I lied to the girls each time they asked me if I remembered something. Like when Paxton taught them how to ride two-wheeled bikes in the street right out front. I assumed since I wasn’t in any of the pictures, I was the one taking them. There were a lot of those, photos of everything from swimming in the ocean to tea parties. Father-daughter banquets. Sports. Day camps. Park outings. Disney World. These girls had seen more in five years than most kids did in a lifetime. We were busy.
I couldn’t get away from either of them for the rest of the night. If I went to the bathroom, they waited outside the door. If I hobbled to the kitchen for a drink, they went with me. Even when it came time for bed. They begged to sleep with me. Of course, Paxton wouldn’t let them. They agreed when he explained that they might bump my bruises and hurt me. They didn’t want that.
I kissed them both goodnight, leaning down from my crutches, wanting more. I wanted to lay down with them, read them a story, and tell them I loved them. Because of Paxton’s intimidating stares, I didn’t allow my voice to sound cute or in the baby talk I longed to use.
Paxton followed me into the hall, telling both girls he would be right back for a story. I wanted to sit and listen, too, just be with them, but again, I didn’t speak up. I was in no shape to pick a fight. Hands down, I would lose. There wasn’t really much I could do, anyway. I was still trying to decipher what the hell kind of marriage I had.
“Don’t take your clothes off. I want to do it,” he whispered, kissing my neck just below my ear.
“And what if I don’t want you to?”
“Doesn’t matter. Go to your room.” His tongue darted into my mouth that time and I thought I might gag.
Two giggling girls cackled through the hall, hands covering shy mouths with hunkered shoulders.
Aahh! In spite of that gross kiss I’d just endured, the girls were too darn cute. I laughed a little, too, but only for a second.
Rowan broke the pleasantry with her remark. “Daddy loves Mommy.”
Ophelia followed her sister and chimed in, too. “K-S-N-G,” she sang while trying to spell out kissing. She missed a few letters. Paxton let me go and went after them, sending them both into a screaming frenzy. I smiled and continued on my way. At least he was good to them. That meant something. I didn’t know what, but something.
I was tired, ready to lay down and rest, and I still hadn’t had the chance to explore all of my surroundings. I hadn’t snooped through the house at all. I knew both girls’ rooms were dressed in little-girl things. Neat and clean. I loved the openness of the living and dining room, and that kitchen. Oh, my God. It was a chef’s dream—if you liked that sort of thing. I had a feeling I wasn’t much of cook. Besides the bathroom and my room, I hadn’t seen anything else. I didn’t care to that night. My nerves were too wired. I was exhausted, yet anxious. Anxious for my bath.
Chapter Four
I hopped to the wall of curtains, stopping once to adjust the crutch, digging into my left armpit. With a heavy sigh, I gazed out the window, out to the sun about to kiss the ocean. My view consisted of a swimming pool right outside my room, and a fenced-in yard with a wooden playset consisting of two swings and a swirly slide. The house truly was the best one in the entire cul-de-sac. I was sure we owned at least four, maybe five lots. Well Paxton owned it. I didn’t know what I owned. Evidently, it wasn’t Rowan.
My shoulder hurt when I raised my arm, but it didn’t keep me from rubbing my temples with both hands. My head hurt worse than my shoulder. Mostly from not knowing why my husband was my husband, why I showed up in Rowan’s life at about six months old, or why Paxton thought anyone would lie about something like this. Who fakes head injuries? It was so frustrating. Viewing the photos of my life with the girls had done nothing but confuse me more. I knew the photos were of me¸ yet it didn’t feel like me. I didn’t remember it. None of it.
I heard Paxton open the door, close it, and walk toward me, but I didn’t move. My palms became sweaty and my heart thumped in my ears, but I didn’t show fear. Although I probably should have.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he questioned in a loving voice while his arms went around me and his lips kissed my neck. I shuddered from his touch and tried to step away. He squeezed me tighter and added another kiss.
“I don’t think I can have sex with you yet,” I bluntly admitted.
Paxton pressed his flat palm against my lower abdomen and thrust his hips into my backside. “Because you don’t want to, or because you’re hurt?”
