Dark Passions: Dark Romance Boxed Set, page 33
Zane said nothing. “She’s here, and we love her. Does it really matter how or why?”
Miss Esther came back, so Jacqueline prepared her canvas, and had her sit in a comfortable chair so she could make the initial sketch. They had lunch in the studio, and Miss Esther decided to forego her own painting to let Jacqueline continue work on her portrait. She thought she managed to a decent job, even though Miss Esther had blue eye shadow on one eye and green on the other.
Nathan came to get her for dinner after she’d gone back to her room. He complimented her, they ate, and then he cuffed her wrists to the bedpost and used his mouth on her until she’d lost herself to pleasure three times. Her thigh muscles shook from the exertion of having such hard orgasms and clenching when she came.
Then he uncuffed her wrists and straddled her, his hands squeezing her breasts together while he slid his cock between them and she stroked the top with her fingertips. When she leaned forward and let her tongue lick the head as he thrust forward, he shouted and spilled himself on her neck and face.
Nathan kissed her, moaning her name, and licked her breasts, her neck, her face. He licked away all traces of himself, the eroticism of that thrilling her in ways she didn’t even know she could be thrilled.
Things went much in the same way over the next few days. She woke alone, ate with Zane and Miss Esther, and then painted her. They ate a light lunch right in the studio, and she had dinner with Nathan. He always stayed with her, and most nights he undid her with his fingers or his tongue, then cried out her name when she gave him pleasure in turn.
He whispered things to her when he held her. How beautiful she was, how he would never hurt her, how precious she was. And he asked her, every day, who she belonged to. She always answered you. He always kissed her as if there’d never been any question.
***
Jacqueline finished Miss Esther’s portrait on a Tuesday. Miss Esther cried, smearing her makeup on herself and on all their shoulders when she hugged them. Two days later, her painting hung in the dining room so that Miss Esther watched over them all.
Miss Esther’s landscape that looked like a paper crown with sideburns and a snake hung on the opposite wall in an ornate frame.
Dinner was tense, despite the initial happiness over the paintings. She knew she was being more quiet than usual, she felt tense and didn’t know exactly why. Jacqueline only knew the urge to go home, to see Garrett, had hit her suddenly in the middle of the day, and the conflicts within her were making her feel sick.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.” She put her hand on her face. A week ago she would have said you’re holding me prisoner, and that’s only the first on my list. Now she had no desire to respond that way.
No desire to hurt him.
“Jacqueline?”
“I feel . . . like I’m coming apart inside,” she whispered. “I . . . I don’t . . . .”
Nathan fished his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll get the doctor here right away.”
She put her hand over his. “I don’t need a doctor. I’m not ill, I just . . . God, I don’t know!”
Nathan rose and pulled her up into a firm embrace. “Shh, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. I don’t understand any of this. I . . . just feel numb inside.”
“Come here. Come with me.” He led her to the kitchen with his arm around her. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a fat strawberry. “You remember what happened when you ate a strawberry?”
“I couldn’t breathe, started swelling up. I told you, I’m allergic. Had to rush to an ER.”
“You remember this?”
“Yes.”
“Vividly?”
“I . . . vividly enough, I guess.”
He held the strawberry up to her mouth. “I want you to take a bite.”
“Why? Why would you want me to do something like that?” She pushed against his chest, but he held her firm.
“Jacqueline, I just need you to trust me enough to do this.”
“I can’t. Are you . . . are you saying I’m not allergic to strawberries? I am, I remember it! Just say what you mean, Nathan.”
“I’m not saying anything. I’m asking you to put your trust in me for just a moment. The doctor can be here in minutes. Nothing is going to happen to you. I won’t let you get hurt.”
He aimed those deep green eyes at her, pleading. “Please, Jacqueline. Trust me.”
Nathan pushed the strawberry toward her lips, and she instantly felt her throat close up as she struggled for breath, just like she did when she’d eaten one as a child.
“No!” She slapped the berry out of his hand to the floor and clutched her throat. “Stop it. You’re scaring me.”
“I . . . I’m sorry. We’ll try it again another day.”
“No. No, we won’t. I can’t eat it. Why do you insist on making me do things I can’t do. For days now I’ve been pushing it all down inside me--the guilt for liking it here, for liking all of you . . . for liking the way you touch me.” She gasped for breath now, near frantic as it came pouring out of her. “That’s what’s wrong with me, Nathan. I’m killing myself trying not feel guilty and wrong and bad for the way I feel about you, about Zane and Miss Esther. I’m learning to hate myself, and it’s all because of you!”
Nathan shook his head and reached for her. She stepped back, away from his touch.
“Nathan . . . please. You care for me--I know you do. So let me go home.”
He reached for her, stroked her hair. She didn’t flinch away this time.
“You’re where you belong, Jacqueline. You are home.”
Jacqueline sobbed, but she let him fold her up into his arms and hold her while she did so. When he took her to the bedroom that night, he pressed himself behind her and held her, and whispered how everything would be okay very soon, she’d see.
Jacqueline woke in the middle of the night. She sat up, as if snapped out of a dream.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Nathan hadn’t left the bed yet, but the room was still dark. He snapped on a lamp.
