Urges: Part Three (The Urges Series Book 3) (8 page)

“
Then
what do you want?”

“
You.”
He gestures to me. “Me. Like this.”

I look around the
restaurant, still confused. “I'm not sure what this is.”

“
I
don't know either.” He laughs, shaking his head. “But I'd
like to find out. I'd like to see where things could go between us,
if you'd just give me another chance.”

It's hard to resist
him when he's being so transparent. For the first time since I met
him, I feel like I'm seeing a very real side of him. He doesn't know
what he's doing, and that's kind of endearing. I like that he's not
in control of what he feels. All he knows is that he likes me enough
to have gone pretty far out of his way to pursue me. That should mean
something—should count for something.

I sneer at myself,
at the fact that he's breaking me down. It's happening though. I'm
far more interested than I want to let on. “I don't know
anything about you,” I grumble.

“
Ask
me anything. I want to do this right. If you just give me a chance,
I'll be better, starting now. Anything you want to know, I'll tell
you.” His mood picks up as he realizes I'm receptive to the
idea of letting him back into my life.

“
I
hope you mean that, because I'm about to grill you like a steak.”
I straighten myself before reaching over for the bottle of wine. Now
that I'm feeling more comfortable around him, it seems okay to let my
guard down a little.

“
Try
not to leave too many char marks.” He winks at me.

“
Oh,
you're about to be scorched.” I giggle.

“
Ask
away.” He lifts his hands to his sides as if opening the book
of his secrets.

“
First
off, are you still being the caped cock-blocker?”

“
The
what?” He nearly spits out the swig of wine he just took.

“
You
know, busting into hotel rooms to save women from their morally
corrupt ways.” I can't think of a better way to explain it.

“
I
haven't done it in a while.” He swallows the wine that was in
his mouth and smirks.

“
Have
you done it since you did it to me?”

“
A
few times.” He wrinkles his nose as if he's embarrassed to
admit it.

“
I
still don't get why you do that.” I shake my head before
screwing my face. “It's so bizarre.”

“
It's
a long story.”

“
I
like long stories.” I clasp my hands together beneath the
table.

“
It's
a really long and personal story.” He eyes me, indicating he
doesn't want to get into it.

“
I'm
charring you, remember.” I grab the stem of my wine glass and
take a long drink of wine.

He runs his tongue
across his top lip before rolling it in his mouth. His gaze stays
fixed on the ceiling as he contemplates whether or not to share. “It
would help you to understand me better.”

“
Then
share away.” I make a sweeping motion across the table with my
hand.

“
I'm
not really sure where to start.” He slumps as if I've defeated
him.

“
Now
you're just stalling. Start at the beginning.” I settle against
the seat of the booth with my glass in hand.

He takes a deep
breath. “Well, I've always known that my sexual inclinations
were...unique. I've never really enjoyed vanilla sex. I mean, sex in
any form is good, but it just didn't...I'm not sure how to explain
it. Let's just say that eventually it wasn't enough for me. I became
discontent in the relationships that I tried to pursue, and
eventually I began having problems.” His expression takes a
shameful turn as he says the word problems. I have a pretty good idea
of what he's talking about. More than likely, erectile dysfunction.
The thought of him not being able to get it up makes me want to
chuckle, but I try to cement my mouth into a straight line, wanting
to look nonjudgmental. He's sharing something very personal about
himself, and I don't want him to recoil back into his secretive
little hidey-hole because he thinks I'm making fun of him. “I
wasn't sure what to do about it. For the longest time, I thought
something was wrong with me. I pushed girls away, because I knew I
couldn't give them what they wanted. Not the kind of relationship
they wanted.” He shakes his head, looking lost in thought. “I
didn't discover BDSM until my early twenties. I think I was
twenty-two when I went to my first much. In the beginning, I thought
I had found my safe haven. There were so many rules though. I spend
so much time controlling every aspect of my own life. That's
difficult enough without having to do it for someone else. I didn't
want that. I didn't want to be a Dom, but I still craved the kink.
Not that I didn't try it.

“
I
was an epic fail as a Dom. More dismissive than attentive. My sub was
receptive, but neither one of us were really getting what we wanted
from each other. Someone had already trained her, and I never got the
kind of reactions out of her that I was hoping for. She expected
everything that was coming. And I couldn't control her to the degree
that she needed. After a few weeks together, we parted ways.

“
I
fell into a depression, feeling lost in the world. Feeling like I'd
never find what I needed to be sexually fulfilled. I attended some
play parties, hoping to still participate in BDSM activities without
having to be a full-time Dom, but the reaction was the same. The
girls whom I was with, there was no excitement behind their eyes.
They enjoyed what I was doing to them, but they expected it. They
never feared me. It wasn't working.”

I'm trying to wrap
my head around what he's saying. It sounds like his sexual issues are
rather complex. “Did you ever go to counseling?”

“
Yes,
and it didn't work,” he sighs. “My therapist told me to
engage in normal sexual activity. That once I got used to it, my need
to infuse kink play into sex would magically disappear. The first few
times I tried it, I was fine. But as my need for something more grew,
I started having issues again. I couldn't hold down a relationship to
save my life.