“Both.”
“Lucky for you, I don’t want to fuck you,” he confessed with a wondering touch, up and down my hips, my ass, and my breasts. And all while his lips sucked and licked on my neck.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Rowan? I thought she was mine and not yours,” I replied, totally skipping over his comment, and probably one of his lines. I wasn’t about to respond to that one. I kept a stiff posture, trying to ignore his meddling fingers, eyes watching the sun. Even with him pressing his hips into mine, the ocean was breathtaking. Unprecedented. Like it was the first time I had ever seen it.
He halted his movements and laughed in my ear. “Ha! You honestly think I’m the type of man who would love another man’s kid?”
I knew calling him a pig wasn’t in my best interest. It was obvious, I wasn’t allowed to talk back, let alone call him a disgusting rat.
“Tell me how we met,” I replied instead.
The assault continued on my body along with his kisses, and hot words. “No. Shhh, don’t say another word. You’ll remember or I’ll teach you all over again.”
My reply was silenced by the tips of his fingers. There wasn’t a word I could say that this man would understand, that he would respond to in a human manner. He wasn’t human. He was a devil spawn.
“That’s my girl. Now go to the bathroom so we can get you out of these clothes.”
I felt it that time. A growing erection. Great…Paxton ground his hips into my ass and let me go. He turned and walked away from me, leaving me staring after him. I watched him walk into the bathroom, and pondered what to do. I followed when he stopped at the door and waved me in with an open hand and nod toward the room. I took an unnoticed breath of courage and hobbled into hell.
I made it to the first counter before I had to stop. Pain shooting down my hip kept me grounded for a minute. The black-and-gray swirled countertop was covered in fingernail polish. Every color. I glanced at my unpainted nails, and then at my toes. No polish. The bathroom sink worked well for support while I waited for Paxton gathered his necessary tools.
He whistled a familiar tune with a smile while retrieving an electric razor and then a straight one. Not a normal kind of razor with three blades. This one had a long blade.
“All set,” he said, voice matching the boasting written all over his face. He closed the distance between us in three steps. First, he dropped to his knees and unfastened the four Velcro strips on my leg brace. I had to admit, it felt amazing. It felt wonderful to have it off. My captivated leg welcomed the air with joy. I think I might have even sighed in relief. The yellow bruising had almost faded, and one fresh scar snaked from the inside of my knee, around my leg, and to the other side. I could still see tiny holes where the stitches had been.
Paxton’s were warm and used just the right amount of pressure on my leg, which proved to be an unexpected pleasure that didn’t last long.
“Did I always shave down there?” I questioned, unable to get the sharp blade out of my mind, or my eyesight. I swear the blade twinkled like a crystal prism.
“Shhh...Toy. Don’t talk. Don’t open your mouth.”
Toy? I know my eyes grew wide. I’m not sure if it was the word, or the notion behind it that shocked me more. I tried to swallow, yet there was nothing to swallow. My mouth grew dry, my legs trembled from the inside out, and the beat of my heart played out in my head. Paxton slid his hands up my calves, taking the hem of my dress with him. His fingers glided up the backs
of my legs, coming to a stop on my ass. Our eyes locked and I held his gaze, searching for answers. He scared me, there was no doubt about that, but I wasn’t about to show it. I held his stare, never looking away.
“Look down,” he quietly ordered, hot sultry words, chilling me to the bone.
I looked down like a cowered without a word. Paxton didn’t speak either. He carefully undressed me, sliding my dress over my head and tossing it to the floor. Next came my panties. He took both my hands and tugged, beckoning me to stand. Just like a puppet on a string, I did. My body spun toward the sink with his help and I held on for support.
The reflection staring back at me wore a lost expression. Nothing about this had an erotic ambiance about it. It sickened me. Paxton Pierce was a sick man. I could barely stand, and yet he wanted to play, like I was his toy. What the hell was that? I stayed still, the air hitching in my lungs, while Paxton took his time on removing the string from my ass. The heat from his heavy exhaling fanned warm across my skin.