“Who is Esther? I mean, who is she to you?” Her voice shook. “I asked Zane one day, but he wouldn’t tell me. He would only answer my questions. She’s not your grandmother, Godmother or aunt. So who is she?”
Nathan shook his head. “Jacqueline--”
“She’s your mother. Miss Esther is your mother. Isn’t she?”
Nathan looked like he wanted to smile. “Zane’s mother--his birth mother. Yes. How did you figure it out?”
“I didn’t. I just . . . knew.”
“She’s very motherly toward us both. It’s not a hard leap to make.”
“She’s older than I would expect.” Jacqueline’s head hurt, so she rubbed her temple.
Nathan pushed her fingers away and rubbed it for her. “Women have children older and older these days.”
“But not usually to give them up for adoption.”
“No.”
“You’re not going to tell me anything else, are you?” She pushed his fingers away from her face. “Just like Zane, you’ll answer me when I ask you a question, but you won’t offer anything. Why?”
“For right now, that’s just how it has to be. Come on.” He tried to pull her back down into the bed.
“No, that’s no kind of answer, Nathan.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
She shouted and slammed her fists against his chest. “You are so frustrating! A simple straight fucking answer, that’s too much to ask after everything?”
“Calm down.” He didn’t react to the fists that hit his chest again.
“I can’t calm down. I feel like I’ll never be calm again. This all a game, it’s one big game . . . and I don’t know where I belong in it.”
She put both hands up to her head and twisted her fingers in her hair as flashes of faces and date and times and conversations zipped through her mind.
“You belong with me. You know this.”
Garrett’s voice was there in her head, telling her that Nathan was a liar, he was dangerous. He was manipulating her. He had manipulated her to feel things for him she didn’t feel.
“What have you done to me?” She looked at Nathan, feeling fear for the first time in a long time.
“What? I’ve--”
“You’ve been trying to make me forget, like those girls that were here. Trying to make me forget Garrett. Did you put a chip in my head, Nathan? Give me drugs to change my memories?”
She ran her fingers through her hair around the back of her head, feeling for a tender spot or a scab.
He grabbed her hands. “No! I haven’t had to. Don’t try to blame how you feel on something outside yourself, Jacqueline.”
“How could you . . . use me this way? Manipulating my mind this way? Garrett . . . he’ll find me, he’ll make you pay for it.”
“No, Jacqueline. No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Just try to relax, stop thinking so hard. You’re making--”
“Garrett is looking for me, and when he gets here--”
Nathan looked near tears. “How do you know Garrett’s even real?” he whispered, as if he were so enraged he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
Jacqueline’s muscles went limp. “What?”
“Garrett. How do you know he’s real?”
Jacqueline’s heart stuttered in her throat. She shook her head. Please don’t tell me this. Please.
Nathan wiped tears from his cheeks--tears--and rubbed his hands down his face. Then he seemed to brace himself.
“How do you know I haven’t changed your memories. Made him up. Given you a life that I took away from you? Hmm? Are you sure your parents are gone, Jacqueline? Are you sure you were shopping for groceries when you were brought here?”
“I was. Potatoes.” Something in her voice scared her.
“How long have you been married to Garrett?”
“Five years.”
“Where did you go on your honeymoon?”
“Hawaii.”
“When was the first time he told you he loved you.”
“We were . . . we had just . . . .”
“Can’t remember?”
“He told me! He’s told me so many times, I just don’t--”
“Hell, Jacqueline, the cuffs, the paddle, the snap hooks built into the bedposts. Why do you think all that’s there?”
She shook her head frantically.
“Maybe we’ve played this game before, you and I. Ever think of that? But how would you know? If I’ve fucked with your memory, you wouldn’t? You wouldn’t know it if I fed you false memories, broke you down and made you love me.”
He grabbed her head, his fingers sinking into her hair, and pulled her face close.
“And then wiped you clean and did it all over again.”
Jacqueline screamed, slapping and punching and scratching, hitting him where she could. Nathan didn’t push her away, just defended himself, letting his forearms take the brunt of her assault.
“No, no, no, no, noooooo,” she wailed, unable to think or feel or know anything, she only knew to strike out and deny. No, no, no.
Nathan broke down, sobbing as he grabbed her wrists and pulled her tight against him to stop her. “No, baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I would never do that to you. Forgive me for saying it, I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Why, why, why,” she whined as she sobbed, and all he could say over and over again was I’m sorry.
It was a long time before Jacqueline had enough control over herself that she only sniffled occasionally or hiccoughed from the intensity of her tears. She could think clearly again, the headache had stopped, and she felt less despair. But she didn’t feel right yet. She didn’t know what to do about it.
He’d stopped before she had, and settled for rocking her back and forth as he held her, still sometimes whispering that he was sorry.
“Why did you say those things to me, Nathan?” she asked calmly, softly.
“Because I’m an asshole. I was angry and frustrated and . . . I’m sorry.”
Feeling a calm that she didn’t think was justified, she raised her head to look at him. “Garrett loves me.”
