Rumpled Between The Sheets (9 page)

"Are you
hurt?"

She shook her
head. Still in shock, Mary was numb. Any damage she caused herself trying to
escape was nothing beyond a dull thump. "Take me home."

"I
am."

"I've
ruined the dress."

"It's only
a dress, Mary.
One that can be remade."
Benjamin
cupped her chin. "When that man touched you..." He shook his head.
"No one's ever going to hurt you again."

His warmth soothed her. The way
his body molded to hers and the heavenly scent of his cologne. Her botched
escape had thrown her back in his arms, yet not in a way Mary would have ever
guessed. The hard and callous Benjamin
Rumpelstiltzkin
had let down that air-tight shield for that one magical moment. She snuggled against
him, weary from the night. In the morning, Mary would find out the real reason
he'd whisked her away from Beowulf Hollow. There was more beneath his tough
exterior.
Something that stole her breath, though Mary tried
to fight against it.

Chapter Eight

Mary shifted in
her sheets, her nightshirt riding up. Sunlight filtered in from her windows and
she stretched. Thoughts formed in her head as she woke. Her one completed dress
had gotten destroyed in a poorly devised escape plan. She’d need help from
Benjamin if the collection had a chance of getting completed. Blinking, she sat
up in bed. Her fingers curled in her sheets and she shook her head.

She wasn't in
New York anymore. Instead, she lay in her bedroom back in Beowulf Hollow, pink
paint and all. She gazed around. At least
a half
dozen
vases filled with roses and large sunflowers surrounded her, every surface
covered. Had her time with Benjamin all been a dream? She got out of the bed,
wincing as she stood. Lifting up her nightgown, she gazed at the dark bruises
on her knees and shins. The nightgown fell back to mid-calf and she stiffly
walked over to the first bouquet. A white card stuck out of the top and she
removed it. Her finger ripped it open. She fished out the card. Gnawing on her
lip, she read the contents.

"Oh,
Benjamin," she muttered. He'd brought her home to Beowulf Hollow—along
with all her materials—and left behind the first real apology for his bad
behavior. She should have felt elated that he owned up to his crassness yet a
deep sense of sadness settled in the pit of her stomach. Flowers were no
substitution for an apology to her face. Why had he not stayed? Why did he save
her from Paul and run away?

When she’d met
him, he was a hard, rigid man. The more time she spent with him, and observed
that glint in his eye, she knew there had to be a softer side to the ruthless
fashion designer. Part of her hated that she rationalized his behavior even the
slightest amount. It was obvious that all the power had gone to his head as he
made it a point to take whatever he wished in this world.

Yet here she was
back home. Why had he returned her? She certainly didn't finish the collection
and what was completed had been ruined in a series of lust and domination. She
shivered, even as the memories brought a smile to her face. The verbal spats,
the fire of passion in his eyes every time she defied him…had he loved her more
than he'll ever admit?

She loved him
with the same conviction. To deny that distinct flutter would be like refuting
she treasured creating every outfit since taking over her mother's shop.

They’d both ruined
any chance of being together—him with his unwillingness to profess how he felt
and her by being afraid of opening her heart. Paul had caused her to put up
walls against any man loving her.

With no number
to call him or any clue of where he lived, she was stuck with imagining what
they could have had together.

She moved one of
the vases to reach her watch. A picture, tucked under the glass, fluttered to
the floor. The old photo seemed familiar. She picked it up and stared at the
image. A small bubble of laughter came out as she recognized herself in a pair
of bell-bottom jeans and a peasant blouse. Her arm was slung around one of her
best friends, Jenny, and Jenny's brother. After the incident at the campground,
her friend had moved away and they lost all contact with each other. She
flipped the photo over, reading the cursive writing on the back.

Jenny,
Susan, and Rudolph summer 1965

She used to call
him “rude” because he loved to yank on her pigtails. Jenny had become very good
at throwing pillows at her brother when he invaded her room.

