Ethans Fal (29 page)

“Cal?” Ethan asks.

My voice is quiet and I can hear the words like someone else is speaking. My brows pinch together to concentrate on the thoughts I haven’t spoken out loud since my time at the facility with Joan. It feels like I am checking for accuracy because these vague good memories have been stained so ugly, they might not ring true anymore. “He was my first, my only, really…I don’t count the two guys I fucked when I first got here.” My eyes widen with surprise at the information just falling freely from my mouth. I take a deep breath and try to engage some sort of filter. “Anyway, he was older than me and a very keen to share his wisdom. Taught me everything I know.” I shrug dismissively. I was a willing student. I can’t hold that against Cal. It’s the only thing I can’t.

“Well, I’d like to shake his hand.” Ethan jokes with a sly grin, but I feel no lightness in his humour.

“You would have to get to him before me then, Ethan.” My voice is as cold as the chill that has just coated my skin. “Because I would kill him, if I ever saw him again.” The silence that falls is sobering, and I sit back up on the sofa and pull my legs tight against my body. Ethan puts his glass down and stands. He walks around the low table and sits beside me. He lifts me in the tight ball I am maintaining directly onto his lap and puts his long, strong arms around me.

“Cal is one of those people you reserve that hate you mentioned before, I take it?” His hold is a comfort, but I can feel the clawing agony start to build in my chest as I fight the torrent of memories flooding me, unchecked, because of the alcohol swimming in my veins. I can’t trust myself to speak so I nod, and bury my head against his chest. Fat tears fall freely down my cheeks. “Shhh, angel…shhh. I’ve got you now…You don’t need to ever hate like that because you’re mine now, and I get to make all that go away. That’s my job.” His softly spoken words drift in a melodic tune that I hear but I don’t understand. Nothing he is saying makes sense to me.

I lift my head to look in his eyes–dark brown, etched with sincerity, and more. He doesn't know what he’s saying. Even if he could take it away, I don’t want to let it go; some people never deserve to be forgiven, Cal and my father. As much as I cling to the hope I will find Pip one day, I know the hatred festers and has caused a rot deep inside me, insidious and malignant. Ethan deserves more than that, he can’t possibly mean the words he is trying to comfort me with. He worthy of more than I could ever give him. I can’t offer someone like Ethan anything but this broken body. I just didn’t think Ethan wanted more than that; but, looking at the soul searching depths of his gaze, I’m not so sure why this deal was so perfect. It had no real future…I need more drink. I twist in his lap and grab the tequila. He shakes his head and I break free of his tender hold. I need to put a stop to this. I can break my own fragile heart because there is so little left, but I won’t be responsible for any more damage.

“No, Ethan…I’m going to need this…I….I…” I swallow the drink and in lieu of pouring another I take a swig from the bottle. I don’t know how to tell him my story without irrevocably changing that look on his face. A look I need more than a safe place to sleep or my next meal, more than my next breath. How can I tell him? The details are cold and grim, but are they unforgivable? I got pregnant at sixteen, the father–a man I chose and loved–sold our baby for seed money, and my own father had me committed and in put in a medical coma for two years. How do I tell him I’m an escaped prisoner from a mental facility and that for the past eighteen months, I have been less than useless at finding my own child because I am a coward. What mother does that? I am selfish and a coward.
Oh, yes, Ethan, please let me be yours…don’t you just want me now? Let me hear you say ‘mine’ because I want to hear the words fall false in my ears to torment me because I know I will never be anyone’s.
I falter and he is again at my side.

“Ada, you are not the first girl who has had some douche get her pregnant and then walk out. He probably didn’t even stick around long enough to know you had miscarried, so you are quite right to hate him. But don’t let it ruin your life…” His arms sweep around me and his lips are in my hair, his soft words brush over me. “Let me make it better, angel. I want to make it better.”