“He’s a bad man, Jacqueline. Worse than you think. I’ve told you that.”
“I love him.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because he’s a truly bad man. And you could never love someone like that.”
It felt right, what he was saying. Like a truth she’d known but that had never been spoken aloud. And the way it felt right, made her feel a conflict inside that hurt in so many ways.
“I don’t love you,” she said. Because she had to say it, didn’t she?
“Yes, you do.”
Nathan’s mouth crushed against hers, the noise both of them made like a shared sob more than anything else. He pushed her down onto the bed and covered her body with his, a leg sliding between hers, his thigh pressing against her center.
It felt like desperation as she rocked against his thigh muscle, the flexed hardness of it making her wet and eager to feel more than his fingers or tongue inside her. His mouth drew a wet line down her neck to one breast and then the other, his hands roamed up and down her sides, her hips, until fingers dipped into her wetness, making her moan.
She reached between them and felt his hardness before he pushed her hand gently away and knelt between her legs. Jacqueline bent her knees, accepting him and lifting her hips as he hooked an arm under her knee and pressed his cockhead against her.
“Jacqueline,” he breathed as he sank into her. “I love you. I love you so much.” She pulled at him with her hands and her legs, wanting each thrust to go deeper, to fill her. She wanted Nathan to fill all her empty places, and felt that he could, he could if only . . . . She just didn’t know what that condition was.
This was enough for now, the feel of him, hard and needy inside her, driving deeper and faster, showing her how much her pleasure mattered to him. He loved her, he loved her. She knew it.
Their bodies came together again and again, until she was exhaling with each hard thrust.
“Oh, Jacqueline,” he moaned. “Oh, baby.”
When he thrust deep and froze there, his orgasm hitting hard just as her muscles clenched around him, she shouted. “Nathan!” Jacqueline gasped at how she cried out his name, then wordlessly moaned and shouted in pleasure as wave after wave of pleasure rocked through her with his slowing, shallow thrusts.
Nathan panted above her, then dropped his face to the crook of her neck. “Oh, Jacqueline.” He shuddered in one last spasm of pleasure, then breathed into her ear.
“Oh God, Jacks.”
It sounded like a prayer, and she clung to it, letting it echo in her head as she fell asleep, letting it sound over and over like a pinball bouncing between bumpers, something she was afraid to let disappear. She had to keep it there, keep it safe somehow.
Jacks, Jacks, I love you, Jacks . . . .
Chapter 9
Jacqueline woke in Nathan’s arms, with him snoring softly in her ear. She felt refreshed, less uncertain about things, less torn in two directions. She knew what she should be doing. She knew what her life was, what was right. But she could tamp that down and bury it.
She wanted to.
And when it sprouted up again, taller and stronger than before, she would deal with that then.
Nathan’s soft snores stopped.
“Let’s all eat breakfast together this morning?” she asked.
“Whatever you want.”
They did, with Miss Esther looking proud and pleased with all of them. Now that she looked carefully, Jacqueline could see the resemblance between her and Zane, even though he made up about 20 of Miss Esther. They had the same face shape, the same sort of demeanor. The same soft-spoken way.
She loved them both, and was able to let that feel good for a while.
After Miss Esther and Zane took the trolley away and Jacqueline and Nathan were left alone again, he took her hand and smiled at her.
“Nathan, what now?”
“Nothing. We keep just being . . . us. For now.”
She didn’t know what that meant, and she didn’t know what it implied, but for now she was content to let it be. She went with Miss Esther to the studio, while Zane went with Nathan. Miss Esther wanted to try her hand at painting something other than happy trees and rocks. Jacqueline set up a wooden bowl of oranges on a stool not far in front of them, and they began painting.
An hour or so had passed, when Jacqueline caught movement just beyond the edge of her easel. She’d never looked out that window much, but apparently it gave a view of the drive.
And the police car that now sat there.
Something welled up in Jacqueline, something that tore into the things she’d been allowing and enjoying and wanting. Help. Help me. He’s keeping me here against my will! Police meant help, they meant rescue and freedom and going home to Garrett.
All she could think about was getting the attention of whomever drove that police car.
She looked at Miss Esther--Miss Esther who had been so kind to her and who had cried at her portrait and hugged everyone twice, Miss Esther whom Jacqueline loved--and felt fear that she’d notice the car and realize Jacqueline’s plan.
“Miss Esther, I don’t mean to interrupt your work, but could you get us a couple bottles of water? Or find Zane and ask him to bring them.”
“Oh,” Miss Esther frowned. “I really should wait for Zane or Nathan to come in.”
“It’ll only take a minute, though, and I’m so thirsty. I’d really appreciate it. Or, maybe grab a soda pop?” She felt shame at the way she played Miss Esther, but she put on a huge smile, even laughed as she said it. “It’s not like I’m going to run away while you’re gone. Not now.”
Damn. She realized she’d said the exact wrong thing as Miss Esther glanced at the window--no bars there, like her bedroom, and a police car outside . . . .
Instead of turning an accusatory look at Jacqueline, though, she nodded. “All right. I’ll be right back with two cold soda pops. You just keep painting, sweetie.”