"You were
such a troublemaker, Rudolph
Valerri
." Her
laughter intensified when she recalled walking into the bathroom and finding
him with his pants down around his ankles, masturbating. The shock had sent her
running all the way home. Too mortified, she refused to tell her mother what
had happened over at Jenny's. That was her secret until the day she died.

Memories flooded
back and Mary stuffed them back down. Too much had taxed her emotional bank and
a stroll down memory lane wouldn't ease her pain. The
Valerri
family had moved to parts unknown by now. The past needed to stay behind Mary
if she was to forge ahead with her life.

She set the
picture back on her dresser and opened a drawer to find something to wear. What
happened in New York between her and Benjamin was best forgotten. If she
dwelled on it, her heart would tear in two.

In her underwear
drawer, she found another picture from that summer. Rudolph was in the
background of the picture, staring off-camera. She and Jenny were focused on
painting ceramic pots during a neighborhood picnic. She followed his line of
sight and her jaw dropped. He was staring directly at her. The wording on the
back gave her pause.

Beowulf
Hollow Fall Festival 1965

Her name was on
the back, framed with a heart. Shoving the photo back in the drawer, she picked
up a bra and panties. Where had these photos come from? She paused briefly to
pinch herself. The pain confirmed she wasn't dreaming. She slowly opened her
shirt drawer and held her breath as another photo was placed neatly on top of
her favorite blouse. Again, the back stamped the date.

Last day in Beowulf Hollow.

The photo was of
her, alone on the porch. She had a flower in her hand she'd stolen for the
grave of Susan Gretel.
A large sunflower.
Though very
young in the picture, Mary could see the features so prominent on her face now
clearly. Had Jenny taken the photo to remember her?

Grateful for the
memories, she tucked all the photos in between two of the vases. Comfortably dressed
in the plain clothes she preferred, Mary decided a brisk walk into town was in
order. With no constraints anymore, she could finally concentrate on her
passion for clothes making. Press Week had been a bad idea all around. She
should have never entertained the thought.

The neighborhood
was just waking up. Lights blossomed in the windows and silhouettes danced
behind laced curtains. Mary loved this part of the morning. In her youth, she
would line up with the other kids and they'd walk together with a few of the
parents to school. Once beyond the quiet residential streets, she stepped into
Baked on Cake
, her favorite pastry shop.

"Mary!
You're back." Leona came around the corner of the counter. The same age as
Mary, Leona had followed in the footsteps of her mother in the baking world. In
high school, both had been in the same cooking class. Leona had saved Mary's
mad scientist creations too many times to count.

"I got back
last night late." She welcomed the hug. "And I'm dying for one of
your mother's bear claws."

"First,
have a look." She wiggled her finger at Mary. Sparkling in the fluorescent
lights, Leona wore a small ruby-encrusted ring. "Daniel popped the
question while you were gone."

"It's
beautiful." She examined the
ring,
Leona too
excited to conceal her hand. "When's the big day?"

"Well,
Father Mallard is raking Daniel over the Catholic coals right now." She
giggled and whispered, "I think he believes I've lost my right to wear
white."

"That's
half our graduating class." Mary squeezed Leona's hands in joy. "I
want to make your dress."

"Thank
you!" That earned another hug.

"Stop by
the shop when your mother lets you go, but knock at the back entrance. I won't
be opening the front yet for a couple of days."

"Sure
thing."
Leona slid back behind the counter and fetched a bear claw from the case.
"On the house.
You want some coffee to go too?"

"No,
thanks.
I'm cutting back." A wedding dress was the distraction Mary needed. She
planned on spending her morning using the loom to make the fabric, perhaps with
a nice pattern to match Leona's style, and take the week to get the skeleton worked
out. She entered the back of the shop surprised to see all her materials back
in place. She figured Benjamin would keep some of it. With a heave, she moved
the rolling rack to find that the magical room hadn't appeared. She checked her
watch. The time was right, yet nothing but bare wall stood before her. Sitting
on a stool, she stared at the smooth plaster for a couple of hours, biting on
her nail. She had fabric to use for the dress. Leona deserved something special
instead of what Mary had in stock.

