Save Me From Myself by Missus James
RetiredSummary:


Thoroughly revised and reuploaded!


Willow Carter is a plus-sized girl with lots of attitude and very low self-esteem. When her mother and oler sister force her to jog to slim down for her sister's wedding, she is attacked by a madman and rescued by a savior. But just because a man saves your life doesn't mean you should trust him. Soon she throws herself into a thrilling game of cat and mouse that brings more pain than pleasure and puts everyone she loves in harm's way.


Categories: Original Fiction Characters: None
Classification: None
Genre: Action-Adventure , Drama, Mystery, Romance, Suspense
Story Status: Active
Pairings: None
Warnings: Adult Situations, Dark Fic, Graphic Violence, Strong Sexual Content
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 24 Completed: No Word count: 77180 Read: 100260 Published: October 04 2015 Updated: November 26 2017
Story Notes:

Okay, as you know I deleted all of my stories except for those in the Vault. I felt like I could do better and improve on my writing technique. Save Me From Myself is the first of my deleted stories to be revised mainly because it was incomplete when I deleted compared to His Mercy and Baby, It's Cold Outside which were completed. It's been a crazy few months, but I really had fun revising this story because I got to change the plot a bit, squished some chapters together, add new chapters, and new characters. I will let you know which chapters are brand new. I will be mass updating because I have completed a lot of chapters.

I have been getting a lot of emails and questions about this story. I hope this was worth your wait.

P.S. I am working on character pictures, so keep an eye out.

Enjoy!

1. The Lucky Unlucky Girl by Missus James

2. The Cold Breakfast by Missus James

3. Silly Little Fool by Missus James

4. Slim Whims by Missus James

5. Home is Where the Heart is by Missus James

6. Tipsy by Missus James

7. Cold, Hard, Rough by Missus James

8. The Golden Pig by Missus James

9. Clean, Bone, Destruction by Missus James

10. Creature of Habit by Missus James

11. When a Monster Becomes a Man by Missus James

12. Guest of the Hour by Missus James

13. Oh, Where; Oh, Where! by Missus James

14. Punishment by Missus James

15. Breaking and Mending by Missus James

16. Show and Tell by Missus James

17. Yes by Missus James

18. Monster's Wife by Missus James

19. Self Destruct by Missus James

20. Far, Far Away by Missus James

21. Step in the Right Direction by Missus James

22. Lost Children by Missus James

23. Tiny Punishments by Missus James

24. A First Time for Everything by Missus James

The Lucky Unlucky Girl by Missus James
Author's Notes:

Willow has a near death experience.

 

 

Her hot huffs of panting turned into wisps of gray breath in the crisp, cold November air. The park’s pathways were lined with glowing light poles as she jogged down the winding sidewalk that sliced through the shadowy path. It was barely before dawn. The sun wasn’t quite out yet, but the light shades of blue that brought the arrival of day pushed the midnight blue from the sky. The moon was still out though—a bright white dot high above.

It was Saturday now.

Her red and black running shoes thumped against the cold sidewalk as she continued her jogging. She wore black jogging pants and a matching tank top that was concealed by the red Ohio State University hoodie she wore. All types of music streamed into her ears through her earbuds.

Listening to music helped her keep time. She gave herself a limit. After three songs, she would stop jogging and walk the rest of the way. Much to her dismay, she was two songs into her jogging and her second song happened to be “Papa was a Rollin’ Stone” by the Temptations. This version stretched over nine minutes.

Honestly, Willow Carter hated jogging. The method of exercise was something recommended by her soon-to-be wedded older sister and enforced by their smothering mother.

Farrah tried to be nonchalant about it—but failed miserably—while they went out shopping for a maid of honor dress.

“You know, Will, this dress would look amazing on you in a size twelve,” Farrah paused with a hopeful tone to her voice, “maybe even a ten?”

Willow was obviously not a size twelve or even a ten. She was a solid size fourteen and often wore a size sixteen depending on the fashion brand. When she was a kid, she was a short little thing with plenty of baby fat. You could always tell the difference between Farrah and Willow in their childhood photos. Farrah was tall and slender with an elegant demeanor and possessed a bright picture perfect smile. Willow looked like a brown meatball with chubby cheeks draped in whatever cheesy floral outfit their mother wanted both of them to wear.

Willow was still short and chubby, but Farrah no longer looked like she belonged on a box of “Just for Me” hair relaxer. Oh, no. Now she could grace the pages of Vogue, which was quite ironic considering that she was an up-and-coming model with a promising career during her college years.

After her third song was up, Willow slowed down to a halt and leaned forward, placing her hands on her knees as she panted heavily. She could taste cooper in her mouth and her leg muscles under her flesh burned horribly.

No pain, no gain.

This shit wasn’t for her, but she had been doing this for three weeks straight.

As she attempted to catch her breath, a tall hoodied jogger went past her. She looked at his departing form. He had been doing that for three weeks straight as well. Passing her by most likely shaking his head in disappointment and pity as he did so.

Once she caught her breath, Willow resumed her journey down the winding park sidewalk by walking slowly this time. It took her fifteen minutes to return to the parking lot.

A wave of relief washed over her as she approached her car. When she reached the driver’s side, she unzipped her jacket a little and reached into her tank top to retrieve the singular car key that was hidden within her sports bra.

Just as she was about to open the car door, she felt something sharp against the middle of her back. “Don’t move,” a jittery male voice said behind her.

A gasp escaped her lips.

“Put your hands up,” the voice ordered, the sharp object jabbing into her back for emphasize. She squeezed her eyes shut and yelped at the pain that seeped through her layers of clothing.

He grabbed her hair that was in a sloppy ponytail and yanked her head back hard. “Shut the fuck up,” he said through grit teeth. His lips were so close that she could feel his hot breath against the back of her ear.

“Don’t hurt me,” she whimpered, “please.”

The man slammed her body against the side of her dark blue SUV, knocking the wind out of her. She could see her face of pain and fear in the reflection of the driver’s tinted window and she saw him too—the man who was doing this horrible thing to her.

His cracked lips pressed against the back of her ear, brushing against it. It made her flesh crawl and she shuddered in disgust.

However, something from her car window’s reflection caught her eye. It was moving fast and advancing towards them.

One moment, the man’s heated body sandwiched her against the vehicle completely helplessly and then she felt coldness. A masculine cry crackled through the air followed by a loud thump.

Willow quickly swirled around and pressed her back against the car, watching a familiar hoodied figure kick her assailant in the face before he reached down and grabbed a fistful of the man’s jacket and gave three solid punches to the man’s face.

“Go,” her savior ordered in a gruff booming voice before he resumed punishing her attacker.

Willow’s mouth gaped open as she stood completely rooted in her spot, unable to rip her eyes away from the brutal scene before her. Her savior kept punching her attacker until blood oozed from his nostrils and bubbled from his mouth in sputtering coughs.

“Stop,” she screamed suddenly and rushed over to the disturbing scene as the avenging stranger drew back his crimson dripping fist to drive a final blow.

Willow pleaded, “Please, stop. That’s enough.”

The hoodied stranger peered over his shoulder and towards her direction. The shadows that clung to the early morning light concealed part of his face.

His fist was still positioned to strike a blow and she could have sworn that he curled it tighter.

“Please,” she pleaded.

The stranger returned his attention to her attacker and dropped him unforgivingly on the cold concrete of the parking lot. Her attacker groaned through a mouthful of blood, unable to move and completely defenseless.

“Call the police,” the stranger order, standing over her beaten attacker.

Willow nervously licked her lips and raced over to her SUV and opened the driver door with her car key. She leaned into the car and quickly opened the armrest compartment to retrieve her slender smartphone.

She dialed ‘911’ and heard a male operator’s voice in moments. She stuttered and tripped over her words as she tried to explain the situation, tears stinging her eyes as she retold the awfully fresh details.

She stayed on the line with the operator as he reassured her everything was okay and that help would be there shortly. From the comfort of her car, she watched the stranger stand guard over the attacker. In less than five minutes, police sirens could be heard.

As the shrieking sirens grew closer and closer in sound, she remained inside of her vehicle. She turned her head towards the closeness of the symphony of sharp sirens until she could see the police car lights flashing as help approached.

When she looked back in the direction of where the stranger and her attacker were, the stranger had vanished without a trace while her attacker remained unconscious on the parking lot ground.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

“You’re a very lucky girl,” the police officer said as Willow sat across from him at his desk in the bustling downtown police station. She knew that he saying that was supposed to make her feel better, but it didn’t. She casted her eyes down staring at the bobble-head pitbull that was on the police officer’s messy desk and nodded her head, pretending to agree with him. She hugged herself tighter.

That man could have raped her.

That man could have killed her.

But he didn’t.

She knew she should feel better for that fact alone, but instead she felt utterly violated.

“Baby girl,” her father’s voice called from behind. Willow turned around in her seat to watch her worried father jog towards her.

Willow stood up quickly and went to her father, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. She buried her face into his shirt and broke out a sob. She had kept herself together from the parking lot to the police station, but the moment she was in her father’s arms, she crumbled into a little girl of a woman.

Her father’s arms engulfed around her and pulled her into him. “Sh, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here now,” he whispered into her hair, kissing the top of her head. She knew her mother or sister wouldn’t come. They were across country in California having a consulting session with a wedding dress designer for three custom dresses Farrah would wear on her wedding day.

It was better this way. She didn’t need either of them making a big scene in the police station or making her feel stupid for doing what they had told her to do.

“Where is that bastard who did this to you?”

“I think he’s in critical condition at the hospital, Dad,” she answered. At least, that was what she assumed. He looked as if he were hanging on the last thread of life when the EMTs placed him onto a gurney and hauled him off in an ambulance. For all she knew, he could have died on the way to the hospital from choking on his own blood and honestly, there was not a caring bone in her body if she knew he had died.

Her fresh memories drifted back to her savior that put him in that condition.

Her dad held her tighter as if he were making up for not being there to protect her.

“Let’s hope he doesn’t make it,” he said.

Once all of the paperwork was finished, Willow father offered to drive her back to her parents’ house, but she declined and followed his Porsche in her own SUV. At first, he protested, but then he agreed. It was a long drive from the jungle of the city to the sprawling green lawns of the suburbs. The drive was plenty of time to clear her thoughts. That was why she didn’t want the awkward ride home with her father. She didn’t need him staring over to her in worry that she would break like a fragile porcelain doll in the front passenger seat.

She went back to her old room that was just the same as she had left it when she went to college. It didn’t have pageant ribbons, crowns, and trophies lining the shelf walls like Farrah’s childhood room. Instead, it was filled with old video games, mangas, comics, books, and DVDs of cult classics. She was just as much a nerd now as she was back then. Her walls were a soft blue hue as were the curtains of the French doors that lead to the balcony.

Her bed was queen-sized with a darker blue canopy and matching covers. She stripped down until she was in nothing but her sports bra and underwear before crawling inside of the covers, curling herself into a little ball. She buried her face into her pillows and closed her eyes.

She was home.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

It was a few minutes after three in the afternoon when she woke up. The clock on her cellphone’s screensaver told her so. Her body ached horribly. She knew it was from the jogging. Her head ached too, but she knew that was from everything that happened after the jogging.

A surreal feeling washed over her. The events of the early morning felt like a nightmare, but she knew it was real. She could remember her attacker’s hot fishy breath fan against her ear. How his touch made her skin crawl.

She placed her cellphone back on the nightstand and sat up in the bed, smoothing back the wild strands of hair that had slithered from her sloppy ponytail. She looked back over to her nightstand and realized that there was a small cup of water with melting ice cubes and a bottle of aspirin. A weak smile played across her lips at the sight. Her father must have placed them there well knowing that she would need them.

After she swallowed the two chalky white pills with a few gulps of icy water, she climbed out of the bed and looked for her clothes, but they were nowhere to be found. Instead, she found a white shirt with gyms shorts folded nearly at the foot of the bed.

Willow put on the clothes and left the bedroom, heading downstairs. She made a beeline to her father’s office, opening one of the heavy mahogany double doors. She walked inside. There he was behind his desk, talking to someone on the wireless home phone.

“She just walked through the office door,” her father announced to the person he was talking to. No doubt her mother.

“It’s your mother,” he said, pointing to the phone before he pried it from his ear, pressed the mute button, and offered the phone to her.

Willow shook her head and said no.

“Willow Angelique Carter, take the phone,” her father said in a stern warning voice with little room for negotiations.

Willow closed her eyes and sighed deeply, making her way over to her father’s desk where she plucked the phone from his hands. She pressed the mute button to un-mate the call and answered with a hello.

“Oh, darling! Are you alright? Your father told us everything,” her mother’s worried voice streamed into her ear.

“I’m fine, Mom,” Willow lied. “It’s just a bit surreal. That’s all.”

“Now you know that you should not jog early in the morning in a park no less,” her mother said in her usual tsk’ing tone. Already thirty seconds into this conversation and her mother did not disappoint in making Willow feel like this ordeal was all her fault.

Willow frowned, “Let’s remember why I am even jogging in the first place. Where is the bride-to-be anyway?”

“She is absolutely distraught. When she heard about what happened to you, she cried and cried. I sent her to the spa to calm herself down.”

Willow rolled her eyes. Obviously, she wasn’t that distraught if she could their mother’s offer for a spa treatment. “I hope she gets the relaxation she needs. God knows she has been absolutely stressed over planning this wedding. I wouldn’t want me being attacked at a park to hinder her from planning out her dream day wedding.”

“Now, Willow. Your sister is stressed. Wedding planning isn’t easy. Designing three wedding dresses from scratch isn’t easy either. Give your sister some credit.”

It always amazed Willow how conversations always ended up being about Farrah especially when her mother was a contributor.

“You’re absolutely right. Give her my love,” Willow said before hanging up the phone.

She placed the wireless phone on his desk and said, “I’m leaving.”

“Why do conversations between you and your mother always take a sour turn,” her father frowned.

“Because someone keeps handing me the phone and insist that I talk to her,” Willow answered, shooting her father a look.

“You need to stay here and rest,” her father said.

“I am rested. Now I just need to be on my own,” she said. “Okay?”

 

 

End Notes:

First upload of five or six!

The Cold Breakfast by Missus James
Author's Notes:

Willow meets her savior face to face.

Early the next morning, Willow Carter jogged again. Not because her mother or sister had wanted her to. Not because she wanted to lose weight to squeeze into her maid of honor dress that would make her look like a meatball in her sister’s wedding photos regardless. She jogged down the familiar winding sidewalk lined and lit with light poles because she was looking for him.

Willow didn’t have music this time. All she had was the gentle cool autumn breeze that licked her and the sound of her own panting as she jogged.

Eventually, she stopped when she was out of breath and leaned forward with her hands on her knees. She had jogged further than she had normally would before stopping. She should have taken it as an accomplishment, but instead took it as a feat because she hadn’t found him yet.

A strange fact considering that they both had been creature of habits on these park sidewalks for three weeks straight. Most likely much longer for him.

Licking her dry lips, she walked the reminder of the path and returned to the parking lot. She walked to her vehicle and constantly glanced around her surroundings. She knew her attacker wouldn’t come back for her, but paranoia was now wired into her DNA. When she reached her SUV, she began to unzip her jacket a little to retrieve her car key from the confines of her sports bra. However, she noticed movements behind her from the corner of her eye. She reached into the pocket of her jacket and swirled around in reaction, wielding a switchblade in front of her.

She panted heavily, staring at the hoodied stranger who stood a few feet away from her.

“It’s you,” she said more to herself than to him.

“You were looking for me,” he said. His voice was deep, cool, and calm like the November air around him.

Slowly, Willow nodded her head. “I was,” she admitted, her eyes shifting over to the spot where he had beaten her attacker. “You saved me yesterday from that man and then you left. I never got to say thank you.”

“Is that all?”

His question caught her off-guard and made her feel foolish.

“Well, I wanted to know why you left just before the police arrived?”

“My job was done.”

Willow dropped her hand that held her switchblade. “You’re a man of a few words, aren’t you?”

“It’s not smart to jog by yourself this early in the morning.”

Well, at least his quantity of words within his statements increased by a few.

“I really don’t need a lecture right now about being safe and thinking smart. I’ve gotten plenty within the last twenty four hours from police officers and my parents. The last thing I need is one from you,” Willow said defensibly with a frown.

The hoodied stranger moved to walk away.

Shit, she offended him. Her pride got the best of her and now the man who took the time of his day to save her was prepared to walk away.

“Wait,” she said. “Jog with me. We are always at the park at the same time. If you jog with me, I won’t be alone. I know you jog faster than me anyway, so I’ll just tail after you. I promise I won’t be a bother.”

“You don’t know me,” the stranger said, moving closer to her. Out of instinct, she took a step back.

“You saved me,” she replied back, her voice soft. That was all she needed to trust him.

The stranger returned, “That doesn’t mean you should trust me.”

The shadows clung to parts of his face that hid within his hoodie. She chewed hard on her bottom lip and pressed herself against the SUV, realizing how close he was to her. “If I can’t trust my savior then who can I trust?”

“Is that what you think I am? A savior?”

Willow felt like a fool when he asked her that, but she nodded her head nonetheless. “Yes.”

A long silence hovered between them before she finally spoke. “There’s a diner down the street that has really good waffles. Do you want to have some?”

“I beat a man to a bloody pulp in front of you yesterday and you offering me waffles today,” he queried, his voice dripping in a dark form of amusement.

“How rude of me not to bring a ‘thanks for beating up my attacker nearly to death’ card,” she said.

He then said, “I don’t eat waffles, but I do eat dinner.”

Willow opened her mouth to speak before she clamped her mouth shut, realizing what the stranger just said. Her eyes widened at his words. Did he just ask her out on a dinner date?

“Um,” she trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“The diner has an all-day menu,” he clarified.

How could she be so stupid! Of course, he wouldn’t ask her out on a dinner date. He was just being kind. Most likely pitying her.

“Oh, right,” she nodded and pretended as if she didn’t wish the ground would swallow her whole to escape this embarrassing moment.

They walked to the diner. It was a ten-minute walk from the park and a rather quiet journey at that. Willow snuck glances at the stranger, still having not seen his face.

When they entered the diner, a silver rusted bell that hung above the entrance door rung. A middle-aged brunette waitress who was serving coffee to a customer behind the service counter told them to pick any seat they wanted and she would be there with them shortly.

Willow picked a booth by a window and slid into one side of it. As the stranger slid into the other side, he pulled his hoodie back, finally revealing his face to her.

She widened her eyes slightly as she absorbed the sight of him and the screaming details of his unmasked face.

His eyes were an intense green. He had a square jaw framed in a dark beard. A multitude of scars marred his face.

“So that’s what you look like,” she blurted out accidentally.

He lifted a bushy eyebrow that had been sliced with an old scar. “What did you think I looked like?”

“Honestly, I thought you had a Batman mask glued to your face and I am quite pleased that isn’t the case,” she said with a smile. She saw his green eyes flicker to her upward curling lips and linger there for a moment. She could have sworn she had seen them darken before they traveled back up to meet her eyes.

Was that a look of disapproval? God, she knew her smile wasn’t as picture perfect as Farrah’s, but she thought she had an okay smile.

She glanced to the diner window they sat beside and saw her smile in her reflection. Her cheeks looked like they belonged on a chipmunk. Her smile melted off of her face in that moment. She cleared her throat and tugged her bottom lip into her mouth to chew on it for a moment. “So what’s your name?”

There was a moment of silence between them. Willow noted the faint thoughtful expression that eased onto his face at her question, as if he were contemplating on answering it. She didn’t think asking for someone’s name required that much thought unless he actually was mask-less Batman and he didn’t want her to know his true identity.

“Sebastian,” he then answered.

Sebastian, she tested out his name within the depths of her mind. It was a nice name.

A fitting name.

A strong name.

She opened her mouth to speak but the waitress from earlier appeared at their tableside. She was an older woman in her late forties to early fifties. She had brunette hair with light sprinkles of gray styled into a 1920s-looking bobcut. It suited her. It made her look younger coupled with her high cheekbones.

Willow’s eyes flickered to the woman’s nametag which read ‘Maryann’.

“Mornin’ to the both of you,” Maryann said with a warm smile. “The name’s Maryann and I’ll be servin’ you today. Need a menu?”

“No,” two said in unison. Willow cut her eyes away from Maryann to look at Sebastian, who was staring her down like a hawk as if his eyes never left her. What in the hell was she doing wrong?

Alrighty,” Maryann said. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Six shots of vodka, Willow thought. Coke or Pepsi with no ice would be her normal go-to choice of beverage at a greasy spoon restaurant such as this, but she could just see her mother’s disapproving gaze because she wasn’t being careful of her calorie and sugar intake.

“Water with ice with a slice of lemon,” Willow ordered with a weak smile.

“Absolutely, darling,” Maryann said before cutting her attention over to Sebastian. “And for you, sir?”

“Coffee. Black,” he ordered.

“I’ll be right back with your drinks,” Maryann stated before she turned on her heels and departed.

Willow rapped her fingernails onto the table for a moment as they were once again swallowed in an awkward silence that ate at her. “So how long have you been going to the park?”

“A while,” he answered short and cold cut.

“Well, I’ve been going there for three weeks now. It’s a good place to jog especially when it’s dark and there aren’t knife-wielding psychopaths around,” she teased goodheartedly, but his face showed no evidence of reacting to her slither of dark humor. “Jogging isn’t exactly my go-to choice of exercise though, but being alone a winding path is kind of peaceful. I like that because my life is anything but peaceful,” Willow rambled on. He looked at her with a deadpan face from across the table.

She frowned, “And this where I shut the hell up.”

“It’s fine,” he said.

“You’re just saying that to be kind,” Willow replied.

“I said that because I mean it,” he answered.

His response caught her off-guard and caused her eyebrows to jerk upward for a moment. “So you don’t think I am a bumbling idiot who can’t shut up?”

Maryann returned with their beverage orders and Willow was thankful for the distraction. At first, she wanted to order buttery waffles with sausage but remembered gorging down on that meal choice would return all of the calories and then some she managed to burn from her morning jogs.

She remembered that the diner had a plain yogurt with fresh fruit as a menu choice and ordered that.

He ordered a medium-rare steak with roasted garlic potatoes.

At first, she envied him for not having to worry about what to eat. However, she then realized that for a big guy like him, he most likely needed every bit of that meal.

She watched their waitress walk away to put in their orders.

“I don’t think you’re a bumbling idiot,” he then said.

Willow jerked her attention to him and blinked her eyes in confusion.

“Referring back to your earlier question,” he clarified.

“Oh,” she said with a brief laugh. “I completely forgot. That’s good because at least one of us thinks so.”

Once more, he gave her a disapproving gaze or at least, she thought he did. He was a difficult man to read. He probably didn’t like the sight of a self-pitying woman. She didn’t mean for this to turn into a pity party for Willow.

“I need to know your name if we are going to be jogging together in the morning.”

She smiled at his acceptance of her proposition.

“Willow. Willow Carter.”

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Willow eased her dark blue SUV into an empty space in the parking lot. She turned off the ignition and switched off the headlights. She climbed out of the vehicle and closed the car door. It had been about two weeks since a jittery man had attacked her in this very parking lot with a sharp knife and ill intentions. Fallen leaves were still everywhere to signify the season of autumn, but November was nearing its end with Thanksgiving nearly five days away.

Today, she wore an OSU red winter cap, a long green sleeved shirt, a black hoodie, and thicker black jogging pants to combat the increasing icy temperatures as winter grew closer.

She walked across the parking lot and towards the mouth of the pathway that lead into the scenic park consumed by autumn. There stood Sebastian waiting for her with his hoodie up as always. She knew it was him.

At the diner, they had made an agreement to jog together. Well, not exactly together. It was more like he jogged his normal speed and she would attempt to catch up to him without having a heart attack or fainting from lack of oxygen.

Good news though. She lost a total of six pounds. Even though it wasn’t enough to put her into a size twelve or ten as her older sister and mother wished, her size fourteen clothes felt much looser in the waist area. Willow was very proud of that.

“Good morning,” she said with an airy chipper voice.

“Morning,” he said in a low gruff one.

She held back a smile. He was always a man of few words. She had gotten used to it now. In the beginning, it was rather off-putting trying to pry anything more than ten words from his mouth, but now she realized that it was just who he was. At least, maybe that was how he was around her. Over these last two weeks, she had learned to appreciate it and in some ways, she was kind of grateful for it.

It counteracted dealing with the talkative natures of her mother and Farrah.

It also made her less talkative, which was a plus in its own right.

Soon, he began to jog down the pathway. His movement was smooth, timely, and effective. She followed after him in a slow choppy manner. However, Willow had to give herself some credit. Her endurance had increased significantly in two weeks’ time. Sometimes, she thought of herself to be a racing greyhound and Sebastian was the plastic rabbit she had to catch up to.

Basically, watching the backside of him was great motivation … in a non-sexual way, of course.

About halfway into their early morning jogging routine, she tripped and tumbled forward to the cold sidewalk ground with a loud yelp.

Willow rolled onto her back and slowly sat upright. She flexed both of her ankles and winced as a pain ran up her left leg. “Fuck,” she whimpered as she closed her eyes and reached down to massage the pain away but it obviously didn’t work.

She opened her eyes when she felt ice cold fingers brush away hers and gently rubbed the warm flesh of her left ankle. Sebastian was knelt on one knee before her, examining the damage of her ankle.

“It’s not broken, but I think you twisted it.”

He helped her to her feet and she pressed weight onto her left foot for a moment but she shook her head while chewing on her bottom lip. “It hurts.”

Sebastian turned around and squatted low. “Climb on.”

Willow blinked her eyes. Did he just offer to give her a piggyback ride?

She shook her head. “No way. I’m way too heavy. I’d break your back.”

He chuckled, which was a rarity to her ears. “I doubt you’d do that.”

Hesitantly, she climbed onto his back and wrapped her arms around his neck. She shuddered as she felt strong hands scoop the underside of her thighs and hike her further up against his back with ease. Her chin was perched on his shoulder as she looked ahead of them.

She turned her head slightly and brushed her nose against the fabric of his hoodie that cloaked his neck. He possessed a mellow scent of some type of manly cologne that reminded her of Old Spice.

She fluttered her eyes shut and breathed in.

“I’m really sorry about this,” she said softly.

He said nothing. She expected that.

Eventually, they returned back to the parking lot. He carried her back to her vehicle.

“Where’s your car key,” he questioned as he let her down.

She leaned against the car for support and unzipped her jacket, reaching into her sports bra past her long-sleeved shirt to retrieve her key. It wasn’t until she had looked up did she realize that he had turned around and watched the whole thing. Her left ankle throbbed too much for her to worry about feeling embarrassed.

Sebastian moved aside as she opened the car door and climbed inside. With the car door open, the lights within her car automatically lit up. As she sat in the driver’s seat, her legs dangled out of the car. She hitched up the sleeve of her jogging pants and pushed down her socks.

“Do you think I should go to the doctor,” she asked.

“You’ll be fine,” he assured as he lingered close to her opened car door. “Put ice on it.”

She remembered the feel of his cold fingers when he checked the condition of her ankle back at the park. “Why would I need ice when your fingers are cold enough?”

Her hand clamped over her mouth when she realized what she had said. Her eyes wide with surprise. Where in the heck did that come from?

She dropped her hand from her mouth and said, “Sebastian, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. It was—“

The words that spewed from her mouth died in her throat as she felt cold pale fingers brush against the whimsical tattoo of a willow tree etched in black ink just above her throbbing left ankle.

Willow closed her eyes and gave a tiny intake of breath. A shiver coursed through her.

“Is this cold enough for you,” he questioned casually. Willow made a little ‘mm hm’ sound and nodded her head with a slow uncertainty. Her heart quickened in her chest as she felt his digits moved back down to her left ankle, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Put ice on it.”

Willow nodded her head like an obedient child and croaked out a tiny ‘okay’ after she opened her eyes to stare into his face. An emotion rippled across his face, but she couldn’t figure out what for it happened too quickly and looked more like a wince.

He moved his hand away and left without another word.

 

End Notes:

Here's another one!

Silly Little Fool by Missus James
Author's Notes:

Willow meets up with her co-worker, Simon, and feels like a fool because of it.

 

 

Willow Carter was a graphic designer (informally crowned as the marketing person) at a well-known charitable organization called Paws and Protect. The purpose of the charity was to rescue any and all dogs from kill shelters, retrain them as watchdogs, and adopt them out to domestic abuse and rape victims and families. Her workspace was a regular-sized cubicle and her pay wasn’t exactly gasp-worthy, but it was enough to keep her up-to-date on her car payments, house payments, and other bills. It was enough for her to spend spare money on things she enjoyed doing.

Everything was just enough.

She was kind of the go-to person for just about anything and everything marketing. In addition to that, she had free creativity. She wasn’t confined to the demands of an overwhelming client. She was able to enjoy the freedom that came with the job considering the rest of her life was chained to limitations and expectations.

After coding a commercial she had edited into the charity’s website, she got up from her computer chair and stretched, looking around the office space that surrounded her. The headquarters was a well-oiled machine with everyone doing what they were supposed to be doing.

On Saturday, she had twisted her ankle. Now, it was Monday and her ankle still hurt, which caused her to limp a little. She walked through the small cluster of cubicles to get to the water cooler for a refreshing cup of water, taking her sweet time.

“Hey,” a male voice said as she passed by a particular cubicle. Willow stopped her journey and turned around. Her co-worker, Simon, poked his head out of his cubicle with a warm smile. “How’s your ankle, Will?”

Willow smiled back at him and shrugged her shoulders a little. “It’s getting better. I’ll give it a few more days. It just sucks that my little accident happened so close to Thanksgiving.”

“I never knew you were a jogger.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it jogging. I consider mine more of a painfully mangled version of walking and running than jogging.”

He chuckled and his smile grew bigger. “I bet you jog just fine.”

Simon was such a nice guy. So nice in fact that she had a bit of a crush on him. He liked her sense of humor or at least, he pretended to. However, she knew that she wasn’t his type. She had seen the pictures of his previous girlfriends as his screensavers and backgrounds on his cellphones over the years. She even had the ‘pleasure’ of meeting a handful of them at some of the charity organization’s annual events as well as some other social events outside of work due to the fact that both of their families ran in the same social circle.

They all looked like Farrah—tall, slender, and elegant-looking—except with honey-hued skin.

Willow’s skin was a few shades darker than that. She was far from tall and slender. She was far from elegant too.

“You know I jog at the same park except in the evenings. Maybe I should switch up my schedule and join you in the morning. A woman such as yourself shouldn’t jog by yourself that early in the morning. You never know what lunatics are lurking around.”

Aside from her family and friends, no one knew about her being attacked at the park. She didn’t need any more people lecturing or pitying her for being so stupid.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she smiled weakly as memories of that fated morning swirled around in her head, unraveling her slowly at the seams.

“I want to,” he said, “when your ankle feels better, of course.”

Since she had twisted her ankle, she decided it was best not to jog. She gave herself a limit of two more days before she would go back to her old routine.

She smiled at his kindness. “When my ankle feels better, we’ll work out the details. Does that satisfy you,” she teased.

“Absolutely,” Simon said, giving her a playful wink. If her skin was light enough, he could probably see her blushing.

Good thing it wasn’t.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

It was the day before Thanksgiving. While Willow was still curled in bed trying to soak up some more minutes of sleep, she had gotten a text message. Her cellphone chirped and vibrated on her nightstand. She groaned in protest and snuggled her head further into the softness of her pillow. After several blissful days of actually sleeping until the sun came up, Willow was starting to have second thoughts about going back to her early morning jogs.

However, a few moments later, her cellphone chirped and buzzed on her nightstand attempting to notify her that she hadn’t looked at the received text message.

Aimlessly, she reached for the device and pried her eyes open.

Rise and shine, sleepyhead.

It was from Simon.

Knowing it was from Simon was enough to get her ass out of bed.

She shimmied out of her cozy pajamas and dressed herself into her standard jogging uniform. She even put on some makeup and lip gloss. For good measure, she sprayed on a little lavender perfume too.

The drive to the park made her rather anxious. Her heart throbbed against her ribcage a little too quickly and she was squirmy in the driver’s seat. Her foot had a bit of lead in it as she drove a little too fast over the speed limit down the empty streets of the city.

When she arrived to the parking lot of the park, she noticed Simon’s car and decided to park two empty spaces away from it. While she was still in the car, she slid her car key in its safe place in her sports bra and opened the door. She hopped out and closed the door behind her.

Simon got out of his black Mercedes. Aside from working at the charity organization, another thing they had in common was the fact that they both came from affluent African American families. His father was a tax attorney and his mother was a top-notch accountant with her own firm.

Willow’s father, Doctor Edison William Carter, was a neurosurgeon who was currently nearing the end of his sabbatical and her mother, Sabrina Evelyn Carter, was a socialite in several upper-crust circles.

Their mothers were very good friends.

“Good morning,” he said with a bright smile as he approached her.

“Good morning,” she returned with a smile of her own.

“Thanks for letting me join you,” he said sincerely as they began to walk towards the beginning of the pathway that led into the park.

Willow turned her head to him and smiled, “No need to thank me. It’s nice having someone to jog with.”

“Maybe we could just walk this morning. It’s easier to talk that way,” Simon suggested.

“Okay,” she nodded, a wave of relief washed over her. Her left ankle still ached, but the prospect of being with her office crush was enough to make her consider pushing aside her pain. “We could do that. What do you want to talk about?”

Simon sighed heavily. “Well, I need some womanly advice.”

“Well, green isn’t your color,” she teased, pinching the fabric of his jacket.

He tossed his head back and laughed, “No, not that type of womanly advice. I need some guidance on how to deal with a woman.”

Willow’s right eyebrow shot upward. “Oh, I see,” she paused. “Well, tell me about this woman.”

“She’s amazing. She’s sweet and kind. She makes me laugh,” Simon began. “When I’m around her, I can’t think and sometimes, I forget to breath.”

I know the feeling, Willow thought. She nodded her head to his words, her heart racing with each gush of praise he had about this special woman. Maybe she was his type after all.

Willow then questioned casually as they strolled down the winding path, “Do you work with her?”

Simon halted in his steps. “How did you know that?”

Willow refrained from doing a happy dance and pretended to remain neutral, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s just a guess.”

“Damn,” Simon frowned. “Is it that obvious?”

“Maybe a little,” she admitted, licking her lips in anticipation.

He cursed under his breath and they resumed walking. “Do you think she knows?”

She nodded her head slowly. “There’s a possibility.”

“Maybe it is better this way,” Simon replied. “It will be easier to ask Cara out if she already knows.”

Now it was Willow’s turn to stop walking. “Cara?”

Cara was the slender light-skinned receptionist that got hired a few weeks back as a replacement to the old receptionist, Debbie, who decided to retire and move closer to her grown children. The arrival of the new receptionist stirred up some lawsuit-worthy reactions from some of the bachelors and married men at the office. Cara was his type. Willow wasn’t. This was about Cara.

“Oh, Cara,” she gave a fake laugh. “I thought you were talking about Brooke.”

Simon looked at her in disbelief. “Brooke and I can’t stand each other.”

Willow knew that. Everyone at the office knew that, but she needed to come up with something to prevent him from finding out about her crush on him. To prevent herself from acting even more like a silly little fool.

She shrugged her shoulders. “You know what they say. There is a fine line between love and hate. I just assumed.”

He believed her act. They continued to walk and talk about Cara even though Willow no longer had the energy to walk or talk. Now she just wanted to go back home and crawl into her bed to build up the strength she needed to drive to her grandparents’ house in Massachusetts, so that they all could go to their family vacation home in Oak Bluffs, Martha’s Vineyard for the Thanksgiving weekend.