I so want him to make it better and Ethan jumping to all the wrong conclusions feels like a gift. He cups my cheeks and plants a most treasured kiss on my lips. The look in his eyes is filled with sadness and understanding. I get a pain and burst of pure bile in my gut because I am the despicable excuse of a woman who is not going to take that look away. I don’t correct him, I don’t stop his mouth from consuming mine. I don’t stop him devouring me because for this night, I need to forget all over again. It’s another reason I don’t drink…inhibitions may disappear but so does my ability to filter the raw pain, and it kills me and I can’t numb it quick enough, no matter how much more I drink.

“How about you tie me up and make me forget all about him?” I hate that my voice is so convincing in its plea.
Make me forget, Ethan, all about the nasty man who broke my heart.
When now all I really need is Ethan to make me forget about the lies I am still feeding his kind, generous soul. He flashes me a heart-stopping smile–heartbreaking. I pour one more full shot and down it with a wince; no salt, no lime just sweet oblivion.

“Here drink this.” Ethan’s hand slips behind my head and supports the tilt. I squint to open my eyes against the too bright morning light. “How are you feeling? How’s your head?” He sits beside me with a smug look of fake concern plastered on his too handsome, for any time, face.

“My head is fine but this is way too early. Why am I awake exactly?” I grumble, my voice thick with sleep.

“Well”–he tips the glass for me to take another sip–“since you fell unconscious last night before I carried you into the bedroom, we have this to finish.” He stands up and throws back the bedcovers.
How did I not feel that?
My ankles are clipped to a spreader bar. He leans down and clicks the bar adjusting the width to extra wide. I would’ve definitely felt that cooling rush of air against my sensitive folds. I am acutely aware and alert in this new, exposed position.

“Oh.” I exhale and allow him to clip some soft leather cuffs to my wrists and fix them to the head board. “Oh,” I repeat, grimacing at my failed attempt to attend the ache that has already built between my open legs. I tilt my hips but to no avail and he chuckles at my discomfort.

“I didn’t get to make you forget last night, Ada, but I will spend every day making you remember just
this,”
His finger strikes a fine searing line from my ankle up and back down my legs. I quake and yearn for more. “From this moment, you will only know how good I can make you feel. How good we are together. The only thing you will remember is us.” He grabs the bar and stretches me to the extreme, and my muscles cry out at the tension. I gasp and try to steady my breathing. I am so fucking turned on right now; he is absolutely right, all I can think about is him. He drags his T-shirt over his head and drops his shorts, his thick hard erection bobbing heavy under its own weight. He crawls up my body, kneeling on either side of my hips. My eyes are fixed on his, heavy lidded with lust and power. I shiver with the burn his glare rakes across my skin.

“You are not to think about him again, angel, understand…ever?” His jaw tenses, betraying his playful tone. “I will make sure of it, but I want something from you in return.” Ethan’s eyes darken and my breath hitches when he slowly strokes his cock from root to tip. His thumb catches the evidence of his own arousal. My own need for him raging a battle with my pounding heart, fiercely rattling my chest with fear of what he might demand.
Does he know I’m still keeping so much from him; does he know why?
“I want you to give me something you never gave him, even if it is a hard limit, I want to take you there.” Oh, thank you, God, that is so much better than the nightmare flitting through my head–this I can do. I can definitely give him that; I visibly and mentally relax under him. “Do you trust me?” I do, I feel it like a sharp precision blade and it hurts so much, because I want to trust him with everything but I have too much to lose. I nod. “Words, angel. I need your words.”

“Yes, Ethan.” The truth burns my lungs with the breath of air I push out, along with my lie. I trust him just not enough. His eyes bore into me, the silence is laden with lust and secrets.

“But you’re still not sucking my toes, I’ll take that rubber fist thing over that.” I blurt out after a too long pause, hoping he mistakes my reticence for nervous anticipation. I can feel my face flush with excitement, not that I want to try
that
either. I am going to give him something I haven’t ever felt comfortable enough to try, not with Cal, and certainly not with a random guy. I lick my dry lips and see the bright flash of undiluted wicked intention settle on his features. He climbs back down the bed and in one swift move flips the spreader bar and me on to my front. He pushes and slides the bar along the bed so my knees are tucked under my chest and my arse is high in the air. He lets out a strangled groan.