A knock on the
door brought her out of her trance. She opened the door and Leona squealed in
delight.

"Mom is so
excited!"

"Come on in
and we'll get to measuring." She spent the rest of the day with Leona,
sketching out plans. Her friend picked out several off white lace and satin
bolts Mary had bought when the shop first opened and never used.

The next couple of days, she
waited for her magic portal to open. It never did. Resigned to use what Leona
choose, she began making the wedding dress. What more could she do? Mary had
never figured out the magic of her loom and spinning wheel. Something had
changed and for the life of her, Mary had no clue what.

Chapter Nine

Fall 1978

Despite not
having the capability to make her own textiles, Mary's shop thrived. She hired
two girls fresh out of high school to help keep up with the demand. Without the
mystery of the magical room, she had nothing to hide. One store in New York had
written her, imploring that she make a special line for them. At first she
thought about declining, but she'd never forgive herself for passing up the
opportunity.

While her shop
was booming, deep inside her heart, Mary still wondered what happened to
Benjamin. She wanted to make a trip just to glimpse what he had come up with
for Press Week. The news reaching Beowulf Hollow was slow.

"Mary!"
Leona came rushing into her shop. "Take a look at this!"

Her friend
smacked a paper down on the counter. Mary's heart pounded in her chest. On the
front page was two pictures—one of her in the jade dress and the other of
Benjamin
Elstiltzkin
.

"You never
told me about him." Her eyes sparkled. Mary could barely smile.

"It didn't
work out."
In more
ways than one.

"Well, it
says here he dropped out of Press Week and hasn’t been seen at the any of the
local clubs." Leona rested her head on her fists.
"Oh,
to be a fly on his wall."

"Yeah."
She picked up
the paper and squinted. Something about his expression seemed mildly familiar.
Beyond the usual cocky grin, he seemed to be staring off in the distance.
"Hey, Leona.
Do you mind telling the girls in the back
to close up for me tonight? It's been a long day."

"Sure."

Mary left the
shop, the paper under her arm. She waved to some of the people milling about on
the streets. When the weather turned to a wintry mix she'd consider using her
car. Something about autumn in the mountains melted her worries away.

She couldn't
believe that Benjamin would drop out of an event he'd worked hard, almost at
her expense, to compete at. The last night they had together had been a
horrible experience all around, with the exception of when he decked Paul. That,
she’d enjoyed. For a man who had no trouble bedding women, Benjamin's reaction to
her was pubescent in nature.

Like
a love sick puppy chasing some tail
. At least, that was what Mary wanted to
believe. Why else would he have just left her?

She opened the door
to her house. The furnishings still matched her mother's style, but it also matched
her tastes. She had, however, placed the photos she found in her room in a
frame. Some memories were too good to forget. If only she knew where Jenny
moved after they left Beowulf Hollow. Settling on the couch, she perused the
paper. The night she'd gone to the restaurant was on the front page. She
lamented that dress being destroyed. Her figure had fit perfectly in the smooth
lines she’d created. Curious, she studied Benjamin's picture. The arrogant look
on his face was absent, replaced by a faraway look. It was another place and time
and one she lamented didn't end well. She opened to the article before his
handsome mug sucked her in.

True to Leona's
words, he'd backed out of Press Week, citing personal health issues. He was in
perfect health the last she'd seen him. She played with her lip, trying to
recall if he had shown any signs of illness. Her gaze traveled to the photos
again and froze. She held the paper's photos up to the childhood ones.

"It can't
be." She shook her head. Her expression matched the photo with the flower.
The one of Benjamin…

"No." Much
like she could see herself in the photos, she couldn't deny that Benjamin
Elstiltzkin
wasn't who he said he was. The similarities
were too
spot
on.