She had made a complete fool of herself. With the small amount of makeup on her face, it wouldn’t be too far of a reach to consider herself a bit of a clown too.

A familiar hoodied figure jogged past them with ease and down the concrete trail.

Willow gasped, “Oh god.”

Simon touched her back with a concerned look on his face. “Are you okay?”

Weakly, she nodded her head. “Yes, I just forgot something that’s all.”

She had completely forgotten about Sebastian and their agreement. Now to add to the list of being a complete fool and clown, she was also a complete ass.

Once their miserable early morning walk was finished, they returned to the parking lot. “Thanks for everything, Will,” Simon said with his signature pearly white smile before he climbed into his Mercedes and drove off.

After he got what he wanted, he didn’t stay to make sure that she was safe.

Cautiously, she walked over to her parked SUV and retrieved her car key. From the corner of her eye, she saw someone moving behind her. She reached into her jacket pocket to retrieve the switchblade there but found it to be empty.

“Shit,” she cursed. She had been in so much of a hurry to get to the park that she had completely forgot her protection at home.

She swirled around in panic and widened her eyes as she realized who stood before her.

“Sebastian,” she said softly.

Though she couldn’t see his face, she knew it was him.

“I’m sorry. I completely forgot about—“

He closed in on her quickly, pressing her hard against the side of the SUV. His cold fingers gripped her chin and tilted her head up while he leaned down, smashing his lips against hers.

She didn’t fight it because she was too shocked to. Her lips parted with ease as his slid his thick tongue in between them. Their tongues danced in a feverish way that made her feel utterly hot even as they both stood in the cold November air. She squeezed her eyes shut, melting into him while gripping fistfuls of his jacket to root herself to this bizarre reality.

Sebastian was kissing her. Cold quiet Sebastian who she could barely get a handful of words out of was kissing her by his own will.

When he broke the kiss, they both panted heavily to regain air into their lungs. Willow’s eyes fluttered shut and she licked her humming swollen lips. She released his jacket from her grip.

He pulled away from her completely and took a few steps back. “Go home,” he then ordered.

She lingered against the car for a moment—still catching her breath—before she retrieved her car and unlocked the car door. She climbed into her SUV and turned on the ignition. She looked out of her window for him. He was still in the same spot, watching her.

She backed out of the parking space and drove off, glancing in her rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of him once more.

 

 

 

 

End Notes:

Another update!

Slim Whims by Missus James
Author's Notes:

Willow pushes herself to the brink and someone has to be there to catch her.

All in all, the Thanksgiving weekend was rather miserable. A handful of family members from all around came to the vacation home in Oak Bluffs to celebrate the holiday with Papa Arthur and Nana Shirley, but there weren’t many compared to the previous years. At first, Willow was grateful for that because she thought that she wouldn’t have to deal a time-old question dreaded by all bachelors and bachelorettes: How is your love life?

However, she proved herself wrong. She was asked that many times. She also had the pleasure of enduring the looks of disappointment and pity when she revealed to each person who asked that she didn’t have a love life. In addition to that, she also had to endure the side-eye glances as her older sister trotted around with her glitzy brown diamond engagement ring and the poor sucker of a fiancé who gave her that ring.

Willow remembered the overwhelm feel of jealousy that consumed her as she watched her sister and fiancé act like a happily engaged couple. She hated the way Jeffery looked at her sister as if she were the only woman in the world. She also hated the way he touched her sister so tenderly. She knew she shouldn’t have been jealous over her sister, but the whole weekend she couldn’t help but think that Simon could have been her Jeffery. The whole jogging incident left her rather sad and sour. As for the whole incident with Sebastian, she decided not to think too much into it.

Now it was the Tuesday after Thanksgiving and it was everyone’s second day back at work after the holiday weekend. Willow attempted to avoid Simon, but failed miserably as usual. As she moseyed about the office to run errands here and there, they often caught sight of each other and shot each other smiles. His smile was bright and warm. Her smile was less than stellar and dripped with awkwardness.

When it neared lunchtime, her best friend and coworker Darlene appeared at the entrance of her cubicle.

“There’s a weird vibe going on here.”

Willow was in the middle of editing a photo of a recently adopted four-year-old black lab in Photoshop for the ‘I Found a Family’ page on the charity organization’s website when the woman popped up. “What in the world are you talking about now,” Willow said with the roll of her eyes, mentally preparing herself to deal with Darlene’s new office conspiracies.

“Something is up with you,” Darlene frowned.

“Have you ever spend Thanksgiving with my family?”

“No.”

“If you did then you’d know what is up with me,” Willow replied, her attention never drifting from her task.

Darlene shook her head. “No, I am not talking about that. I am talking about between you and Mister The-Name-We-Will-Not-Speak.”

“Voldemort,” Willow teased and glanced up at her best friend who had a rather unpleased look on her face.

Darlene narrowed her eyes and slipped into Willow’s cubicle. “You know exactly who I am talking about.”

Of course, she knew who Darlene was talking about. She just didn’t have the strength to talk about it. Willow sighed heavily and resumed working.

“Did something happen on your jog with him,” Darlene asked.

Oh, yes. A lot of things happened on her jog with him. She was effectively promoted to being the official friendzoned chubby girl that hot guys go to for womanly advice. Then, of course, another hot guy pressed her against her car and smashed his lips against hers.

She shook her head to rid herself of the second memory of that morning. That situation confused her greatly and for the last few days, she attempted to push it aside and pretend like it didn’t exist.

Willow glanced at her computer’s clock and cursed softly under her breath. She rose from her chair quickly.

Darlene’s eyebrows furrowed. “What’s wrong now?”

“I have lunch with my mom and sister,” Willow said as she slipped on her OSU hoodie and grabbed her purse from one of her desk’s drawers.

“That sounds disastrous,” Darlene said.

“Yeah, it most likely will be,” Willow agreed as she slipped out of the cubicle.

“Don’t think this conversation is over though,” Darlene replied aloud enough for Willow to hear. She smiled weakly at her friend’s words as she made her leave.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Willow replied back.

On her way out the door, Willow passed by the receptionist desk. Cara was in the middle of answering a phone call when she saw Willow and gave her a genuine kind smile and a small wave.

Willow waved back and gave a weak smile of her own.

Yes, this would be disastrous indeed.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Willow felt out of place as she entered the four-star restaurant in the downtown area. For it to be a Tuesday, the restaurant was bustling with patrons. Everyone wore business suits and expensive dresses while she wore a ‘Paws and Protect’ graphic t-shirt she designed and jeans with wedged tan-hued fur boots. The restaurant hostess was a beautiful blonde woman who asked politely if she had a reservation or if her party was already here.

“Was the Carter party arrived yet,” Willow asked. The hostess looked at Willow as if she sprouted three heads before she gave the chubby woman an once-over from head to toe. Willow was rather used to this reaction especially in restaurants and other establishments where her mother and sister frequented.

“You are Mrs. Carter’s younger daughter.”

The only and one, Willow thought. Willow nodded her head and gave a dramatic sigh. “I know it’s quite a surprise. She rarely talks about me and she never lets me out in public because of the curse an evil witch bestowed upon me at birth.”

The hostess gave a trivial laugh before offering to take the OSU hoodie she wore.

“No thank you,” Willow declined. Eventually, the hostess guided her through the restaurant. Though it was rather crowded, everyone talked in such a politely soft volume that you could hear the generic piano music stream through the air.

Willow approached the table where her mother and Farrah sat. The mother and daughter duo sat on the same side of the table looking as if they had just returned from a presidential brunch. Honestly, the possibility wouldn’t have been too far-fetched considering they all lived in Maryland.

“Willow, you’re late,” Farrah frowned. “You’re always late.”

“Well someone keeps planning lunches during the times I don’t have my lunch break and text me the morning of to tell me about it,” Willow retorted. “If you do recall, I have a job.”

“If you are going to be late, the least you can do is wearing something more,” Farrah paused, “appropriate for this type of establishment.”

“I am dressed appropriately because I am fully clothed, but if you prefer that I run around here naked then let me step into the powder room for a moment for a wardrobe change,” Willow said after sitting down on the opposite side of the table.

“Willow,” Sabrina spoke in a warning tone, narrowing her eyes.

Willow frowned, “If I had known this would be a two-against-one WWE fight, I would have brought along Darlene for a fair chance.”

Farrah sighed heavily before sipping her iced water. “There is no need to be so defensive, Willow.”

Willow closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She already felt a headache coming on and an overwhelming wave of regret for even coming to this lunch. “Is there a purpose to this lunch?”

“Yes, to discuss the wedding,” Farrah stated, perking up immediately at the topic. “Mother and I think this restaurant would be a great choice as a caterer to the wedding.”

“Okay,” Willow nodded, scrunching her eyebrows slightly. “If you and Mom have already decided that this place is a great choice then why am I here exactly?”

Farrah gave Sabrina the ‘you tell her’ look before Sabrina looked at her youngest daughter. “We wanted to know the progress of your exercising.”

Willow cocked her head to the side and looked at her mother in confusion. “It’s going fine. Why?”

“Willow, the wedding is in April and today is already the first of December. From the looks of it, you have barely lost any weight,” Farrah added.

“I’ve lost almost ten pounds and I’ve been jogging for two months. Let’s not forget, I was also attacked by a madman in the parking lot for that.”

Farrah sighed, “That was a very unfortunate incident but...”

Sabrina winched at Farrah’s statement. At least, their mother knew Farrah’s response wasn’t respectful.

“Unfortunate incident,” Willow repeated. “I could have been raped. I could have died if Seba … if a man hadn’t rescued me in time and even after that ‘unfortunate incident’, I still jog.”

“Maybe you should try something new. I could introduce you to my personal trainer. She does absolute wonders. She can slim you down in a few weeks’ time and then we can go searching for your maid of honor dress before it’s too late.”

Finally, their waiter arrived and greeted them warmly. He passed each of them a menu and when he reached Willow, she declined by holding up her hand. “No thank you,” she said as she rose up from her seat.

Sabrina frowned, straightening herself up in her seat. “Willow Angelique, where are you going?”

“Maybe if I skip out on this lunch, I’ll slim down,” she said, her voice shaky with emotion.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

She didn’t eat lunch, dinner, or breakfast. It had been exactly a week since that very eventful incidents at the park. She was lightheaded and her stomach clenched painfully in hunger, but she didn’t care. She had to lose this weight. If she lost it, then maybe her mother and sister would look at her differently. If she lost it, maybe Simon would look at her differently too.

Willow came early to the park before her normal time and started jogging without Sebastian again. It was easier said than done to think about that damn kiss. It haunted her sometimes when her brain had spare space for a heated memory to sneak in.

She didn’t want to think about him though. Not right now.

She chalked it up to be a fluke, a glitch in his system.

He didn’t want a girl like her. Plus, he barely had said more than a few words with her and they had known each other for quite a few weeks.

They had shared this bizarre experience. She could have died and he saved her.

That was it.

She jogged. She jogged harder than she had ever thought she could. She pushed herself to the brink even as her whole body ached in protest. All she could think about was that damned lunch meeting from yesterday or her miserable morning walk with Simon.

Everything could be different if she pushed herself a little harder.

Then it hit her like a ton of bricks. A strong wave of lightheadedness that made her knees wobble and her body weak. She fell forward, gaping like a fish out of water. The concrete sidewalk was ice cold against her cheek as she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Willow was curled into a tight ball under the covers when she awoke from a dreamless slumber. At first, she thought she was home in her own bed, but then she realized that she wasn’t. The covers and pillows were a crisp white with a subtle aroma of a familiar cologne. She pulled back the covers and glanced around to inspect the foreign surroundings.

The room had glossy gray concrete walls and floors, high ceilings, a glass roof slanted into glass walls braced by the rusted black metal that presented the city landscape.

She climbed out of the bed and shivered as her bare feet touched the cold concrete floor. She walked slowly across the span of the spacious room and towards what appeared to be a black metal staircase on the other side of the room.

She braced herself on the railing as she descended down the staircase through a hole carved in the concrete floor. The staircase was long and winding and when she reached the bottom, she realized that she was in a warehouse that had been converted into someone’s modern home.

There were book-filled bookcases that covered most of the walls. Modern pieces of furniture littered throughout the drafty space. There was a sleek gray kitchen to the north of her and a rusted warehouse door to the west of her. The warehouse door was half-slid. She walked over to it—taking her time—and peeked her head inside.

She saw the muscular back of a man doing chin-ups on a metal bar that expanded from wall to wall. She watched in awe as his sweaty muscles brunched and moved under his flesh as he did them.

Willow finally cleared her throat, making her presence known.

The man completed his remaining chin-up and hung there for a moment before he dropped down onto the floor. He turned around to face her.

Green eyes. Dark beard. Square jaw. Lots of scars.

Willow stood there in complete disbelief as she watched Sebastian reach up to grab a towel that was dangling on the long metal bar. He wiped the sweat off of him with the towel, but he still had a glisten to his flesh. He observed her with his green eyes the whole time he did so.

“How did I get here,” she asked.

“I brought you here in your car,” he said as he continued to dry himself off.

Immediately, her hand went to her chest. If he brought her here in her car then that meant he had to have reached into her sports bra to retrieve her car key.

Note to self: Never put your car key in your bra EVER AGAIN, Willow screamed in her brain.

Sebastian’s lips quirked upward into a slight smile at her reaction. “I found you passed out on the sidewalk. The smartest option would have been to bring you here where I could keep an eye on you.”

“What if I had a health condition where I needed medical attention,” Willow frowned.

“You didn’t need medical attention because your ‘condition’ was quite obvious,” Sebastian stated.

Willow crossed arms over her chest and cocked her head to the side. “And what is that?”

“Hunger,” he said in a quite judge-y tone. “Your stomach was grumbling and growling the whole time. You starved yourself then decided to push yourself to the brink by jogging.”

“Don’t judge me,” Willow said with a tint of anger in her voice.

She was so tired of everyone doing that.

Sebastian hung the towel back onto the metal bar and walked towards her. Out of instinct, she backed herself through the warehouse slide door and back into the main section of the warehouse, wanting to put a good distance between him and her.

“I would never do such a thing. You do enough of that for the both of us.”

Willow’s mouth dropped at his words. “Excuse me?”

“You worry about others judging you when you are your own worst culprit,” Sebastian elaborated as if she needed more explanation but she didn’t.

He walked over to the open kitchen.

“So what are you a therapist now?”

“No, but I’ve saved you twice already. I suppose that is enough to show that I have some concern in your well-being.”

Willow followed after him with brisk steps. “What the hell do you want from then, Sebastian? A reward? Money? A gift card to Macy’s?”

Her angry voice carried across the warehouse. “I need to know what you want from me, so that I can repay you,” she said, the tone of her voice converting from angry to almost pleading as she finally reached him. She grabbed his arm.

He stopped in his tracks and looked at her with a glint of something twinkling in his eye.

She casted her eyes downward, trying to collect her thoughts. “That morning I was with my co-worker Simon, you kissed me and told me to go. Why did you do that?”

“I wanted you to remember,” Sebastian said.

Willow peered back up at him. “I’m sorry?”

“I said I wanted you to remember.”

She cocked her head to the side and gazed at him in confusion. “You wanted me to remember what?”

“That I’m a man,” he replied.

She asked softly, “Why do I need to remember that?”

“Because I want you to know the difference between a man and a boy.”

Willow released his arm carefully. “Why do I need to know that?”

“Because I want you to know the difference between how I am going to make you feel versus how he made you feel when he drove off and left you in that parking lot.”

Her breath hitched in her throat and a burn crawled into her veins. She shook her head slowly and took three steps away from him. This couldn’t possibly be happening.

“You can’t say things like that.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable when I do?”

Willow nodded her head slowly. “Yes, it does.”

That was a lie and they both knew it.

Sebastian chuckled, “Does it really make you feel uncomfortable, Willow?’

She closed her eyes and shuddered at the way her name rolled off of his tongue. She nodded her head once more. “Yes,” she lied in a whisper. “It does.”

Willow nearly leaped out of her skin when she felt heavy hands on her arms. She opened her eyes and her heart quickened in pace as she realized that he had crept up on her, towering over her like a Greek god would a mortal.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m the terrible liar? It takes one to know one. Guys like you don’t go after girls like me unless you’re really fucking desperate or you enjoy toying with pathetic fat chick’s emotions for shits and giggles,” Willow hissed as she yanked herself out of his grasp.

This was too cruel.

“I am going after you.”

Willow snorted in an unladylike manner and swirled on her heels so that her back was facing him. “Sure, buddy.”

Before she could even walk away, strong hands grabbed a hold of her arms and swirled her back around to face him—to prevent her from retreating. Normal Willow would have pressed the palms of her hands against his chest and pushed him away. She would have called him an asshole and stormed off. This Willow should have pushed him away, but it was the hardened look of determination in his green eyes that rooted her to the ground.

This man was actually serious.

She blinked in shock at the realization. Now, she was genuinely uncomfortable. Not a creeped-out type of uncomfortable that made you beeline towards a nearby police station to file for a restraining order. It was the kind of uncomfortableness that made your tongue feel thick in your mouth and your skin feel tight.

“No,” she said softly, shaking her head. “This can’t happen.”

The amount of strength it took to force those words out of her mouth made her feel lightheaded. She gave him an out and prayed within the depths of her mind that he’d take it—that he’d kick her out of his house.

“And why can’t it happen, Willow?”

“Because we’re complete opposites. You’re white. I’m black. You’re tall and buff. I’m short and fat. This just wouldn’t work,” Willow said, frustration dripping in her voice.

“You don’t like white guys,” he questioned with a twinge of humor.

Willow pursed her lips. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then enlighten me, so I can prove you wrong,” he said.

“I’m fat and ugly. That’s a plain fact,” she replied.

Though she believed it to be a plain fact, she announced it as if it was a secret that she had kept inside of her for nearly twenty-five years. Twenty-five years of insecurities and self-doubt churned inside of her and made her hungry stomach twist and throb in pain.

Before she could even react, Sebastian grasped her chin tightly and tilted her head back so that she was forced to look him in the eyes. “Don’t you ever judge yourself or put yourself down in front of me again. Do you understand?”

She widened her eyes at his actions and words. The seriousness that dripped in his voice frightened her for a moment, but soon that fright melted into stubborn dose of anger. “You’re not my father. You can’t tell me what to do.”

Words were her only weapon when she felt as if she were being backed into a corner with no means of escape. She hoped she cut him deep, but she doubted it. In fact, he looked like he enjoyed the feistiness that burned from her.

“I might not be your father, but I’d love to put you across my knee and give you a sound smack on the ass.”

She narrowed her eyes and jabbed an index finger into his chest. “I double dog dare you to try that and see what hap—ahh!”

He scooped her up like she was nothing and carried her across the first floor warehouse space until he reached the black metal staircase. She struggled against him as he climbed the stairs, flailing her arms and legs. She bucked within his hold as if she were an angry bull in a rodeo ring. He seemed unaffected by her attempt of escape, which pissed her off even more.

When he reached the top of the stairs and ascended into his bedroom, he walked until he stopped at the foot of her bed and dropped her onto it. “Ooof,” she sounded as she plopped onto the soft bed held up by a modern bed frame.

She gave him a hateful look.

“I’ll cook breakfast. You stay up here or I’ll accept your double dog dare.”

“I think you’re all bark and no bite,” she said matter-of-factly.

He placed one knee onto the bed and grabbed her left ankle, dragging her closer to the edge. His tongue licked the knot of flesh and bone on the side of her ankle before he traveled upwards towards her tattoo of a willow tree. Goosebumps scattered across her flesh and she closed her eyes, moaning a little before she could stop herself.

However, she let out a gasp as he bit down gently onto the patch of flesh that was decorated with the tattoo.

“Am I all bark now,” he asked as he released her ankle.

Willow pursed her lips together and gulped. She shook her head.

Okay, she was wrong. He was right.

He wasn’t all bark.

Sebastian was all bite and business … and though she didn’t want to admit it, she was starting to love it.

 

 

End Notes:

And another one! :)

Home is Where the Heart is by Missus James
Author's Notes:

Willow finds a new home.

While Sebastian was downstairs cooking breakfast, Willow remained upstairs like she was a princess locked away in a high tower. Honestly, it sounded worse than it actually was because Sebastian’s bedroom was a complete wet dream. The entire interior was in white and shades of grays, but her favorite room feature was the glass ceiling and the panel of tall glass windows that stretched across the length of the room. She stood in front of them and stared at the cityscape in all its glory. It was late morning now. The skies were a dreary gray. Her cellphone told her it was past ten o’clock. She didn’t have to worry about calling in to work because sometimes, she worked from home.

After having her fill of the scenery, she walked around the bedroom.

He, of course, had a king-sized bed. His room also had a computer desk with three computer monitors sitting on the other side of the room. A white daybed sofa was positioned in front of the glass windows. He had white nightstands on either side of his bed.

She went back to the bed and lied down, as she felt lightheaded once more. Eventually, she drifted off to sleep.

Later, she woke up to the aroma of delicious food. Her eyes fluttered open and there was a plate of buttery waffles dripping with syrup and three bacon strips, a fork and a knife, and a cup of orange juice within a wooden tray that sat on the bed. Her stomach growled in protest and her mouth watered at the sight of the delicious-looking food. She glanced around the bedroom to find Sebastian sitting casually on the daybed, looking at her. The place where he had bitten her on her ankle began to tingle in remembrance.

“I thought you didn’t like waffles,” Willow said.

“I don’t, but you do.”

She gazed down to the waffles and fought the urge to lick her lips. He was absolutely right. She loved waffles. They were her favorite breakfast food, but she couldn’t eat waffles and fit into a size twelve or ten by April.

“Thank you for the offer, but I can’t eat this,” she said. Her stomach grumbled loudly.

“Your stomach thinks differently,” Sebastian replied.

“Well, if I agree with everything my stomach thinks then I’d end up being five hundred pounds,” she said.

Sebastian frowned, “There is nothing wrong with indulging every once and a while.”

“And there is nothing wrong with wanting to make healthy eating choices,” Willow countered.

He lifted an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side. “Starving yourself then exercising aren’t healthy choices. Starving yourself to prove a point to someone is foolish.”

Willow clenched her jaw for a moment. “What makes you think I did what I did to prove a point to someone? What? A girl my size doesn’t have the motivation to want to eat healthy and exercise unless she is trying to prove someone wrong?”

She didn’t want to admit he was right. His words hit a sore spot deep inside of her and she almost winced, but instead in pure Willow fashion, she decided to lash out.

“I am sure you have the motivation to eat healthy and exercise without someone else or something else as the driving force of your reasoning,” Sebastian said, “but something happened that pushed you over the edge.”

Willow gazed down and entangled her fingers into each other, playing with her thumbs. “I have an older sister. She’s absolute perfection. She’s tall, slender, and beautiful. She has everyone wrapped around her little finger. Earlier this year, she got engaged to this up-and-rising lawyer who wants to go into politics. She’s getting married in this coming April. Originally, she wanted one of her skinny best friends as her maid of honor, but it is family tradition to have a family member as your maid of honor. So she was forced into picking me. My mother thought me being the maid of honor would give me the motivation I needed to drop down one or two sizes.”

A tight heavy feeling seized her chest as she told the truth. With every truthful word, she felt her skin get tighter and tighter, making it much younger to breathe. There was something deep inside of her that begged her to tell him everything and that assured she would feel relief if she did so.

“They both thought jogging would be a good form of exercise to help me slim down for the wedding, but even though I’ve lost almost ten pounds so far, it wasn’t enough for them. They wanted me to drop jogging and try something else so I could lose weight faster. I was angry at them. I couldn’t bear the thought of eating. So I skipped lunch, dinner, and breakfast,” she finished. “And you know the rest.”

She then drifted her eyes across the room to him sitting on the crisp white daybed in front of the long panel of glass windows. An uncomfortable silence swirled between them as they played an intense staring contest. Why did he have to stare at her like that? As if her every thought, secret, and sin were inked onto her brown flesh and he was studiously reading them word for word.

Willow closed her eyes and let out a frustrated exhale. “Could you just say something?”

“I want you.”

She opened her eyes once more and blinked twice. Her forehead wrinkled deeply. His words were bold, blunt, and precise. A sensation of heat rushed through her and straight to her core. She parted her lips to speak, but she was absolutely unsure of what to say. So she grabbed a crispy piece of bacon from the breakfast she provided and munched on it gingerly.

Willow should have been worried about all of the calories she was consumed by eating the strip of bacon, but all she could think about were the promise held within those three words.

When she finished eating the bacon strip, her throat felt very tight and dry. So she reached forward and retrieved the cup of orange from the wooden tray, taking a deep sip. She squeezed her eyes shut and wished it were mimosa—heavy on the champagne—or vodka within it. Placing the now half-full cup back down, she plucked another bacon strip from the plate.

“So,” she began, “what do you do for a living?”

“I clean people’s messes,” he answered.

“This place doesn’t look like you earn a janitor’s paycheck,” she teased, “unless you are some housekeeping service tycoon.”

He smiled back. She couldn’t help but notice how his eyes wrinkled when he did so. Humor twinkling in the green depths. “I’m something like a janitor, but it’s more complicated and confidential.”

“Ooh,” she said in between a crunchy munch. “I didn’t know I was talking to Mister Confidential. You must work for the government or the military, right?”

His smile widened but he said nothing.

“I forgot. Confidential. Right,” she nodded her head and gave him a two-finger salute with her spare hand. She ate the remaining amount of the bacon strip at a more comfortable pace and didn’t feel as guilty about eating it.

“Well, I’m a graphic designer at this charity organization that finds shelter dogs, retrain them as guard dogs, and adopt them out to victims and families who have endured rape and abuse,” she said. “I love it there. My parents think I am wasting my talent there and I should work for a big advertisement company or something, but I feel like I can be myself there. I have so much creative control in the things I do and because I am the only graphic designer on the staff, they trust that I will make good choices.”

She reached for the third and final bacon strip. “Everyone cares about each other there which you don’t find often in a corporate workspace,” she paused. “However, I made the utter mistake of caring about someone too much and it bit in me in the ass.”

“The boy you were walking with at the park that morning,” Sebastian stated.

Willow’s eyebrows shot upward in surprise that he guessed correctly. “Yeah,” she nodded. “His name is Simon. He works in the financial department, but we also know each other out of work. Our families inhibit the same social circles and our mothers are good friends. I had this silly schoolgirl crush on him. He jogs at the same park but in the late evenings. After he heard about my twisted ankle, he offered to jog with me when I felt better. I took him up on his offer and immediately regretted it when he revealed that our morning jog would be nothing more than me giving him ‘womanly advice’ about how to ask out the new receptionist at work.”

She snorted a brief sad laugh. “I felt like an absolute idiot. I knew I wasn’t his type, but I held onto this tiny thread of hope that maybe I was wrong. That maybe someone out there actually did want me as more than a chubby girl friend who could hold her own with the guys. Then after he left, you kissed me…”

“And here we are,” he said, running his fingers through his short dark hair.

Willow slowly nodded her head. “Here we are,” she repeated, cocking her head to the side. “What I want more than ever is to get inside of your head and figure out why in the world you would want someone like me.”

“You want to get inside of my head?”

His deep voice carried across the room and vibrated through her. She shuddered and let the side of it hum against her brown flesh.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Finish your waffles and you’ll show my head,” he proposed. Her heart fluttered against her ribcage in excitement.

Willow tugged her bottom lip into her mouth and reached for the eating utensils he provided to her. Slowly, she cut into the now lukewarm syrup-drenched waffles and forked a mouthful into her mouth. She chewed and savored the delicious taste that exploded on her tongue.

“This is really good,” she complimented with a mouthful of waffles in her mouth.

“I’m glad you think so,” he said from his spot on the daybed.

“So how long have you been in the city,” she asked, wanting to keep a conversation alive as supposed to him silently watch her gorge on buttery waffles.

He answered, “A few years.”

“Do you have any kids?”

His face almost looked pained at the question as if she hit a sore spot. “No, I don’t.”

Is that a look of regret, Willow wondered for a moment. She then concluded that maybe he had a bad experience with a previous girlfriend or a fiancée that involved an abortion or a miscarriage. There was also the possibility that he was unable to have children to infertility issues. She didn’t have the nerve to pry any further.

She ate another forkful of waffles. In between her bites, they made small talk about various hobbies they enjoyed. She learned that he had a thing for guns and hunting. He and her father would get along great because his father was a big lover of hunting.

After she finished breakfast, she held onto her stomach and plopped back onto the bed, the back of her skull sinking into one of his pillows. She let out a sigh of satisfaction. “Thank you for the breakfast, Sebastian.”

“You’re welcome.”

Willow lied there on his comfortable bed with a full tummy and a head full of thoughts. A thought that stood out significantly was a reminder that this man wanted her and made it known several times.

She propped herself up on her elbows and looked at him for a few seconds. She could count on one hand how many times she had allowed a man to be intimate with her in a biblical sense. Willow Angelique Carter wasn’t a virgin by any means but she wasn’t exactly a seasoned expert either. In her twenty-five years of life, Willow only ever had a total of three lovers—one of them was her boyfriend and one was a good friend of hers.

When she was seventeen years old, she went to senior prom without a date. She wasn’t exactly a wallflower because she took a few sips of cheap tequila in a flask one of her friends had handed to her in the car after they had picked her up. Needless to say, she referred back to that flask throughout the night and woke up the next morning in a good friend’s bed completely naked with the previous night’s memory and her virginity gone.

During her sophomore year of college, she dated a guy named Keith who always sat beside her in their statistics course. To her surprise, he asked her out and they dated for four months. Teasingly, she recalled him as the practice dummy because she explored and experimented on him. He never complained but he did break-up with her out of the blue. It was a typical “it’s not you, it’s me” breakup scene. For the remainder of college, she had no other boyfriends.

The final lover she had was one she picked out of desperation after three sexless years. A stranger at a bar who took an interest in her and she soaked it up like a dry sponge to water. It turned into a bit of a no-strings fling that lasted a total of three weeks. He would text or call her to ask if he could come over and she would agree to it. Then on the nights he usually contacted her, no messages came through. Then days turned into weeks and Willow eventually realized that he was never going to message her again.

“Are you going to show me your head,” she then asked, “as you promised?”

“Come here and I’ll gladly show you,” he said invitingly.

Hesitantly, Willow crawled off of the bed and walked over to him. Sebastian patted his hand on his right thigh as a prompt for her to sit down onto it. She wanted to say that if she took up his offer, she would break his leg. However, then she thought back to him giving her a piggyback ride without protest and scooping her up bridal style as if she weighed nothing when he carried her upstairs while she kicked and screamed.

Sebastian was strong.

He didn’t break easily.

But she knew he was fully able of breaking her if she got caught up in this inevitable thing because her emotions got into the way. What did she have to lose? She had a familiar background in no-string fucks. Maybe that was all he wanted. Maybe it was best that she wanted that too.

Willow sat down onto his lap. She turned her head and peered into his face—into his intense green eyes that were much darker up close. She gathered up her strength and leaned in, brushing her lips against his lightly. Before she could pull back, he reached up quickly and cupped the back of her head. They parted their lips in unison and Willow slipped her shy tongue into his mouth. A squeal vibrated in her throat as she felt his other arm curl around her waist and tug her further into his lap, forcing her to slant her body against his and press her lips deeper into his.

His tongue was a bold sly thing as it began to dance against hers in the most provocative way, taking the lead. She pressed her hand against his bare chiseled chest before sliding it upward to caress the side of his neck. Their lips worked against each other as they kissed each other like two teenagers unchaperoned. Their hands roamed each other’s bodies.

Finally, Willow attempted to break the kiss for a breath of air but Sebastian followed after her, gently catching her bottom lip with his teeth before he released it. She licked her lips before wiping her thumb along her bottom lip to remove the glistening moisture that lingered there.

“Wow,” she breathed as she leaned her head against his chest. Boldly, she slid her hand down to his crotch and pressed her palm against the hardness that lingered within his gym shorts.

Wow,” she repeated the word with a large dosage of emphasis. She rubbed her palm up and down the hidden length of him teasingly before she sought out the head of him and gave it a little squeeze. “Is this the head you were going to show me?”

“You ready for the show,” he said, his voice low and throaty.

“You ready for mine,” she countered as she stood up from his lap and grabbed the hen of her long-sleeved shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing it to the side. Her dull gray sports bra framed her breasts. She nudged herself in between his legs and leaned forward, bracing herself on either side of his head using the back of the daybed for support. She leaned over him with her baby fat, lumps, and rolls.

What did she have to lose?

Sebastian lifted his two fingers under the hem of her sports bra and curled it into the fabric, sliding the tight binding of the undergarment upward. Her double-D breasts plopped out and dangled in front of him. Not at all perky as the sports bra advertised. She wasn’t ashamed though in this moment. This was her. The real her.

He lifted her left breast to his lips and licked her dark brown nipple with a few flicks of his tongue before he pugged it into his hot wet mouth. Her fingers dug into the back of the daybed as she tried to control herself. She moaned, tilting her head back as he suckled gently at first then harder. Her mouth dropped open as he released the wet erect nub from his mouth. The cold air that circulated through the lofty room tingled against the wetness and she shuddered.

He paid the same treatment to her breast while his digits rolled, tugged, and squeezed her other nipple to keep it from feeling neglected.

When he was finished, he trailed his tongue between the valley of her breasts as he yanked down her jogging pants to reveal her plain pink cotton underwear. She stepped out of her panties too and kicked them aside. She climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. She lifted herself up slightly as he slid his jogging pants and black boxer-briefs down his legs. His hard cock sprung forth and she couldn’t fight the need to touch it.

She grasped it carefully, feeling it throb heatedly into the palm of her hand. He groaned and the sound washed over her. A bout of confidence rippled through her as well. Her curled hand moved up and down the length of him. The pad of her thumb always swiping over the moist head of his dick when her hand moved upward. She loved the way he twitched in her hand and how his breath hitched in his throat when she did that.

He touched her slick pussy with two fingers, rubbing them up and down her slit. His index finger taking a moment to rub her clit in a tight circular motion. She squeezed her eyes shut and rocked her hips against his hand, moaning.

Unable to wait any longer, Willow lifted herself higher and guided him just below her. He moved his fingers away, licking the juices off of them. He didn’t seem disgusted by the taste of her. Oh, no. A look of pure ecstasy came across his face as he liked what she tasted like off of his fingers.

She rubbed the head of his cock up and down the pink of her pussy just as he had done with his fingers a few moments prior before she eased down onto him slowly. It had been a long time since she had someone inside of her. She didn’t want to count the days but the tightness of her cunt were like the rings you find on an old tree stump.

She sunk down onto him, taking her inch by inch. Her eyes were shut and her mouth was gaped open as she felt every bit of him inside of her on the way. Willow sat there for a long moment, adjusting to the fullness of him. She yelped out in pleasure as he bucked his hips upward, making her bounce on his cock once.

It felt as if he did it as a test to see her reaction because after that moment, his big hands grabbed the cheeks of her ass while he thrust upward in a rhythm. It reminded her of how he jogged: even, timely, and effective.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as she rode him on his daybed. With each thrust, she made a noise that showed him how good he made her feel and then he stopped thrusting. He pressed forehead into the crook of her neck as he guided her up and down his cock using his hands that were still gripped to her ass. Soon, she found her own rhythm and took completely control of fucking him.

It was slow and uneven at first like her jogging, but soon she bounced on him harder and faster, rocking her hips back and forth. Her fingers gripped the back of his head, yanking his short dark brown hair.

“You love my cock,” he said gruffly after he had removed one of his hands and played with her clit. 

She shuddered at his dirty words. She bit down hard onto her bottom lip and nodded her head eagerly.

“Tell me, Willow. Say it. Say you love riding my cock.”

“I love it. I love it,” she chanted as she grew closer and closer to her climax.

