primed for a perfectly sinful reunion. Tonight will be … explosive.

I spritz the air with a heady perfume, which I’ve mixed with a vial of pheromone oil I picked up at a local lingerie shop. Then I dab a few drops on my décolletage, smiling as I say the French word aloud a few times. It rolls off my tongue naturally. I think Daimon would be impressed.

As expected, at 11:23 p.m. on my night off, I get a knock on my door. I peek through the peephole and smile. He’s wearing the usual dark hood and he’s facing away from the door. I unlock the door and walk straight toward the bedroom.

“Alex?” he calls softly when I’ve reached the corridor.

I continue into the bedroom, calling over my shoulder. “Come in, Daimon.”

I press my back up against the wall. It’s cool against my skin as I wait for him. He enters cautiously and I can’t help myself.

“Boo.”

He snaps his head toward me and I’m actually quite turned on by that black, circular shadow under his hood. The small hints of light on the top of his lips and nose are enough.

“I apologize for my absence,” he begins and I quickly reach up and press my finger to his lips.

“Shh. You don’t owe me any apologies. I’m a woman now, remember? I understand how it is. Things get busy. You get swamped at work. Blah, blah…. Explanations are for saps.”

He reaches up and grabs my wrist to pull my finger away from his mouth, then he’s silent for a moment. “If you don’t want an apology for your own peace of mind, that’s fine. But I’m offering my apology because I believe you deserve better.”

“Better than what?”

He lets go of my wrist and my hand drops to my side. Stepping forward, his hand lands on my bare waist. “Why are you nude?”

I smile and lay my hand over his so I can slide it back onto my ass. “I was waiting for you.”

“How did you know I was coming tonight?”

“Woman’s intuition.”

I brought you something.”

He pulls his left hand out from behind his back and brings a sprig of flowers to my nose. It smells like raspberry and honeysuckle.

“What is it?”

“It’s freesia. It reminds me of my days as a young boy in France. I want to take you there someday.”

I take the flower from his hand and carefully tuck it behind my ear. “Perfect.”

He brings his hands up to cup my face. “I’ve missed you.” His hand trails down to my neck and he leans in until his lips are hovering over mine. “I was thinking about you every day.”

“I was thinking about you, too,” I breathe.

He runs his tongue over my top lip as his hand slides between my legs. “What were you thinking about, ma chérie?”

I draw in a sharp breath as his finger finds my clit. “I thought of you and me … fucking.”

He strokes me softly. “Did you touch yourself?”

“No. I wanted to wait for you.”

I whimper when he shoves two fingers inside me. He drives his fingers back and forth as I whine with pleasure.

“Oh, please.”

“Please, what? What do you want me to do?” He slides his fingers out and begins caressing my clit again.

“Please, fuck me.”

“Turn around.”

“No.”

He tilts his head back. “No?”

“I don’t want to do it like that.”

“You mean, you don’t want me to fuck you from behind?”

“Yes, I do. But … I was thinking ….” This is it. I have to just blurt it out or I’ll lose my nerve. “I want to try something different.”

He removes his hand from between my thighs and steps back. “What do you want to try?”

“I have this fantasy and I was hoping you could help make it happen.” I step forward and grab the dangling drawstrings from his hood. “I want you to pretend … to take me by force.”

He doesn’t speak or move while I count off the seconds in my head. Finally, at one hundred twenty-two seconds, he speaks.

“How long have you fantasized about this?”

“Since I began touching myself. I … It’s stupid. We don’t have to do it.”

I lay my hands flat against his solid chest, staring at the dark fabric of his hooded sweater. He presses his fingers against the bottom of my chin to tilt my face up.

“I don’t want to frighten you. I want to please you.” He kisses the corner of my mouth and I close my eyes, trying to remind myself to focus on my objective. “Would this fantasy bring you pleasure?”

I open my eyes and gaze into the darkness where his eyes would be. “I’ve been pleasing myself to this fantasy for years. Is that not normal?”

He chuckles softly. “There is no normal in the privacy of one’s bedroom. What pleases you pleases me, ma chérie. ” His arm wraps around my waist and pulls me flush against him so I can feel his erection growing against my belly. “But we need some ground rules. If you are not enjoying yourself, you must say something. A codeword.”