Benjamin was
Rudolph
Valerri
.

When locked in
Jenny's room, her friend used to say her brother had a big crush on Mary, but Rudolph
was older than her by four years. She’d chalked it up to teenaged hormones. In
that picture at the picnic, he was staring directly at her, just as he was at
the restaurant. He hadn't left her to be corralled like his latest filly to
brand. She'd blown him away. Tears wet the paper shaking in her hands. His
behavior was wrought with desperation of not losing her again. Benjamin had let
her go before his obsession drove her further away.

She ran upstairs
to her bedroom. Every rose from the numerous bouquets had been dried and placed
back into the vases to remember him by. She packed a small bag and grabbed her
purse. The picture frame got shoved in as well. She needed to know the truth.
As much as she never wanted to see New York again, that was the only place she
could find him.

And she knew the
one person who could help her track him down.

****

Glass strewn
across the floor, Benjamin tossed another small art deco statue at the last
mirror in his living room. Each reflection reminded him of his failure. His
whole career had been built on what he'd love to see Mary
Becken
wear, if only to slowly peel the fabric back from her skin. He used to stare at
her for as long as he could without detection just to count the freckles on her
cheeks. He'd hoped that his family moving away from that small town would cure
him of the infatuation. Each packet of photos his best pal Chris Marko sent of Mary
set him afire. When the photos stopped coming, Benjamin had almost gone insane.
She was his addiction. His friend had written nearly a year later to say Mary
had returned to Beowulf Hollow. No more pictures would be sent as Chris's wife
had grown suspicious of his activity. Benjamin had left for Beowulf Hollow in
the middle of the night to avoid the paparazzi. He'd hoped she had turned
undesirable or had married. Neither of those wishes had come to fruition.

He had wanted
her in his arms forever and screwed that up because of an unhealthy obsession. And
now, the possessive way he’d tried to covet her had driven a wedge between
them. Why couldn't he admit to her who he was? In college, he'd changed his
name when his father had disowned him for wanting to be in the fashion
business. His sister Jennifer had pleaded his case. In the end, his old man
never understood why his son had no desire to be a jock.

Ginger had,
thankfully, come back to work for him after he took Mary home. With his
business at a standstill he’d had to let her go. If he didn't work on
something—anything—he'd lose everything he worked for in his life. Designing
clothing had always been his passion yet none of it meant anything if she
wasn't by his side.

The doorbell
rang and he growled. The last thing he wanted was company, especially if a
photographer had gotten bold enough to travel down his long driveway. He yanked
the door open, ready to deck any camera-toting idiot. His heart stopped at the
vision standing on his front stoop. Words would not leave his throat.

Mary, his sweet
Mary, shifted from foot to foot with a duffle bag in her hand. Her mouth worked,
however she was as mute as him. Behind her, Vivian Tucker stood at a distance.
The motherly stern look had Benjamin on his best behavior before she got into
her car and drove away.

He watched Mary
fish through her duffel bag and pulled out a frame. The moment of truth had
come for Benjamin. In the frame were the pictures he had placed in her house.
His chubby pubescent face stared back at him.

"Why didn't
you tell me who you were?" Her eyes pleaded with him for an answer he
couldn't quite give. Words would not convey to her what she needed to hear. He
tore the frame from her and threw it behind him. Closing the distance, his hand
cupped her chin. Their lips met. Unlike the other moments he'd taken a chance,
Mary received his kiss fully. He dragged her into the house, the door slamming
behind them. Glass crackled under their feet as he led her one kiss at a time
toward his bedroom. His hands lifted her by her ass to speed the process along.
To his delight, she kissed him deeper.

He spun her
around and crashed onto the bed. She squirmed underneath him. "I've been
waiting for this moment for so long." He bent down, grasping one of the
buttons on her blouse with his teeth. The button ripped free of the blouse. He
spit it out and grinned at her before diving in for the next one. Her fingers
tangled further into his hair with every removal.