She screamed as she came. Her fingernails digging deep into the back of his skull. She felt herself pulse and clench around his cock. He came too. She could feel him inside of her doing it.

Her body was still on a high as she melted against him. In front of her were the glass windows that presented her the familiar cityscape she once knew as her home.

Home was supposed to be a place where you felt like yourself with no guilt or regrets.

No longer did Willow Carter feel like herself in the jungle of the city. Sebastian made her feel like herself.

So she had decided that he would be her home.

At least for now, she thought as she snuggled her head into his shoulder.

 

End Notes:

Hope you are enjoying these so far.

Tipsy by Missus James
Author's Notes:

Willow invites Sebastian to a movie night with friends and gets tangled in a game of tug-of-war.

It had been two days since Willow fucked Sebastian and she still couldn’t walk straight. When her co-workers asked what happened this time, she told them that she had twisted her ankle while jogging again. They believed it and left it at that because Willow was naturally a clumsy person. She could barely focus at work though. The muse she used for graphic designing went on vacation and all she could stare at was a blank white canvas on Adobe Illustrator.

She swirled around in her computer until she felt dizzy. She tapped a pencil against her cubicle’s desk until she couldn’t stand the sound anymore. She chewed bubblegum until it tasted like and felt like rubber in her mouth. She rubbed her sore thighs together to ease her acing pussy, but it didn’t help.

Willow Angelique Carter was thoroughly fucked.

A condition she wasn’t used to, but something she wanted to be more of.

Darlene appeared at the entrance of Willow’s cubicle with a determined look on her face and her arms crossed tightly at her chest.

Willow sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. “What now?”

“Something’s up,” Darlene said.

“What makes you think that,” Willow questioned, lifting an eyebrow and decided to channel her energy by twirling around in her computer chair again.

Darlene narrowed her eyes at Willow. “For two days now, you’ve been actin’ like you need a regular dose of Ritalin.”

“Stop playing,” Willow said as she continued to twirl.

“You are all over the place. If you hear you tap your pencil one more time, I will rip you apart like a watchdog. Now spill the beans or I’m going to go off. Is it about your sister? Your mother? Simon? A guy?”

Willow stopped swirling in her computer chair and grinned a little at the last question.

Darlene widened her eyes and her jaw dropped. “No way,” she said in a hushed whispered, scurrying into Willow’s cubicle.

“Yes way,” Willow whispered back.

“Who?”

“Sebastian.”

“The guy who rescued you from that psycho at the park? You’ve been seeing Mister Batman?”

Willow nodded her head slowly, trying to suppress the gigantic smile that was consuming her lips. “Did you two ‘bow chicka wow wow’,” Darlene asked, winking suggestively.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Willow said.

“You did it. You did the nasty.”

Willow returned her attention back to her computer screen. “Every second you spend here trying to get me to air my dirty laundry, a dog dies because you weren’t calling kill shelters to rescue them.”

Darlene gasped before she pursed her lips. “Don’t think this is over.”

After Darlene walked off, a tiny spark of muse ignited in her and she could from it. A few minutes later, the white canvas on Illustrator was no longer white and had the building foundation of something that she could work with.

Then her cellphone vibrated with an unknown number flashing across the screen.

“Hello,” she answered with uncertainty.

“I haven’t seen you in two days,” a deep familiar male voice stated from the other end of the line.

Willow straightened up in her computer chair when she realized it was Sebastian. “Well, I haven’t been able to master the art of walking straight yet. I need some time to heal.”

“Don’t give me excuses. I want to see you tonight. No exceptions.”

“Well, aren’t you Mister Bossy? If you want to see me then you can come find me after I have recovered properly,” she teased.

Sebastian chuckled, “You seem to underestimate my thrill for the hunt.”

“Call it whatever you will, but if you want me then find me. Until then, tata for now,” she said before she hung up her cellphone.

She tossed her cellphone back onto her desk and chewed on her bottom lip even as she smiled.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

After her little conversation with Sebastian, her muse had returned from vacation and went into overdrive. She created brochures, flyers, and even updated some coding on the charity organization’s website. She made calls around the city for permission to give out their flyer and brochure to various establishments that served rape and abuse victims and families.

Today was a surprisingly successful day, but she still wasn’t finished. She decided to give herself until seven o’clock to do some finishing touches. After that, she would go into the bathroom and get dressed for a bi-monthly horror night with some of her old high school friends. It was six o’clock now. The headquarters closed down and everyone had filed out of the building except the janitorial staff, which consisted of a fifty-something-year-old man named Elias. She was making finishing touches to a lot of advertising materials that would be put into the hands of potential owners as an announcement to an upcoming annual Christmas adoption event hosted by Paws and Protect.

Eventually, Elias left too after he swept and vacuumed the office floor. She was used to being the last one standing sometimes. Once satisfied with the completion of her last project of the day, she stood up from her computer chair and stretched her arms up high in the air.

Willow yawned before she leaned down to turn off her computer. She retrieved a backpack with her change of clothes inside of it and went to the women’s restroom. She changed into a loose black shirt with the DC villainess of Harley Quinn on it, dark skinny jeans, and black worker boots. With a brush and a long rubberband, she styled her hair into a high sloppy bun upon her head.

She looked in the mirror at her finished look and smiled pleasingly at her reflection. For once, she felt comfortable in her own skin. Finally, she zipped up the backpack that now had her old attire inside of it and picked it up. She turned off the lights in the bathroom and let the door swing shut behind her as she left. She walked back to her cubicle and when she arrived at the entrance, her mouth dropped in shock.

Sebastian sat in her computer chair with his long legs stretched out in front of him. He looked like a giant inside of her small cubicle.

“I told you that I like the thrill of hunting.”

“Do I even want to know how you got my work address?”

“I couldn’t tell you anyway,” he said.

Willow lifted a delicate eyebrow. “Confidential?”

“Very confidential.”

She looked at him for a long moment, trying to determine if his answer was enough to satisfy her. She wanted to know more about him, but decided to rearrange her priorities for the time being. “Well, I’m sorry that you made the trip all the way here but I have a prior engagement.”

“With,” he questioned with a lifted eyebrow.

Willow replied, “Old high school friends. We have a bi-monthly horror movie night at each other’s houses.”

“Cancel.”

“I can’t,” she said. “I actually enjoy going these things, but since you’re already here you can come with me. It’s not like we’re dating or anything, so I could just introduce you as a new friend of mine. Then afterwards, we can go back to my place.”

She decided to take a page out of Farrah’s book of charms and sat down onto his lap. She stuck out her bottom lip, gave her best impression of puppy eyes, and said in the most sickeningly sweet voice, “Pretty please with me bouncing on top.”

“That mouth is going to get you in trouble,” he said seemingly unaffected, but a stupid grin spilled onto her face nonetheless. Her tactic worked beautifully.

“You have no idea of types of trouble I can do with this mouth,” she said as she leaned forward to trace her tongue against the cease of his closed lips before she placed a sound kiss on them.

Willow rose from his lap and took a hold of his hand, giving him an urging tug. “Let’s go before my friends send a mercenary after me.”

A small smile filled with a mysterious air spread across his lips as if he knew something that she didn’t. He raised up from her computer chair, towering over her as he always did. She grabbed her company zip-up jacket with the company logo over her left breast and shrugged it on before grabbing her backpack. They left her cubicle and made their way down to the darkened main lobby by elevator.

When they reached outside, she locked the glass entrance door behind her with a key.

A slick black luxury car was parked beside her kinda-recent-model SUV. “Wow, you’ve a nice ride,” she complimented as the two of them approached their parked vehicles.

“It gets me from Point A to Point B,” he said in an almost bored tone.

“What do you do for a living again,” she asked without thinking—forgetting who she was talking to.

He grinned but said nothing and pressed a button on his electronic car key to unlock the car. “Oh, I forgot. It’s confidential,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. “Are you sure you aren’t Batman?”

“Even if I was, I wouldn’t tell you,” he said with a chuckle.

They eventually climbed into their respective cars and he tagged her from behind, following her to one of her friend’s houses in the northwest side of the city. It took about twenty minutes to reach their destination. A total of seven cars were parked outside of a two-story brick house. Three cars in the driveway. Four cars along the side of the street in front of the house. The arrival of their cars made a total of nine now.

Willow hopped out of her SUV and shut the door behind her. On the ride there, she began to panic a little. This little event would be the first time that Sebastian would meet any of her friends. This was a big deal. Even if they weren’t dating, this was still a big deal. Her boyfriend from college never had the opportunity to meet her friends nor did the man she had the three week fling with (obviously). When she pouted and invited him to this movie night, he could have easily said no and left, but he didn’t. He said yes and followed her here with no intentions of fleeing.

Now all she had to worry about was keeping her friends in line.

“Okay, so here’s a little warning. My friends are kind of protective of me, but I think they’ll warm up to you really quickly,” Willow assured as they walked towards the front door. “Or they will be terrified of you because you’re kind of … intimidating.”

“Do you think I am intimidating,” he questioned.

“Well, you’re sure as hell not a fuzzy cuddly teddy bear. You look like you could kill a man with your bare hands,” she said as she rang the doorbell.

His eyes darkened for a moment and when she opened her mouth to speak, the front door swung open to reveal a very ticked-off redheaded Lydia. “About damn time! You’re … late.”

The anger melted off of Lydia’s face and was replaced by wide-eyed surprise.

“Sorry, we are late,” Willow said with an awkward smile. “Lydia, this is my friend Sebastian. Sebastian, this is my favorite redhead Lydia.”

The surprise soon fell from Lydia’s face and she pursed her lips for a moment. “Flattery won’t stop me from whooping your butt, Lowy.”

Lydia widened the front door and walked away from it. Sebastian leaned down and whispered in her ear and gave her ass a playful squeeze. “You better hurry up, Lowy. Your friends are waiting.”

Willow shot him a nasty look before she trotted inside, shrugging of her jacket. She hung it on a heavily occupied coat rack while Sebastian shut the front door behind him.

She led him into the living room where all seven of her old highschool friends waited. Lydia, Peyton, and Emily sat on the floor in a situated pile of pillows and blankets. Andrew, the host of the movie night, was kicked back in his leather Lazy Boy. Robert, Parker, and Evan were stacked up on the coach.

All eyes were on them.

“Guys, I would like you to meet my friend Sebastian,” Willow said, gesturing towards him.

An awkward chorus of hey’s and hi’s filled the room. “Can we start this shit now,” Parker asked impatiently in which Emily successfully threw a pillow at his head and Robert slapped the back of his head.

The only unoccupied piece of furniture was—go figure—the loveseat.

A microwave beeping loudly from the kitchen drifted through the air. Peyton rose from her comfy spot on the floor and said with a sickeningly sweet smile, “Lowy, can you help me with the popcorn?”

Willow furrowed her eyebrows at Peyton’s smile. “Um, okay,” she trailed off before she followed her friend out of the living room and made the journey into the kitchen.

Sooooo, who’s that,” Peyton asked in a low secretive voice as she walked over to the microwave and popped open the door.

“That’s Sebastian,” Willow said in her most nonchalantly voice possible.

“I know that’s Sebastian, but who’s he to you?”

“He’s a … friend. A really good friend.”

“Bullshit,” Peyton snorted as she retrieved the bag of popcorn from the microwave. “You don’t bring a guy like that here and say he’s a really good friend.”

“Okay, he’s … more than a really good friend.”

“You tumblin’ in the sheets within him? If so then, honey, teach me your ways!”

Willow rolled her eyes. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Are you saying that Sebastian hasn’t kissed the girl,” Peyton asked in her best wince-worthy Jamaican accent. “Ursula would be pleased.”

“Are you sure you aren’t Ursula ‘cause you act like a witch sometimes,” Willow teased.

Peyton opened the bag of popcorn and threw a piece at Willow’s face. Willow opened her mouth and the piece entered. She closed her mouth with a big grin and chewed. Peyton gasped dramatically, “Sorcery.”

“Now you know how I convinced him to come here with me,” Willow winked after swallowing.

“You know Parker looked like of ticked that you won’t be his snuggle buddy this time,” Peyton said with a mocking pout.

Parker was the good friend who took her virginity after their senior prom when they were both very drunk. Neither remembered the experience but they both woke up beside each other with a hangover just the same. All of their friends knew about it because they had claimed that night Willow and Parker couldn’t keep their hands off of each other in the backseat of Andrew’s car. During these movie nights, they had a tendency to snuggle up with each other on the couch—in a platonic way of course.

Willow rolled her eyes. “Parker has a nice girlfriend.”

“So nice in fact she hates our guts,” Peyton snorted.

Willow shrugged. “She’s on a different maturity level than us.”

For the most part, Parker’s girlfriend Ally was nice when he brought her around. The rest of Willow’s friends didn’t like how standoffish she was and how few tastes she shared with Parker, but Willow liked her all the same because Parker liked her. Obviously, he must have seen something in her or they wouldn’t have been dating for nearly two years. Sometimes, opposites attract.

Willow’s opposite was in the living room most likely being stared down by her friends like a hawk.

“Yeah, it’s called Granny Level 78, but no seriously, you know Parker has a soft spot for you considering what happened between you two.”

Willow shrugged. “I guess Parker has to snuggle with Evan or Robert tonight.”

“Ooo, I love IRL yaoi with my popcorn,” Peyton said in a sing-song tone before the two of them burst into laughter as they left the kitchen and went back into the living room. The lights were off now and the movie was already playing. The movie of the night was Independence Day with Will Smith. One of Willow’s favorite movies of all time. So much so she had probably seen it about a million times and knew every line by heart.

She was pleased to find that Sebastian was entirely in one piece, but then she remembered that it would most likely take more than her friends to cause him damage. He was tall like the Eiffel Tower and built like a military tank. Parker and Andrew were indeed tall but too scrawny to take him on. Evan and Robert were shorter but the heaviest of the boys and were known for being able to throw around their weight, but she had a feeling they too would have some trouble taking Sebastian down.

She sat down on the loveseat beside Sebastian and briefly glanced over to him. His eyes were locked on hers. The illumination from the flat screen television casting an eerie play of light and shadows upon his green eyes.

Her breath hitched in her throat and her heart quickened in her chest. Why did he have to look at her like that? Like he had the power to peel her out of her flesh and make her enjoy every moment of it.

Her eyes flickered over to Parker who was looking at her as well. A look of near betrayal on his face and she almost casted her eyes down in shame. Almost until Robert shifted his attention from the movie to catch the awkward moment of tension.

He then yawned and stretched his arms to casually and playfully place his arm on the back of Parker’s shoulders. He pulled the irritated man into a close dramatic snuggle and placed a wet-looking peck on his cheek for good measure before he gave Willow an ‘I got your back’ wink. Willow held back a smile at the gesture and watched Parker pry himself out of Robert’s tight snuggly hold.

Finally, she returned her attention back to the movie. A few moments later, she felt a pair of lips and breath brush against the back of her ear. “Your little friend over there seems rather jealous,” Sebastian said in a low-volume husky voice that dripped with amusement. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since you came back from the kitchen.”

“He’s just protective of me. That’s all,” Willow whispered back.

“Let’s test that theory,” Sebastian returned as he lifted his hand to lightly grip her chin. She was too dumbfounded to resist him turning her head to face his. He tilted her chin slightly and pressed his lips against hers. His tongue sliding in between hers with ease.

As if it were wired inside of her, she melted against him and submitted to his skilled tongue that coaxed her meek uncertain one into a heated dance. She squeezed her eyes shut. A thick heat crawling across her flesh as she kissed him.

So much for being a ‘really good friend’.

She finally broke the kiss and regained enough posture to shoot him a nasty look in which he grinned, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away a thin layer of the evidence of their kiss from his lips.

“Your theory was incorrect,” Sebastian said.

By chance, Willow looked over to the couch where Parker sat with pursed lips and a not-too-happy look on his face. Robert sat beside him with a wide-eyed but thoroughly impressed look. Evan and Andrew were too absorbed into the movie to even notice the drama unfolding within the living room. Willow shifted uncomfortably in her spot and cleared her throat before returning her attention to the movie.

By accident, her eyes drifted down to the ground where Peyton, Lydia, and Emily were resting almost a kingdom of blankets and pillows. Peyton was staring at her dead in the face and mouthed, “He kissed the girl.”

The Little Mermaid song and Peyton’s horrible attempt of a Jamaican accent popped into her head. She closed her eyes and let out an inward groan. This would be a very long movie night.

However, Sebastian was surprisingly well-behaved throughout the movie as was everyone else. When the movie was over. She stood up from the couch and stretched.

“Now it’s time to get a little drunk,” Robert grinned.

Andrew shot up from his comfy spot on his Lazy Boy, “I’ve got plenty of poison.” 

“I can’t get drunk,” Willow pouted. “I am a designated driver.”

“For who,” Parker frowned.

“For me,” Willow assured, jabbing her index finger into her chest for emphasis.

Evan frowned, “Aw, I thought you were spending the night.”

“It seems our little Lowy has other plans tonight,” Emily smiled suggestively, her eyes sliding over to Sebastian.

God, this was a bad idea!

Willow chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. “It’s not like that,” she lied. “I invited Sebastian over to watch a movie with us. Not to watch us get drunk.”

She gestured to all the members of their little post-highschool group.

“Well, I am feeling kind of thirsty,” Sebastian then said, rising from the loveseat. Amusement twinkled deep in his dark green eyes.

Willow widened her eyes and looked at him in disbelief. She fought the urge to kick him in the shin or do worse. This was not a part of plan at all!

“Come with me and you’ll be in a world of pure inebriation. Take a look and you’ll see into your intoxication,” Andrew sung his twisted lyrical verse from the Willy Wonk and the Chocolate Factory’s song Pure Imagination. He gestured wide with his hands towards the direction of his kitchen where his infamous stash of alcohol was.

Willow closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose with her middle finder, index finger, and thumb. “And so it begins,” she sighed.

Everyone made their way into the kitchen. Andrew walked over to a set of double-doored cabinets and dramatically opened them to reveal an impressive variety of hard alcohol.

Haaaaaaaaa,” Robert and Evan sung in unison as if they were in a Catholic Church choir and pressed their hands together as if in prayer.

“You know what they say, you can tell how sad and pathetic someone’s life is by how much alcohol they have in their house,” Lydia said.

Andrew placed a hand on his chest, a mocked look of hurt dripping from his face. “Lydia, you wound me so.”

“Good thing we have alcohol to clean that third-degree burn,” Emily laughed, in which Willow giggled.

Eventually, everyone had some type of alcohol in their hand. Sebastian had a fitting choice: scotch on the rocks. Willow had a short glass of vodka and orange soda. She took a sip and it was a warm soothing burn that slid down her throat with ease but went straight to her head. Soon after, one cup turned into four cups. Each cup gradually had a little less soda and a little more vodka. Peyton had went into the living room and toyed around with Andrew’s stereo system until she successfully found a dubstep/techno station on the radio.

In the process of going to the living room—because she was being beckoned by Emily and Lydia to come dance—she accidentally stumbled, but Parker was surprisingly there to catch her. Her fourth cup of soda and liquor dropping to the wooden floor.

“Oops, I made a mess,” she giggled drunkenly, holding onto her friend.

“You are a mess,” Andrew teased from the kitchen.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Parker said in sober tone.

Willow pouted, “But the fun’s just begun.”

“I think it is best that I’d take you home,” Sebastian said as he approached, towering over them.

Willow felt Parker’s hands grip onto her protectively. “I think it’s best if she spent the night here with her friends. We’ll take care of her.”

“Why don’t we let Willow decide who should take care of her drunkard ass,” Robert said, attempting to lighten the situation.

 

End Notes:

Here is another one!

Cold, Hard, Rough by Missus James
Author's Notes:

Willow sees a new side of Sebastian and she is overwhelmed.

 

 

A permanent pout had crawled onto Willow’s lips and settled there. She looked like a disappointed child with her little pout and her arms folded tightly across her chest. A disappointed child, indeed, with a vodka twist. “You are such a party pooper,” she whined drunkenly, jerking her attention over to Sebastian who was her designated driver.

“Someone has to be the responsible one,” he replied calmly as he continued to drive, unaffected by her steadily brewing hissy fit in the front passenger seat.

“Does a responsible man pick up a woman all caveman-style in front of her friends?”

A slight grin eased across his lips. “Only to prove a point.”

“And what exactly was the point you were trying to prove?”

“That you’re mine for the rest of the night,” he answered, in a threatening and promising tone. Those nine words slapped her hard and sobered her up a little. Willow pursed her lips together and gulped. She squeezed her thighs together as a warm pulsing sensation cut straight into her pussy, making her wetter than a street puddle on a rainy day.

He eased his car to a halt at a red traffic light with one hand on the steering wheel. “You made a promise and I’m making sure that you keep that promise.”

“And what did I promise you,” she asked hesitantly. The vodka had shaken up her brain and jumbled up her inability to recall events and details that occurred earlier on in the night.

You bouncing on top of me,” he replied as he cut his eyes over to her and swept his green eyes over her plump figure from the top of her head and downward. “I’ve had this little movie playing in my head over and over all night of you sinking down onto my dick nice and slow. Eyes closed. Breath hitched. Pussy feeling warm, wet, and silky. Your hard little clit begging for some attention.”

Willow had closed her eyes and bit down hard onto her bottom lip as she let his words wash over him like scorching hot water. A car horn beeped suddenly and loudly from behind. The sound gave her a rude awakening, forcing her back into the world of reality and away from Sebastian’s fantasy movie with her as the leading star. Her eyes snapped open as she straightened up in her seat.

“Light’s green,” she stated as she cleared her throat. She watched as Sebastian’s eyes cut to the rearview mirror and narrowed darkly at the reflection of the impatient car stationed behind them that interrupted their moment of intimacy.

If looks could kill.

His car moved forward and began to cruise down the street. She chewed on her bottom lip as she realized the inevitable outcome of the night.

“I want you on top of me,” she then admitted.

She didn’t want to truthfully admit that she now felt a little self-conscious about him getting an eyeful from underneath her of squishy fat rolls, jiggly flesh, and saggy breasts. Two days ago, she had thrown all caution out of the window and rode him like her life depended on it. Now it was like the vodka and orange soda had injected a higher dosage of low self-esteem.

“Is that right?”

She nodded her head slowly. Well, she wasn’t telling a lie.

“You want me to pound that pussy?”

She closed her eyes for the hundredth time that night and squeezed her thighs together to relieve the terrible aching sensation. His words were playing her like an instrument, making her slopping wet.

“That wasn’t a rhetorical question, Willow.”

She breathed out shakily, “Yes.”

Dirty talking wasn’t her forte. Graphic designing was her forte. She had a degree in it. However, the way Sebastian was talking to her, she was beginning to assume that he had a degree too—a PhD in Dirty Talking.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I want you to.”

He grinned. “You want me to what?”

She reached over to harmlessly slap the side of his face in frustration. He knew what she wanted. However, she forgot that he was much quicker in which he caught her hand with ease. He lifted the tips of her fingers to his lips and kissed every single one while his eyes were firmly on the road as he drove. Goosebumps prickled across her flesh at the unexpected attention.

“If you aren’t going to tell me then show me,” he said as he released her hand from his grasp.

“What,” Willow blinked in confusion.

“Slide your jeans down,” he ordered. “Show me what I’ve been thinking non-stop for two days straight.”

He wanted her. It was a fact. It was as much a fact as the sky being blue. There was this internal deep urge to please. That was also fact.

Willow slowly unbuckled her seatbelt before she did the button to her skinny jeans. She then unzipped them. The sound of the zipper coming undone cut through the air. She glanced over to see if he noticed the noise.

He did. His eyes were on her as he stopped the car at a red light at a busy four-way intersection. She rose her hips slightly and hooked her fingers into the hem of her jeans. She pulled down and watched them slide past her cellulite-ridden thighs and downward until they were well-past her knees.

She revealed her panties to him. They were simple cotton dyed in black and dotted with white hearts.

“Lean your seat back,” he commanded as he resumed driving with the flow of traffic when the light turned green.

She did as she was told and used the lever on the right side of the front passenger seat to recline backwards to the fullest angle.

“Show me that pink pussy.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as she obeyed his command once more. She pushed down her panties near where her skinny jeans were crinkled past her knees. She spread her legs and moved her hand in between them. To say she was drenched was an understatement. When she slid her index finger and middle finger in between her glistening lips, a sweet wet sound filled the air as she pried apart the most intimate part of her to him.

He sucked in air in between his teeth at the sight. “Whoever was your first, I’d kill him for walking away from you.”

“You met him,” she said without thinking.

“Who?”

“Parker,” she answered, deciding it was too late to backtrack. His green eyes darkened in what appeared to be jealousy. Green-eyed monster indeed.

“Your little friend who couldn’t stop looking at you all night?”

“Yes, but he’s just protective of me. All of my friends are. Plus, it happened a long time ago at senior prom. We got so drunk that we couldn’t even remember that night.”

“He wants you,” he said coolly, “but he can’t have you.”

She wanted to correct him and tell him that Parker didn’t want her. “That’s why you’re driving me home and he isn’t,” she assured.

He reached over with his free hand and coated his middle finger with her wet slickness before he slid the digit down her slit, sinking it to the knuckle inside of her. He began to finger her. Her eyes fluttered shut and she moaned aloud.

“I’m the one who’s making you moan. Making you cream. I’m the one who’s going to make you cum. Not him.”

She nodded her head eagerly in agreement to his words as she lifted her hips to meet the delicious thrusting of his invading finger. He pressed the pad of his thumb against her hard clit. Rubbing it from side to side. Up and down. Around and around.

She arched herself against his hand.

“Oh, shit,” she groaned, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. He was preparing her for what he was going to do to her when they were behind closed doors of her home. The musical wet sound of him finger-fucking her filled the car. This man was skilled. To be able to drive a car while slowly killing her required utmost ability to multi-task.

Then he slid his fingers away from her and she let out a frustrated whimper. She opened her eyes and lolled her head to his direction, watching him lick away the juice that coated his fingers.

“Taste so good, Willow. So fucking good.”

She felt the car turn a corner and then a few moments later, another corner. Then finally it eased to a stop and he turned off the ignition. From where she laid reclined in her seat, she looked out of her window. They were parked in her driveway.

She was home.

She was moments away from being fucked.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over, smashing his mouths against hers. She could taste herself as his tongue dominated hers in flicks and swirls that made her toes curl. She did taste good, but they tasted better together.

Her lips ached terribly from the aggressiveness of the kiss as he pulled back, placing bittersweet nibble from her chin to her neck. He roughly pushed up her shirt to reveal her bra. He tugged down her left bra cup and latched his hot mouth onto her perky nipple. He suckled it before he caught the swollen nub with his teeth and tugged it gently. She arched her back and cupped the back of his head to hold him in that spot, but he continued his journey downward.

When she realized what he was about to do, she widened her eyes. She grabbed a fistful of his hair to stop him. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. Two days ago, they only fucked on his couch. Not too much foreplay, but what he was wanting to do to her had never happened before to her. Two of her three previous lovers offered but she declined because it was too intimate.

“Be my good girl,” he said as he nuzzled his head against her belly, his hot breath fanning against the sensitive flesh there, “let me taste you. Gotta eat you up, Willow.”

“No one has ever,” she attempted to explain. A sharp wave of embarrassment stabbed her from all directions.

“Good,” he replied. “I want to be the first.”

Before she could even respond, he dipped his head down in between her legs and buried his mouth into her soaking snatch. His tongue found her clit in between the folds of her pussy and circled it in hard tight motions. It was an experience that she couldn’t explain. Feeling his tongue against the most swollen and utterly sensitive part of her body gave her an intense pleasure that rippled through her veins.

It overwhelmed her.

“Kiss me,” she pleaded.

“I am,” he answered.

“No, kiss me.”

Sebastian growled and lifted his head up from in between her legs. He moved his head upward and captured her lips once more. “I gonna eat you until you cum in my mouth.”

It was a promise and a threat all rolled into one. No if’s, and’s, or but’s. He pulled away, retrieved his keys, and got out of the car. Willow readjusted her bra and pulled her shirt down. She slipped her panties back up then her skinny jeans before she climbed out of the car with her backpack.

She walked with a stumble, her head lightened from the vodka and from everything that happened inside of Sebastian’s car. She retrieved her set of her keys from a zipped front pocket of her backpack.

He followed her to the front door. As she shakily unlocked the door, he came up from behind her and pressed himself into her. He buried his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled deep.

This man was so intense and he wanted her. This dark, tall, and handsome man wanted Willow Carter. Nerdy and fat Willow Carter. She wasn’t sure if she had often strength to handle him.

She opened the door and led him into her house for the first time. She turned on the light switch beside the front door, illuminating her small foyer. She placed her backpack down and ran her fingers through her hair. She stiffened as she felt his heavy hands grab onto her hips from behind. Out of panic, she pried herself away and said in a hurried voice, “I need a drink of water.”

She went for the kitchen in a near-sprint and turned on the kitchen light before making her way to the refrigerator. She opened the fridge door and retrieved a chilled bottle of purified water. She untwisted the green cap and took three deep gulps. The cold water couldn’t relief the hotness that crawled across her flesh and seeped down inside of her body. She considered pouring the water over her head.

Willow closed the fridge door with her hip and turned around as she took another gulp. Sebastian stood in her kitchen doorway, filling it up with his tall frame. She decided to break the ice. “I am so sorry that I am a bad hostess. I didn’t ask if you wanted some water.”

“I scare you,” he said calmly.

Willow shook her head. “No, it’s just this is very … intense. I’ve been with a total of three guys and none of them are like you. I know you want me and I’d lying if I said that I didn’t want you. I want you, Sebastian. I want you so fucking bad right now, but this is intense.”

He walked over to her until she was nearly sandwiched against the fridge.

“You make me this way,” he said, towering over her.

Deciding to lighten the mood, she lifted her bottle of water above his head and poured the contents of it over his head. “Here’s a little cold shower to calm you down then.”

She tossed the empty bottle aside and watched as cold water dripped over his face and neck. For the briefest of moments, she watched surprise splash onto his face before it twisted to show some dark amusement. His attention shifted to the fridge’s ice and water dispenser. He pressed the button for ice and pressed the palm of his hand against the lever. A rumbling and churning noise filled the air. Then an ice cube clanked out of the dispenser just by chance.

Willow widened her eyes at what he was about to. She decided to escape by ducking from in between him and the fridge. She ran out of the kitchen. When she was close walking into her bedroom, two strong arms wrapped around her waist and holstered her upward. A sound mixed between a laugh and a squeal escaped Willow’s lips.

He carried herself into the darkened bedroom and plopped her down onto the bed. She landed on all fours. Her heart raced her chest and she panted in anticipation. She heard heavy footsteps against her hardwood floor as he walked away from the bed. Barely a few seconds later, her bedroom light and ceiling fan were both brought to life.

“Taking your jacket, your shirt, and your bra,” he ordered.

“You first,” she said boldly as she turned over her shoulder. She fought back a moan as he landed a sound smack against her ass.

“Now.”

How could she deny him when he was like this?

She sat up on her knees and shrugged off her jacket before she took off her Harley Quinn shirt. She reached around her back and unclasped her bra before she tossed it aside.

“Get on all fours.”

Willow looked over her shoulder briefly and bit down onto her bottom lip, returning to all fours. It was then she felt the weight of Sebastian on her bed, dipping it as he came to her from behind. A moment after, she gasped softly and shuddered as she felt something cold at the nape of her neck, traveling downward along her spine. Then he started to draw circles into her heated flesh with the piece of ice in his mouth, leaving watery evidence behind.

“Is this my own little cold shower,” she asked breathlessly. He chuckled but said nothing. She let the sound wash over her and she savored it like a piece of chocolate. It was deep and rich. He flipped her over like he had a spatula and she was a flapjack. He dipped down and dropped the ice into her mouth. She suckled on it for a moment before she crunched it with her teeth, allowing it to melt faster in her mouth. He climbed off of the bed and shrugged off his own leather jacket still wet from her water bottle assault. He peeled off his shirt.

Good thing she had ice in her mouth because she almost moaned at the sight of him. Sebastian was a piece of art. A marbled Greek statue that you find in Paris or Rome to be marveled by all. However, he wasn’t in Paris or Rome. He was here with her in her bedroom. For her eyes only.

He took a hold of her left black work boot and untied the laces before he plucked it off. He repeated the same process with her right boot. He pulled off her socks as well.

“Jeans,” he said.

“You first,” she said with some of crushed ice in her mouth the second time around. This time much to her surprise, he obliged. He kicked off his own boots and undid his dark jeans. He took them off and stood in front of her bed in his dark blue boxer briefs.

She shifted onto her knees and crawled over to the edge of the bed. She hooked her fingers into the dark elastic waistline of his undergarment and tugged it downward. His hard dick sprang forward, bobbing up and down for a moment.

The ice was nearly all melted in her mouth and she leaned forward, licking the warm head of him with her cold tongue. His reaction was a low deep rumble in his chest and she decided that she wanted to hear it again. She licked the underside of him, her eyes never leaving his face. There was a soft tender spot on the underside of his tip that her tongue found. She watched his defined muscles beneath his flesh ripple and tense. His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest of moments. His hands balled into fists at his sides as if he were restraining himself. She wanted to capture every moment in her mind like she were taking pictures. She wanted to remember what he looked as staring down at her. She wanted to remember the salty taste of him that bubbled from his cock’s tip and melted against her tongue like ice. She wanted to remember the smell of him—warm, earthly spice, and manly.

She swirled her tongue around his mushroom head for a few moments before she took as much as she could into her mouth. She sucked him gently at first, moving her mouth up and down his cock. This was what she was good at. Her previous two lovers always enjoyed her blowjobs. She was an unstable creature bouncing in between being as shy as a Catholic schoolgirl virgin and a seductress.

She slid him out of her mouth and looked at his hardened shaft glistening with her saliva in the bedroom light. She spat on it to get it wetter and wrapped her hand around him, slowly jacking him off. Every time she reached his cock’s tip, she ran a thumb across it. She kissed him there afterwards before she wrapped her mouth around him once more. Then she felt his hand on the back of her head, gripping onto her tresses that were encased into a sloppy bun.

As she sucked harder and moved her wet mouth up and down him faster, she could feel his hand tighten in grasp. God, this was intense, but she didn’t want to run away from it this time. She wanted to ride it out. She wanted to ride him out now with no shame of how she looked. She wanted to keep her promise. She wanted him to fuck until she creamed all over his cock. She undid her skinny jeans for a second time that night and slid her hand into her panties, needing to touch herself. She rocked herself against her own hand as she rubbed her clit.

He grabbed a fistful of hair and guided her head backwards. His slick cock plopped out of her mouth. She removed her hand from her panties slowly. His green eyes were much darker. He had a look of hunger on his face and she felt the exact same way.

“Lay back,” he commanded, his voice restrained. Willow shifted off of her knees and laid back. He stepped out of his boxer briefs and leaned forward, tugging her jeans off with an eager roughness that excited her. He wrenched her soaked panties from her hips and made her elevate her legs to remove them completely.

He wasted no time in bending down to kiss her right knee tenderly before he left a trail of kisses along the inside of her inner thigh.

“I need you,” she whispered breathlessly. This foreplay had gone on long enough. She had to have him now. He planted another kiss on her inner thigh and gazed up to her. His eyes were a brilliant dark shade of green and shined with want.

“How do you need me, Willow,” he questioned, his breath tickling her thigh.

Willow gulped, “I want you to fuck me.”

The corners of his lips curled into a dark kind of grin that made good Christian girls want to sin, nuns faint, and brought about an apocalypse. It was the kind of grin that every woman on this green planet wanted directed at them to solidify their mere existence. It was the kind of grin that made a woman want to kiss the mother to birth such an irresistible man—either sets of lips.