Another gasp wedged in my throat when I had to lift my leg to step out of my skimpy panties. My fingers tapped anxiously on the counter for a few seconds while I waited for the pain to subside.
My body gradually relaxed and my eyes closed when Paxton ran his fingers between my legs. Stupid dopamine instantly exploded in my brain. The pain vanished, replaced by a pulsating between my legs.
Well, great.
My eyes opened to my own reflection when a finger slid deep inside me. Oh, man. This was bad. I wasn’t supposed to react this way. What the hell? My lips parted and a faint pant escaped when his fingers easily glided through my slit.
Paxton hissed while his fingers did magic on my throbbing nub. “That’s my good little slut,” he whispered while kissing my right butt cheek. I watched my shocked expression morph into an erotic glow while my body reacted through the mirror.
“Paxton, I have to sit down,” I said while feigning strong pain. The endorphins shooting through my body kept me from really feeling any excessive pain, but it was all I had, the only excuse that popped into my mind at the time. Not that it mattered. My attempt to control the situation had backfired, and I found myself in an even worse predicament.
Soft kisses were placed up my body, stopping on my shoulder. One finger ran up my spine, starting at the crack of my ass while our eyes locked through the mirror. Once again, my breath caught in my chest. Dark piercing eyes. Eyes that hated me. Why? What the hell did I do to this man? He turned me to face him, gliding his tongue around my lips and into my mouth.
Jesus. What the hell was wrong with me? I kissed him, not the other way around. It was all me. My lips leaned into his and our tongues tangled together. Everything changed around me. The air, the feel of his touch on my back, and his lips. I literally felt the tension escape his body. My fingers lightly touched the hard stomach behind his T-shirt and I moaned in his mouth.
That stopped him cold. Our lips were separated by him and his eyes were wide, startled maybe. “Go to the shower,” he ordered in an unsure tone. That left me a little baffled. Paxton seemed to be taken off guard more by my advance than I was.
He handed me my crutches, and I jumped a little when the cold metal touched my skin. His nod toward the shower was his way of directing me without words. Careful with my unprotected leg, I limped toward the vast shower, my ass bared for his hungry perusal. Once I reached the bench, I hesitated, unsure of what to do.
“You don’t remember this? Surely you remember your shower,” Paxton inquired with a nonchalant tone. He took my crutches again and set them outside the glass wall. I didn’t answer. I chewed the inside of my gum and waited.
He removed his shirt and tossed it to the floor, now in nothing but basketball shorts. I stared at him as if it were the first time I had ever seen him shirtless. Paxton wasn’t a big guy by any means, but damn. He was tall, fit, and trim. His muscles bulged, but not in an unnatural way. Everything was proportioned to perfection.
Paxton stepped inside, wrapping me in his arms. My breasts were pressed against his and my nipples reacted. His arms pulled me close, forcing my hands to touch his chest and my heart to flutter. My fingers lifted like I’d just been burned, stiffening to keep from touching his pecks.
He tilted his head and pinched my chin. “Smile. You’ll like this punishment.”
I did talk that time. “Punishment?”
“Shhh, don’t talk.”
His hand pressed against my ass and I grimaced when pain shot through my hip and leg. He did ease off as soon as he noticed, but he kept a straight face, covering my lips with his thumb. It was my cue not to speak.
My arms fell to my sides when he abruptly stepped back. The sudden loss of balance caused me to put pressure on my foot, which went right to my knee. He held onto one hand and ordered me to sit with a nod. I gasped when my ass hit the cold marble, the jolt causing excruciating pain. I glanced up and searched his eyes for a clue to his mood. But he wasn’t angry, as I’d expected. Instead, he laid me down on the bench with gentle care, one arm around my back and a palm on my ribs.
It took a moment for me to relax into the cold marble, waiting for my sore muscles and bones to adjust, but I did. It was actually sort of comfortable.
I closed my eyes when he nudged open my legs.
“Keep your eyes open,” he quietly ordered.
I watched him walk away, retrieving the tools needed to remove the hair between my legs.