His hands spread
open the fabric of her blouse and his dick stiffened. Mary had no other barrier
for him to cross. Her breasts were bared, her nipples hardened. He wanted to go
slow but his need to have her took over. His tongue swirled around a stiff peak
before his teeth pulled her in deeper as he cupped her breast. He paid
attention to each, the taste of her banishing all the ugliness he’d surrounded
himself
with since losing her...twice.

His tongue
lapped at her belly before kissing the same spot. She tugged at his dress shirt
and he aided her in its removal. He nestled between her legs, admiring the view
of her below him. She grabbed the tie around his neck and forced him down on
top of her. Greedy for more, she unabashedly danced her tongue with his. He
jerked away, wagging a finger at her.

"Miss
Becken
, tsk
tsk
. You never
finished your work with me." He winked at her and removed his tie.

"Seems I
broke my contract, Mr.
Elstiltzkin
."
She arched her
back to display her breasts more prominently.

"I'm afraid
doing so comes with stiff penalties." He thrust his hips forward, his
rigid cock begging to break free of his pants.

"How can I
ever repay you?" Her fingers danced along his belt.

He batted her
hand away. "There is no way to repay me. I will just have to claim you as
mine." He twisted the tie around her wrists and forced her hands above her
head. "And mine alone." His lips covered hers, his hunger devouring
her mouth. He pulled back to admire his work, her lips flushed and swollen.

His hands went
under her hips and lifted her back up. Down in the bed again, he tied her hands
to the iron rails of the head board. She wiggled beneath him, tempting and
teasing by flicking her tongue along her lips.

"What have
told you about wearing such plain clothes, Miss
Becken
.
Must you defy me at
every turn?" He rolled off the bed and stalked around the edges.

"Yes."
Her breath quickened.

He shook his
head and undid the button on her jeans. "If you cannot obey my rules, Miss
Becken
, then
it's
best you
not wear anything at all." Her hips bucked as he grabbed her jeans. While
her movements were meant to block his attempts to unclothe her, the motion
aided his desire to see her naked. Jeans tossed aside, he marveled at the tight
little blonde curls of her sex.
A feast waiting for him to
devour it.
She pulled her knees up to hide his treasure. He pried them
apart.

"Never deny
me what is mine to take, Miss
Becken
."

"I will not
submit, Mr.
Elstiltzkin
.
Never."

"Yes, you
will." Benjamin buried his face between her
apex
,
sucking her clit. She tasted like heaven and her cries were angels singing. As Mary
bucked and shuddered, he grabbed her legs to steady her. Again her wails
carried in the room. He refused to give her any rest until her strength faded
and her legs trembled against him. He rose to his knees and undid his belt. A
fine sheen of sweat covered her body. Her pleasure coated her thighs.

"Tell
me." He demanded as he released his cock from his pants. She whimpered
beneath him. The tip of his cock rubbed her clit. "Tell me you want
fucked, Mary."

"Fuck me,
Benjamin. Please."

He surged
forward. Below him, she met each thrust with vigor. Each plunge in elicited
more murmurs of want from her.
Harder, faster, more.
He gave all of it to her. In one final push, he came inside her. Part of him
said he should have restrained himself but he wanted all of her. To see Mary's
belly swell with his child. Still, his act was nothing short of selfish.

"Shit.
Sorry, Mary."
He untied her hands and moved to the edge
of the bed. How could he be so stupid?

"No."
She draped her arms around his neck. "Don't be." She kissed his
cheek. "I'm never going to leave again."

His hand
smoothed over her arm. "Are you saying that I'm stuck with you?" He
laughed. "I can live with that."

"We still
have a collection to put together."

"
Mmmm
."
His train of thought deserted him for a
brief moment as she pressed her breasts against his back. "No."

"No?"

"I say we
return to Beowulf Hollow and forget all of this."

"You want
to return to
Bumfuck
Hollow?"

He twisted around and pinned her
down on the bed. "Press Week can wait a year."