“Is that right?”

He slithered up the length of her body. She squeezed her eyes shut and hissed when she felt the fat mushroom head of him glide up and down in between the lips of her pussy.

“Yes,” she breathed as she lifted her hips, grinding into him. She couldn’t stand the teasing anymore. Enough foreplay. Time for fucking. “If you aren’t going to give it to me then maybe I should give Parker a call,” she threatened emptily in frustration to hit a sore spot. He stopped his teasing and moved back.

Oh, shit. She screwed up big time. He used his strength to flip her over onto her belly suddenly.

“Is that right,” he queried in a throaty growl as he slanted himself onto her back.

“Yes,” she shot back, deciding it was too late to pedal backwards. “As a matter of fact, have you seen my cel—“

A cry tore from her throat as he plunged his cock into her pussy, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. She got what she wanted.

Rough. Hard.

Home. Home. Home.

His.

 

 

End Notes:

Okay, I gave you a bonus chapter, LOL.

The Golden Pig by Missus James
Author's Notes:

Willow has a girl's night and it turns into a nightmare.

Willow stared at herself in the mirror lodged to the wall within the cramped dressing room. She was at some fashion boutique downtown that Darlene had dragged her to. One of Darlene’s cousins was having a birthday party at some club and Willow really didn’t have a ‘freakum dress’—as Darlene called it—in her closet. The boutique had nice dresses with reasonable price tags attached. This place surely wasn’t for Farrah. Each piece of clothing within Farrah’s closet costed about three hundred dollars or more. She refused to purchase anything less and everyone within her proximity indulged her. In addition, all the store Farrah frequented did not have a plus-size section.

The dress Willow was currently wearing was about seventy bucks. It was a tight black knee-length dress that made her look like a dark brown sausage. Her double-D breasts were pushed up and high on display for all to see. Her unflattering rolls of fat showed through the unforgiving fabric of the dress.

“Girl, you have been in there for ten minutes,” Darlene said in an irritated voice, rattling her knuckles on the outside of the dressing room door that Willow hid behind. “Let me see what you got.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Will, you’ve already said that five times and we are on dress number five. Show me what you got. I bet you look great.”

Willow closed her eyes and sighed heavily before unlocking the dressing room door. Darlene took a few steps back as Willow walked out of the tiny space barefoot.

“Are you happy now,” Willow huffed.

Darlene gave her an once-over before smiling. “You look sexy as hell in that dress.”

“You’re just saying that,” Willow frowned.

Darlene shook her head. “Hell naw. It’s true, Will. Plus-size queens need to show off their curves too.”

Her best friend grabbed her shoulders and guided her over to one of the many full-body mirrors that lined the walls. “You’ve got to give yourself more credit. You are beautiful, intelligent, creative, and you have a great personality. But most importantly, this is your freakum dress.”

“Plus,” Darlene added with a suggestive wink, “I think Sebastian would have a good old time ripping this thing off of you.”

Willow rolled her eyes and moved away from the mirror, wanting to return to the comforts of the cramped dressing room and away from potential judging eyes. “It doesn’t matter what Sebastian thinks.”

“Why doesn’t it matter? I thought you two were together?”

No, they weren’t together as a couple. They get together to have mind-blowing sex and go about their lives. She knew the kind of relationship they were going to have, but they had yet to actually talk about the terms and conditions. They hadn’t spoken to each other in over a week since that heated eventful night that involved orange soda and vodka, ice cubes, and hard possessive fucking.

Willow snorted out a bitter laugh. “He and I aren’t together. We scratch each other’s backs on occasion. No strings attached.”

“Is that what you want?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want. It’s what he wants,” Willow said as she walked into the dressing room and turned around to close the door. However, Darlene wedged herself into the opening of the dressing room to prevent it. Darlene cocked her head to the side with a frown. “Did he tell you that’s what he wanted?”

Willow glanced down at her bare feet and wiggled her toes against the cold tiles. “No, he didn’t, but he doesn’t have to. Why would an attractive hot-blooded man like him want someone like me?”

He was a fuck with no strings. Nothing more. They sought each other when they needed a little fix, a break from reality. She was okay with that … or at least she thought she was.

Darlene sighed softly for a moment and shook her head. Willow knew her friend wanted to say something else pertaining to the whole Sebastian situation, but decidedly fought against it. “Are you going to buy the dress or not?”

“I’ll buy it,” Willow said, silently agreeing to change the subject.

After Willow shelled out seventy bucks plus tax, she went back to Darlene’s apartment to get ready for the birthday party. Darlene helped do her hair into an up-do. Lots of hairspray, lots of hair pins, and a flat iron achieved the style she wanted. Willow wore her freakum dress with wedged black heels that had an ankle strap. She borrowed some of Darlene’s large silver hooped earrings. She wore black lipstick and black smoky eye shadow that was applied by Darlene because Willow wasn’t much of a makeup person.

She stared at the final product in the mirror. Willow had to admit, makeup made anyone—including herself—look incredibly decent. Eventually, they both left the apartment and drove to a downtown club called, Glow, in their own vehicles. As she drove by herself in the car, she couldn’t help but feel a ping of jealousy for Darlene. Her best friend looked absolutely gorgeous tonight. Her dress was a short form-fitting number bathed in crimson red. She had flat-ironed her afro and with carrot oil, her brown tresses spilled over her shoulders and down her back.

Willow remembered what Darlene’s cousin looked like too. Her envy rose even more. Beauty seemed to be a familial trait in Darlene’s bloodline, but it must have skipped over Willow in her family and got soaked up by Farrah.

When they arrived at Glow, there was a long line outside of it with two bouncers protecting the entrance. One of the bouncer’s was another cousin of Darlene’s which was the reason why the club was the chosen venture. When the young women walked near the door, which was sectioned off by ropes, he lifted up the robes and let them inside. The waiting people in the long line protested and complained as the girls went inside, but the bouncers didn’t care and ignored them, standing tall like bulk black statues.

The club was hot, crowded, and smoky. Darlene grabbed Willow’s hand and guided her to the roped off VIP section where the birthday girl was already guzzling down vibrant-hued drinks with her tiny crowd of attractive friends.

The boost of confidence that Willow had acquired in Darlene’s bathroom had dissolved into a puddle of goo at Willow’s cute shoes.

“Happy birthday, lady,” Darlene shouted affectionately over the thumping music while she kissed Georgia’s cheek. A thirtieth birthday was a big deal especially when you were a single woman with no signs of settling down or having kids any time soon. Georgia wasn’t in the mood for marriage or kids. She was in the mood for fun. She once told Willow she would re-evaluate her life when she was forty. Willow admired that kind of confidence and wished she had it.

Darlene and Willow settled on one of the empty leather couches in the VIP section. A waiter came by and asked what they wanted to drink. Willow ordered a Slippery Nipple. A memory popped into her head of Sebastian licking and sucking her nipples in between him tugging them playfully with his teeth while his green eyes stared up at her, watching intently for her reaction.

Don’t think about him, she thought.

When the waiter returned, he carried everyone’s drink orders on a large black tray he holstered above his head with one hand. When he reached Willow, he handed her two Slippery Nipples and a folded napkin.

“I only ordered one,” she shouted over the music.

She tried to hand him back the extra one, but he shook his head. “Someone paid for both,” the waiter said back loudly before he left the VIP section. Darlene grinned from ear to ear as she plucked the folded napkin from the utterly confused girl’s hand. She opened the napkin and scanned it before gasping. She then gave Willow a ‘girl, you got to see this’ look.

Willow’s frown deepened. “What?”

She placed the spare Slippery Nipple on the table and leaned over to read the napkin. She had no idea someone had written in the napkin.

Two slippery nipples are my specialty.

Willow’s eyes widened in utter shock. “You see what happens when you wear a freakum dress,” Darlene said a matter-of-factly with a bright smile. Willow rolled her eyes.

“This is a mistake. This guy probably thinks someone else over here ordered the drink.”

“You need to give yourself more credit, Willow! You are smoking hot tonight. Let’s have some fun, please,” Darlene pleaded. “Since you and Sebastian aren’t together or anything, you are a free woman.”

Darlene was right. She was a free woman.

Willow grabbed one of her ordered drinks and tossed her head back as she downed it in one gulp. She did the same to the second one before saying to Darlene, “Let’s do it.”

Nearly everyone at the birthday party had left the VIP section and went to the dance floor. Darlene and Willow danced with each other. They smiled, laughed, and moved their bodies to the music. Those Slippery Nipples had made Willow feel loose and free on her feet.

Darlene leaned into Willow and said over the music, “I’m going to the restroom.”

Willow nodded her head in acknowledgement and watched her best friend—and boost of confidence—nudge her way through the crowd and disappear from the dance floor. She stood there like a statue for a long moment in a sea of bodies that were thumping and bumping to the music. She decided to leave the dance floor and pushed herself through the swaying crowds until she ran into a tall body.

Strong brown hands steadied her by grabbing her arms. She looked up and noticed a familiar smile on a familiar face.

“You alright,” Simon asked.

Willow blinked. “I’m sorry that I bumped into you. What are you doing here?”

“One of my old college buddies is having a bachelor party and we decided to bring him here as a standard procedure,” he replied. “I see you and Darlene are here too.”

Willow nodded her head slowly. “Yeah, her cousin is having a birthday party here.”

“It’s a small world, huh? Us being in the same club at the same time?”

“Yeah, it is,” she said with a weak smile.

Simon then asked, “Are you in the mood to dance?”

“Aren’t you and Cara together,” she asked in return. Her hopes—and confidence—rose slightly.

Simon elaborated with a nervous smile, “One of my college buddies wants to dance with you and he’s too chicken to ask you himself.”

There she was making a fool of herself again. “Oh, so he sent you to do his dirty work,” she replied with a frown.

“More like to put in a good word,” Simon corrected with his signature charming smile that could melt butter and make a girl’s knees weak. Willow crossed her arms over her chest and squinted her eyes at him, looking at him long and hard before saying, “I guess one little dance wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll send him your way then.”

And then he left.

Willow stood in the crowd feeling like a complete idiot for even considering the possibility that Simon would even want to dance with her.

“Did you get my message,” a voice said from behind her, breath tickling her ear. She shuddered and goosebumps scattered onto her skin. She turned around to face the owner of the voice. He was handsome no doubt with dark brown skin, shining bald dome, and a bright smile that rivaled Simon’s.

“Are you the one who sent the Slippery Nipples,” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Did they taste good,” he queried with a lifted eyebrow.

Willow nodded, “They tasted just fine.”

“Do yours taste good?”

“That’s a secret you’ll never know,” she said.

Sebastian knew the answer to that question. He loved tasting her nipples during foreplay, when he was fucking her, and in the afterglow when she is lying on her side with her back pressed against his warm chest and his fingers lazily roll and tug at them while he and her both drift off to sleep.

He knew that secret all too well.

“Did Simon put in a good word for me,” he questioned.

Willow’s eyebrows shot upward. “You’re his friend that wants to dance with me?”

“Yeah, I am,” he said, moving in closer to her.

“So what exactly do you want here? A dance or my nipples,” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking her head to the side.

“I’ll take the dance first,” he grinned, “and let’s see what happens next.”

She danced with him non-stop through three bass-pounding songs. Her flesh was coated heavily with seat that glistened under the neon lights stationed above. His hands were all over her body and she was so into the music, she didn’t even give a damn. His lips were on her neck and then brushed against her ear. His musky cologne drowned her senses.

After the third song, she excused herself to go to the restroom. As she pulled away from him, he reached out and grabbed her hand. “Don’t be too long,” he said, grabbing a handful of her ass like he owned her.

She pulled away from him and stumbled through the crowd. Eventually, she found her way to the restroom. Much to her dismay, it was crowded. Stalls were occupied. Toilets were flushing. Women of all sizes and shapes were fixing themselves in the mirror. She stumbled to a sink and looked at herself in the mirror. She was lightheaded from the alcoholic drinks and the dancing.

Georgia appeared in the reflection too with a frown.

“Something wrong,” Willow asked.

“Have you ever heard of a game called ‘catch the pig’,” Georgia questioned.

Willow’s brow furrowed. “Should I?”

“In the game, the bachelor writes down a number on a napkin and folds it. Then his friends take a guess at the number. Whoever is the closest to the number becomes the catcher. The goal is to find a pig and take the pig home.”

“What the fuck are you getting at, Georgia,” Willow frowned, shaking her head.

Georgia turned on the faucet and washed her hands, unable to look Willow in the eye. “While you were dancing with your new little guy friend, the waiter came to the VIP section and gave me the low down. He saw the whole thing. You’re the pig, Willow. That motherfucker is trying to take you home because of a game.”

Hot salty tears bubbled up in her eyes as she stormed out of the bathroom. She walked briskly around the club looking for a familiar face. When she found Simon with her buddies sandwiched into a booth, she rushed over. She grabbed the drink closest to her and threw it in his face. She didn’t care if it splashed on his friends.

“You fucking asshole,” Willow screamed at him. “Is that what I am to you? A fucking pig to taken home and fucked by your little buddy to win a game? I thought we were friends.”

“Willow, I can explain,” Simon said, his face dripping wet, as he tried to push himself out of the booth.

“No, you can go fuck yourself,” she said, spitting in his face before she turned around and stormed off. She found the catcher of the game on the way to the VIP section to get her things. “What took you so long, baby? I was waiting for—“

Willow cut his fake speech short by slapping him across the face. “Find yourself another pig, you piece of shit.”

She pushed him out of her way and continued to the VIP section.

She had to get out of here.

She wanted to go home and die.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Willow banged on the rusted metal door of Sebastian’s warehouse home with every ounce of her strength in the brutal December cold. She cried the whole way to his home with a foot made of lead. Her whole face was wet with tears that cascaded down her face and refused to stop. Her voice was hoarse and raw.

“Open the fucking door, Sebastian,” she cried aloud as she pounded at the door with both of her fists. Moments later, the door creaked open and she stumbled her way into the building. She quieted down and sniffled as she tried to compose herself after she nearly had a mental breakdown at his front door.

“So I had very eventful night,” she asked, turning on her wedged heels so she could face him as he closed the door calmly. He was dressed in a black hoodie, black t-shirt, and black cargo pants. She knew that she looked like a hot mess. Her makeup was streaked on her face from crying. Nearly all of her hair had found its way out of her up-do.

“Aren’t you going to be a good host and ask how it went,” she asked, sniffling again.

“How did it go,” he questioned coolly.

“I was going to let a man take me back to his place to fuck me,” she answered truthfully. He was quite unmoved by her confession as if he already know or he just didn’t care. “And then I found out that I was nothing more than an unassuming participant in a game called ‘catch the pig’. Guess who the pig was?”

His cold silence angered her, but she couldn’t stop now.

Ding, ding, ding! You got it. Willow Angelique Carter was crowned the pig,” she said, her voice crackling with raw emotion. She was on the verge of crumbling for good. “I was on my way home to pity myself and cry myself to sleep, but then something hit and I had to come here because I want to know the truth.”

She stomped over to him. Her high heels gave her significant height, but he was still taller than her. She kept distance between them, not wanting to get to close in fear of melting into him.

“I know we have this no strings thing going on, but I need to know,” she paused for a moment, collecting herself. “Am I your pig?”

He stared down at her intensely with his green eyes and said nothing.

“Answer me, Sebastian! I need to know. Am I your pig?”

She clenched her jaw and tried to blink back her tears when he didn’t answer her but failed. She nodded her head slowly. “I’m done. Get out of my way,” she ordered, trying to restrain herself from breaking down in front of him. He blocked her escape out of the door.

When he didn’t comply within the few seconds her spent patience had allotted him, she yelled, “Get the hell out of my way, Sebastian.”

She pounded a fist into his chest out of frustration and anger. He then grabbed her wrist tightly and yanked it above her head. “Let go of me,” she growled, struggling against him. He moved away from the door as she had requested but turned around and smashed her frontside against it. Her hand was still wretched up high above her head.

Willow closed her eyes as she felt his hot breath fan against the shell of her ear as he spoke to her in a low and concise voice. “I can smell him on you. When I get back, I’m going to rip this dress off of you and clean you myself. Do you understand?”

She squeezed her eyelids tight and gaped her mouth open, nodding her head. He pulled away from her completely. “Go upstairs,” he ordered.

She did exactly as she was told, refusing to look over her shoulder as she crossed the spacious warehouse and trotted up the metal staircase like a scared child. The only fleeting thought that consumed her was where was he going this late into the night dressed like that?

When she reached the top of the stairs and stepped into Sebastian’s bedroom, she heard the warehouse door slam shut. He was gone.

You can run, a tiny voice in the back of her head told her.

But she didn’t want to. She had her answer.

 

End Notes:

I gotta say I truly miss writing these characters.

Clean, Bone, Destruction by Missus James
Author's Notes:

Take a peek inside of Sebastian's mind.

Jogging cleared his head. He didn’t have to think when he was jogging. Every civilized thought and habit was pushed inside for pure instinct and primal urges. Anger didn’t do justice to the emotions that swirled inside of him like a hurricane. Fury didn’t do much either.

Destructive.

That was a more satisfying word.

Sebastian felt destructive. He wanted to wrap his hands around someone’s neck and feel the snap of bones under the pressure. Willow’s mere presence reduced him to a physical state of crumbling self-control and discipline. The scent of another male’s cologne clinging to her flesh was what nearly pushed him over the edge.

Destructive. Animalistic.

He jogged through the cold streets of the city with a destination in mind.

Blood. Bone. Blood. Bone.

After twenty blocks of jogging, he slipped into a darkened alleyway and approached a backdoor that was thoroughly illuminated with a bright light. There was a surveillance camera with a blinking red light. He looked up at it and the backdoor made a buzzing sound as it unlocked.

He opened the door and entered the building. The hallway was painfully bright and at the end of it was an elevator. No need pressing ‘up’ as the elevator door opened to reveal a man who was the same height as Sebastian and twice as burly. Jasper was his name. Well, it wasn’t his real name, but then again Sebastian wasn’t his real name either. They were two people pretending. It was all a part of the life they chose.

The elevator door shut behind him as he entered.

“You’re late,” Jasper growled.

He knew he was late. He didn’t expect the object of obsession to come to him crying and angry in the middle of a cold December night. He knew exactly how to deal with her when he returned home. Sebastian said nothing as he stared straight ahead, listening to the loud hum of the elevator as it moved up the floors of the building. The elevator dinged as it stopped at the top floor. When the doors parted, he left Jasper behind.

Two bodyguards stationed outside of his destination greeted him with a rough and thorough pat down. If only they knew who they were dealing with. “Don’t forget to slip a few dollars into my thong,” he said, half-amused and half-irritated.

“Fuck you, Sebastian,” one of the bodyguards growled before he nodded to the other bodyguard as a signal. Both of them stopped their search and backed off.

Sebastian opened the door that led into a familiar office.

“You’re late.”

“So I’ve been told,” Sebastian said as he shut the door behind him.

“I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Sebastian sat down in an empty chair on the other side of the massive polished wooden desk. “It won’t happen again,” Sebastian assured.

The owner of the voice was a platinum blonde woman in her fifties named Juliette. She rose from her cushioned office chair and rounded the desk. She sat down across Sebastian’s lap like she was an eager child with a Christmas list and he was Santa Claus. Her smile was just as big too.

“I hope it doesn’t,” she said. “I think of you as a son, Nathaniel.”

Nathaniel was his real name. The name few people knew of and those that did were too afraid to utter it past their lips in fear of what he would do to them. Nathaniel was a token of the past. A past he didn’t want to be reminded of. She used it freely like a piece of bait to provoke him. She leaned in to kiss him tenderly. Her tongue slid into his mouth, curling around his tongue. He remained still. He was used to this. He was used to her. As usual, he was unmoved by her seduction.

“Is that how you kiss your sons,” he queried, lifting an eyebrow when she pulled away from him. She stood up from his lap and placed the palm of her hand against his crotch, giving his limp cock a suggestive squeeze.

“In my wet dreams,” she admitted as she backed away and sat down at the edge of the desk, crossing one slender leg over the other. “Then again if I do recall, I’m would definitely be an upgrade from your sorry excuse of a mother. And I fucked your father once upon a time.”

He narrowed his eyes at the mention of his parents, but said nothing. Another piece of bait to provoke him.

She grabbed a thick file from her desk and plopped it onto his lap. “That’s your next clean up. This case is a little special.”

Sebastian didn’t bother looking through the file yet. “Why?”

“This client has a thing for theatrics. He wants to watch you put the target’s head on a platter in a literal sense,” she said with an uncaring shrug. “You discard the rest of the poor bastard however you choose.”

“I’m not a butcher. You have thirteen others that are more suitable for this mission,” Sebastian said.

Juliette tapped her index finger onto her chin with a thoughtful expression on her face. “That’s true, but I want you to do it. Everyone needs a little blood bath to excite the taste buds. Unless, you’re getting too soft?”

“I’m not getting soft.”

“I don’t know, Nathaniel. I remember a time when you did what you were told with no questions asked. Do you need to take a trip down memory lane? Do you remember how I found you as a homeless gutter rat and took you in,” Juliette said as she slipped from her desk and rounded the seat he sat in, tracing her finger along the broad length of his shoulders. She then leaned in. “And you’re wrong,” she whispered. “You are a butcher. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. Remember those horrible things you did to those poor bastards that took everything from you?”

Blood. Bone. Blood. Bone.

He could almost smell.

“I remember you didn’t take me in by choice, he forced you to. I also remember fucking you on that very desk and you enjoying it,” he stated calmly. “My how time as changed.”

Juliette smirked. “He did force me to, but don’t think you’re untouchable because you’re his son. He put you under my command because you owe him. And you’re right. I did enjoy it very much. Must be a familial trait.”

He was done playing her little game. “Will that be all?”

“So eager to leave,” Juliette pouted as she returned back to her desk and sat down on the edge of it. “Is there someone waiting for you to return home? Maybe that cute black girl?”

His eye twitched, but he said nothing.

She chuckled softly. “You thought I didn’t know about her, Nathaniel. You thought you could keep her a secret from me? Tsk, tsk. You know me better than that. I have to say though. You never fucked me like that. I’m actually little jealous.”

 “Leave her out of this, Juliette.”

Juliette gave him a mocked look of surprise. “I am leaving her out of this. However, it concerns me as your superior that she’s preventing you from doing your job. I’ll even go as far to say that she’s the reason why you were late.”

“You won’t touch her.”

“I won’t touch her if you do your job, but I will have to say it’s a little difficult watching her touch you. Upon a time, you were mine and in a way, you still are mine. You know I have trouble sharing,” she sighed.

“Don’t say predictable things like that. It makes you sound pathetic,” Sebastian said.

Juliette threw her head back and laughed. “Predictable? Pathetic? Name-calling isn’t very becoming of you, Sebastian. Do you think I’d be predictable or pathetic if I sent someone to her house while she’s sleeping peacefully in her little bed to beat her, fuck her, and choke her until she’s dead?”

Once more, he said nothing. Sebastian picked his battles wisely even though a storm of destructiveness brewed deep inside of him at her threat. He clenched his fists tightly.

“I thought so,” she said, a satisfied look washed over her face. Sebastian tightened his jaw as a way to restrain himself and grabbed the file off of his lap before rising from his seat. He walked back over to the door, wanting to take his leave. However, Juliette’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Before you go back to her, tell me who do you belong to?”

Sebastian gripped the door knob lightly as he heard the request.

“You, Juliette. I belong to you.”

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

After the twenty-block jog back to his warehouse home, he closed the creaky rusted door behind him. His mind was only concentrated on one goal: find Willow. Just as he was about go to his black metal staircase, he saw something move from the corner of his eyes in the kitchen. He turned his head. There she stood with a cup of water in her hand, watching him. Sebastian was beginning to understand her nature. If he stalked over to her like he wanted to then she would most likely run off like a prey would when they catch sight of their predator—the orchestrator of their inevitable end. So he walked entered the open concept kitchen in slow concise steps and approached her. She looked at him in what appeared to be fear and anticipation.

He raked his eyes down her figure wrapped in black satin. He loved the way it hugged her curves. If only she had worn it just for him, but he could smell that bastard’s cologne all over her. So it had to go. It had to be destroyed. Before he lost it. Before he lost control. She placed the cup of water onto the kitchen island she stood near and turned around, pushing her hair aside to reveal the dress’s zipper.

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Take it off.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He yanked the zipper down, but used force to rip the dress to the hemline. He felt like a caveman—an animal or a monster—resorting to primal instincts to retrieve what he believed he needed to survive. Willow drove him to this point. Dealing with Juliette pushed him over the edge.

Destroy. Protect. Destroy. Protect.

He took off the ruined dress and let it drift to the floor. She turned around to face him. While she was here, she must have wiped the ruined makeup off of her face. She rose to the tips of her toes and kissed his lips tenderly. So tender it reminded him how innocent she was. How pure she was. How tainted he was. How much of a monster he was. But he had to have her. He had to have a slither of her light.

Sebastian scooped her up into his arms and carried her out of the kitchen, across the first floor, and up the towering metal staircase. He placed her onto his bed—where she belonged. He followed her onto it and laid beside her, watching her shudder softly as he traced his cold fingers across her warm soft stomach in lazy circles.

“That was seventy dollars wasted,” she said softly.

 “I told you I’d rip it off of you when I came back.”

It was amazing how one moment he wanted to devour her whole and all he wanted to do was lie beside her until the sun came up. He could see the question in her eyes, burning a hole into him—waiting to be asked. Waiting to be answered.

“Sebastian, where did you go?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

Willow bit down onto her bottom lip for a moment. “Lie to me then and tell me something I want to hear.”

“I refuse to lie to you.”

“It’s better than not telling me anything at all.”

Sebastian withdrew his hand and used it to scratch his dark beard. He had a thoughtful expression on his face while he looked at her carefully. A conflict swirled inside of him. To tell the truth and watch her run away from him forever or lie to keep her close to him where she belonged.

“Do you want to know where I went?”

Willow slowly nodded her head and softly cooed, “Yes, I do.”

“I went to go see an old friend.”

It was a half-truth. Once upon a time, Juliette was a friend. Once upon a time, she was more than a friend. Now she was turning into a threat, a liability.

“Did you fuck her?”

Sebastian cocked his head to the side. “What makes you think it was a ‘her’?”

“I can smell perfume all of you. It’s the same kind my mother wears.”

“And I can smell his cologne on you,” he countered.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “The guy I was going to go home with was one of Simon’s college buddies. They were for a bachelor party. They decided to play a game of ‘catch the pig’ and because Simon knew me, he let them. He was going to let them use me.”

Willow sat up from the bed and closed her eyes, covering her hands over her face. Her shoulders shook as she began to cry. “I could handle him rejecting me because I’m not his type, but I didn’t think that he’d go as far as his friends picking me as a pig and try to take me home and fuck me. I never realized how horrible a person he was.”

He sat up as well and leaned in, kissing her shoulder in comfort. The sight of her crying angered him especially when the cause of her misery was due to someone she once trusted. “If his fate were in your hands, what would you wish for him?”

“I wish he were dead,” she sniffled. “And it needs to be slow and painful.”

He could do that.

The only problem was she didn’t know he could.

 

End Notes:

I've always loved writing in Sebastian's point of view. It's really intense, LOL.

Creature of Habit by Missus James
Author's Notes:

Simon Roberson is a creature of habit. Step into his mind during a late evening jog.

Simon Roberson was a creature of habit. Every evening he would job through the winding and weaving paths of The Woodsberg Park. The last slither of precious sunlight slipped from the sky into the void of blackness. The light poles beamed yellowish spotlights on the sidewalks as they lined the paths.

Last night, he fucked up.

It wasn’t his idea to play ‘catch the pig’. His old college buddies wanted to have a bit of amusement to lighten up the rather standard bachelor party. Simon didn’t like childish games like that, but he caved in for the mere fact that he didn’t want to be the Debbie Downer. After the groom wrote a number on a piece of paper and folded it, the guess game was rather fun. When the loser of the game was selected, the pig had to be selected too.

Like wild animals, these hot-blooded men surveyed the thriving dance club and pointed out pigs that strutted into their lines of sight. Until Eric, the catcher, pointed out a fat girl squeezed into a black satin dress that had entered the club with a friend. At first, Simon couldn’t believe his eyes. He thought the girl looked familiar and after blinking his eyes a few times, he realized that she was.

It was Willow Carter, his co-worker. It was Willow Carter, the frumpy chubby girl who had a crush on him for as long as he could remember. Everyone in the office knew she had a bit of a thing for him. He thought it better to be friendly than fully reject her. If he rejected her, he would have been painted the villain. People were so politically correct nowadays. This whole ‘beauty is the eye of the beholder’ bullshit was nothing but a bandage to make unattractive people feel better about themselves and have attractive people pity them.

He had a type of girl he liked: tall, slender, and light-skinned. Annalise, Hailey, Eden, Yasmine, Leigh, and more recently, Cara fit that bill. Willow didn’t. She had a nice personality though, but that alone wasn’t enough to make her look at him with interest. That didn’t make him a bad person that he thought her laziness and overweight features were unappealing.

When he heard through office gossip that Willow had injured her ankle while jogging in the very park he jogged in, he was surprised and maybe even a little creeped out. While he admired her effort of trying to get his attention by being a little copycat, it disturbed him that she even bothered trying just for him.

So he took it upon himself to ask that she extend an invitation to accompany her. His reasoning was to crush her feelings for him in a gentle subtle way by asking her for womanly advice then mentioning his interest in another woman. Simon had to admit, she played it off nicely pretending his confession didn’t affect her. He knew it did though.

He remembered seeing the twinkle of light leave her eyes. What she didn’t know was that he had been fucking Cara since her first week of employment. Even again no one knew that. He had invited the beautiful new receptionist to lunch and the rest was history. Now during their shared lunch break, he’d drive them around until they found a quiet place to park and have a bit of fun. Willow’s distant behavior after that morning pleased him at first, but then whispers of a new man in her life became the new office gossip.

Darlene’s ‘quiet’ meetings in Willow’s cubicle weren’t quiet at all. Someone always heard some dirty details and scurried off to tell others. It was never malicious gossip. It was more of a ‘we are so happy for her’ gossip.

Everyone in the office was truly happy for her and kept their mouths shut to respect her privacy, but for some reason, he couldn’t be. In the end, it irritated him that she would find a new target of affect so quickly after him. Sometimes, he wondered if she was even truly in a relationship with this mysterious man or if this man even existed.

Maybe this man was a figment of her imagination. Maybe she wanted to fuel office gossip to make Simon jealous.

So last night when Eric pinpointed her in the crowd, Simon told him to pick someone else, but Eric insisted he wanted her.

“I know her,” Simon shouted over the thumping music while the waiter handed them their drinks. “I work with her.”

“Then you just made this game easy. Butter the pig up for me and I’ll take her home and make her squeal,” Eric grinned. Their group of friends laughed heartily.

“Do it, Simon,” the groom chimed in. “I need a good lau—“

A cry tumbled from his lips as something blunt and heavy hit the back of his head in mid-jog. He fell to the ground from the force of it. His hand touched the back of his head and felt something slick and wet.

It was blood.

He heard footsteps and the sound of metal scraping against stone as a hoodied figure came from behind him, dragging a metal baseball bat against the cold sidewalk.

Simon groaned, flipping over onto his back.

“Let’s play a game,” the stranger said as he lifted the baseball bat into the air. “It’s called ‘kill the pig’.”

 

 

End Notes:

It just got real.

When a Monster Becomes a Man by Missus James
Author's Notes:

Sebastian has done something horrible, but he is rewarded with breakfast.

Sebastian sat on the floor at the foot of his bed. His green eyes were glued to the morning sun that slid from the glistening tops of the cityscape, steadily taking its place in the day sky. Morning light flooded into the bedroom through the glass walls, painting the crisp white room in the softest of yellows. Last night had been a long one. It was very taxing righting a wrong, but it had to be done. He was tired though and he couldn’t sleep. Too much adrenaline pumped through his veins. This always happened after a kill. In this case, two kills. Last night before he paid a visit to the Woodsberg Park, he completed his mission with the client watching giddily as he dismembered a man’s body. He was on a high that was rather difficult to come down from. He let his anger get the best of him and before he realized it, the bastard’s head cracked open on the pavement. Simon was gone now and Sebastian was a monster. Then again, he had always been one.

Juliette would be so proud of him, if she knew the things he had done last night.

“A true predator never leaves behind its prey. If you go in for the kill, go for the throat and nothing less.”

Once upon a time, Juliette whispered that in his ear like a lullaby and he still believed it.

“What are you doing on the floor,” Willow asked with a yawn. She had slept the night last night even though he wasn’t there for the majority of it.

He turned his head slightly to watch her from the corner of his eye as she sluggishly slipped from under the sheets and crawled towards the edge of the bed in her birthday suit. “Can’t sleep,” he answered, his voice dripped with exhaustion. Sebastian turned his attention back to the skyline of the city drowning in morning glory.

She placed her warm silky hand on his forehead and tilted his head backwards. The back of his skull sunk into the fluffy mattress as she did so. Her beautiful face hovered above his by barely four or so inches. Her deliciously plump lips smiled down at him. “You look like you’ve had a long night.”

I did, he thought, I cracked your little boyfriend’s head open with a baseball bat.

“They happen to me more often than not,” he replied.

“Then that must mean you’re a busy man,” Willow returned.

“More than you will ever know,” he said. He wanted her to know the truth of all the horrible things he had done, but she was going to run away. He knew it. He could feel it deep inside of him.

She tugged her bottom lip into her mouth and chewed on it for the briefest moments. A deep thoughtful look splashed across her face. Her fingertips caressed his brow. “I want to get inside of your head and figure out what makes you tick, Sebastian,” she finally said after a few moments of silence.

“You wouldn’t like what you’ll find,” he assured as he closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her touch against his forehead.

“I think that should be my decision to make, don’t you think,” Willow replied with a slight frown.

His lips pressed firmly together at her words. She wasn’t going to let this go. She wasn’t going to let him get away with a handful of words and empty promises. “I’m an animal that operates on primal instincts and rules, Willow. I devour everything in my path without a second thought,” he paused for a moment. “You can leave right now and not look back. I won’t fault you, but if you stay … if you stay here with me then there is no guarantee that I wouldn’t eat you next.”

She cocked her head to the side. “When you say things like that to the other girls, did they run?”

Yes, there were other girls, but they knew better than to poke a stick at the animal inside of him bearing its teeth. Willow didn’t poke. She jabbed hard.

“They were smart enough to.”

“Are you saying that I am stupid if I stay here with you even after your warning?”

Sebastian opened his eyes to look up into her beautiful, innocent, and utterly curious face. “You misunderstand me. My warning wasn’t meant for you. It was meant for myself.”

Willow climbed off of the bed and straddled him as he sat on the floor in all her naked glory. She grabbed a hold of his bearded chin and forced him to look her in the eye. “Then here is my warning to you, Sebastian,” she whispered, leaning in close. “I am not going anywhere because you need me just as much as I need you.”

“And why do you need me?”

“Because you make me feel beautiful. You make me feel valid,” she smiled. “Like I am worth a damn.”

“And why do I need you?”

“You think of yourself as an animal and I’m here to help you feel human again,” she said as she brushed her lips against his. Her words stabbed into him deep as they rung in truth.

Her tongue playfully ran along the seam of his closed lips. “I want you to know that you’re all man to me,” she whispered as she gently bit down onto his bottom lip and tugged it playfully before she released it with a playfully seductive grin.

“That mouth is going to get you in trouble,” he growled lowly.

She opened her grinning mouth to speak, but her cellphone rang and vibrated on a nightstand.

“Don’t answer it,” he said, attempting to steal kiss from her.