“
It
took a while, but I thought I finally figured out what I needed,
someone who wasn't into the lifestyle. Someone who would look at me
with fear and excitement when I did things to them. That type of
person couldn't be found in the BDSM circles, where they feed off of
that pain and submission.

“
I
posted an ad on the Internet. It was the best place I could think
of—where I could be discrete and anonymous. The first few girls
I met backed out, but the fear behind their eyes when I approached
them lit something inside of me that I hadn't ever felt before.
Finally, I found one willing to play.” Though it seems like he
should sound excited about that, the way he says it is labored.

“
This
girl was troubled, stuck somewhere between wanting the pain and
needing it to stabilize her psychologically. I knew when I met her
that she was messed up—more so than I was. Our relationship
worked though. There was a sparkle of fear in her eyes when I tied
her up and...did things to her. She loved it, and since she'd never
experienced anything like it before, I felt like we made a
connection. The fear eventually left her, and excitement took its
place. It's only natural that you begin to trust someone over time.
Even though the fear I needed was gone, I felt like we had somehow
grown together. I had molded her to fit me like a glove. Perhaps too
well,” his tone takes a solemn turn.

“
So
what happened to her?” I ask hesitantly.

He bites his bottom
lip for a second, looking remorseful. “I only ever wanted her
for sex. That's all it ever was to me. I knew when I met her that I'd
never love her. She was too troubled. She self-harmed and had low
self-esteem, even though she was a pretty girl. She was always having
problems with someone, her parents or friends. Half the time we got
together, she was in the middle of some emotional crisis, so she
needed the pain just as much as I needed to give it to her.

“
She
fell in love with me. After spending over six months together, almost
every weekend, I suppose I should have expected it would happen. She
was too free with her emotions.”

“
And
you didn't love her back.” It's not hard to put the pieces of
the puzzle together. He's harboring deep regret from their
relationship.

“
No.
I didn't love her back. When I told her that, she couldn't handle
it.” His eyes fall to the red table cloth, and he pulls at a
loose thread at the edge of it with his fingertips. “She killed
herself.”

My hand moves to my
mouth almost involuntarily. “Oh Trent, I'm so sorry.”

“
Don't
be sorry for me.” He shakes his head. “Be sorry for her
family and those who loved her.” His expression hardens for a
moment. “It was my fault, of course. I knew she was damaged,
and I used her anyway. I fed the darkness inside of her. She was
always teetering on the edge. I just never cared enough to pull her
back from it.”

I don't know what to
say. Even though he's trying to act tough, I can tell that it bothers
him. He wouldn't have been reluctant to share the story if it didn't.

“
Naturally,
after she died, I felt tremendous guilt. I renounced my ways and went
celibate, thinking that my desires were poisonous. It didn't seem
enough to atone for my sins though. The thought that there were other
girls like her out there, looking for someone online to take the pain
away when most of the guys just want sex...I wanted to do something
about it.

“
I
talked to Leo one night about this crazy plan I had. He regularly
trawls the Internet for girls to have sex with, so I honestly didn't
think he'd be up for me intervening. The idea amused him though, the
thought that I might be able to sway the sluts of the Internet to not
want to have sex with him. There's a lot at risk though when you meet
random people for sex, more than what I did to Charla.

“
I
didn't just do it for the girls though. I did it because I wanted to
know I could control my own dark desires. Every time I meet with one,
it's like peaking inside of Pandora's Box, but knowing that I can
shut the lid before anything bad comes out. The girls are always
willing.” He stares into the table cloth as if seeing something
that I'm not. “But my desire to save them is always stronger.”

It sounds noble and
twisted at the same time. To be honest, I'm not really sure what to
think. He's given me so much to process.

“
Does
it even work?” I ask, unable to come up with something more
substantial to say.

“
What?”
He glances up at me.

“
Saving
the girls. Does it work?” I look at him with interest.

“
Sometimes.”
He smiles, giving the tattered string a firm yank to dislodge it. “A
little less than half of the time. It does when the girls are like
you, just down on their luck and looking for a good time but
questioning if what they're doing is right.”

“
So
you did know I wasn't a slut?”

“
I
knew. And that's part of what drew me to you.”

When our eyes lock,
I feel a connection between us. He just shared something very deep
and personal with me, and I can understand why he didn't want to. By
all accounts, I should think he's a psycho. He already admitted that
he can't get off to sex without hurting someone, without seeing fear
in their eyes.

“
How
long has it been since you last had sex? Before me, I mean.” I
take a few gulps of wine and immediately feel warmth flood my body.

“
Over
three years.” Trent pulls his napkin across his lap as the
waiter sets our plates in front of us. “Not since Charla died.”

“
Three
years. Wow.” I can't hide the surprise from my voice. Even
though the food looks delicious, I don't feel very hungry, wanting to
talk instead of eat. “So what made you pursue me then?”

“
Me,
pursue you,” he laughs. “That's not exactly how I recall
it happening.”