“How about … freesia?”

I can practically hear him grinning beneath that hood. “Okay, and if you want me to stop, you have to say rose. Okay?”

“Okay.”

I coil my arms around his broad shoulders and he lifts me gently so I can wrap my legs around him. He kisses me slowly and I can feel myself growing slicker with every passing moment. He presses my back against the wall and I moan into his mouth as he grinds the solid erection in his pants against my clit.

I pull my head back and smile. “I trust you.”

He moves his hips slowly, crushing me with the force of his manhood. “You shouldn’t trust me.”

He thrusts harder and I cry out. “Ow.”

“Does that hurt?”

“Yes.”

“How about about this?”

He reaches up and pinches my nipple, hard. I let out a screeching yelp. He claps his hand over my mouth and I continue to cry as he sets my feet down on the carpet and shoves his other hand between my legs. He rams his fingers inside me and the sound of my muffled cries seems to spur him on.

“Do you want to be fucked?”

“No!” My reply is smothered by his hand.

“What do you say?” he growls.

“No. Please. Please don’t do this.”

He’s silent for a moment and I begin to worry that he’s going to back out. Then he slowly slides his fingers out of my pussy and begins to massage my clit. Softly at first, then roughly.

“Ow.”

My knees begin to buckle and he presses his chest against mine to keep me propped up. “Don’t fucking move,” he whispers in my ear. “Or I’ll kill you.”

My stomach roils at the tone in his voice. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Shut the fuck up!” I try to push him away and he removes his finger from my clit so he can grab both my wrists and pin them against the wall. “I said don’t fucking move.”

I stare in the dark hole of his face, my chest heaving as I pretend to struggle free. He leans in and kisses my neck and I whimper. No. This is not part of the fantasy. I want to tell him to stop, but I can’t form the words.

He licks his way up my neck and to my ear and he kisses my ear so tenderly I could cry. Stop, I want to shout at him. Please stop this torture.

He moves to my mouth and kisses me the way I’ve only ever dreamed of being kissed. I can’t breathe for the longing that’s building inside me. His tongue strokes mine so lovingly and his lips are so soft and firm all at once. I have to stop this.

I lift my leg and knee him in his groin and he bumps his forehead against mine as he curses in French.

“ Merde! ”

I race into the living room and he chases after me. He catches up to me in the kitchen as I’m reaching for the knife drawer. He grabs my hair, yanking me backward.

“Help!” I cry out and he covers my mouth again as he bends me over the counter and forces my cheek against the cold tile.

“Shut the fuck up!”

It’s a low, snarl. An animalistic and primitive warning. A tone so cold and threatening it makes me long for the beautiful voice that’s haunted my dreams for the past week.

His fingers woven through a large chunk of my hair, he tightens his grip as he pushes my face into the countertop. With his other hand, he undoes his belt and pants, then he forces his way inside me.

I whimper with pleasure, then I remember this is supposed to hurt. “Ow.”

He thrusts into me and my belly slams against the sharp corner of the countertop. I cry out again, but the pain is real this time as the counter digs into my stabbing scar. Again he pounds me harder, and harder, one fist clutching my hair, the other covering my mouth. How is he supposed to hear me say freesia or rose?

A real tear rolls down my temple and onto the tile and, without knowing, he rubs my cheek against it. Driving my healing wound into the edge of the countertop. Repeatedly and desperately I cry out, but his hand muffles my howls.

“I’m moving my hand, but you are not to say a fucking word. Understand me?”

I nod my head and he slowly removes his hand as he drives into me. I sob through gritted teeth and he uses the hand he just removed from my mouth to reach forward and stroke my clit. He’s determined to make me come.

“Oh, please. Please stop.”

“Shut up.”

He buries his cock so deep inside me, I fear he’s going to pierce my vital organs. All the while, he caresses my clit until I turn to jelly beneath him.

“Freesia. Freesia!” I whisper before he can come inside me.

He eases me off the counter and my legs are so weak. It makes it easy for me to pretend to collapse onto my knees on the kitchen floor. He wraps his thick arm around my waist and lifts me off the floor. Then he turns me around and cradles my face in his hands.

“Did I hurt you?”