“I have to,” she said as she stood up from she straddled him on the concrete floor. “The ringtone belongs to my sister.”

She walked over to the nightstand and picked up the phone, answering it. He listened carefully to the conversation—well, at least Willow’s contribution to it. Her words dripped with irritation as she argued with her sister on the other end of the line. When the called concluded, she let out a loud growl of frustration and tossed her cellphone onto the bed.

The sight of plucking her discarded clothes off of the floor piece by piece. She put them on while grumbling to herself. He decided to get off of the floor.

“Familial troubles?”

“I have been summoned to a family breakfast for bonding time,” she said, her face twisted in irritation. “It is most likely an intervention about if I’m losing weight and how I am a terrible maid of honor. Then it will turn into a gush fest about my sister.”

Sebastian came up from behind her and placed his heavy hands on her hips after she slipped on her long-sleeved V-neck shirt. “Would you prefer if you and I made our own gush fest,” he questioned as he brushed his lips against her neck, his beard scratching against her flesh gently.

“That sounds tempting,” she trailed off for a moment, “but what would be even more tempting is if you’d come with me.”

She swirled around to face him with a pleading look before he could even react to the question. “I need a bodyguard to keep me from reaching across the table and slapping the shit out of my mother and sister. You would make the perfect bodyguard,” she said as she used her fingers to toy with the hem of his black shirt.

Willow rose to the tips of her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, dragging his head down to hover just above hers. “Please, please, please,” she begged in between three deliciously wet pecks on his lips.

Unlike Juliette, Willow made him feel more man than animal. She made him forget that he was a monster who had done horrible things. The ultimate conclusion was this:

Simon Roberson was dead.

Sebastian was going to breakfast.

 

End Notes:

Another update.

Guest of the Hour by Missus James
Author's Notes:

Willow takes Sebastian along to meet her family and finds a boost of courage in dealing with her sister and fairy tale wedding.

“Willow, you are late as alwa—,” Farrah stopped in mid-sentence as she opened the front door completely. Her chocolate brown eyes widened at the sight before her. Her attention immediately drawn to the stranger’s scarred face and her mouth dropped open slightly. Finally, her eyes flickered from the stranger to her sister. Farrah blinked her eyes and cocked her head to the side with the brightest smile on her face that Willow had ever seen. “We didn’t know you were bringing company.”

“It was a last minute arrangement,” Willow said. She was rather amused how quickly her sister transformed from utterly rude and impatient to the perfect little hostess. She hugged herself in the December cold. “Are you going to let us in or do you want is to turn into icicles?”

Farrah’s smile tightened at Willow’s words, but she stepped aside to allow Willow and her guest to enter the house. “We’re in the dining room. We started eating without you because we didn’t know when you’d be here,” Farrah filled her in as she led them into the dining room.

Sabrina was in mid-sip of mimosa encased in a slender flute glass when her two daughters and a stranger entered the dining room. Edison was reading the newspaper before he looked up. His eyebrows shot upward.

“Willow brought a guest with her,” Farrah announced. “I’ll go get an extra plate.”

Then she disappeared from the room to go into the kitchen.

Sabrina clenched her jaw for the briefest of moments before a sickeningly sweet smile spilled across her lips after she placed her flute down. Like mother, like daughter. Neither of them liked surprises, but they could switch on bright beautiful smiles like they were in a toothpaste commercial. “Well, Angelique, aren’t you going to introduce your special guest?”

Willow looked to Sebastian while gesturing to her father. “This is my father, Edi—“

Doctor Edison Carter,” her mother interjected swiftly.

Willow clenched her jaw for a moment. “Doctor Edison Carter,” she answered. “This is my mother, Sabrina Carter, and you’ve already met my older sister, Farrah.”

Sebastian nodded his head politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. Willow has told me much about you.”

Sabrina cocked her head to the side. “Is that so? Because she has never told us about you,” she said before elegantly taking a sip of her mimosa.

“But we are glad that Willow has extended an invitation to you nonetheless. A friend of Willow’s is a friend of ours,” Edison stated, his voice had a subtle challenging voice as he directed his attention to his wife. “Right, Sabrina?”

Willow fought back a smile.

“Of course, my love,” Sabrina said stiffly.

Willow had a pep in her step as she went to her seat at the dining table. She always sat two seats down from her sister and to the immediately left of the other head of the table. Her father sat at the head of the table of one end of the table. Sabrina was to his immediate right and Farrah was to his immediate left.

“Guests sit here,” Willow said, pointing to the seat beside her that would place him as the other head of the table. He pulled out a chair and sat down, his eyes never leaving her. The intensity of them made Willow clear her throat uncomfortably and bite down onto her bottom lip for a moment.

Don’t stare at me like that, she screamed in her brain, like you’re going to fuck me in front my parents.

Farrah returned into the dining room and went to Sebastian, placing an empty plate and set of silverware in front of him. The way Farrah looked at him made Willow uncomfortable too. She had this subtle look of disgust on her face like Sebastian was a disfigured animal.

In the middle of the table, there were dishes of popular breakfast items that were ready to be eaten. Willow stacked two waffles onto her plate. She could see her mother’s displeased look at her lack of restraint in reaching for the most fattening thing. She made sure to pour extra syrup onto her little stack.

“Willow, you still haven’t told us the name of your guest,” Sabrina said.

Willow opened her mouth to speak.

“Sebastian Smith,” he answered as he took a large spoon that was in the serving bowl of fluffy yellow scrambled eggs and placed some onto his plate.

Sabrina smiled, “And what do you do for a living, Mr. Smith?”

“I clean up people’s messes,” he answered coolly.

Farrah grinned with intrigue, “In what context? Are you a janitor?”

Willow narrowed her eyes at Farrah.

“No, I protect the interests of my company’s clients by reducing any potential damage through precise execution and elimination,” he stated. Willow peered at him carefully as he elaborated on his living. She had been trying to get pry more information out of him for a while, but his mother managed to get him to spill. Go figure.

“Sounds rather stressful,” Edison said.

Sebastian grinned slightly. “Not as stressful as brain surgery.”

Edison straightened up in his seat with a proud smile. “My lovely young daughter informed you what I do for a living?”

“Absolutely,” he said, “she speaks very highly of you. All of you. I can tell that she comes from a loving family.”

Willow fought the urge to give him a ‘yeah right’ look.

The breakfast went better than Willow had expected. Her sister and mother actually behaved. As per tradition, the sisters collected the dirty dishes and began to clear off the table after breakfast was finished. Edison whisked Sebastian away to show off his hunting trophies in his hobby room.

“A warning would have been nice, Will,” Farrah hissed at Willow while they were in the kitchen. Willow was stretching some leftover hashbrown into the trashcan.

Willow rolled her eyes. “Like I said, the invitation was last minute.”

“So where did your little guest of yours come from? You’ve never talked about him before.”

“Oh, Farrah,” Willow sighed dramatically. “When in the world would I have been able to talk about anyone or anything when all you, mother, or anyone in this house ever talks about is your precious wedding?”

“Well, since we are on the topic of the wedding,” Farrah began.

Willow groaned inwardly.

“I ordered a maid of honor dress for you,” Farrah said.

Willow’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“I ordered a dress for you,” she repeated. “It was Mother’s idea. She thought it would be a good motivator for you. It’s a size ten.”

Willow closed her eyes to collect her thoughts. “Don’t point all of the blame on Mom, Farrah. You know this is what you wanted too.”

“Is it so bad that I care about your health?”

Willow laughed, “You don’t give a damn about my health. All you care about is how I look in your wedding photos.”

“That’s not true, Willow, and you know that.”

“Do I,” Willow asked, cocking her head to the side as she swirled around to face her sister. “You don’t think I can look nice in your wedding photos as I am right now? Be honest, Farrah.”

Farrah walked over to the sink and began the task of washing some of the dishes. “There’s nothing wrong with losing a little weight, Willow. I am trying to be a good sister and keep you healthy.”

“Yes, Farrah. You are my sister. You are not my fitness trainer or my nutritionist. You are my older sister who I love very much. You make it seem like I’ve spent my entire life eating chips and candy and drinking soda. I’ve always been like this, Farrah. So here is what you need to decide: do you want me as I am or do you want another maid of honor who can fit into that size ten dress,” Willow questioned as she dropped the dirty dish and serving spoon she had in her possession into the sink.

Farrah’s jaw dropped.

“I’ll give you some time to make up your mind,” Willow said before she left the kitchen.

Willow found Sebastian in her father’s lobby room listening to her father tell a lengthy story about the origin of an antelope hunting trophy that hung high on his wall. Sebastian seemed to be enjoying the story, but it made Willow feel better pretending that she was rescuing him. She excused him from the story, grabbed him by the arm, and dragged him upstairs. She stopped in front of the closed door that led to her old bedroom.

She twisted the knob and led him inside. She released his large calloused hand and closed the door behind her. She pressed her back against the door and looked at him while he glanced around her room, absorbing all of the tokens of her childhood and adolescence oozing from the walls.

She watched him for the longest moment and chewed on her bottom lip.

Her eyes remained on him as he slowly walked around her room, picking up pieces of her past and inspecting them carefully like he was trying to find memories that were attached to them. She reached behind her and locked the door. The clicking sound of the doorknob was subtle but loud enough for him to hear it across the room.

He was in the middle of peering at a snow globe she had gotten from her grandparents for Christmas when she was eight. Almost immediately, he turned his attention to her. His green eyes bored into her, nailing her to the spot.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

“Is there something you want from me, Willow,” he questioned as he placed the snow globe back onto the shelf he had found it.

She nodded her head meekly. “Yes.”

“What is it then,” he asked as he moved across the room until he was barely a few inches away from her. “What do you want?”

She leaned her head back against the door and tilted it up, so she could get a better look at him. She reached up and traced her index finger against a deep indent of a scar that was a two-inch slit on his forehead. She wanted to ask who gave it to him, but she wanted to lick it more in that moment. She wanted to lick all of his scars—the scars that her older sister looked at in disgust.

She dragged her finger downward to graze the dark hairs of his scruff beard.

Sebastian grasped her hand tightly and turned his head, kissing the inside of her palm before he nibbled it with his teeth. She whimpered softly. He held her captured hand over her head and swooped down to crush his lips against hers. She used her spare hand to slid under his shirt and drag her nails down his hard defined abdomen before hooking them into the waistline of his dark jeans. When he tried to pull away, she caught his bottom lip with her teeth and tugged it into her mouth, suckling on it. He growled, the sound vibrating deep inside of his chest.

When she was satisfied, she released his lip with an audible pop. Sebastian let go of her hand and used his free hand to give a sharp slap to the right side of her ass before he gripped the plump flesh through her skinny jeans. “Get your ass on that fucking bed.”

He backed away to allow her room to slip away from in between him and the door. However, when she tried to walk towards the bed, he grabbed her waist and pulled her back to him. Her posterior thumped against him. He rubbed the side of his face against hers, his beard scraping gently against her smooth flesh. She shuddered at the sensation.

“I thought you wanted me on the bed,” she whispered breathlessly while he palmed one of her heavy breasts and squeezed it. In sync, they moved towards the bed.

“I changed my mind,” he said gruffly. “Go grab the bed post.”

Willow leaned forward and grabbed onto the bedpost of her old bed. Sebastian pressed his thick erection into her ass while he reached around her waist to undo the button and zipper of her jeans. She gasped as he yanked her jeans down and left them just below her knees before he cupped her pantie-clad pussy and grabbed it possessively. The fabric of her panties were wet, her juices had soaked them. With his hand still in between her legs, he used his middle finger to slide up and down her wet pussy. He then began to play some attention to her clit, circling it and gently flicking it. She bit hard onto her bottom lip to keep from moaning too loudly. She breathed hard through her nose to control herself.

He brushed his lips against her ear and whispered harshly, “I’m going to put my tongue right here.”

He pinched her clit gently with his index finger and thumb to emphasize the word here before he withdrew his hand from in between her legs and jerked her panties down.

“Lean down against the post and spread your legs,” he ordered and Willow did as she was told. Sebastian then dropped his knees and kissed one of her ass cheeks while he palmed the other with his hand. “Such a perfect ass,” she heard him groan in between his worshipping kisses. Soon after, Willow found herself groaning from deep inside of her throat as she felt his tongue creep in between the lips of her pussy from behind.

She rocked herself back against his face and gripped her bedpost tightly.

He held onto her parted thighs as he devoured her. Finally, she looked over her shoulder and gasped as she realized that he was staring right back at her with his tongue deep inside of her.

“Fuck me,” she pleaded.

Make me feel whole, she wanted to scream.

He took one last savoring lick before he stood up. She could see her wetness glistening on his beard and the sight of that sent heat coursing through her veins, burning her from the inside out. He lifted his shirt to undo his jeans. He pulled his jeans and boxers down, allowing them to pool at his ankles. He hunched over her as he positioned his hard cock against her opening. He entered her with ease—she was wet enough—and she moaned loudly before she could even stop herself.

Sebastian grabbed his hand around her neck from behind to tilt her head back as he whispered breathlessly. “You have to quiet, baby girl, or your whole family will know that I am fucking you. Do you want that? Do you want them to hear you moan and scream while I pound your sweet pussy?”

He drew back to the tip and bucked his knees upward, thrusting into her deep. He clasped a hand over her mouth to muffle the scream that tumbled from her lips as he moved in and out of her, slow and hard.

“Then they’d know that you aren’t their good little girl anymore,” he growled in her ear in between the hard sharp thrusts. “Then they’d know that you’re my good little girl.”

She wanted to be his good girl.

That’s all she wanted.

He reached to rub her clit while he fucked her hard and slow. He didn’t fuck her like he jogged. There was something more animalistic about in this moment—like he was marking his territory.

Like she was his territory.

And Willow didn’t want it any other way.

 

 

End Notes:

Last update for the day. Feedback is greatly appreciated! :)

Oh, Where; Oh, Where! by Missus James
Author's Notes:

The morning starts off with a jog and a question needing to be answering then Willow is questioned by detectives.

 

 

Willow Carter was a new woman.  It was several days into a bitter December, but she felt like she was the epitome of blossoming spring. The snow had come in an expected heaviness, drenching the city with powdery whiteness. She admired the wintry scenery bathed in the last lingering moments of the crescent moon’s glow as she walked along the park’s winding path with a significant pep in her step. If someone had measured how much pep was in her step, it would weigh in the metric tons. She wore a red OSU beanie, a thick lime green hoodie, black jogging pants, thick red socks, and her regular running shoes. Black jogging gloves were on her hands. Physically, she was covered from head to toe in an overwhelming warmth. Internally, she beamed and shined like the sun on a hot July day.

Why was she this way?

She stood up to Farrah—and by proxy their mother—about the unnecessary drama surrounding the maid of honor dress and her inability to lose enough weight quick enough to fit into an preferred size of ten. She gave Farrah—and by proxy their mother—an ultimatum about accepting her weight and finding a dress that will fit her or do without her as a part of the wedding party.

Of course, Willow wouldn’t miss her sister’s wedding for the world. She wasn’t an insensitive heartless bitch. She loved Farrah with all of her heart, but she decided that if Farrah would not budge about the size ten dress then Willow support her during her day as a guest of the wedding.

Aside from that, her relationship with Sebastian was going really, really, really good. In her mind, she wanted to consider herself as his girlfriend, but they still hadn’t quite talked it yet. However, they had both made it known to each other that they weren’t going anywhere any time soon and she wondered maybe she didn’t need a title nor did he. The promise of commitment they presented to each other in their ways was enough.

Yes, it was just enough … for now.

It still bothered her that she didn’t know much about him even though she introduced him to her immediate family and her closest friends. He knew the mechanics of her job. He knew where she worked. He knew practically everything about her. Every time she attempted to pry something out of him, he would always do something to pry a moan out of her and make her forget how to speak and breathe. Sometimes, he made her forget her name.

She stiffened as she heard a familiar thumping of shoes running against the pavement. She looked over her shoulder and saw a hoodied figure with dark jogging pants and similarly dark gym shoes moving in her direction. She returned her attention to the winding path in front of her and tried her absolute hardest not to grin like a complete idiot.

Oh, god.

She felt like a schoolgirl about to pass by her crush in the hallway. In moments of that fleeting thought, he did pass by her as he jogged before he stopped a few feet ahead of her and turned around to face her.

Willow took her time as she walked up to him.

“You’re making it a habit to start without me,” he said. She heard the amusement in his voice.

She grinned as she wrapped her arms around his neck and rose to the tips of her toes to place a soft kiss on his lips. “I needed a headstart. It’s hard keeping up with you,” she paused, “in more ways than one.”

“Which one is your favorite,” he asked, pulling her close against him.

“Which one is yours,” she countered teasingly, admiring the way his nose and cheeks were tinted a soft reddish pink due to the cold weather as they stood directly under an illuminated light pole.

He leaned down and brushed his lips against her ear. “I can’t decide between the one where I take you into that patch of woods over there and fuck you while you hold onto a tree like you did your bedpost or where you show me how well you ride a stick in the backseat of your car. Which one would you prefer?”

Willow squeezed her eyes shut and parted her cold lips, letting his words burn her. Words she was going to use to answer his proposed question died her throat and was replaced with a groan as she felt his warm tongue flicker against her earlobe.

Oh, she hated him sometimes.

He knew how to get her worked up—more worked up than actually jogging or walking through this damned park. One late night in her bed during post-coital relaxation, he discovered a particular “spot” on her body by chance as his lips wandered and decided to use it as a weapon ever since.

He pulled her earlobe into his mouth and suckled on it for a moment.

“Stop it,” she whimpered unconvincingly. He released her earlobe and blew a trail of hot breath onto it, not obeying her request to leave her ears alone completely. Goosebumps spread across her brown flesh like a wildfire.

“Make me.”

“I have work soon,” she breathed.

“Work can wait. One of these early mornings my cum’s gonna drip down the inside of your thighs. I want you to go home, climb into your shower, and think about me and how I make you feel as you’re washing yourself clean. I’d bet you’d rub your hard little clit in the shower until you’d cum, wouldn’t you? Answer that question and I’ll let you go.”

Willow nodded her head but said nothing. His words struck a tightly wounded cord inside of her that sent vibrations of arousal straight to her pussy.

“That’s not answering my question, Willow.”

“Yes,” she answered finally. “I would.”

“Is your clit hard right now thinking about it? Is it begging for some attention,” he whispered in her ear.

It took all of her strength to pull herself away from him. “You said I had to answer one question. I guess you have to use your own imagination for the second one. Now go finish your run,” she ordered, mustering up everything she had in her to be convincingly authoritative. His green eyes twinkled with mischief. Willow gave herself a mental pat on the back as he resumed his early morning jogging, distancing himself from her in effective strides.

She decided to jog as well in her own way—sloppy and a little choppy.

It took about eleven minutes to get back to the parking lot. Those eleven minutes consisted of nine minutes of jogging and two minutes of walking the rest of the way. When she reached her dark blue SUV, she unzipped her hoodie, reached past her long-sleeved shirt, and into her sports bra to retrieve her singular car key as usual.

She unlocked the car door in moments with a click of a button and as she began to open the door, she noticed a swiftly advancing figure in the tinted window’s reflection. Before she could even reaction, a hard body pressed against her. She widened her eyes in absolute surprise.

“Bend over,” Sebastian ordered from behind and pressed his hand onto her back and pushed her downward, bending her chest and torso over the front driver's seat. Willow dug her fingernails into the fabric of her car seat as she felt his cold fingers slide into her jogging pants and panties, carefully sandwiching her clit in between his index finger and thumb. Gently, he moved glided the hood of her clit up and down.

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

 

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Later that morning, Willow was in the process of making flyers for a steadily approaching annual Christmas adoption event known as Santa Paws’ Friends when she received a text message from Darlene. Her cellphone lit up and buzzed on her desk near a framed picture of her, Emily, Peyton, and Lydia having a girl’s day at the beach during the summer before their senior year of highschool. Emily was wearing a green and white polka dot bikini with bug-eyed sunglasses. Peyton was wearing a dark purple halter one-piece swimsuit with her hot pink sunglasses propped on top of her head. Lydia was wearing a bright green halter top with matching swim-bottom designed in a boy-shorts style and a floppy white and orange beach hat. Willow was wearing an extra-extra-large red men’s shirt and black men’s swim shorts. She remembered how disappointed her friends were at first that she didn’t wear this nice plus-size swimsuit her mother had bought her for that particular day. Back then, she was insecure about her body. She was insecure about how people would compare her body to her best friends’ slender swimsuit-perfect bodies. However, it was an unforgettable day.

She smiled at the memory.

Her cellphone buzzed once more, which returned her attention back to it. She picked up the phone and looked at the sent text message. It read: The police are here.

Willow lifted a delicate eyebrow at the message and tilted her head to the side. In return, she texted back: Where?

A few moments later, an incoming text message from Darlene arrived. Her reply said: They are in Boss-Man’s office.

“Boss-Man” was George Tyson, the founder and CEO of Paws and Protect. He began the company nearly two decades ago. Years prior, his daughter, Sarah, was raped by someone she knew and trusted. The horrible event drove the utterly traumatized girl to her eventual suicide. No one knew about it until it was revealed in her suicide note because she feared no one would believe the truth and in doing so, she felt unprotected and helpless.

She was a lover of dogs and was often a “foster mother” to dogs rescued from kill shelters, training them to be suitable for adoptions at a no-kill shelter she worked at. The idea of Paws and Protect sprouted from her death. George wanted to ensure that rape and abuse victims felt protected at all times. He was a wonderful man and a great person to work under. He respected all of his employees and always gave them freedom to do what needed to be done for the best of the company.

Willow: Why?

Darlene: Brooke says it has something to do with Simon.

Willow blinked her eyes at the message.

Willow: I thought Simon was on vacation? He text George and told him so.

Darlene: I thought so too, but word is they found his car abandoned somewhere or something.

She widened her eyes slowly.

Willow: What?

Darlene: They’re out now!

Willow rolled her computer chair towards the mouth of her cubicle and leaned over slightly, peeking her head out to watch two detectives walk out of the office with a worried George in tow.

“As I said, you have the absolute full cooperation of the company. Feel free to stay as long as you need to and I am sure no one will have a problem with answering your questions,” George said.

A pepper-haired white man who appeared to be in his fifties nodded his head slowly. “We appreciate your cooperation in a case such as this.”

A case such as this? What in the hell did that mean? A prickle of worry sprouted inside of her for a moment of Simon’s well-being. Was he okay? Willow situated herself back into her cubicle and looked back at her cellphone. She thought about texting Darlene back, but she didn’t even know what to say. She chewed on her bottom lip and placed the cellphone back in its original place by the framed picture of the memorable beach day with her highschool girlfriends.

She resumed her project of the holiday adoption flyers with a troubled mind.

It was close to her lunch time when the detectives came to her cubicle. Well, at least one of them came to her cubicle. He was the younger of the two detectives who appeared to be in his mid-thirties at best. He had short dark brown hair and a mustache. He was shorter than his colleague but athletic in stature.

“Could we spare a few moments of your time,” he questioned.

Willow blinked for a moment before smiling, her heart racing in her chest. “Sure, absolutely.”

She rose from her computer chair and followed the detective into the boardroom. “Please, have a seat,” the older gray-haired detective said kindly, gesturing towards a nearby chair close to him as opposed to the ten other chairs that surrounded the table.

She nodded her head with a weak smile and pulled out a chair, sitting down. “Is everything alright,” she asked.

“That’s our job to find out,” the older detective said. “I’m sure you’ve heard bits and pieces about why we’re here today.”

“In the passing, but I don’t pay attention to office gossip much. It gets watered down like brandy on the rocks sitting out too long,” Willow replied.

Both detectives smiled at her words. “Never heard of it like that before,” the younger detective chuckled.

“I like to put my own twist on things,” Willow smiled back.

“When was the last time you saw or spoke with Simon Roberson,” the older detective questioned.

“A few nights ago, we both went to a club downtown called Glow.”

The detective’s eyebrows shot upward for a moment before he scribbled down the information. “Together?”

New information that they hadn’t know before. Willow shook her head, tapping her foot nervously under the table. “No, we bumped into each other on the dance floor.”

“Who was he with?”

She wanted to say that he was with a tribe of assholes, but she didn’t want to paint him or his friends in a rude light.

“He told me he was at a bachelor party with some of his buddies from college,” she answered. “I was invited to my best friend’s cousin’s birthday party.”

“How did he seem?”

Willow cocked her head to the side with a thoughtful expression on her face. “He seemed … like he was having a good time at the bachelor party. Then again, I’m only going off of how he was when I bumped into him on the dance floor.”

“Did you see him after that?”

Yes, I threw a drink in his face for helping crown me the pig, she thought.

“No,” she lied. “Someone tried to take advantage of me on the dance floor not too long after and I got really upset, so I left the club early.”

The younger detective frowned. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Emotions of that night hit her like a ton of bricks, pressing hard into her chest. Her eyes began to sting as salty tears bubbled up, threatening to fall. Willow folded her hands on the meeting table and nodded her head slowly. “Me too,” she paused for a moment.

“Is Simon alright? Did something happen to him while he was on vacation?”

The two detectives looked at each other. “At this moment in time, Mr. Roberson is being declared as a missing person.”

Willow’s breath hitched in her throat. “Are you sure?”

“We are unsure as to whether or not he truly went on vacation in the first place. He has not made contact with any of his family members or his girlfriend within these last few days,” the older detective said.

“I see,” she said softly.

The younger detective said, “It has been made known to us by Mr. Roberson’s girlfriend that you two know each other outside of the workplace.”

Willow blinked. “Well, yes. Our families run in the same social circles and our mothers are very close friends. I’ve known Simon for a long time.”

“Did Mr. Roberson ever mention any problems he faced that could potentially cause him danger or harm,” the older detective questioned.

She shook her head slowly. “No. He never talked about anything like that to me. Occasionally, he would come to me for womanly advice about how to deal with his girlfriends.”

“Did he ever mention any girlfriends who were having ex-boyfriend troubles?”

“I think Cara has an ex-boyfriend that got out of prison recently. She moved two states over because he couldn’t take a hint and she wanted a clean start,” Willow said, “but I didn’t heard that from Simon himself. It’s common knowledge in the office because Cara said it.”

The detective glanced down to his small yellow pad and flipped back a few pages, scanning his aging eyes over the scribbled down notes. He nodded his head once and raised his bushy eyebrows slightly to confirm that he had found the information.

“Alright, I think that will be all,” the older detective stated.

Willow rose slowly from the chair feeling very queasy. The younger detective reached into his suit’s jacket pocket to retrieve a contact card. “If you have any details that you remember, please give us a call.”

“Of course,” she said as she took the card from the man’s hand. “Thank you.”

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Willow and Darlene decided to meet at their favorite restaurant for lunch. It was a popular café with great selection of cold sandwiches and salads. It was similar to Starbucks but it was mom-and-pop owned and did not disappoint. “What in the hell is going on, Dar,” Willow said as she plopped down on the opposite side of a two-man table situated in the middle of the bustling restaurant.

“Girl,” Darlene breathed out, widening her eyes to emphasis that she had exclusive dirt—very bad exclusive dirt. “I’ve heard some things.”

A question burned in her throat and had been burning there since she left those two detectives behind in the company boardroom. “Where is Simon?”

“Okay, here’s what I know. A few ago, Simon texted George saying he needed some vacation days,” Darlene began.

Willow nodded her head. “I know that part. Everyone knows that part.”

“However, his parents and Cara have been trying to get a hold of him nonstop for days because he didn’t tell them that he was going on a little vacation, but his phone just kept going to straight to voicemail. His parents filed a missing person’s report, but they said there wasn’t really anything they could do,” Darlene continued, “because he’s a grown man and all who can disappear off the face of the earth if he wants to. However, his parents know some powerful people in the city, so they said that they’d take a look into it. And Cara told Eliza that his mom told her that they found out he used his debit card—you know the one that is connected to his monthly allowance—to buy an air ticket to the Bahamas. Then…”

“Then what?”

Darlene looked terribly pale as she opened her mouth to utter the next set of words. “Two days ago, some guy and his friends were hunting in the woods a few towns over and found Simon’s car wrapped around a tree and burned to a crisp. The police aren’t releasing that information, but his parents told Cara and Cara told Eliza, who turn told me. Everyone is freaking the fuck out and rightfully so.”

Willow slowly widened her eyes and her heart stopped beating in her chest. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“Do you think he’s,” she stopped herself from finishing the sentence. She couldn’t finish it—not without throwing up.

Darlene bit down onto her bottom lip for a moment. “It’s not looking good. Michael from tech support said the detectives are both in homicide. They were assigned to his friend’s murder two years ago.”

Simon was a terrible person, but if they are looking at this was a homicide and not a missing person’s case like they were masquerading it out to be then … Willow felt guilty about what happened at Glow.

She felt guilty that her last moments with him were filled with tears and hate.

She felt guilty that her last moments with him were filled with realizing the true Simon Roberson—who pretended to be a great guy—was rotten and terrible on the inside.

She hoped…no.

Willow prayed he was okay.

 

 

End Notes:

This is a brand new chapter. I felt like in the orginial story, the plot about Simon's death was very short and brief. I think this is the perfect opportunity to explore the characters more in-depth. It is a perfect time to truly define Willow's and Sebastian's relationship from an emotional aspect and stray away from the one where they use sex to tell each other how they feel. It also will force Willow to demand answers from Sebastian even if she doesn't know the role he plays in Simon's death.

Punishment by Missus James
Author's Notes:

Sebastian receives punishment for his sins, but it isn't enough.

 

 

Very few people knew of Pothos, a minor god in Greek mythology. He was considered a member of the goddess Aphrodite’s retinue, a group of youthful winged immortals known as the Erotes who specialized in the various pleasures and pains of love and lust. In ancient Greek tongue, his name translated to yearning. He represented the burning feeling of longing for someone who was out of your reach—for someone who was absent in your life or for someone so close yet untouchable. It was a fitting name for an upscale Greek-themed gentleman’s club on the eastside of the city. Sebastian was summoned to Pothos by Juliette’s command unexpectedly. Then again, when could he ever predict Juliette’s orders demanding his presence?

It was nearly ten o’clock at night when he entered the club’s lobby. The lighting could only be described as fairly dim with faux torches lining the walls, painting the atmosphere in a purplish red tint. A pale-skinned woman with cascading silky brown hair wearing a soft pink chiton strolled over to him. The airy fabric of the Greek robes rippled like water as she moved. She welcomed him with attentive eyes that scanned him from top to bottom and a pleased smile. “Your employer has been expecting your arrival, Mr. Smith,” she stated.

Once upon a time, he would have accepted the invitation that shined in her bright blue eyes. Once upon a time, he was addicted to no-string fucking with beautiful women to temporarily sate his primal desires. But once upon a time was not now. Now he was addicted to one woman. Only she could sate him—tame the monster he had shared a body with.

The establishment was a complete ghost town as he followed the woman. This fact did not surprise Sebastian. Juliette hated sharing and often resorted to immoral means to have every last crumble to herself. It was a common belief they both practiced like religion. Fresh dead bodies were their bread. Spilled blood was their wine. Their souls could not be saved, but at least they would join each other in Hell after the slow fall down to it.

The woman halted in front of a tall pair of double doors glistening with painted gold. “Enjoy,” she said with a nod as she slowly opened the right door. He entered the room without a second thought. It was a VIP room with a private stage with a gold strip pole. Juliette was sitting on a lengthy modern-styled white leather sofa with blonde-haired woman wearing a silky black chiton whispering something with a flirtatious smile. Juliette was sipping on champagne in a flute as the woman told her something that made her laugh brightly.

Juliette’s eyes drifted over to him and a warm smile spread across her lips like a slab of butter on hot toast. “Nathaniel, you’ve arrived on time and just in time for the fun! Sit, sit! I want you to meet my new minx of a friend.”

Sebastian fought the urge to frown as he sat down on the piece of furniture draped in white leather. He felt like a giant in size compared to the petite pale-skinned women who looked at him like he was good enough to eat. Once upon a time, Juliette had a bite of him. Once upon a time, he tasted Juliette too. Once upon a time wasn’t now.

“Electra, meet my dear friend Nathaniel,” Juliette introduced before taking another sip of wine. Electra gave him a seductive smile as she reached over Juliette and offered her hand to be shaken.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Why am I here, Juliette,” Sebastian questioned, ignoring Electra’s offered hand.

Juliette gave him a mocked look of disappointment over the rim of her champagne flute, but delivered a threat nonetheless. “Nathaniel, play nice with my friend or I’ll won’t hesitate to play rough to with yours.”

Nathaniel clenched his jaw tightly before he shook the woman’s hand. Electra’s thumb ran over his knuckles before she released his hand entirely, a look of tainted admiration twinkling in her eyes.

“I don’t bite,” Electra assured. “I promise.”

Juliette chuckled softly, “I wouldn’t worry about him thinking you’re going to bite him, my dear. He’s the one you should be worried about.”

The blonde-haired woman smiled, “I like a little pain.”

“Pain is Nathaniel’s specialty,” Juliette purred as she leaned over to Electra, her ruby-painted lips brushing against the youthful woman.

“And what’s yours,” Electra said, her eyes never leaving Sebastian’s uninterested face.

Pleasure,” Juliette said before she smashed her lips against Electra’s. Sebastian turned his head away from the scene, glancing around the room carefully as a habit to examine all routes of escape if the need came.

“Why am I here, Juliette,” Sebastian questioned once more, firm irritation dripping in his voice.

Juliette’s lips had moved away from a very responsive Electra’s mouth and suckled on the crook of her neck. “My mouth is full at the moment, Nathaniel,” Juliette said, her voice mumbled against her victim’s flesh.

“My patience is running thin,” Sebastian warned.

His words roused Juliette from kissing, sucking, and biting at Electra’s neck. She dried her moist lips with the pad of her right thumb as she cut her icy eyes over to him. Swiftly, she gripped onto his short dark hair and yanked his head back. He growled out, but used every ounce of his strength to stop himself from fighting her. She pressed her lips hard against his ear. “Don’t tell me about patience running thin, Nathaniel. I know your baseball game at the Woodsberg Park.”

She sunk her teeth down deep into his earlobe as punishment, breaking the skin there. He clenched his teeth tightly and breathed out through his nostrils hard.

“You’re still following me,” he said through grit teeth, riding out the pain.

“Some people watch birds. Other people watch whales. I watch you, Nathaniel. It was a quite enjoyable pastime until you fucked up. You know the consequences for that.”

He knew the consequences quite well. He dished them out to others over the years under Juliette’s command.

Sebastian let out a dark chuckle. “So you’re going to kill me in a strip club?”

“No, Jasper is waiting outside of your little girlfriend’s house for my word,” Juliette whispered before her tongue lapped at the droplets of blood bubbling from the wound she inflicted on his earlobe. “I could make her last moments absolutely horrific, Nathaniel. I could make him beat her to a bloody pulp and rape her. I could make him relish in her terrified screams as he pounds into her before he puts a bullet in her head. You know Jasper hates an unfinished job and you know even more that he hates you. You know he can be a sick fuck. I bet he’d fuck her warm corpse and cum on her lifeless face. Then when you find her, you’ll hate yourself all over again because it was your fuck-up that killed her. Just like it was your fuck-up that sent your wife and daughter to early graves.”

He squeezed his eyes shut as she used the knife of painful memories to plunge deep into his heart and twist hard.

Giselle. Valerie.

“She’s innocent,” he said. His voice was low and tethering on loss of control—tethering on the verge of crying as guilt crushed into him like a tsunami with no mercy. Giselle and Valerie were innocent too.

“She’s a liability,” Juliette corrected.

I’m the liability. Punish me,” he replied in an almost pleading voice.

“And how exactly do you suggest I punish you,” Juliette purred.