“Anal it is then.” He strikes my bottom with his palm. The impact is like solid stone, granite or harder, and I scream into the pillow. His hand is hot and now soft against my skin; it soothes and is smooth like velvet easing the burn with his own type of branding.

I twist my head, I feel an intense mix of apprehension, desire and fear, swirling inside. But mostly, I can feel unbearable desire because it’s starting to trickle down my inner thigh. “How do you know that I’ve–?”

“Jesus, you smell fucking amazing.” Seeming to ignore my question, he slowly draws his finger along my core, and I shudder from the hair on my head to my tightly curled toes. “And I know, mmmm…” He sucks his finger clean on a manly moan and resumes his intimate ministrations. “Because girls who
do,
tend to make that known. It is usually one of the first things on a ‘To do’ or ‘To Don’t’ list.” He playfully spanks me then grabs the round flesh and massages with deep pulls and hard pressure that feels intensely erotic because each movement opens me up a little more. “It just would’ve come up, especially after some of the things we have done.” His hands continue to stroke the round cheeks of my arse, his thumbs skirting along the crack, sensitive but sure in their exploration. His finger, or maybe his thumb, presses lightly on my other entrance, or exit as it had been until now, and I practically leap like a demented caterpillar up the bed. “Angel? You okay?” I can hear him swallow and I chance a peek, enough to see his cock so ridged it looks painful and unnervingly large.

“Ethan…you know…um. There is a reason I’ve never…” I can feel my body start to tremble. “One time we tried and it hurt so much…I just didn’t see the pleasure. Cal was only ever about the pleasure…Ow! Fuck!” His large palm slaps the exact red spot from before. Ethan scowls.

“I said we wouldn’t mention him again, and the reason it wasn’t pleasurable for you was because–in my completely unbiased opinion–Cal was a cunt.” I snort out a surprised laugh and then gasp when Ethan dips his head and pulls my arse cheeks wide. His tongue dances along my most exposed flesh and sweeps with delicate, urgent, and delicious swirls of his tongue. “Now, Ada, you’re going to let me do this because you trust me and I’m not a…?” He pauses waiting for my response. He raises a brow and I lift my head to see his cute questioning face.

“Cunt,” I answer and he smiles, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Exactly…so this morning we begin your training…well, we begin your arse’s training. Because honestly, Ada, I have never been this big and I am so desperate to fuck you there, it wouldn’t just hurt, we’d probably
both
die and go to Heaven.” I sigh a little with relief or regret–whatever it is, it is only brief–while Ethan has moved away from the bed and is searching in his jacket pocket hanging in his wardrobe. He palms whatever he has found and then reaches into the play chest and picks up the lube. I start to quiver all over again. “Now, you are really turned on by this, which is so fucking hot, but I am going to be extra careful so we use a lot of this,” He squeezes some gel onto his palm “of this.” He holds a tiny bullet sized, well, bullet with a flat end in his fingers, nimbly rubs the gel coating the object until it’s slick and shiny. The flat end has some sort of crystal embedded, which catches the light, refracting tiny rainbows. It sparkles and looks really pretty. I snicker because I think there is going to be no light going where the sun literally
doesn’t shine
. I am relieved that as turned on as I am, I still feel comfortable enough to relax enough to laugh. Ethan shares a smile before his eyes darken and my tummy tightens with anticipation.

His hand roams and sweeps along my skin, his fingers dip and circle, light at first and with gentle pressure before he slides two fingers inside me, easily pushing deep with my wetness. He curls his long fingers along the front, spongy wall, pumping and grinding the heel of his palm against my clit. I can feel the contractions start and he slows before they build. “Push back against me, angel.” His words coax and arouse, and I obey. The bullet slips in with no effort, no pain, and a sudden rush of delicious, deeply erotic pleasure, enough that I buck my hips for more. He slaps and holds me steady. “Greedy…you’ll get more when I say you’re ready.” Ethan moves the flat edge and I whimper at the rolling pleasure that has me contracting like mad against his fingers, which are now pushing against the object deep inside me.