Someone screeches in the distance and a much older memory washes through me, from the good days, when I was Helen’s person and she was mine.
It’s sunny today just like the first time I saw her at my neighbor’s Fourth of July picnic. It smelled like cut grass and grilled meat. Kids played soccer in the big field behind their house and she was there with them—tiny and round, smiley and soft-looking. She was terrible at playing sports. All of them, I found out later on. At one point, she got the ball and started dribbling down the field, a bunch of kids after her. Rather than go for the goal, she freaked out and raced in my direction, laughing and shrieking, as if running for cover.
I’ll never forget how she threw herself into my arms. Not hesitating for a second, I dropped my beer and caught her. That was it for me. I was a goner.
Fuck, she was cute. My kinky little brat. The lifestyle wasn’t even on my radar when we met, but she schooled me pretty damn quick. I eventually became her Dom, although it wasn’t ever a role that fit me perfectly. And somewhere along the way, my inner beast came out. A Primal who could be a Dom. A sub with brattish tendencies. It worked. We made it work.
Someone runs across the path right in front of me, chased by a second person, who apparently recognizes me, and comes to a full stop, eyes open wide, as if… Fuck. Like I am the damn Grinch who’s finally made it down to Whoville.
Lamé’s right—I need to get involved again or I need to sell up and get out.
Selling, though, would mean losing not just Helen’s dream, but my people. My family.
I can’t do it.
“Hello!” I force out in an over-friendly voice, like I can compensate for three years of absence in one jaunty greeting.
“Hey, man,” the guy replies. Oh, shit. I know him. It’s… “Sledge,” he tells me. “We used to…”
…be friends. Dammit, I’m an asshole.
But also, he used to fuck my wife.
I work my face into a smile. “Yeah, man. Good to see you.” My hand lifts in an awkward wave. “See you around.”
“Sure.” He grins and takes off after whoever he was chasing. One of his partners. I have no idea who he’s with now. Three years. That’s how long it’s been since I’ve had a relationship other than with my two very close friendships.
Running into her earlier—Grace—was weirdly like that first meeting with Helen. Except, instead of jumping into my arms like an excited little fairy, Grace smacked into me as if thrown by fate.
I glance down at the sketchbook in my hand, suddenly nervous. Just returning something, man. That’s all. There’s nothing fateful about it. Nothing to get superstitious about.
A little jittery now that I’ve put pressure on this thing, I round the last bend. Her spot’s to the right, behind some trees. I hear voices murmuring, low and intimate. A man laughs, then a woman joins in.
Words pop out of the mumbling, random at first, then coming together to make sense.
“Beat the shit out of you, in front of everybody.” That’s Zion. I’d know his voice anywhere. “Stretch those hard little nipples out till you screamed. Choke you just enough to make you dizzy and wanting, then wreck your pussy with my massive cock.”
I see them now. She’s half on top of him and he’s got an arm around her waist. I want to fucking howl at the way he’s holding her—as if she belongs there.
I don’t move, though my body tenses up.
My wiring’s short-circuited, synapses blowing, nothing moves.
“…make you come so hard it hurts, but you want that. You want the pain and humiliation.” The asshole’s so goddamn confident. Of course she wants him. The words flicker in and out. Is it his voice wavering or my mind? “…stretch you wide open…other people…hungry little slut… Make you come…beg for more.”
I don’t hear her answer. Don’t want to see what happens next.
My only choice is to get out of here. Now.
Gripping the notebook, I take off.
* * *
Grace
“No, thank you,” I tell Zed, moving off him before he tries to actually pull any of that stuff. “I most definitely do not want that.” The whole thing’s destabilized me, if I’m being honest.
“You sure?”