His green eyes glanced over to the strip pole. Juliette followed his gaze and grinned widely. “I see,” she trailed off for a moment. “If your father finds out, he won’t be pleased.”

“It’s not his choice.”

 Juliette chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before she shifted her attention back to Electra. “Your presence is no longer needed, but you will be paid thoroughly for your company. Also, send for my entourage.”

Electra nodded her head slowly with a weak smile and rose from her spot. She heard too much. All three of them knew that. Electra left the room and Juliette made a tsk’ing sound as she watched the blonde-haired woman leave. “Such a pity,” Juliette pouted. “I really liked her.”

“Don’t, Juliette,” Sebastian replied.

“Are you going to be her knight in shining armor too, Nathaniel? You can’t save all the innocent girls who get tangled in our poisonous web. We’re reapers. Everything we touch dies.”

“I’ll take her fate too,” he said as Juliette’s entourage of contract killers entered the VIP room.

Juliette released the back of his head and touched his face tenderly. “You could die tonight,” she replied.

“We both know you won’t let them kill me or you have to deal with him. Or I could go to him myself. Tell him the truth and walk away from all of this for good—my debt, all of it. Let him punish you for pushing me to do it. And if Jasper lays a finger on her head, I’ll fucking kill him and then I’ll come after you. And if I’m in the mood, I’ll videotape me doing it and send it as a Christmas present to my father. A symbolic token of me severing this fucked up relationship the three of us share,” Sebastian said, knowing he had gained the upper hand. “Take the easy route, Juliette.”

Juliette clenched her jaw. “Tie him to the strip pole.”

One of her men grabbed him by the arm, but Sebastian shot him a deadly look. The man released his arm and cleared his throat. “Smart boy,” Sebastian commented tauntingly as he rose from his spot on the sofa and escorted himself over to the private stage. He climbed up the front steps, three out of the seven men following after him. He pressed his back against the pole and crossed his arms behind his back.

He was tightly handcuffed to the strip pole. He grinned as the goon adjusted the tightness out of the cuffs out of spite—out of revenge. They all looked at him hungrily, like wild dogs surrounding their prey. This was their only opportunity to overpower Sebastian Smith. To punish him for years of succeeding them at everything. Some of them were cracking their knuckles. Others were slipping brass knuckles onto their hands.

Sebastian’s eyes flickered to Juliette who sat calmly on the sofa with a scowl on her face. He knew she was still digesting his words from earlier. She held her champagne flute in her hand with her manicured index finger tapping on the glass lightly.

“Do it,” she ordered coldly.

The ‘smart boy’ from earlier was the first begin the sacrificial ceremony, driving a brass-knuckled blow to his nose full-force. The back of Sebastian’s head flung back hard against the gold strip pole from the force of the punch before he dropped his head down. Before he could recover properly, ‘smart boy’ drove his fist upward to catch Sebastian’s bent face. Sebastian’s head jerked back once more, blood trickling from his nose. Another one kicked him hard in the knee before he plunged a punch into Sebastian’s abdomen.

He let out a bloody-teethed laugh even as his body suffered through the continuous stream of kicks, punches, and slaps.

He deserved this—all of it.

For what he did to Giselle. For what he did to Valerie. For what he did to Willow.

He deserved to be punished by them and then he was going to punish himself.

 

 

 

End Notes:

I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. Though I enjoy writing Sebastian's character because he is very intense and emotional, it was very painful to write this chapter. Though the theme of this chapter is punishment, his punishment for his sins (present and past) are far from over. This is merely the beginning.

The next chapter is how Willow reacts to his fresh wounds and the questions that follow while she struggles to deal with the disappearance of Simon.

Breaking and Mending by Missus James
Author's Notes:

One relationship breaks. One broken relationship mends. The possibility of a new relationship lingers.

Willow was worried. The feeling sunk in deep like a bite and made her bleed profusely with fear. Too many bad things were happening all at once and it all overwhelmed her, pushing her closer and closer towards the edge of losing it. Simon was still missing and everyone at work were a wreck about it especially Cara considering her ex-boyfriend was a prime suspect and he was conveniently nowhere to be found. On a good day, you could caught her with a puffy face and reddened eyes, acting like a mechanical robot on an automatic function. On a bad day, she didn’t come to work at all.

Then there was Sebastian. She hadn’t heard from him in days. He hadn’t come to the park in the morning to jog. She had tried calling and sending text messages, but every communication attempt was left unanswered. At first, she tried not to be bothered by it and chalked it up as him just being busy with the demands of work, but then insecurity gripped her tightly by the throat and her self-esteem was lower than ever. Like Cara, it affected her ability to actually do her job. She spent time in her cubicle, concocting up the worst scenarios. What if he had found a taller, slender, prettier woman to be with? What if he was with that woman right now? Curled up beside in each other in bed. Tangled in those crisp white bed sheets that smelled of him and his cologne. His lips slanted over the mouth of another woman, his tongue tasting hers. His hands familiarizing theirselves with the map of this new woman’s slender pale curves…

“Willow.”

She blinked coming back to reality, her attention focusing on the blank white canvas of the graphic design application program on her computer screen. She looked over to the direction of where the voice at originated from and saw George, her boss, standing in the mouth of her cubicle.

She cleared her throat and smiled weakly. “Hey, George.”

“You don’t look to good, kiddo,” George said.

Willow straightened up in her computer chair. “No, I’m absolutely fine. I promise,” she said, her voice unconvincing.

George gave her that parental ‘cut-the-bullshit’ look. “I’ve been watching you for a while now. Take the day off. Hell, take a few days off if you need it. Work from home if you have to. Okay?”

Willow opened her mouth to protest and assure George that she was okay, but she decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Thanks,” she said softly.

It didn’t take long to pack up her things and leave for the day. As she made her way to her car, she battled with the direction of going home or going to Sebastian’s home. By the time she turned on the ignition, she had her destination in mind. It didn’t take long to get to Sebastian’s warehouse home, but that was probably because her foot got a little heavy on the gas pedal.

She let herself in with a spare key that he had given to her after the whole Post-Golden-Pig showdown. Inside it was cold and dark. “Sebastian,” she called out his name, listening to her voice bounce off the walls of the spacious warehouse. No answer. Maybe he wasn’t home, but she decided to explore nonetheless. She walked over to the spiraling metal staircase that led to the top floor and slowly ascended, gripping the railing as she got closer and closer to the top.

The first thing she was glass walls presented the dreary cityscape before her eyes drifted over to Sebastian’s bed. She saw an outline of one body underneath the crisp white covers and sighed in relief at the fact that he was here—at the fact that he was alone. She made her way over to the bed with soft footsteps, not wanting to wake him. She leaned over the bed from where she stood and slowly peeled back the sheets with a slight smile on her face.

That smile soon after scattered as she stared down at Sebastian’s terribly battered face. “Oh my god,” she gasped. She fought the urge to touch his face, knowing that the simplest of touches could cause him pain.  His eyelids were bruised and swollen, but his right was more so than his left. His left eyelid peeled back a little, a green eye peeking out to look at her.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Sebastian said tiredly, his voice dry and scratchy. Was that shame in his voice?

She recoiled at his statement nonetheless. “I came here to make sure you were dead and I guess my hunch was half-right,” she said defensively. “What happened to you?”

Sebastian sat up slowly, winching as he did. The sheets he was underneath slid down, pooling into his lap to reveal his bare chest and torso riddled with stitched cuts and dark purplish-blue bruises. She realized his left arm was cradled against his chest in a dark blue sling.

“Occupational hazard,” he croaked nonchalantly as he pushed back the covers with his right hand and shifted cautiously so that he could place his bare feet onto the floor. A white wrap bandage was coiled around his right leg from just below his knee to the heel of his foot.

She exhaled suddenly, not realizing that she had been holding her breath. “Occupational…hazard,” she repeated choppily, emotions swelling up in her chest and throat. “This is a…occupational hazard?”

Willow swirled on her heels, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. She bowed her head, taking a deep breath through her nostrils. She turned back to him slowly and asked as calmly as she could, “What do you do for a living, Sebastian?”

“Go home, Willow,” he said.

“Not until you tell me what I want to know,” Willow replied stubbornly.

His tongue licked his cut and cracked lips. “Go home, Willow,” Sebastian said in a sternly voice, emphasizing each word carefully as a warning to her.

“Not. Until. You. Tell. Me. What. I. Want. To. Know.”

An angered roar tore from his throat as he used his spare hand to swipe the glass lamp off of his nightstand, crashing onto the gray concrete floor in thousands of little pieces. She watched in horror at the sight of him. Nostrils flared. Lips snarled. Muscles bundled and tightened, ready to attack at any given moment even if he was in no state to do it.

Willow took careful cautioned steps in his direction until she reached him, standing in between his parted legs as he sat on his bed. She lifted her fingers to gently touch his bearded face, but he turned his head away from her touch.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” he admitted, his demeanor relaxing.

She asked softly, “Like what, Sebastian?”

There was a long moment of silence between them before he finally spoke, “Weak.”

Willow blinked as she looked down at his battered face that refused to look at her. The four-letter word he uttered from his lips surprised her.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” he said.

Willow sunk down to her knees, shivering as the coldness from the hard concrete floors seeped through her dark skinny jeans and into her brown skin. She stared up at him. “You want me to leave because you don’t want me to see you like this? You’ve been there for me during my darkness moments…why can’t I be there for you,” she asked as she leaned up, grasping his chin to navigate his attention back to her. “I want to be there for you, Sebastian. I…I…love you.”

“Don’t say that,” he said gruffly.

“It’s true, Sebastian,” she whispered. “I really do.”

Sebastian shook his head slowly. “No, no. You shouldn’t love me.”

“But I do,” she whispered as she leaned in, brushing her mouth against his bruised dry lips.

“Would you still love me if I told you that I hurt people for a living?”

She pulled back slightly. “What?”

“What if I told you that people pay me to hurt other people,” he wondered bitterly. “To teach them a lesson. In ways worse than what happened to me.”

Her brown eyes increased significantly in size and her heart quickened in her chest at his confession. She fell for a man who harmed other people for money? His bread and butter was the blood and tears of others? “Why,” she whispered breathlessly. She had a piece of the truth she had desperately wanted to know and now she wanted to know all of it even if it hurt hearing it.

“A debt,” he answered, his voice shaky with emotion, “to my father. A long time ago, it was my job to protect people, but my dedication to the job and my eagerness caused me to lose the very two people that were my entire life: my wife and daughter.”

 “You have an ex-wife and daughter? Why didn’t you tell me?”

At one point in his life, Sebastian was married? Not only was he once married, but he had a daughter? All kinds of questions filled her head about his ex-wife and daughter. How long was he married to his wife? How old was his daughter? Where did they live now? Did he ever get the chance to see his daughter often?

“Had,” he corrected. “I had a wife and a daughter.”

It took a moment to realize what he meant. His words hitting her like a ton of bricks. Had. The word had was past tense. Past tense met his wife and daughter were

“Oh my god, Sebastian,” she gasped as she cradled his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“If I take about it, people pity me. People pity the man who lost his wife and daughter. I don’t deserve anyone’s pity because that would be too kind. It was because my actions that caused their deaths. So I keep that demon to myself and let it torment me. I let it remind me of my selfishness,” he replied.

“Sebastian,” she trailed off, biting down onto her bottom lip for a moment.

“I do what I do as a debt to my father—a faustian of sorts. The only thing he had ever given me required my complete loyalty to him,” he said. “That loyalty has a set of rules to it and if those rules are known then there are consequences. The reason why I didn’t tell you about what I do is because you could get hurt if anyone loyal to my father knew. I wanted to protect you from that possibility.”

He paused for a moment. “They were willing to hurt you to get to me—to keep me away from you.”

The reality of his words sunk in and she didn’t know how to stomach them. This was what she wanted: the truth. Her persistence paid off, but at what cost? She was in love with a man who hurt people or worse, killed them. In that moment, all the missing dots began to connect. His god-like physique, his luxury warehouse home, his mysteriousness, his expensive cars, his possessiveness, and his dark side that she had only saw glimpses of. The late phone calls into the night which prompted the late night jogs and the out-of-town trips. When he told her once that he was an animal, she understood now that he meant it.

Bubbling salty tears burned the corner of her eyes. “I don’t know what to say, Sebastian.”

“Then go home, Willow,” he said in a low tone. “Leave before you get hurt.”

One tear rolled down her cheek and the longer she stared at him, more tears cascaded down her cheeks. She felt pathetic being knelt at his feet, staring up to him like he was a god who had cursed her. Nothing good would come from loving a man who hurt others. Slowly, she brushed away her tears and rose to her feet ungracefully, stumbling.

She sniffled as she turned to leave, making her way to the beginning of the metal staircase. She gripped the railing and took a last look at him, opening her mouth to speak even though she was still unsure of what to say. Goodbye? Don’t ever speak to me again? I hate you? I love you? Hold me?

Willow descended down the staircase and left Sebastian behind.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Willow didn’t not to go to work for the rest of the week. She refused to be like Cara and arrive to the office with reddened eyes and a puffy face as evidence for all to see that she was a broken woman. She preferred to stay within the comfort of her bed, crying on and off while watching sappy romance movies that made her feel even more pathetic than she already was. Her chest hurt and she had chalked it up to be that her heart was ripped out.

To make matters worse, Farrah had been calling her nonstop, but she refused to answer. Not because she was angry with Farrah, but because she didn’t want to be bothered with anyone. Finally, she received a very vague text message from Farrah requesting her presence at a bridal boutique about nine blocks from Paws and Protect. At first, Willow decided that she didn’t want to go at all. After giving Farrah an ultimatum about the size ten maid of honor dress their mother had ordered as a crude method of encouraging Willow to drop two dress sizes in time for the wedding, they hadn’t talked to each other since then until the hurricane of calls from Farrah.

Willow hadn’t been sure if her older sister was giving her a silent treatment for jeopardizing the desired outcome of the fairy tale wedding or if she was reevaluating her priorities by thinking over the after-breakfast ultimatum. However, Willow realized that she couldn’t stay locked up in her house forever. It had been four days since she left Sebastian—since he told her the truth. She decided that she needed something to take her mind off of Sebastian and what better way to do that than to spend the afternoon with her wedding-obsessed older sister.

She put on a Paws and Protect beanie, her red OSU zip-up jacket, a pair of black gloves, and insulated dark brown boots before she stepped out into the cold December day. The sky was dreary and snow was everywhere.

It took her twenty minutes to go to the bridal boutique called Goddess Gowns. She found an empty parallel parking space directly in front of the establishment and stationed her SUV there. She slipped out of the vehicle and closed the door, staring at the beautifully dressed mannequins posing in the store’s front display windows. Though Willow liked the fashionable gowns that draped the mannequins, the place did not reflect Farrah’s taste for luxury in the least.

Eventually, she made her way inside of the boutique. A tiny silver bell jingled as she entered. Farrah was talking to a boutique employee when she arrived. They both stepped talking and turned their attention to her.

“Don’t say I’m late,” Willow said grumpily as she walked over to her sister.

Farrah smiled at the employee and asked, “Could you excuse us for a moment?’

After the employee walked away, Willow sighed heavily, “What did I do this time? Are my clothes too embarrassing? Have I put on too much weight for your liking?”

“You didn’t do anything,” Farrah frowned with a pause. “I’m actually surprised you came.”

Willow’s eyebrows shot upward. “You’re not going chew me out or take a few cheap shots at my already low self-esteem?”

“Wow, do you think I’m that much of a bitch?”

Guilt smothered Willow from all sides. She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed softly, “No, you’re not. I’m just not in a good state of mind right now. That’s all.”

“Work?”

Willow nodded.

“Sebastian?”

Willow stiffened at the mention of him and proceeded to busy herself with walking over to the nearest clothes display and filtering through the section of mermaid-silhouette gowns.

“Uh-oh,” Farrah said, following her from behind. “Relationship troubles?”

Willow clenched her jaw for the moment and picked up an off-white mermaid-silhouette with a sparkling bodice curving into a tulle finish. She pressed against her body and turned to a nearby mirror for distraction to see how it would look on her. Briefly, she pictured herself in this dress walking down an aisle with Sebastian waiting for her at the end of it. She snapped herself out of it. The dress was like three sizes too small anyway. She frustratingly shoved it back onto the clothes rack. “More like relationship over.”

“Wow, Will. I’m so sorry,” Farrah responded genuinely, which caught Willow off-guard.

“It’s alright,” she cleared her throat, shrugging. “We were bad for each other.”

“Well, he seemed like an alright guy,” Farrah said.

Willow stopped exploring the clothes displays and turned to peer carefully at herself with a quizzical expression. She pressed her palm against Farrah’s forehead. “Are you okay? You don’t sound like yourself.”

“So you’re saying I only sound like myself when I am consistently bitching at you?”

“Is that a rhetorical question? Because if it isn’t then yes,” Willow said.

Farrah closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath through her nostrils as if she were collecting her thoughts. “Okay, I’ve thought long and hard about what you said to me in the kitchen. About whether I wanted you in the wedding as you are or whether I needed to find another maid of honor to fit that dress Mom ordered.”

“And?”

“I decided that I wanted…my little sister in the wedding as my maid of honor,” Farrah revealed, “as she is.”

Willow blinked with a dropped jaw. “A-are you serious? Dad didn’t put you up to this or something, did he?”

Farrah shook her head, grabbed Willow by the shoulders, and said, “No, Dad had nothing to do with it. I got so carried away with this idea of a perfect wedding with me as a perfect bride and Jeffery as the perfect groom and everything just had to be picture perfect. When Mom and Dad said that I had to have you as my maid of honor, I felt like my wedding wasn’t going to be perfect anymore. At least, not until you lost a few pounds so you could fit into my wedding perfectly, but it wasn’t until you gave me that ultimatum did I realize that you shouldn’t change yourself for me, Mom, or anyone.”

“I’m just sorry for not realizing it sooner,” she finished. Willow pulled her sister into a tight hug and buried her face into the crook of Farrah’s shoulder as she cried as a storm of emotions swirled inside of her: happiness and sadness all rolled into one. Happy that Farrah finally accepted her for who she was. Happy that she had an older sister to hold her in a time of weakness. In the back of her mind, she thought of Sebastian.

She reminisced tiny moments of him wrapping his strong arms around her. Burying her nose into him to smell his earthy cologne. Melting into the warmth of his body.

She pulled away from Farrah, brushing away her tears with a pathetic chuckle. She sniffled, “Are you sure you’re my sister?”

They both shared a brief laugh. “Yes, I’m your sister.”

“You know Mom is going to have a fit.”

“Fuck her,” Farrah blurted out before she clasped her hand over her mouth. Willow gasped at her sister’s boldness before they both burst into a fit of laughter. Little did Willow know, Goddess Gowns had a wide selection of plus-size wedding dresses, bridesmaid dresses, and other formal gowns.

She and Farrah spent three hours at the boutique, looking through the provided selection of gowns that came in a color of Farrah’s wedding scheme. Willow tried on several gowns until they came strapless knee-length dress with a flowing tulle skirt and a lace bodice.

“I think this is the one,” Willow said as she presented the dress to her sister, her fingers giddily smoothing with the tulle skirt as she approached wall of mirrors, admiring her reflecting.

“I’m gonna have to agree with you,” Farrah said, an awestruck look on her face as she stood behind Willow. “You’re absolutely glowing, Will.”

She was, glowing that is. It wasn’t even her wedding dress, but she was glowing like it was. She felt confident and womanly unlike that dress she squeezed into for Darlene’s cousin’s birthday. Her memories of that night bulldozed her. The emotions she felt that night came back to her as she relived those moments in her mind, her smiling face melting away. She remembered Darlene’s cousin telling her that she was nothing but a pawn in a sickening bachelor game. She remembered confronting Simon about his betrayal. She remembered driving to Sebastian’s house, pounding on his door in the cold night wanting to know if she was nothing more than his golden pig. She remembered how he carried her up his staircase like she weighed nothing and how he made love her in his own possessive way.

Her bottom lip quivered as she felt the verge to cry. She looked at her older sister’s reflection and cracked, “I miss him, Farrah. I miss him so fucking much.”

She turned around to face Farrah and slung her arms around her sister, pulling her into a tight embrace as she sobbed. Farrah held her over to a set of waiting chairs in the dressing room area and they both sat down.

“Do you love him,” Farrah asked.

Willow sniffled and brushed away her tears, but it didn’t do any good. “Yes, I do. I love him so much it hurts.”

“Then did you two break it off?”

Willow bowed her head, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. “He’s not good for me. He’s not good for me at all,” she said before tilting her head back and closing her eyes, “but God, he’s addictive, Farrah. He’s so addictive. The way he treated me was just unreal. The way he looked at me was surreal. He wanted me.”

She tapped a finger on her chest. “Me, Farrah. Short, fat, lumpy family fuck-up Willow Carter. But he was giving me wasn’t enough and I wanted more. I kept begging for more. And he gave it to me and it wasn’t what I expected it. It changed how I looked at him, so I left,” she sniffled, shaking her head. “He wanted me to leave anyway.”

“Forget about him, Will. There’s a better guy out there for you. Do you know how many guys I dated until I found Jeffery,” Farrah asked, lifting an eyebrow as she placed a hand on Willow’s back, rubbing in a soothing circular motion.

“Seven,” Willow sniffled.

Farrah blinked in surprise, “Yeah, seven. I went through seven guys to get to Jeffery and when I first met him, I didn’t even like him, but I gave it a try and this upcoming April, I’ll be Missus Jeffery Rogersen. For all you know, you could bump into Mister Right the moment you walk out of his boutique!”

“Maybe,” Willow said as she rose from the chair. “Let me get redressed.”

After she changed back into her regular clothes, she handed the dress now on a hanger back to the boutique employee. While Farrah and the boutique employee ironed out the details of the dress size, color, and estimated arrival of the finished dress, Willow absentmindedly wandered around the store, shifting her attention between her cellphone and the fingering through the clothes displays. When all of the details were finished, Farrah and Willow were prepared the store with the intentions of going to a café down the street for lunch.

As they walked out of the boutique chattering while walking down the sidewalk, Willow accidentally bumped into someone. She stumbled backwards, but strong hands gripped her forearms to prevent her from falling. She looked down at those hands, they were lightly tanned and big.

“You alright, beautiful?”

The voice made her shot her attention up to the face of the man she had bumped into. “Um,” she said, completely at a loss of words. The man looked to be somewhat older than her like in his late-thirties/early-forties, but he was drop-dead handsome and his eyes were a piercing blue.

Farrah butted in with a bright smile. “She’s perfectly fine. Aren’t you, Will?”

Willow nodded her head slowly before she cleared her throat, finding the words to speak. “Yes, I’m perfectly fine.”

The man let her go with a charming grin. “Well, if a beautiful woman like you ever needs someone to bump into to make their day, just give me a call and I’ll be happy to oblige. Alright?”

He then began to walk away and Farrah looked at Willow with widened excited eyes and mouthed ‘Mister Right’ while pointing to the departing man’s back. Willow shook her head and mouthed ‘no, let’s go’. Farrah gave her a matter-of-factly wink before she wondered loudly, “How can she give you a call if she doesn’t have your number?”

The man halted in his steps and turned around to face the two sisters. “If you have a phone, I’d be happy to provide,” he said, his blue eyes locked on Willow and for a moment, she thought about how his eyes were breathtaking, but she loved Sebastian’s green eyes more.

“Will, get out your phone,” Farrah said, nudging her elbow into Willow’s side lightly. Willow smiled nervously and fished for her cell. When she found it, she began the process of creating a new contact. He told her his name and number and she typed it all in.

“You got it all,” he asked, his blue eyes twinkling as he smiled.

“Yes, thanks,” she said uncharacteristically, nodding her head.

He gave her a wink and they said their goodbyes, going their separate ways on the sidewalk. Farrah squealed, “He’s very attractive! You should give him a call.”

“I don’t know,” Willow said, trailing off. “I think it’s too soon.”

“Okay, maybe it’s a little too soon, but maybe that’s what you need. You need to learn how to take leaps, Will,” Farrah advised. “And that guy was totally into you, so you should definitely call him. It wouldn’t hurt.”

Willow bit down onto her bottom lip for a moment. “You think?”

“I’m your big sister, so I know,” Farrah assured. Willow glanced down to her contacts list and found the new contact she had made mere moments before.

A slight smile quirked onto her lips.

Maybe she’d give this guy Jasper a call.

End Notes:

A new update. I figured that I'd squeeze out this update before school starts back tomorrow. Now all of my stories have officially been updated and I am so happy!

If you have read the first version of this story, this chapter did not exist. In that version, Willow and Sebastian had their ups and downs, but they never broke up. In this version, Willow and Sebastian have broken up. Sebastian drives her away because he thinks he's protecting her, but look who she bumps into on the street? Good ole' Jasper, Juliette's right hand man. So in essence, Sebastian potentially drove Willow into the arms of his enemies, which puts her in even more danger.

The next chapter with skip forward a few weeks into January or February, so Sebastian is nice and healed. And when he finds out what's been going on, you can only imagine what's going to happen especially if he finds say...Jasper kissing on Willow. ;)

Have a lovely Sunday evening and I hope you enjoyed this update and the cliffhanger. ;D

Show and Tell by Missus James
Author's Notes:

Sebastian wants blood.

 

 

Externally, Sebastian was a healed man. Internally, he was bruised, battered, and broken—no longer by the hands of Juliette’s goons, but of his own doing. It had been nearly eight weeks since Willow had left him—since he had told her to leave. It nearly killed him to watch her walk away, but he didn’t deserve her. She didn’t deserve a life of where dangerous lurked behind every corner. She didn’t deserve a life where that danger could affect the lives of her loved ones. In the beginning, his curiosity got the best of him and his attraction to her was too strong to deny, so he tasted her. One taste was all it took and he was knew he was doomed—he knew they were both doomed, but he was a selfish man.

Over these last seven weeks, he locked himself away his home. A personal doctor he had hired gave home visits. A personal physical therapist came to his home to push his body to the brink, to bring it back to what it once was.

He was in the middle of doing a chin-up on the room-length metal bar in his personal gym when he heard the warehouse entrance door creak open and slam shut. He heard the clicking of high heels against the glossed gray concrete floors, but continued his chin-ups, wanting to get stronger—better than he was before.

“If I wasn’t already happily married and you’re weren’t well…you, I might actually get aroused by this,” a blonde-haired, gray-eyed woman with olive skin by the name of Isabelle replied as she entered his personal gym.

“To what…do I…owe the…honors, Isa,” Sebastian grunted out in between chin-ups.

“I just wanted to check up on you,” Isabelle said as she wandered slowly about the room, brushing her fingers against his various exercising equipment. “I heard from a little tiny birdie of your unfortunate accident.”

“By little tiny birdie…you mean…Antonio,” he replied as he continued his chin-ups, keeping a count in his head and he was well into his 70s now. Antonio was her husband, who—just like her and everyone else it seemed—worked for Sebastian’s father.

Well, Nathaniel, people in our little organization gossip more than fifteen-year-old schoolgirls in a cafeteria lunchroom and you’re the closest thing we’ve all got to a rockstar,” Isabelle said.

“I’m flattered,” Sebastian said, fighting back a smirk.

“Don’t let it all get to your head,” she teased as she approached him from him, slowly rounding him until she came in front of him by a few inches as he continued his chin-ups.

“I would never,” Sebastian said.

“Why did you let her do it, Nathaniel,” Isabelle asked in all serious while he was in mid chin-up. By her, she meant Juliette and by ‘do it’, she meant let Juliette beat the shit out of him until he was on the brink of death. He finished it and released his fingerless-gloved hands from the metal bar, dropping on both feet. He grabbed a hold of his towel and began to wipe the sweat off of him.

“Let me guess,” Sebastian said as he eyed Isabelle carefully with an arched eyebrow. “Your little tiny birdie tell you that too?”

Isabelle crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down like a sister would a brother. She was the closest thing he had to family. “Answer the damn question, Nathaniel,” Isabelle ordered, clenching her jaw tightly.

“I bet a million bucks that you already know why,” Sebastian said in a low irritated tone before he moved past her and left the personal gym.

“So, it’s true then. You did for that woman I’ve been hearing so much about,” Isabelle replied matter-of-factly.

Sebastian halted in his steps and in wiping off his sweat at the mention of ‘that woman’. “Good seeing you, Isa. You know where the door is.”

“Oh, no. You aren’t brushing me off that easily, Nathaniel. I’m practically fucking family to you. Even more than your own damn father,” Isabelle snapped as she marched over him, grabbing a hold of his arm and yanked him to face her.

It was true. She was. Isabelle was like a little sister to him. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched to say she loved him more than his fucked-up parents ever did. Sebastian closed his eyes and tilted his head back, attempting to muster all the strength he needed to deal with Isa. “What do you want me from me, Isa?”

“I want to know if you love her,” Isabelle said, softening her voice. “If you love her like you loved…Giselle?”

“Yes,” he breathed. The answer came so easily to him that it almost scared him. He thought he could never love a woman like he loved his late wife because he thought no woman could compare to Giselle. That was no longer true.

Isabelle let him go. “Good, that’s good. And if the opportunity presented itself, you’d do anything to get her back?”

“Isabelle,” Sebastian began with a frown.

Would you do anything to get her back if an opportunity presented itself,” she repeated, emphasizing each word with a stern look.

“Yes,” he said, finding it too try and lie to her. Isa was too much like a bloodhound. She could smell the lie from a mile away.

“I just wanted to be sure,” Isabelle said, as if she were building herself up to tell him something important. “Because a little tiny birdie told me that this woman you love is currently semi-dating Juliette’s right hand man.”

Sebastian’s face went blank and his right eye twitched.

“I only say semi-dating because they’ve only got out a few times and nothing serious as happened. They talk to each other primarily through text messages and Jasper has been pushy, but she still has feelings for you, Sebastian. Antonio has been monitoring her text messages and cell phone calls once a close confidant in Juliette’s group informed him of what was going on and hoped that he would remain out of the crossfire and bullets are firing,” Isabelle explained.

Sebastian stalked away. He was seeing red. Blood red. Jasper’s blood on his hands. He wasn’t going to empty a bullet into his skull and he wasn’t going to bash his brain in. He was going to kill that bastard with his bare hands. No weapons. Just instincts, strength, and pure unadulterated rage. He thought…he thought that if he had pushed Willow away, she would safe.

“Nathaniel, wait! Don’t go busting through Juliette’s headquarters trying to find Jasper. The two of them are going on a date tonight,” Isabelle called after him, causing him to halt once more. His hands balled into fists until his fingernails bit into the flesh of his palms. “So let’s do this right. Beat the shit of out him after the date.”

Beat,” Sebastian repeated with a signature smirk, the kind of smirk that warned anyone who knew him that he was bloodthirsty. When Isabelle saw that smirk, he could see her swallow nervously at the sight of it. Though she knew he would never put his hands on her, she knew what that meant. She knew that cold blank look in his eyes. Nathaniel was gone and Sebastian was in front of her.

“I’m not going to beat Jasper. I’m going to kill him, Isa. Not with a gun or a knife. Just with these two hands and I don’t give a fuck what Juliette or my father has to say about it. I know Juliette might be pulling his little puppet strings and I’ll deal with her later, but for now, all I want is him dead tonight,” he said in a calm, collected voice. “Give me the exact details of this date.”

His teeth clicked as he grit them, emphasizing the word date.

Isabelle closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “They have a reservation for dinner at a restaurant called Alexander’s off of North Street at 7pm then they will proceed to the Starlight Theaters for a showing of Maximum Fury’s Revenge at 9pm,” she reported.

“Earlier, you said that nothing serious has happened between them,” Sebastian said coolly. “Do you know what has happened between them?”

Isabelle blinked at his question, obviously caught off-guard. “Well, according to transcripts of her text messages and phone calls, there’s been kissing and him feeling up on her, but her being unable to return it. In fact, one conversation she had with her sister indicates she doesn’t feel like she’s ready to do that with him yet after…well, you.” Isabelle paused for a moment. “You hurt her badly, Nathaniel. Running her off the way you did.”

“I don’t need relationship therapy sessions from you, Isa.”

“I’m not trying to give you relationship therapy sessions, Nathaniel. I telling you straight facts—common sense. You love to drive people away because you’re afraid that they’ll end up like Giselle and Valerie. You didn’t kill them, Nate. Those drug-dealing assholes killed them because you did your job and you brought a terrible man to justice. You protected your city as a police officer.”

“Juliette threatened her life, Isa,” Sebastian said. “Threatened to make Jasper put a bullet through her head and fuck her corpse as a form of punishment for me, so sorry if I had no choice but to drive her away because she would have ended up exactly like my wife and daughter.”

He began to stalk away, a plan of action formulating in his tempest of a mind.

“Where are you going,” Isa queried in a defeated tone, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched him walk away from her.

“To gear up,” he answered.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

“You shouldn’t have come,” Sebastian said gruffly as he stared out of the tinted windshield, his green eyes locked on Willow’s house. He was parked several houses down on the opposite side of the street and had been for nearly an hour now. The clock was ticking down and the moment for this date to officially begin. According to the compiled transcript of text messages and phone call exchanges, Jasper would be picking Willow up for a romantic dinner at a 4-star restaurant called Alexander’s. Sebastian clenched his jaw tightly, grinding his teeth as the unquenchable thirst for that motherfucker’s blood plagued him.

Isabelle was reclined across the backseat of the car, reading through the compiled transcript like it was an intriguing novel she couldn’t put down. “Someone has to make sure you don’t go absolutely postal at the restaurant,” Isabelle sighed as she flipped another page of the transcript, “or the movie theater for that matter.”

A few moments of silence drifted between them before he heard dreamy admiring ‘aww’ from the backseat. Sebastian fought the urge to shift his attention away from Willow’s house and take a peek into the backseat—not wanting to miss a single second.

“What is it,” he questioned.

“She wrote a text message to her BFF saying that she missed eating your waffles,” Isa replied. He could hear the smile in her voice. “I thought you hated waffles.”

He answered, “I do.”

“You know, I’ve known you’ve hated waffles for years, but why? Do you just not like the taste of them or something?”

“It was Valerie’s favorite thing to eat in the world.”

Once more there was silence before Isa said softly, “Oh.”

“She loved waffles and wanted to eat them breakfast, lunch, and dinner if she could, but only if I made them. She’d beg for them even,” he chuckled briefly for a moment as he took a trip down memory lane. “Elle could never make them right.”

He closed his eyes, picturing his daughter with a look of determination on her face, flour dusting her cheeks, and waffle batter on her nose while he showed her how to whisk the batter properly in a bowl. After her death, he avoided cooking or eating waffles because it reminded him too much of her and the life he once had. That was until Willow offered to treat him to waffles as a token of her gratitude and he cooked her waffles after he found her unconscious on a sidewalk in the park.

The sound of a car easing to a stop made him pry his eyes open, dragging him out of a sweet memory that possessed a bitter ring to it. He watched with narrow eyes as Juliette’s right hand man stepped out of his car and sauntered up to the front door of Willow’s house. Jasper rang the doorbell and a few moments later, the door opened.

“He’s early,” Sebastian replied before clenching his jaw.

“Such a gentleman,” Isa said sarcastically as she sat up from the seat and peered over Sebastian’s shoulder with a cocked head. “Hm, he cleans up nice for a psychotic asshole. That black outfit looks good on him.”

“Black hides blood.”

“Good,” Isa said.

“No good. I enjoy watching blood seep through clothes.”

Nate,” Isa began, on the verge of preparing a speech to steer him away from the inevitability that Jasper was going to die by his hands.

Sebastian interjected, “No, Isa. I’ve made up my mind.”