Again, no words were spoken. I lay perfectly still while Paxton used the humming shaver on me. Besides the embarrassment fact—my punishment—it wasn’t too bad. Not yet anyway. My eyes fluttered shut when his fingers opened me more for better access with the trimmers. Of course he ordered me to open them again. Other than that, we never spoke.
Once he finished with the trimmers, he turned on the water and removed one of the showerheads. Our eyes locked and I swallowed when the water hit my chest. Thank God it was warm. Paxton moved the sprayer down my body and between my legs, rinsing away my covering. Paxton watched my eyes, or maybe my expression. The water rained over me, straight down the center of my body, right between my legs.
My nerves kicked up a bit when he stepped out, returning with the straight edge. Jesus. He was really going to go there. If it was a plot to scare me, it worked. His hand massaged shaving cream around the leftover stubbles, and then he dropped to his knees. I didn’t move, not even to breathe.
Paxton took great care in shaving me clean. Slow, slippery strokes moved in every crevice. The time seemed to drag, and my body started to reject the hard position. I felt like Paxton sensed the discomfort and sped up on behalf of me. Then again, that could have been me looking for something good in him. Once again, he retrieved the handheld showerhead and adjusted the temperature
Warm water rained over my body while shaving cream ran in a swirl down the drain. No words were spoken between us. Not even when he replaced the water with a thin line of purple shower gel down my body, around my nipples and to the openness of my slit. Lavender.
My body relaxed with his touch. Both hands massaged soap into foam with soft strokes, and I forgot about being uncomfortable. Not one inch went untouched. He explored every part of my body. Each finger to the tip, every tickling toe, and every intimate place. I stopped breathing again that time, too.
Paxton’s fingers slid easily over the pucker in my ass and my body tensed. One finger penetrated me, and slid back out. The attention he paid to my throbbing nub insured I moaned, more than once, every time feeling the penetration in my ass and my overzealous nub.
Once again, endorphins canceled all rational thoughts in my mind. My good leg might have even parted a little more. That was when he stopped. Right when I would have let him do anything he wanted. The point of no return. I didn’t have to worry about it. Paxton didn’t let me get there to even worry about a return. He ran his hand down my slippery folds and back to the pucker in my ass with pressure.
Instant pain shot down my hip when I arch
ed my back, but it was easy to ignore. My lips parted and I fought the moan when Paxton opened me with his fingers and slapped my pulsating clit. Maybe I liked to be punished. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing after all. I fought hard to keep my composure, curling my fingers into tight fists. Paxton stopped as soon as I whimpered, feeling the onset of release. An impending orgasm, I wouldn’t have.
Jerk.
Paxton smirked and moved to my head. I could see his hardness protruding through his thin basketball shorts, now wet and spotted with water. At first, I thought he was going to make me give him a blowjob, but he didn’t. He rinsed my hair, and then carefully blended suds into my scalp, softly moving over my scars. One welt over the left side of my head, and one near the back.
By this point, I was beyond confused and frustrated. That’s it. This was my punishment? Okay…
Paxton helped me sit up. He dried my entire body while I sat on the bench. He kissed me, longingly, passionately, and with desire, and he was gentle with me, like he wanted me, like he loved me, but he didn’t. He backed off and handed me my crutches, and walked out. I shook my head in bewilderment and followed him, naked to my bed. He turned down the bedcovers, and ordered me to get in with a twitch, eyes moving from me to the bed
I had no problem with that whatsoever. I was more than ready to lay down. He assisted me to sit on the edge of the bed and slid a nightshirt over my head. No words were spoken, no panties donned. My glance shifted to the bulge in his shorts and back to his patronizing stare. Paxton helped me lay down and walked back to the bathroom, leaving me exposed. I didn’t see the need in hiding anything with the covers, not after the very intimate bath.
“No, I don’t want to sleep with it on. It feels good to have it off,” I complained, not wanting the bulky brace. He ignored me and carefully placed it under my leg, fastened the straps, and stared at my newly shaven sex. He leaned in and kissed my forehead while his fingers slid up the smoothness of sex.