A small surge of emotion bites at my throat and stings at the corners of my eyes as I think of everything I’ve learned the past two days. I swallow the sadness and look up. I want to push that stupid hood off his head and tell him I’ve already seen him. But I can’t.

“No. It felt good … to be taken.”

He wraps his arms around my shoulders and, sliding my arms around his waist, I bury my face in the front of his sweatshirt. Then I allow myself a few more tears. A moment passes and he loosens his hold on me so he can tilt my face up to look at him.

“I’m going to make love to you properly now.”

Make love? I almost say the words aloud, but I stop myself just in time.

Love.

Ha.

I lick my lips then I stand on my tiptoes so I can press my lips to his. I brush my lips against his mouth without kissing him. He nuzzles his nose against mine and I feel the longing in the pit of my belly. That desire that I’ve tried to deny myself since his last visit.

I slide my tongue into his mouth and it pleases me when I hear him groan softly. I clutch the front of his sweater and pull him down so I don’t have to stand on my tiptoes. He takes that as a cue to squat down a little and wrap his arms around the tops of my thighs. Then he lifts me off the floor and carries me to the bedroom.

I can hear his belt buckle clinking, dangling from his pants as he lays me down on the bed. This is okay. I can do this the normal way. We can call it making love. But this time, I’m going to be in control.

I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Then I reach for his pants so I can pull them down.

“What are you doing?” he asks softly.

“I want to taste it.”

His jeans fall to the floor and I grab his hips to push him back a little. Then I kneel on the carpet before him.

I bite my lip nervously as I stare at the shadowy outline of his penis. I stick my tongue out and slowly lean forward until it makes contact with the tip. It’s a little wet and slippery. It tastes like me and a little salty.

I pull it out of my mouth and reach up to touch the tip. I swipe my finger over the small slit, then rub my fingertips together. I smile as I slide my hand between my legs and use the stickiness to rub my clit.

I moan and he takes that as his cue. He threads his fingers into the hair on the back of my head, then he pushes the tip of his cock into my mouth. I try to do what all those women’s magazines say to do, and I cover my teeth with my lips. It seems to work as he slowly builds the pace of his thrusts.

I continue to fondle myself as he works his way a bit farther into my mouth with each stroke. I’m about to come when he pulls his cock out of my mouth and steps back. He kneels before me and grabs my hand to pull it out from between my legs.

“Stand up.”

I stand and he grabs my waist to force me to sit on the edge of the bed. He spreads my legs and rests each leg on either of his shoulders. Then he kisses my clit as if it were my mouth.

“Oh, my.”

I can’t see him, but the soft sucking and humming noises he makes gives me a strong impression that he is enjoying himself. A lot. And, oh yes, so am I. So. Am. I.

He thrusts his tongue into my vagina and I let out a fragmented whimper. I grab the top of the black hood on his head, desperate to push it back, but he pushes my hand away.

“I want to see you,” I breathe.

He licks his way back up to my clit and begins sucking on it gently, the way I was sucking on his cock. Up and down. Then he flicks it softly and I want to crawl away from him. It feels so good it’s almost painful. He closes his lips around my clit, his tongue fluttering over it as he sucks gently. I thrust my hips upward and he maintains his position as he brings me to climax.

He licks me softly, as if he’s licking my wounds, until my body finally ceases spasming. Standing up, he kicks his shoes and pants aside.

“Take it off, please,” I beg.

He knows I’m referring to his hood, but he doesn’t oblige my request. He bends over me, wraps his arm around the small of my back, and scoots me further up the bed so he can position himself between my legs. Once he’s lying on top of me, I wrap my legs around his hips and he leans down to whisper in my ear.

“Come with me this weekend to an event. A masquerade ball. A benefit for a fallen comrade. After the ball, I will show you my face.”

A sharp pain twists inside my chest. This is not what I wanted. Then a small voice sounds inside my mind and a new plan begins to form.

“Yes.”

“You’ll come?” he asks, unable to hide his surprise.

“Yes. I can wear a mask, too, can’t I?”

He slides his cock into me and I gasp. He plants a soft kiss on the tip of my nose as he rocks his hips back and forth.

“Of course, ma chérie. Anything you want.”

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