“If you kill him, you’re gonna cut off Juliette’s right hand and if you do that, there’s gonna be blood everywhere. Not just his, but everyone’s including,” Isa paused and blinked at the sight ahead.

“Wow,” Isa replied in an awestruck voice. Together, they watched as Willow stepped out of her house dressed in a dark green sweater dress with black leggings and boots. Her hair was in loose curls. She also wore black-framed glasses. She looked breathtaking. The bashful smile etched across her lips—directed at Jasper—enhanced her beauty even more. Jealousy clenched Sebastian by the throat and wouldn’t let go. Jasper leaned down and kissed her boldly on the lips. She pulled back quickly, swatting him playfully in the arm. Jasper escorted her to his car and opened the front passenger door for her. She accepted the gesture with a graceful smile and slipped into the car. He closed the passenger door and looked ahead in the direction of Sebastian’s vehicle with a smug smile.

Sebastian’s hand snapped to the car door’s interior handle and jerked towards him. Isabelle placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. “Don’t,” Isabelle said in a tense voice. He breathed deeply through his nostrils with his tight grip still on the door’s handle.

Isabelle peered over her shoulder through the back windshield, her eyes most likely scanning the surrounding perimeter. “They’ve been tracking us,” she stated coolly.

“I know,” he said in a similar cool tone. “She always does. It’s a favorite pastime of hers.”

“And now she sent her right-hand man after your ex-girlfriend? She needs to be dealt with by him before this gets out of hand.”

“No,” Sebastian answered. The last thing he needed was his poor excuse of a father to become involved.

He wanted handle this himself.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

After the date had concluded, Sebastian tailed Jasper’s vehicle back to Willow’s home to ensure she had returned safely and out of harm’s way. He parked several house down the street on the opposite side of the road and watched from the rearview mirror as Jasper escorted Willow from the car and to the front door. Moments later, she slipped into the house and Jasper followed after her. The sight made his blood boil, but he took it as an opportunity to begin the strategic process of Jasper’s inevitable death.

Sebastian slipped out of the vehicle and flipped up his hoodie, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets as he smoothly marched towards Jasper’s car. He retrieved a switchblade from the depths of his right pocket and flicked it open, the sharp blade shining in the moonlight. He jabbed it into the front tire on the driver’s side and twisted it for good measure. The sound of the tire’s air hissing outward gave him a tiny rush of satisfaction. He closed the switchblade and returned it to his pocket, making his way back to his car.

About twenty minutes later, Jasper sauntered out of the house and towards his car parked at the curb. When he reached the driver’s side, he glanced down at the flattened tire. Sebastian turned on the ignition and made a three-point turn on the street to face the car in Jasper’s direction. He slowly drove up to Jasper and rolled the window.

“Having car trouble,” Sebastian queried.

Jasper grinned, his hand inching for the inside of his jacket. “As it seems. Are you going to be a Good Samaritan and give me a ride?”

“Of course,” Sebastian assured with a cold grin.

The back passenger window rolled down and Isabelle aimed a gun with a silencer in Jasper’s direction. “Easy, love.”

Jasper’s hand halted and his attention flickered from Sebastian to Isabelle then back to Sebastian again. An impressed look splashed onto his face. “You actually brought back-up? That’s a first.”

“Get in the car,” Isabelle ordered as she opened the car door and stepped up, pressing the silencer into Jasper’s side. Jasper obeyed her and entered the car, all the while seemingly amused by the situation. Isabelle slipped into the car with the gun still aimed in his direction. With her spare hand, she reached forward and retrieved his gun from a hidden shoulder holster within his jacket.

She whistled in admiration, “Pretty.”

She handed the gun to Sebastian, her eyes and gun still trained on Jasper.

“So you two are fucking now? Is Hubby’s performance not up to snuff,” Jasper wondered. Sebastian watched from the rearview mirror as Isabelle cocked her head to the side and smiled sweetly at Jasper before she used the gun to backhand him across the face. He grunted loudly and massaged his jaw. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“You make me sick, Jasper, for dragging an innocent into all of this bullshit.”

“Oh, I’m not the only one who’s done something to an innocent. I mean I wasn’t the one who bashed in my girlfriend’s crush’s head with a baseball bat at the city park,” Jasper replied. “Isn’t that right, Sebastian?”

Isabelle glanced to the back of Sebastian’s head and arched an eyebrow. “What the hell is he talking about, Sebastian?”

Sebastian clenched a jaw before remained silent as he continued to drive through the streets of the city.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you about that? He probably didn’t tell you that he wanted Juliette to beat the shit out of him as punishment for what he had done,” Jasper chuckled. “Over Willow.”

“Don’t say her name again,” Sebastian stated as calmly as he could.

“At first, I couldn’t understand why in the world would you want a woman like that, but now I understand. Her innocence is intoxicating. She’s an odd shy thing, but she grows on you,” Jasper replied in an admirable way that caught Sebastian off-guard.

Isabelle said, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you might actually have feelings for her, Jasper. You know, if bastards like you could feel.”

The car eased to a stop behind an abandoned warehouse on the seedier side of town. Sebastian turned off the ignition and got out of the car. He yanked open the back passenger door and grabbed Jasper by the collar, tugging him roughly out of the car. He tumbled to the ground with an ‘oomph’.

“Stay here, Isa,” Sebastian ordered before he slammed the door shut, blocking out any vocal protests from her.

“Get up,” he said as he stared down at Jasper, his upper lip curling in disgust.

Jasper obliged, dusting himself off. “I thought you’d be a little more creative tha—“

A clenched fist greeted the man’s mouth before he could finish his statement. His head jerked backwards from the force and he stumbled against the car. Sebastian threw three more punches in a rapid progression with each hit growing more powerful. Not wanting to give him time to recover, Sebastian twirled Jasper around to face the car and grabbed ahold of his hair, slamming his face into the glass window of the back passenger seat repeatedly until the glass became to crack.

“You must really love her,” Jasper wheezed when Sebastian reeled his head back hard, relishing in the sight of his nose and mouth oozing with blood. “To kill for her…over and over again, but if you kill me, you’ll start…a war.”

“This is war,” Sebastian growled as he flung Jasper to the ground and kicked him hard in the face. His cell rang in his back pocket as he began to play kickball with Jasper’s head. He knew who the ringtone belonged to and he decided to answer it, wanting Juliette to hear him end Jasper’s life.

“Nathaniel,” Juliette replied from the other end of the line.

“Juliette,” he returned, his breath slightly labored as he gave Jasper a final kick in the throat before he went into an intermission, deciding to let the motherfucker cough and gag on his own blood. “I knew you’d call.”

“You’ve proven your point, Nathaniel.”

Sebastian chuckled darkly, “Actually, Juliette, I don’t think I have. You see, you and I came to an agreement that night at the strip club. She was on the no-touch list, but you broke that agreement. So now I’m going to break his neck with my bare hands.”

“I highly recommend that you refrain from that,” Juliette replied.

“I agree,” his father’s voice interjected into the conversation smoothly. Sebastian stiffened at the sound of his father’s voice, his green eyes widening slowly. His hold on the cellphone grew tighter.

“This is none of your concern, old man,” Sebastian growled lowly.

“And that is where you are wrong, Nathaniel. This is my concern. This little conflict has caused a rift within my organization amongst my subordinates. Rifts cause chaos and chaos within the organization would imply that I am unable to control a petty situation such as this,” his father stated. “It ends here.”

Mere moments after his father spoke, another vehicle turned into the area behind the abandoned warehouse, briefly blinding Sebastian with its bright headlights. The vehicle eased to a stop and four of Juliette’s henchman stepped out of the vehicle, mostly to collect Jasper.

“You will not break anyone’s neck and both of you will be punished accordingly for allowing this situation to thrive and escalate for as long as it did,” his father decreed.

“I want his blood,” Sebastian snapped. “I want it now.”

“Remember your debt to me and this organization,” he heard his father say while he watched Juliette’s goons pick up Jasper’s unconscious body and ushered him towards their car. When the line went dead, Sebastian let out a blood-curling roar as he gripped the phone tightly in his hand while he punched the warehouse’s wall over and over.

Then he felt a small feminine hand on his shoulder and he jerked his head over his shoulder. For a moment, he saw Willow’s concerned face, but within a blink of an eye, he realized that it was staring into Isabelle’s worried face.

“Let’s go,” she said softly.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Sebastian went back to his warehouse home to return Isabelle to her car. After she left, he departed as well. It took him twenty minutes to get to his destination and when he arrived, he eased his vehicle to a stop in front of Willow’s house. Jasper’s car was no longer there, which meant that Juliette most likely had it towed away. He sat in the driver’s seat for a long moment, strong emotions swirling within him like hurricane winds as he recollected all of the memories leading up to this one.

He took his key out of the ignition and got out of the car, walking towards Willow’s front door. He rang the doorbell and walked in the spotlight of her front porch’s light as he waited for her to answer—if she was going to answer at all. The last time he saw her, he told her to leave once she knew the truth about him. His breath hitched in his throat as he heard the door’s locks unlock and the door slowly creep open.

Willow stood in the doorway in a baggy red college shirt with sleeping shorts. She stared him with uncertainty while she chewed on her bottom lip for a moment.

“What are you doing here?”

That was a good question. Before he could even answer, he watched her reach out and grasp his bruised and scraped knuckles. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring her soft touch.

“Another occupational hazard,” she asked with an arched eyebrow as she released his hand and crossed her arms over her chest.

Sebastian shook his head slowly. “No,” he said as he closed in on her, towering over her. “Selfish reasons.”

He leaned down and slanted his lips onto hers, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and groaned when she accepted its invasion without protest. He backed her into the house and closed the door behind them with a spare hand. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her while their lips worked against each other feverishly. Sebastian backed her into a wall, his calloused hands gliding hungrily along her curves hidden under her baggy shirt before he scooped the underside of her thighs into the palms of his hands and used his strength to hike her plush body against his hardened one.

She gasped against his lips from the suddenness and wrapped her thick legs around his waist, her mouth gaining height over his. He took a step backwards from the wall and used his memories as a guide to assist him in the dark as he walked down the hallway and towards her bedroom.

He carried her against him through the threshold of the doorway. He swirled on his heels, so that he was walking backwards until the back of his legs hit the bed. They collapsed onto the bed with her laying on top of him. They breathed heavily in the dark, her lips hovering over his by a few millimeters. She unzipped his jacket and slid her fingers underneath his shirt, her exploring fingertips burning his defined abdomen with soft touches.

Sebastian sat up and shrugged off his jacket, letting her take off his shirt. She tossed his shirt to the side before she cupped his face affectionately, pressing her forehead against his.

Say it, a voice inside of his head whispered. “I love you,” he breathed.

“Show me,” she whispered. “Show me, Sebastian.”

 

 

End Notes:

This was a good juicy chapter. I know you enjoyed it! :)

Yes by Missus James
Author's Notes:

It's the morning after and Sebastian asks an important question. What will Willow say?

 

 

Willow’s eyes slowly fluttered open and she found herself staring at the ceiling with a slow-twirling fan overhead. She lolled her head to one side, soaking in the sight of Sebastian slumbering peacefully beside her. She was used to losing lovers, but she wasn’t used to the idea of them coming back to her. Then again, Sebastian wasn’t a lover. He wasn’t like an old highschool friend, a college boyfriend, or a no-strings fuck buddy. Nor was he a mere lover. He was beyond that. The last time she saw him, she thought she had lost him for good—that he was out of her reach. Now he laid a few inches beside her and she could touch him.

She reached over and grazed her fingertips gently across his lips. A surreal feeling washed over her. He was tangible. Not a figment of her imagination or roaming in her dreams. This man was flesh and blood real.

A familiar ringtone sliced through the air, piercing through the moment. She crawled halfway over Sebastian’s body to reach for the device on the nightstand. “Hello,” she answered in a raspy tired voice.

“So how did it go with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome last night,” Farrah asked excitedly.

“It went,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder to Sebastian who seemed to still be asleep, “alright.”

“Why are you talking all whispery,” Farrah queried before she gasped. “Oh my god, is he there with you right now? Oh my god! Oh my god!”

Willow crawled backwards, removing herself from over Sebastian’s slumbering body before she climbed off of the bed and grabbed for her discarded red baggy shirt that lied on the floor, putting it on.

“Sebastian’s asleep,” Willow informed her sister in a hushed voice as she tiptoed out of her bedroom and down the hallway, making her way into the kitchen.

“Wait, what,” Farrah said in a startled tone. “I thought you went out with Jasper last night?”

“I did go out with Jasper last night, but then Sebastian came by afterwards,” Willow trailed off as she plopped down in a seat at the kitchen table. “He told me…he loved me.”

“Do you believe it,” Farrah asked skeptically.

“Do I believe that he loves me? I think so,” Willow replied.

“You think?”

“I want to believe, but part of me is worried—terrified even.”

“Um, yeah. I’d be worried too. He did drive you away with a pitchfork, Will,” Farrah said, “and you still don’t know much about him. He could be a killer for all you know.”

You don’t know the half of it, Willow thought. She placed a bent elbow on the kitchen table and propped her cheek against a clenched fist. “I’m worried that he’ll leave again because he thinks he’s trying to protect me,” she sighed softly, closing her eyes. “I’m terrified that I made a mistake in letting him back in.”

“What would he be trying to protect you from?”

Willow opened her mouth to speak, but her ability to speak hindered when she shifted her glance over to the kitchen doorway to find Sebastian watching—and listening to her—intently with his arms crossed over his board bare chest. She stiffened at the sight of him, her lips quivering and her hard-at-work brain trying to find words to utter.

She ripped her gaze away from him in near-shame and cleared her throat. “I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later,” Willow said before she ended the call, placing the cellphone onto the kitchen table. She tucked a stray hair strand behind her ear and cleared her throat once more, rising from her spot at the kitchen table.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” she said with a weak smile.

“I’m a light sleeper,” he replied as he continued to stand in the doorway, blocking her escape.

She nodded her head slowly. “Right,” she said, “I forgot about that.”

Willow swirled on her heels and marched over to a cabinet to retrieve two empty clean coffee mugs. “Coffee,” she offered, wanting to eliminate the awkward tension that drifted between them. Last night, it was passion and the overwhelming desire to reconnect that consumed them. Now it was very clear to the both of them that there was much unfinished business between them that needed to be dealt with and concluded. However, Willow wasn’t sure if she had the strength to do it.

“No thanks,” he declined.

“More for me,” she said in a slightly irritated tone as she grabbed a can of grounded coffee from another cabinet and began the process of making a pot. As she busied herself with the task, she then asked, “How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” he stated, his voice much closer now. She turned her head slightly and used the corner of her eye to pinpoint him advancing towards her with careful steps as if he feared that she would run off like a scared doe.

“So you heard about my date last night then?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you don’t have a right to be upset or jealous,” she said defensively, giving into the urge of pulling up a guard.

“You’re right. I don’t have a right to be jealous, but that doesn’t mean I’m not,” he said as he cooked his index finger gently along her cheek and down the curve of her neck. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she shivered at the caress before she grabbed a hold of his finger, brushing it off of her. Last night, she was fueled by an achy want that he coaxed out of her with burning kiss and gave into it headfirst without a second thought. She missed him. She missed him terribly, but he did more than just hurt her. He plunged a knife into her heart and twisted it counterclockwise. It was within her right to feel skeptical about his returned arrival back into her life, no matter how much she missed him—no matter how good last night with him was.

“Don’t, Sebastian,” she said as she moved past him and hurried out of the kitchen.

He followed after her, grabbing her by the hand. She halted in her steps, but kept her eyes forward as she didn’t want to stare into his eyes in fear that she would crumble and melt into submission. His fingertips grasped her chin and navigated her head to face his, but her eyes remained trained elsewhere.

“I fucked up bad, Willow,” he said. She bit down hard onto her bottom lip. “That’s what animals do. We do fucked up things. We have this tendency of hurting the people we care about and love.”

Her eyes snapped to him. “Do you love me, Sebastian? Or are you just saying it because I was a decent fat-girl fuck for you and you had an itch that you needed scratching last night, so you thought that telling me that you love me was a sure way to get me to open my legs?”

His hand released her chin and grasped the back of her neck, steadying her head at an angle. “Do you know how much power you have over me, Willow Carter? I’d carve out my heart and hand it to you on a fucking silver platter. I’d kill for you. I’d die for you. All you have to do is ask.”

His confession left her in a state of utter shock and left her heart throbbing hard against her ribcage and her knees weak.

“Marry me.”

Her eyes increased slowly in size. “W-what,” she gasped shakily.

“I want to love and protect you like a husband should for his wife,” he replied.

“Sebastian, you’re not thinking straight,” Willow trailed off. He responded by crashing his lips upon hers, coaxing a moan from her mouth as he dove his tongue inside to tangle with hers. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she melted into him. He backed her into a wall like he did last night. Her hands desperately framed his bearded face.

She broke the kiss, gasping for breath.

“By the end of this day, I want you to be my wife,” he groaned before his lips busied themselves with kissing hungrily at the lining of her jaw.

Her eyebrows shot upward. “Today?”

“Yes,” he growled as he squatted down slightly and wrapped his strong arms around her thighs, raising her up to tower over him as he walked back down the hallway into the bedroom.

“Sebastian,” she squealed. He laid her down onto the bed carefully and nudged her thighs apart, so that he could ease in between them. He planted a kiss on her neck and nibbled at a sensitive spot for good measure. Her lips parted to let out a breathless gasp and she arched against him. His calloused hands pushed up her baggy red shirt to reveal her plump stomach and fat rolls then her breasts. She raked her nails across the globe of his scalp before she gripped a fistful of his dark hair as his head dipped down and drew a nipple into his mouth, his hot tongue lashing at the hardened peak before he caught it with his teeth tugged it gently.

 “What about my family and friends? What about your friends? Your father,” she moaned before she tugged her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down hard as she relished in the sensation of his mouth lapping and suckling at her right nipple while his fingers of his left hand plucked and rolled her other nipple in a rhythm fashion.

Her nipple plopped out of his mouth. “This is about us. Not them,” he said in a dark tone that sent shivers down her spine and made goosebumps prickle across her brown flesh. His head descended down the valley of her body, nudging her legs over his shoulders.

Her head dipped backwards into the softness of the mattress and her hips arched up as she felt his thick tongue slide in between the lips of her wet pussy, licking her from bottom to top and back again. His groan of delight washed over her like hot water, burning her all over. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she felt the tip of his tongue circle around her clit, two fingers easing inside of her. She pulsed and twitched around those invading digits as they slid in and out of her at a delicious wild pace.

“I miss this,” he breathed, his hot breath fanning against her moist cunt. “I missed the taste of you so much, Will.”

His tongue teased the underside of her clit, lapping at it hungrily as his fingers moved in and out of her. Willow grabbed a pillow and placed it on her face, muffling the cry that tore from her throat as if she feared that someone else would hear them—as if she were ashamed of doing such a thing. Her thighs quivered as the rising tautness inside of her stomach grew more intense with each passing second. When his lips closed around her clit, drawing it inside of his mouth to suck and tease the swollen button with his teeth. He slid his fingers out of her and slid his hands under her bottom, cupping her ass and rising upward to bury his face deeper in between her thighs. He feasted on her, gripping her ass tightly—possessively—while she grew closer and closer that would be intense and beautiful.

When the moment of reckoning came, she screamed into the pillow she held tightly over her face. Every inch of her body shook and quivered as the orgasm tore through her. His working mouth slowed down to a snail’s pace as he lazily circled his tongue around her overtly sensitive clit before he trailed it downward to tease and taste the juices that oozed in a trickle from her opening. Her body went limp, tremors still coursing through her as she rode out the subduing waves of her climax.

He placed an affectionate kiss on her slit before he brushed her thighs made of jelly off his shoulders and slid back up her body, hovering over her. He pulled the pillow from her grasp, revealing her spent face. She knew he wasn’t finished for he had this dark look of determination and hunger that oozed from his face.

He jerked down the waistline of his boxer-briefs, his hard cock bobbing against her belly. He propped one hand by her leg to hold him steady for her while he used the other to rub his mushroom head against her slick entrance. She lolled her head to the side, her jaw dropping as a loud breathless gasp escaped her lips when he pushed himself inside of her. She was still tender from last night, but she loved the feel of him sinking himself deep inch by inch and didn’t want him to stop.

Sebastian pulled to the tip before he thrust himself back inside of her. He grabbed a hold of her left leg, propping it over his shoulder, pressing his weight forward as he slid himself in and out of her with a controlled force behind each thrust. He rotated his hips slightly as he rhythmically buried his cock inside of her.

“Mine. All mine,” he growled as he pressed his forehead against the crook of her neck as he claimed her over and over with a deliberate surge of his hips. Willow gripped the bedsheets tightly for dear life, gasping and moaning. The sound of wet flesh smacking against wet flesh coupled with the rattling of the headboard against the wall.

His. She couldn’t protest his claim over her because it was true. She was his. Every inch of her was his.

“Are you mine,” she whispered breathlessly.

“All yours,” he grunted out without hesitation, cocking his head back as he drowned in the pleasure, pounding into her with everything he had now. He removed her leg from his shoulder, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck to hold him close.

She could feel it now. The impending orgasm that burned inside of her lower belly. Her thighs squeezed tightly at his thrusting hips and her head tilted back deep into the pillow, her mouth gaping open as she inched closer and closer to release until it hit her hard. She screamed his name aloud. Her pussy squeezing and milking his cock as wave after wave of pleasure burned her all over. He groaned in her ear, giving her a final thrust as he came, emptying his seed inside of her.

They laid there still joined for what seemed like eternity, slick with sweat that glistened in the morning light. Willow lazily stroked the back of his neck with her fingertips as she thought to herself. She thought back to what he had said to her earlier about wanting to get married by the end of the day. At first, she worried about what her family and friends would think or what his family and friends would think, but now she understood that he was right. It wasn’t about their family and friends. It wasn’t about their approval or disapproval.

It was about them only.

He was hers and she was his.

That was all that matter.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” she whispered.

 

 

End Notes:

Sebastian and Willow are going to elope. The next chapter will focus on that and some other juicy stuff. :D Have a great Sunday!

Monster's Wife by Missus James

It had been nearly a week since Willow Carter became Willow Mercer and little did she know that being Willow Mercer was rather exhausting. Paws and Protect had hosted in the process of hosting its annual spring adoption event called Spring Buds. It was a weeklong event therefore it required a mountain of planning for it to be successful. Events like this were important because so many dogs would be able to find new homes. So Willow worked her ass off to get the word out about the event and she hoped her hard work paid off. She had even convinced a few local news stations to cover the event or at least, mention it in their segments.

The preparation for the special occasion took her mind off of a lot of things like her sister’s fastly approaching wedding, her mother continual bitching about the wedding, and the fact that she hadn’t told anyone. Aside from that, Simon was still missing, but the police were officially classifying it as a foul-play homicide with Cara’s possessive abusive ex-boyfriend as a prime suspect. By coincidence, he was missing too.

Willow often thought about Simon. His disappearance worried her, but sometimes, she had this guilty moments where she remembered the role he played in that sick bachelor party game. It sobered her up about the kind of person he truly was, but she didn’t want anything bad to happen to him.

Sometimes, she had this feeling that she didn’t want to see his face. She pretended that if he were to waltz back into the office, she would ignore his bullshit excuse as to why he allowed his friends to pull her into their twisted little game. Sometimes, she pretended that she didn’t need him to give her a toothy smile as if it would make everything better again—as if, any feeling she had for him before would resurface.

It wouldn’t.

Plus, she was a married woman now.

But sometimes, she caught herself thinking about him in spare moments. Good memories of him twirled around in her mind. This led to her worrying then her sobering up again. It was a nasty cycle she couldn’t quite break yet.

It was the weekend now and she decided to go do some shopping to clear her mind. She bought some new flattering clothes and even prep-talked herself into buying some lingerie to wear for Sebastian. She had never wore lingerie for him before, but she figured it would hurt to try it. If he didn’t like it, he could just rip it off of her.

Their living situation was odd though as they had spent the last few days bouncing back and forth between her home and his, but she knew that they would officially have to decide on a place. Tonight, he was supposed to spend the weekend at her house and she was very excited.

She had retrieved all of the shopping bags from her SUV and put them into the house before she went back outside to check her mailbox. Willow opened the mailbox’s door and leaned down to peer inside of the small dark space. As expected, there was a small pile of mail waiting for her. She reached inside and recovered the stack.

Once the mail was in her possession, she peeked inside of the mailbox for any stray pieces of mail. At the very back of the mailbox was a small thin present covered with green glittery wrapping present. She lifted a delicate eyebrow as she rescued the gift from the depths of the mailbox. She examined it the afternoon night.

It was beautifully wrapped in a pink satin ribbon. There was also a white gift tag on it. She cocked her head to the side as she read the elegantly written cursive on the tag:

To Willow,

With this truth, may your marriage be prosperous. – J.

“That’s sweet,” she said to herself as she closed the mailbox door.

She walked back into the house and closed the door behind her. Tossing her bills and the present into the mail basket on the foyer table by her front door, she went into the kitchen to start dinner for Sebastian’s arrival. While the side dishes were simmering on the stove and the main course was cooking in the oven, she grabbed her shopping bags and hauled them into her bedroom to put away her new clothes.

Afterwards, she took a short hot shower before she dried herself off and applied some lavender lotion onto her plump flesh. She piled her hair into a sloppy bun onto her head and secured it with a black rubberband. She slipped into a black lace and sheer babydoll with lace panels and a matching G-string. She concealed the outfit with a house robe and went back to the kitchen to check on the food.

In the meanwhile, she prepared the kitchen table with the proper place settings. When she was finished, she left the kitchen and went into the foyer where her mail basket waited for her. She plucked the present from the basket and undid the soft pink bow. She carefully unwrapped the glittery paper, which revealed an untitled DVD in a clear CD case.

Confusion washed over her as she held the DVD in her hands. Willow walked into the living room and went to the DVD player and placed the DVD inside of it. She laid the CD case on top of the player and strolled over to the couch, climbing onto it. She turned on the small flat screen television with her remote.

The DVD’s menu only possessed one function: play.

She pressed the play button and laid the remote beside her, leaning back onto the couch with her legs curled at her side as the movie began to play. A recorded date and a time appeared in the corner. Someone recording the video was walking through a woodsy area in the late night. The cameraperson’s heavy breathing could be heard. The cameraperson kept walking until in-between the trees, the scenery of a lit pathway appeared closer and closer. Then a distant yelp suddenly filled the air, making her nearly jump out of her skin.

Willow tilted her head to the side as she realized the scenery. It was the Woodsberg Park. The camera zoomed in on a hoodied figure dragging a baseball bat on the sidewalk. A man was lying on the sidewalk ground had rolled over onto his back. The man on the ground looked so familiar.

The camera zoomed in closely while the cameraperson moved in closer, but stayed hidden within the trees. She caught a better glimpse of the fallen man’s face. Willow squinted her eyes before her jaw dropped. “Simon?”

The hoodied figure lifted the baseball bat and struck down onto the helpless man’s face. Willow widened her eyes in utter shock, her hand clasping onto her mouth as she realized what she was watching.

Screams from her television filled her living room then everything went dead silent. The hoodied attacker gave one final blow before he drew back the baseball bat. He stood over his lifeless victim, looking down at the body of a once-living man. The camera zoomed in a little further, but Willow quickly grabbed the remote control and stopped the DVD. The screen returned to the DVD’s intro screen.

She stared at her television in complete horror before she closed her eyes, a sob tumbling from her lips.

Why would someone send her this as a wedding gift?

Her thoughts drifted back to the handwritten note:

To Willow,

With this truth, may your marriage be prosperous. – J.

What truth? What did that mean?

Her panicking mind was in a muddle as she tried to connect the dots. Then a realization hit her in the chest like a ton of bricks and made her gasp. “Wait,” she told herself as she grabbed for her remote control and pressed play but paused the screen immediately. She watched at a frozen frame of the hoodied figure standing over Simon’s dead body.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. “No, no, no.”

She pressed her thumb against the power button of the remote control, which turned off the television screen. A nauseous feeling clawed at her stomach and crawled her throat. She rushed out of the living room and raced to the master bathroom, emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

Willow gripped the toilet bowl for dear life as her head hung over the toilet bowl, her body quivering violently in shock. She gripped the edge of the sink to help her stand up and stood in front of the sink. She busied herself with the task of brushing her teeth and gurgling with mouthwash to rid herself of the horrible aftertaste.

When she was finished, she stumbled out of the master bathroom and into her bedroom. Her eyes glued to the sight of her cordless phone on its charging dock. She picked it up with a shaky hand and dialed the first two numbers of 911, but couldn’t bear to press the third digit.

What was she going to say? Hello, I think my newlywed husband murdered my coworker in cold-blood with a baseball bat because of a stupid bachelor party game.

She placed the phone back onto its charging dock and went to Sebastian’s side of the bed, feeling underneath the mattress for a small revolver gun. A four days ago, he told her he would put it there for her to protect herself for just-in-case purposes. She never in a million years would she have thought that she might have to use it against him.

It felt heavy and cold in her hands. Holding it felt unnatural to her. She carefully slipped it into her house robe pocket and slowly walked out of the bedroom, heading into the kitchen. The oven began to beep that the steak was finished. She grabbed oven mitts and pulled the scorching hot pan from the oven, the aroma of the seasoned meat fluttering through the air.

It was then the front door opened and closed, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed in her ears and her heart quickened in fear. She placed the pan onto the counter and plucked off her oven mitts, tossing them aside quickly.

“I’m home,” Sebastian said. She swirled around on her bare heels and stared at her husband who stood in the doorway. His bushy eyebrows rose upward before a pleased grin slid across his lips.

Willow cleared her throat and said as calmly as she could, “I made dinner.”

He sauntered over to her. “I can see that,” he said as he sauntered towards her, caging her against the counter, “and dessert too as it seems.”

Willow’s brows scrunched in confusion, but she glanced down and realized that her house robe’s belt had come undone. Her wedding present to her husband was unwrapped and in full view. He tugged his bottom lip into his mouth and made a suckling sound of hungry admiration. She went to tie her robe shut, but he carefully grabbed ahold of her hand.

“Leave it open. I want to see something I can look forward to,” he grinned before he dipped his head down to kiss her lips.

Uncomfortable, she quickly broke the kiss by jerking her head to the side. She pressed a hand against his chest. “Dessert is for after dinner,” she said as convincingly as she could with a weak smile.

His green eyes scanned over her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she lied, clearing her throat. “I just worked really hard on this dinner and I want us to actually enjoy it like a husband and wife should. Now go sit down at the table and I’ll fix you a plate.”

He obliged, but not before shooting her a look of concern as he sat down at the kitchen table. Willow bit down hard onto her bottom lip as she fixed her husband’s plate. When she was finished with the task, she walked over to the table and placed it front of him. Just as she was about to walk away, he grabbed a hold of her hand to keep her beside him. He leaned forward and buried his nose into her plush belly hidden the thin lace and sheer babydoll, inhaling deep.

She knew he liked the lavender-scented lotion she had put on. The appreciative groan that rumbled deep in his throat and the way his green eyes gazed at her with a possessive promise told her so. She closed her eyes and tried to fight how he was making her feel, but it was difficult. He affected her so much and made her weak-kneed by the simplest of actions.

When his hands began to caress her outer thighs, she felt one of his hands accidentally knock against the inside of her robe, which concealed her gun. They both heard the clink of the gun colliding against the back of his exploring hand. His eyes flickered away from her face and glanced to the pocket where the gun was hiding.

Did he know?

“I need to go fix my plate,” she blurted out the excuse and hurried away from him. Once her plate was prepared, she sat down at the kitchen table and began to eat. Sebastian stared at her intently from across the table.

Willow roughly sawed into her steak with a fork and a knife. “You know when my sister and I were kids, my parents made us do sports. Farrah did volleyball and I did golf. Did you do any sports when you were growing up like—say—baseball?”

He cocked his head to the side for a moment before he answered, “In middle school, I was a band geek and when I became a junior in highschool, the football coach convinced me into doing football,” he said. “Baseball isn’t my thing.”

A silence fell upon them as they ate their dinner. She reached into her pocket and situated her hand correctly on the gun. “Last Saturday you said something really,” she paused, attempting to find an appropriate word, “interesting.”

“And what would that be?”

“You said that you loved me so much that you’d kill for me,” Willow reminded him, gripping the gun tightly. “You were speaking figuratively, right? I mean you wouldn’t kill an innocent person for me.”

Though he didn’t answer her question with words, his eyes revealed all as the unspoken truth shined in those green depths. Her face cracked and she let out a quivering breath. She used her spare hand to clasp her hand over her mouth.

He placed his eating utensils down carefully. “Is that why you have that revolver I gave you in your pocket? To protect yourself against me?”

Sebastian began to raise from his spot, but she stood up quickly and yanked the gun from her pocket, aiming at him. “You did it, didn’t you,” she asked in a shaky voice, though her hand that held the gun was much shakier.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

“Did what,” Sebastian questioned in his calmest voice possible. He was used to guns being aimed at him, but he never expected Willow to be behind one of them.

“You killed him. Simon.” There was no questioning tone in her voice, just raw emotion. The statement was definite as if she was absolutely positive—as if she had been there when he had cracked her little friend’s head open on the sidewalk and was just connecting the dots.

“What would lead you to that assumption?”

“Maybe the video of you bashing his head in with a fucking baseball bat that someone had sent to me as a wedding gift, Sebastian,” Willow snapped, jabbing the aimed gun at him. “Why?”

Sebastian closed his eyes. This was the part where he should have felt shame or disgust with himself, but he held no remorse. “It’s not breaking news that I’m a monster.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Sebastian,” she retaliated. “Tell me the truth now. Don’t you think I deserve that much? I mean I just watched a video of an innocent man’s head bashed in by my husband.”

“Where’s the video?”

Willow shook her head frantically. “You don’t get a right to ask me questions.”

“You want to know the truth, Willow Angelique Mercer? Your little friend, Simon, was a pathetic egoistical asshole who deserved to die. Good people have died for less. The end to his pathetic life was justified. Yes, I cracked open his skull with a baseball bat because he was going to let his friends use you for their own amusement. I killed him because he hurt you and I don’t regret it.”

Every word of his confession stabbed deep inside of her. She let out a small sob. “What gives you the right to play God?”

“I could never play God. He’s too merciful.”

Willow squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head slowly, tears streaming down her beautiful face as she tried to digest the truth. “Now that I know the truth, you’re going to kill me too now? Are you going to kill me like him and make me just disappear, hm? Are you going to do God knows what with my body and drive my car a few towns over and wrap it around a tree before you burn it to a crisp? Are you going to leave my family to wonder if they’ll ever see me again?”

“You’re the one with the gun, Willow,” he said as he lifted his empty hands up to show he was no threat. “You get to pull the trigger. That’s why you’re standing there, right? To kill me?”

Sebastian rose from his seat. She shook her head, narrowing her teary eyes in warning. “Get away from me, Sebastian. Get the fuck away from me or I’ll fucking shoot you,” she growled through clenched teeth.

She stumbled backwards in fear. The gun was still aimed at him as he moved towards her. He kept walking until the gun pressed into his chest. “Put me out of my misery, Willow. Why the hell would I even want to keep living if my wife will never look at me the same again?”

“Sebastian,” she gasped in shock.

“You wanted to get inside of my head. You’re in it. I can’t close my eyes without seeing you behind them. I feel empty when you’re not around me. I feel more like an animal when you aren’t there to tame me. I don’t deserve anything you give me. I don’t deserve you as my wife. I don’t deserve your love, but I fucking want it, Willow. I don’t want anyone else to have it. Just me and only me.”

