Quill
Turns out, when your girl tells you all bets are off, it’s like pure, unadulterated crack to a psychopath.
It feels as though we’re rediscovering each other. I’m closer and more in tune to her than I’ve ever been, my entire body aware at each moment of even her most subtle reactions, and I’ve grown perfectly capable of deciphering each one of them.
When yes means yes. When no means… well, yes.
No never meant anything but no before, but now, sometimes she says the word to provoke me. Other times, she says it as a way to sink into her helplessness. More often than not, it’s a mix of both. However, I come to realize that when she actually needs me to stop, she never uses her voice.
On rare occasions, I’ve read those other signals, ones that tell me that I’m going a little farther than she can follow. It’s all in her body language. When I sense I’m going too far, I at once interrupt our sessions to cuddle her and make sure she’s alright. Very soon, I’m aware of what her real thresholds are. Not the ones she believed she had, but the hard limits that lie beyond. I’ll never cross those hard limits, and the signals that tell me I’m nearing them become fewer and far between.
Aftercare has never been so important. We always used to cuddle after our intense sessions, but now I keep her in my lap for long stretches of time, reminding her how much I love her.
And little by little, I can tell the pain, both the physical and the emotional hurt, is fading. She’s making peace with my past cruelty, she’s working through the layers of grief from everythingthat she has endured. I’m so focused on making her feel okay that there is no room to think of myself. If I did, I’m not even sure I’d feel a thing. I’ve never felt a whole lot anyway, apart from anger, except where it concerned my cricket. The second I discovered Liam and Dane’s betrayal, the moment I realized Tragen was not who he said he was, any feeling I might once have spared them was blighted.
The only thing keeping me awake at nights is my to-do list. Maybe I’m lying to myself, telling myself the first item is not fully crossed off until Piper has healed completely and is free of danger. She’s nearly healed now, and will she ever be entirely free unless Devil burns to the ground?
I’m not sure how I can do that, but in the meantime, I do have some unfinished business to attend to.
There’s the second item—Liam and Dane. The third was killing all the soldiers who had seen Piper. I had crossed it off when Tragen lined them up against the wall and encouraged me to shoot them, but now I realize it was all a lie, and I might not have shot the right ones. I don’t feel any qualms about that. I would rather kill every last one of those soldiers rather than let the guilty ones go free.
And then there’s the last item.
It’s becoming torture to stay away from Astley. Every single moment that I’m not looking at or touching Piper’s naked body, thoughts of the list burn my mind. She seems to realize the soothing effect she has on me, and she spends most of her time naked while I think of new ways to enjoy her.
But gradually, the torturous thoughts gain ground, and I’m stuck in a dilemma I can’t find a way out of. I need to finish my to-do list. But that means returning to Astley, and bringing Piper home would expose her to danger. Leaving her here is just as impossible. I can’t even bear to be in a different room than her, let alone across the country.
The solution to my impossible problem comes in the way of a sudden vibration one morning when we’re eating breakfast. Piper is regrettably fully clothed, since she still insists on eating all our meals with Josh, and I’ve never seen anyone eat so slow as that idiot.
“Did you leave your vibrator downstairs?” he asks innocently, taking a drink of coffee.
I scowl at him. I guess the constant sexual innuendos no longer have any effect on him, and he’s even getting in a few of his own. He’s actually grown cocky, which makes me all the more restless, because the idea ofanyone—apart from Piper, that is—getting cocky around me pisses me the fuck off.
“It’s Logan’s phone!” gasps Piper.
She springs up and scurries to the side cupboard, fumbling in the top drawer for the burner flip phone Logan left.
My heart races as I watch her. I realize now that what I’ve been hoping for—a sign that it’s safe enough to return to Astley—is probably going to happen at last. And I’m suddenly regretting the paradise we’re about to be torn away from.
No.This is good. We need to go home.
“Oh,” says Piper, with a disappointed expression, staring down at the screen. “It’s a message.”
“Logan said he’d call,” frowns Josh.
“Well, he sent us a message.”
I stand up and walk behind her, wrapping my arms around her as I read the message over her shoulder.
Come back to Astley. All safe. A car will come pick you up at noon today. Logan.
“Well, there we go.” I’m still a bit regretful, but I also feel relief at the thought that my dilemma is getting so perfectly fixed. We’ll head home, Piper will be safe, and I can see to the rest of my list. My torture will end.
Both Piper and Josh, though, look upset. I understand whyPiper is sad, but Josh’s reaction confuses me. Doesn’t he miss his family?
“It’s all wrong,” he hesitates. “Logan said he’d call.”
“Well, maybe it was inconvenient. Maybe he has a cold and lost his voice. Maybe he’s a lazy bastard.”