He knew who sent the video. This had Juliette written all over it. Knowing his employer, she probably expected Willow to run to the police to expose the identity of Simon’s killer. This would force the organization to override policy and put a target on Willow’s back, effectively silencing her for compromising Sebastian’s ability to be a nameless faceless contract killer.

He wanted to thank the heavens that Willow confronted him and not the police.

“I’m a horrible person,” she whispered through her tears.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because even after everything you’ve done, I still love you,” she said, anger and disgust building up in her voice. “I’m horrible.”

Relief overwhelmed him at her words, but his moment was cut short as a bitter sharp slap snapped his head to the side. He could taste a tint of copper in his mouth as he had nipped the inside of his cheek.

 “I hate you, Sebastian,” she said. “I hate you so fucking much.”

She pushed him roughly in the chest, which caused him to stumble backwards slightly. She moved past him and briskly exited the kitchen, fleeing him. However, he was too persistent to let her get away from him that easily.

He followed at her heels into her master bedroom. He grabbed her by the arm, forcing her to turn and face him.

“You want to hurt me?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a challenge.

“Hurt me, Willow. Punish me then,” he growled, encouraging her. She yanked her arm out of his grasp and gave him another hard push.

“You’re a sick fuck,” she hissed.

He countered huskily, “I’m your sick fuck.”

She used the gun to gesture towards the bed. “Get on the bed. Now.”

He did as he was told and she climbed on top of him immediately, putting the gun against his forehead. His chest moved up and down rapidly while he moved his hands to grab her shapely hips.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she ordered, pressing the gun hard against his skull. If she wanted to in that moment, she could end his life with a single pull of the trigger. Willow then realized that she would be no different than him. She was a monster too to think of such a thing—to think of ending someone’s life…his life. The man who she loved more than life itself.

His eyes burned a hole through her, but she didn’t budge in her demand so he obeyed. “I want the truth, Sebastian. Not the crumbles you’ve given me to pacify me. I want all of the truth from the beginning. I want to know about your wife and daughter. I want to know about your father. I want to know about this J person that sent me that present. I want to know everything.”

His green eyes flickered upward to the gun that was pressed against his forehead. “Are you going to kill me if I don’t?”

“No.” She shook her head as she stared down at him like a goddess would a mortal unfit for her presence. “I’ll annul this marriage and walk away for good, Sebastian. I know that the thought of that could kill you.”

 

End Notes:

My goal had been to orginially write a chapter focusing on Willow and Sebastian's wedding, but my muse took me in a different direction. I decided to leave their wedding to your imagination as to how it would have played out. :) Previously in the orginial story, Willow and Sebastian weren't married and after she discovered what Sebastian had done, she went to his home with a gun aimed at his head while he slept. I think them being newly married and experiencing this situation sends a harder punch to the gut for Willow.

I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter.

Now I am off to writing my response to the Lemonade challenge. The story will be called Love Monsters and it is about a powerful Arabic man and his turbulent marriage to his black American wife. I apologize for not doing that sooner. Ta-ta! Have a wonderful weekend.

Self Destruct by Missus James

Willow’s life was crumbling around her and all she could do was watch. Once upon a time, she lived a life of normalcy. Now the only normal aspect of her life was work. It was the only place she had a sense of power—of control. So she worked. She was the first to arrive and the last to leave—often in the early hours of the morning. Time was no longer a concept she abided by. She used it as a seemingly logical excuse to spend nights at her parents’ house because it was much closer than her own. She could confidently say that she hadn’t been home in four days. She knew what—and most importantly, who—awaited her there.

Today began as a normal day. She woke up, took a shower, got ready for work, left her parents’ house, and went to work. George, her boss, called a staff meeting to discuss progress on the upcoming Spring Buds adoption event. All of the major players assigned to the event were seated around the long conference table and took turns presenting the audience with new updates—successes and snags. Willow Carter was among them physically, but mentally she was elsewhere. She stared into space with her mind trapped inside of a torturous limbo. She blinked tiredly while she chewed on her bottom lip. She barely got any sleep last night as well as the previous ones.

That tended to happen when you discover your newlywed husband murdered an innocent man for you. That tended to happen when you press a gun to your husband’s forehead and demand that he tell you every dark sickening secret he hid from you. When she tried to close her eyes, images of Simon getting his head bashed by a baseball bat wielded by her husband—her Sebastian—gave her the jolt she needed to stay awake. She had concluded during her sleepless nights as she laid in her old bed while staring at the ceiling that she didn’t deserve sleep. An overwhelming guilt ate at her and she wondered what she would do when it finally consumed her. She swayed dangerously between the choices of going to the police or putting a bullet in her head.

“Willow.”

She blinked her eyes a few times and jerked her attention to the familiar voice that said her name. George, who sat at the head of the conference table, watched her with an arched eyebrow. All eyes were on her now.

“Hm,” she sounded, straightening up in her seat. She cleared her throat and said, “Yes?”

“I asked how things were going on your end,” George repeated, gesturing with his hands to encourage her to talk.

“Um, everything is going…um, great. Staff t-shirts will be ready for pick-up at the end of the week. All promotional items for the adoptee family gratitude bags will arrive next week. I talked to a few local news stations for a mention of the event as a segment, but two news stations are willing to cover the actual events,” she informed. Everyone smiled about the bit on the news stations. A few even clapped.

George smiled proudly at her and said, “Excellent work, Willow.”

“Thanks,” she smiled weakly. Even as her life burned around her, it was good to know that this part of her life was untouched by the flames of consequences.

About ten minutes later, George concluded the staff meeting. Willow returned to her cubicle and sat down in her computer chair. She closed her eyes and sighed heavily, using her hand to rub her left temple as she felt a dull throbbing there. She then heard a muffled vibrating sound coming from her bottom desk drawer. She leaned down and opened it, revealing her cellphone lying on top of a junk pile of various office supplies.

She retrieved the device and peered at the screen. There were seven missed calls and nine text messages—all of which were from an unknown number. She knew who it was and she was glad she made the choice of leaving her cell in that drawer.

Willow placed the device on her desk, not wanting to investigate the left voicemail messages or the received text messages. She decided that she didn’t want to know. All she truly wanted was time to adjust to the reality of loving a killer—of marrying a killer. However, the real question was could she truly adjust to it or was she just fooling herself?

She dodged her own problem and decided to down in work—effectively blocking out her thoughts and other outside influences. She was a robot with a singular purpose.

“Hey,” Darlene greeted as she appeared at the entrance of Willow’s cubicle. “Me and some of the girls are going to The Corner Restaurant.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Willow said with a weak smile. “I’ve got a lot of work on my plate.”

In actuality, she was very hungry, but she didn’t have the strength to have lunch with Cara. Every time she looked at that woman, vivid flashes of a hoodied man standing over Simon’s lifeless body dominated her senses. An overwhelming guilt punched her hard in the gut afterwards like clockwork. So she decided to avoid all contact with Cara until she was able to stomach the role she unknowingly played in Simon’s demise. But could she truly?

Instead, she opted for Darlene to bring her back a mandarin orange salad with grilled chicken and walnuts. The decision was the best of both worlds. It pacified a worried Darlene and prevented an episode of Willow having a mental breakdown at the restaurant for merely looking at Cara. After her best friend left, most of the office left for lunch until Willow was one of the few people that were left. This led to silence and silence was merely an opportunity for horrible memories to resurface. So she decided to get out her cell and plug in her earbuds. As she listened to some hip-hop music, she eased herself back into working.

Soon after, the urge to use the restroom came. She left her cubicle and went to the women’s restroom. Upon returning to her workspace, she halted at its mouth and stared at her husband who sat in her computer chair. Déjà vu washed over her at the sight. Once upon a time, a naïve Willow stared at this man that she once practically worshipped as a god. She knew better now. She hadn’t yet given upon the ideology that he was a god. In her eyes, he still was—just an unmerciful one.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Willow said, the words tasting sour in her mouth but they had to be said. They needed to be said.

“Where should I be then?”

“You should be home.”

“As should you.”

Willow narrowed her eyes at him in response to his retort. “I don’t have time for this, Sebastian. I have lots of work to do. You need to go before someone sees you.”

A slight grin tugged at his lips. “So I’m your dirty little secret now, Will?”

“You really want to talk about dirty little secrets, Nathaniel,” she countered, emphasizing his real name in a bitter tone as she crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head to the side. His grin crumbled off of his face.

“I told you all of mine.” That was true. He did tell her all of secrets and the revelation of his sins ate at her bit by bit—weakening her mind, body, and spirit.

“And you still aren’t sure as to why I haven’t come home yet?”

His lips pressed into a fine line and his green eyes darkened at his words. Sebastian rose from her computer chair eliminated the small bit of free air between them before he pulled her into a hug before she could even comprehend what was happening.

Willow absorbed herself into the tight warmth of his embrace, unable to stop herself from relishing it. She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek against his clothed chest and listened to his heartbeat. A fast irregular rhythm echoed in her ear, notifying her that he was nervous. Her own heart was pounding just as rapid. She shivered as she felt his dark beard scrape against the side of her face as he tilted his head, planting a soft kiss at the crook of her neck. “I know I’m a bad person,” he said in a low tone, his warm breath fanning against her neck, “but you’re the only good thing in my life. You got me going crazy waiting for you to come home like I’m a dog.”

“I need time, Sebastian,” she whispered. “I need time to accept what you’ve done.”

If I can accept what you’ve done, she added within the depths of her mind. He released her from his embrace and framed his calloused hands around her face, cocking her head up to look at him. The rough pad of his right thumb caressed the curve of her cheek.

“I can take you to a place where there’s plenty of that.”

She lost herself in the depths of his green eyes, hating herself for pinpointing every flicker of pain and guilt that lurked within them. She cut herself away from him and stared at her computer for a momentary distraction. “Being here gives me time,” she said, but it was a lie dressed up as a confession—a declaration more for herself than him.

“Being here is nothing more than a distraction. What do I have to do to convince you to come with me, hm,” he queried. “Do you want me to beg? Is that what you want, Will? I’ll do it right here and I don’t give a damn if your coworkers see.”

Her eyes began to burn as hot tears bubbled up in them. She cut her attention back to him. “Going with you means I forgave you for what you’ve done,” she said, voice quivering as she pulled her face from the grasp of his hands, “and I haven’t. And honestly, I don’t know if I ever will. Now I have to get back to work, so I need you to go.”

She took four steps back, creating a void between them—leaving him enough room to exit the cubicle. However, he stood his ground. The landscape of his face held no emotion while his eyes revealed a churning storm as he stared her down. His defiance prompted an explosion of frustration and anger inside of Willow. “Get the hell out now, Sebastian,” she snapped loudly, not caring if she drew the attention of her coworkers. “I don’t want you here! Don’t you get that?”

Finally, he stepped out of the cubicle and stood with her toe to toe as he gazed down at her silently.

“Is everything alright, Willow,” Tate, one of her male coworkers, questioned in a cautious tone as he approached the couple who played a dangerous staring contest.

“Everything is alright, Tate. My visitor was just leaving,” she said.

After a few lingering tense moments, her husband left without another word, but deep down, she knew that he was far from being finished with her.

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Later that evening, Willow decided to leave her job promptly at closing alongside her other coworkers—safety in numbers. There were two qualities about Sebastian she had come to accept: his watchfulness and persistence. She knew that somewhere from afar, Sebastian had kept a watchful eye on her and identified a pattern in her schedule and activities. Over the last few days, she worked herself to death as a lone soldier in the otherwise empty and dark headquarters building because she thought she was protecting herself that way. However, in actuality, she now realized that she had put herself at risk and unknowingly left open a window of opportunity for a confrontation with Sebastian.

With that being said, she was very surprised that he didn’t do that. Sebastian was a very private man—the kind of man who lingered in the shadows and waited until nightfall to strike. Instead, he went with a very public approach and waited until the majority of her coworkers went to lunch. To plead for her to return to him with the potentiality of her colleagues hearing him therefore ruining his cloak of anonymity—that he, his Mephistopheles father, and that cruel puppeteer Juliette laboriously crafted and perfected—showcased an act of desperation. An act of desperation she did not know how to process or swallow.

Upon leaving the parking lot, she soon became caught in rush hour traffic and did not arrive back to her parents’ house about a quarter after six o’clock.

“I’m home,” Willow called out into her spacious luxury childhood home.

“In the kitchen,” her father called back. Willow walked into the dining room and then into the kitchen. Edison was stuffing a meat and cheese mixture into bell peppers he had cut the tops off of at the kitchen island while he wore his ‘Dads Cook Best’ apron that Willow and Faith got him for his birthday when they were kids.

Willow smiled weakly, “Hey, Daddy.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Edison said as he smiled back. “Making one of your favorites.”

“I can see that,” she replied, her smile widening even as a weariness weighted at the corners.

“You extra hungry tonight,” he asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Not really,” she said as she plopped down at the kitchen table, “but I’m not going to turn down one of your famous stuffed bell peppers.”

“Well, does the idea of some moscato with one of my famous stuffed bell peppers sound alright to you,” Edison queried with a grin. Willow’s eyes light up at the mention of moscato.

She replied, “You won’t hear any complaints from me.”

Her father chuckled and then a comfortable silence fell upon them as he finished the task of stuffing the bell peppers before he put them into an already-heated oven.

“What’s the special occasion,” Willow then asked, lifting her right eyebrow slightly. “You’re cooking one of my favorite recipes and you bought a bottle of my favorite wine? Why are you spoiling me so much tonight, Daddy?”

“It’s been a while since we’ve had some quality time together. After seeing your mother off to go to that annual Colorado spa retreat with her college friends, I figured this was the perfect time to spend some alone with my baby girl,” he admitted as he washed his hands at the kitchen sink.

“That’s sweet, Dad,” Willow said. “After a day like mine, I think this is just what I need.”

Edison turned around to face his youngest daughter as he dried his hands with a towel, approaching her. “Seems like you’ve been having a lot of days like this lately. Is everything alright at work?”

He sat down on the other side of the kitchen table and tossed the towel onto it, eying his daughter carefully as he waited for her answer. Willow bit down onto her bottom lip for a moment and casted her attention with her busy right index finger that decided to draw invisible shapes into the glass kitchen table.

“Work seems to be the only thing that’s alright in my life right now,” she decided to admit, hoping that her father would just leave it at that.

Edison rubbed his thick-bearded chin with his hand, nodding his head. “So this is about a boy then?”

No, it’s about a man, she wanted to say but held her tongue.

“Something like that,” she said, clearing her throat.

He leaned back in his seat and shook his head slowly, sighing. “Your mother is always right.”

Willow flickered her attention to her father and cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean Mom is always right?”

“Your mother and I had a discussion of the reason why you decided to come back home to us. I thought you came back because you missed us. She suggested you came back because you ended things with that Jasper friend of yours,” her father explained. Jasper was merely a piece of the bigger picture, but he wasn’t the main feature. That man was only a puppet used by Juliette to get to Sebastian. Willow was merely collateral as usual.

“Me being here as nothing to do with him, Dad,” Willow assured.

“So it’s the Sebastian boy then,” Edison stated.

Willow opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come out. Her lips quivered as her brain scrambled to think up a response to send to her mouth. “I think I’m going to get ready for dinner,” she said finally in a soft tone. She rose from her seat and turned to leave.

“Well, you don’t have to tell me whatever he did until you’re ready to, but I just wanted you to know that he sent forty dozen chrysanthemum arrangements for you and I had no choice but to put them into your room,” her father informed. Willow froze in her footsteps at the news. “Would you like for me to throw them anyway?”

“It’s alright, Daddy,” she said as she went to leave the kitchen. “Why should beautiful flowers have to suffer?”

“The real question is why should you have to,” Edison countered, his voice following her as she departed.

When she arrived to her old bedroom, she opened the door. The sight of the floral arrangements hitting her senses all at once. The arrangements were breathtakingly gorgeous and all hers. He sent them to her because he knew they were her favorite. In the time she had known him, he had never flaunted his wealth or splurged on expensive gifts to impress or woo her. It was his strong but quiet personality that won her over. It was also his vocal want of her—despite her overweight figure and sloppy appearance—that won her over.

Now that she had distanced herself from him and the threat of their budding marriage’s death looming over their heads, he was beginning to do all of the things she did not believe was in his nature. First, the surprise visit to her job during daylight hours and now this. Was this a form of bribery or an act of seeking forgiveness? She had never been in this position before therefore it was difficult to cope or react properly to the muddle of emotions that were seeped deep inside of her.

The arrangements were scattered everywhere. From her two nightstands situated on either side of her bed to her shelves and the floor. She carefully stepped around them to get to her bed. She climbed onto it and sat crisscross. She stared around her room, switching between admiring the flowers and attempting to despise the man who sent them.

Eventually, it was dinnertime and she returned downstairs. The food was delicious and the conversation was pleasant. Her father avoided discussing the sender of the flowers and she was grateful for that. The wine helped loosen her tongue to be an active participant in their conversation. They discussed her job, his impending return to the hospital, and ideas for a well-needed family vacation after Farrah’s wedding. When dinner concluded, Willow helped her father clean up and kissed him on the cheek before bidding him goodnight.

She prepared herself for bed by taking a long hot shower, brushing her teeth, and dressing herself in an old giant t-shirt of hers that was four sizes too big. She went to bed with the scent of flowers lulling her to sleep.

It was much later into the night did her cell began to light up and buzz. She groaned aloud at the device disrupting her first decent night of sleep. Blindly, she reached for the phone and answered it, too tired to determine who was calling her.

“Hello,” she asked, her voice irritated and raspy with sleep.

“It’s not over, Will. I need you to know that.”

A jolt of electricity coursed through her body twice over at the sound of his voice, officially awaking her. She sat up in her bed quickly, her heart racing violently in her chest. “That’s not your choice to make. You had a choice—lots of choices in fact. Now it’s my turn. You’re on my turf now,” she said as sternly as she could.

There was forty-five seconds of silence; she counted and waited with baited breath for his response. “I am on your turf more so than you think.”

Willow scrunched her eyebrows together. “I don’t understand, Sebastian.”

“Come downstairs and into the kitchen, I’ll explain myself for a clear understanding,” he stated. Her racing heart stopped dead cold at his confession. He was somewhere downstairs in her parents’ house? Willow quickly ended the call and dropped her cellphone as if it had burned her. She scurried off of her bed, nimbly walking over to her closet. She opened the doors and rambled through it until she found her golf club set from her highschool days and retrieved a driver from it. The bulky bulb end of the golf club was the perfect weapon.

She exited her bedroom by carefully opening her bedroom door, she tip-toed down the hallway until she reached the stairs. With caution, she made her way down the stairs until she reached the first floor. Holding her golf club like she was holding a baseball bat at the plate, she journeyed into the kitchen. Within moments, she realized that there was no one there.

From the corner of her eye, she watched a hoodied figure advanced towards her from behind. She swirled around on her bare feet and held the golf club like a sword, backing deeper into the kitchen.

“What are you doing here, Sebastian,” she demanded to know, watching with narrowed eyes as he peeled back his hood.

“You know why I’m here,” he replied. “You’re my wife.”

Willow shook her head. “No, I’m not your wife. I’m just a fool—a stupid damn fool for not realizing that you were nothing but trouble.”

He stood a step forward. “You’re my wife, I’m your husband, and that’s not going to change.”

“Don’t you get it? I don’t want anything to do with you,” she hissed.

“Give me one chance to right my wrongs.”

“You want to right your wrongs? Then go back in time and bring Simon back. Oh, better yet, I wish you would have just let that crazy motherfucker mug me at the park and never came to my rescue,” she snapped, hot tears spilling down her cheeks as she felt herself breaking down. “Then I’d be dead and Simon'd be alive. God, I wish I was dead.”

She dropped the golf club from her grasp and covered her face with her hands, muffling a loud sob. “I want to die,” she cried, shuddering as she drowned in her emotions she tried to bottle up and bury. She felt strong arms wrap her and immediately she attempted to struggle in his hold, pounding her fists against his chest until her knees buckled. He held her against him and she had no will to stop him. She tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling with eyes spewing with tears.

She couldn’t lie to herself or fight it anymore. She was a monster’s wife who was just as monstrous as him because she still loved him. God, she loved this man and hated every fiber of herself for it.

“Please,” Willow choked out in a sob. “Take me anyway from here. I can’t take it anymore. If I stay here a moment longer, I know I’m going to self-destruct.”

 

 

End Notes:

It's been a while. Had to get through teaching summer school, pre-planning week, and the first two weeks of school. I am getting into the flow of the school year.

With that being said, I know there might be some confusion or frustration from readers towards this version's Willow. In the orginial story, Willow was very much ride or die. I am not going to deny that, LOL. When she learned that Sebastian killed Simon, she confronted him and then accepted it with very little thought after. I didn't feel like that was very realistic.

In this version, she marries Sebastian then learns that he killed Simon because she wished it in a moment of weakness while she was unaware of his occupation. She feels terrible. She feels like she shouldn't love Sebastian even though she does. You have a normal woman entangled in this dark twisted world of violence and murder. That alone can drive anyone mad if you don't know how to cope with it.

I hope you understand my reasoning. If you don't then I can completely understand and I appreciate the time you invested in this story so far. If you decide to stick around, the next chapter is the start of the healing process.

Hope you enjoy this update. Have a wonderful Saturday evening!

I know tha

Far, Far Away by Missus James
Author's Notes:

Sebastian takes reluctant Willow to a place far, far away.

Once upon a time, Willow thought she understood a man like Sebastian. But every time he did something she did not believe was in his nature, she had to redefine her beliefs about him. When his luxury car drove through the gates of a privately-owned air strip and approached a parked Bombardier Challenger 850, she was forced to redefine her beliefs once more. He eased the vehicle to a stop close to the hangar. Willow sat in the passenger’s seat, staring out through the windshield while attempting to remain neutral even though she was entrapped in a sense of awe.

“Where are you taking me in that?”

“Far away,” he replied.

Willow looked over at him and queried, “Where is ‘far away’?”

“Do you trust me?”

“No,” she replied. She loved him, but she didn’t trust him. Under normal circumstances, the facts were known to contradict each other. However, due to the nature of the situation the married couple were currently in, the facts co-existed harmoniously.

“Then I suppose I have to regain your trust,” Sebastian said as he turned off the ignition before he got out of the car.

Willow watched him with careful eyes as he rounded the vehicle’s front and ended up at the front passenger door—her door. He opened it like the gentleman he pretended to me and offered her his hand. Willow looked at his hand for a long moment. If she took it then in a small way that meant she accepted and forgave a piece of him—a tiny piece of him. Not wanting to risk such an interpretation, she got out of the car on her own. Hereby rejecting his offering of peace.

He closed the passenger door as she began to walk towards the jet. He lingered a few steps behind her as they approached the private jet with the descending set of stars. A flight attendant appeared at the mouth of the entrance.

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” the middle-aged brunette greeted with a warm smile as the couple ascended the flight of stairs. Willow acknowledged the woman with a weak smile and a nod, unsure of what to say as she had never endured such a situation.

It was absolutely beautiful on the inside. Polished wood fixtures and furniture, comfortable cream leather seats and couches, a kitchen, and a separate section for lounging and sleeping. She stood in the middle of the aisle completely floored while looking like a sore thumb. She still wore her gigantic t-shirt that she had went to sleep in, but she also wore some dark skinny jeans and gym shoes.

She nearly jumped out of her skin as she felt two large calloused hands grasp carefully her forearms from behind.

“You can sit anywhere you want,” Sebastian said before he released her.

Willow looked at him over her shoulder, her face dripping in hesitation before she proceeded to walk through the private jet afraid to touch anything as if she were in a museum. She finally settled on a leather recliner and sat down. Her weary body sunk into the plush leather seat, immediately her muscles and bones melted into a mode of relaxation. Sebastian seated himself two rows behind her on the opposite side of the aisle.

The flight attendant closed the jet’s doors before disappearing into the cockpit. Within twenty minutes, the jet zoomed down the air strip and made a slanted ascension into the early morning sky. Willow looked down the aisle, biting down on her bottom lip as she caught sight of her husband’s intense green eyes that stared at her. She snapped her attention back ahead of her.

A resounding sense of regret clenched her by the throat.

This was a mistake, she shouted inside of her brain.

This was all a big mistake. Why was she was damn stupid to agree to this?

To agree to go away with him.

To be imprisoned somewhere with him at her side like a guard.

None of this would dissolve her guilt. None of this would raise the dead—bring back Simon.

She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head resigning to the harsh reality that it was too late to go back now.

Willow slumped in her seat, a shaky sigh tumbling from her lips. She sat there, listening to the rush of wind and the jet’s rumbling engines. Soon, she drifted off to deep dreamless slumber.

When she awoke much later, she felt physically and mentally exhausted. Her eyes slid open, her sight blurry at first but sharped after a few lingering moments. She stretched and yawned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Only then, she noticed that she was covered in a blanket she hadn’t gone to sleep with and her seat—upright when she was awake—was reclined.

She used the recliner’s lever to return to an upright position.

The flight attendant approached her, asking her if she were interested in a meal.

Willow politely declined.

The woman nodded with a smile before saying, “We’re about thirty minutes out from scheduled destination.”

“And what exactly is our destination,” Willow asked softly, her voice still dripping with sleep.

The flight attendant’s eyebrows shot upward at the question, surprised that Willow didn’t know the answer herself. She opened her mouth and began, “Um…”

“Thank you, Yvonne,” Sebastian stated as he approached them, thereby ending their short-lived conversation. “That will be all.”

Yvonne nodded her head respectfully before she turned on her heels, departing towards the jet’s kitchen. Willow stood up and gripped the seat for support, her legs weak and wobbly for some reason.

“Where are we going,” Willow wanted to know, a frown etched across her lips.

“To a place with all the time we need,” he answered.

She scoffed. “That doesn’t help me. I need a proper noun.”

A silence drifted between them.

She closed her eyes and sighed softly, “How do you expect me to trust you again when I can’t get a straight answer out of you, Sebastian?”

“I need you to be patient and see what I have in store for us with your own two eyes,” he stated as he closed in her on, caressing her right cheek with the crook of his finger. “Can you do that for me?”

Willow shuddered at his touch. It was warm, calloused, and addictive. She missed it—wanted more of it.

No.

She took a step back, plopping back down into her seat.

Since he wouldn’t give her a straight answer, she decided to be petty and not give him one either.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

As the jet descended through a patch of clouds, Willow stared out the window with squinted eyes as she observed the world below. There were glorious waterways, spectacular views of a glistening ocean, vibrant green forests, patches of towns, dotting islands, lush hills and mountains, and sandy beaches. Her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as she attempted to analyze the geographical clues below to piece together a puzzle that Sebastian refused to help with her.

The jet’s tires screeched as they touched down a runway of an isolated airport.

Once it halted to a stop, it wasn’t long before the flight attendant released the stairs thereby opening the door into the world of the living. Willow crossed her arms over her chest and marched down the stairs. A glistening red convertible awaited. She walked over to it, examining it until she found the clue she was looking for. A front car tag of a bright green variety with dark blue circle inside of a yellow rhombus. White stars dotted the bottom half of the circle. A curved white band stretched across the blue circle with green writing that read, “ORDEM E PROGRESSO.”

It took a long moment for her to register why the tag looked so familiar. When the realization hit her, her eyes widened in shock and a loud gasp tumbled from her lips.

BRAZIL?!

They—SHE—was in goddamn Brazil?!

It wasn’t as if she hated Brazil. She thought the country, its people, and culture were amazing. Farrah had gone to Brazil a few times in her old modeling days and had taken a lot of photos and videos about her adventures there. Once upon a time, a young and insecure Willow obsessed over those photos and videos with a wish of one day going there…when she was much skinnier and prettier like her older sister.

Now she was much older, much fatter, and still not pretty like Farrah.

She blinked in surprise when she realized that Sebastian was holding the passenger door open for her, waiting for her to come out of her thoughts.

She went to him, avoiding any opportunities of skin touch as she slid into the car. The crisp ‘new car’ scent engulfed her senses. Everything was so new and shiny that she was afraid to touch anything. A habit she had begun to form on this trip. First, the jet and now the car. She felt like she didn’t fit. She felt like this was a secret slither of Sebastian’s life that she didn’t belong in. Maybe, that was why he hid it from her.

Sebastian had never been a flashy type. Sure, he drove luxury cars and loved in a beautiful converted warehouse home, but he didn’t flaunt his wealth or shove it in her face. He pampered her with his attention, not with expensive things.

Their attraction—at least in the beginning—had a rawness to it that gave her a tunnel vision of only him in the flesh, so she wouldn’t have cared anyway. Now that she could see clearly now, she realized that she couldn’t fit into this lifestyle she only saw glimpses of. Though she didn’t grow up poor, her upper-class lifestyle her mother and sister thrived in did not mesh well with her.

The sportscar race out away, skillfully maneuvering every tricky twist and turn as they sped through winding roads with lush forest jungles whipping by. Eventually, they made it into a small but colorful town nestled by a waterway. Sebastian eased his foot off the gas pedal as they cruised through the streets. Willow gazed out of the window, absorbing the sight of all walks of life that came into her view. Soon, they arrived at the docks and got out of the car.

She followed Sebastian to a parked speedboat. A sunglasses-wearing dark-skinned man with short curly hair sat on a lawn chair on the wooden dock beside the boat, tanning in the sun. He got up from his seat, situating his sunglasses to the top of his head.

“It’s good to see you again, Mr. Smith,” the man stated with a grin and a thick accent.

“It’s good to see you too, Claudio,” Sebastian said. He gestured towards Willow. “This is my wife.”

Claudio gave her a polite nod, a grin widening. “I knew one day a beautiful woman would finally tame you.”

“He lowered his expectations just enough to catch me,” Willow said, shooting her husband a sharp smile. A bitter dig at Sebastian and most importantly, herself. The man’s smile lessened at her words. An awkward silence lingering between them all.

Claudio nodded, gesturing to the inside of the boat. “Shall we go?”

They climbed onto the speedboat, Willow wobbled at first on the rocking boat, but managed to sit down on a built-in bench. Sebastian settled himself beside her and she scooted away from him, a physical rift between them.

She crossed her arms over her chest tightly and made a successful effort at paying attention to everything in her surrounding expect her husband. The speedboat backed out of the dock slot and turned before swiftly gliding northbound down the waterway, living a trail of upturned white water in its wake. Her heart was in her throat and adrenaline pumped through her veins, but a bright smile on her face as Claudio occasionally whipping the speedboat into fun circles that made her squeal and laugh in excitement.

Claudio, sometimes, glanced over his shoulder and gave a charming wink in her direction. Slowly, Willow started to love the man as his attempts to entertain her made her husband brew in a silent jealousy. She knew the man wasn’t interested in her by any means, but he only did it to brighten her otherwise dark sour mood. He succeeded.

The waterway widened as it spilled out into the coast—an ocean of clear turquoise water before them. They sped through scattered islands until they reached a lush island with a towering mountains and pearly white beaches. The boat circled around the island until glorious beach house against a forest backdrop came into view. Claudio parked the boat at the dock.

The estranged couple watched as the speedboat departed, leaving them behind.

Once the boat was nothing but a fuzzy dot in the distance, the two walked off the dock and onto solid but sandy ground. Making their way into the home, Willow was once again taken back by the luxuriousness of it all. The spacious crisp white kitchen equipped with the latest and most expensive items. The living room, dining room, and family room was filled with beautiful things she was too afraid to touch. Three bedrooms were upstairs and three bedrooms were downstairs. She had learned that every room had a view of the ocean after exploring the floor level and finding herself upstairs in the master bedroom with a translucent flowy turquois curtains surrounding a king-sized canopy bed. There were double doors that led into a balcony and a spectacular view of the ocean. She explored the room for a moment with Sebastian watching her carefully from the doorway.

The master bathroom had a stand-up shower with a large circular showerhead embedded into the ceiling. There was also a long white clawed bathtub situated right by a wide window facing the breathtaking beach and ocean. Back in the bedroom, the closet and dresser were filled with women’s clothes. Upon closer inspection, she realized that all the clothes were her size. Every type of clothing for any occasion were at her fingertips in her size. She took in the sight of undergarments, dresses, shirts, shorts, and bathing suits.

Willow grazed her fingers on a lacy royal purple bra laying in the dresser’s drawer before she swirled around on her heels to face her husband.

“So we’re here, now what,” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Do you want to frolic in the sand? Walk along the beach hand-in-hand and watch the sunset? Take me into the forest and fuck me against a tree? And above all, pretend like we aren’t horrible people?”

“All I want is you,” he answered, “in every possible way.”

Willow shook her head. “You don’t just get to have me, Sebastian. Not after everything. You don’t have that right.”

“I’m your husband.”

“You’re my husband on paper,” she corrected him. “But once we get back on American soil, you won’t even be that.”

“If you knew that you were going to divorce me then why did you agree to come with me?”

“Do you know how exhausting it is to pretend to be okay when you’re not,” Willow said, a sharp bitter in her voice. “To smile and carry on around your family, friends, and co-workers even though you feel like you’re going to self-destruct at any moment? I can’t say what I want to say and do what I want to do that at my house or my parents’ house or work. So I’m going to do it here with you, so you can see what you’ve done to me. And when everything is said and done, we’ll go our separate ways for good.”

“You don’t mean that.”

A tiny part of her did—the wishful part. But the rest of her wanted him. She wanted him so badly that it hurt. She wanted his love, his touches, and his kisses. She wanted everything he had to give her, but did she need it? No is what she wanted to believe. Her needs and wants were two different things.

“If you don’t want to believe me then fine. You’ll be in a rude awakening soon enough,” she said, tilting her chin up stubbornly.

“The only one will be in for a rude awakening is you, Willow,” Sebastian said, making his way into the room—closing in on her like predator to prey. “You have no idea what I’m willing to do to bring you back to me.”

He practically sandwiched her against the dresser. There was barely a half-inch of space between them, but he was close enough to make her knees weak and her heart leap in her throat.

He picked her up and placed her on top of the low dresser, her back smacking against the vanity mirror. He smashed his mouth against hers, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. His mouth and tongue worked at her in a hunger feverish dance that hindered from thinking and breathing properly. He gripped of her head possessively, deepening the profound statement of a kiss that she was drowning in. She feel all his pent-up emotions with every thrust and twirl of his mouth. She felt the anger, frustration, and pining. It seeped into her until it matched her own, note for note.

Sebastian broke the kiss by pulling away, wiping the glistening moisture from his bottom lip with a swipe of his thumb. He panted lightly while Willow fought for breath as if she had ran a marathon. She put a shaky hand to her panting mouth, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Dinner will be ready in hour and a half,” he stated before he stalked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

She was hungry, but the last thing on her mind was food.  

After a kiss like that, Willow worried dinner would be nothing but an opportunity for her husband to devour her alive.

End Notes:

IT'S BEEN FOREVER WITH THIS STORY! I haven't updated since August. I feel so bad. I have been more consistent with His Mercy, but that's because writing about Gage and Mercy isn't as challenging. I love writing Willow and Sebastian, but writing them is draining and emotional considering the situation they are. It is difficult to write them sometimes because sometimes I want to take the easy way out and have Willow forgive him and get to the other good stuff, but I am trying to be more realistic this time around.

I know some don't like Willow because of her reluctance to forgive Sebastian, but I think the payoff will be worth it in the end if you know what Sebastian has in store for Willow.

Thank you so much for your patience and support.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!

HAVE A WONDERFUL SATURDAY!

Step in the Right Direction by Missus James
Author's Notes:

Sebastian and Willow move one step in the right direction, but there is still much to be done. 

While his wife slept upstairs, Sebastian dwelled in a guest room downstairs nearest to the kitchen. He stared up at the ceiling, wishing he had x-ray vision as his wife’s room was directly above his. He used every ounce of his disciplined strength to stop himself from going upstairs to her. Not to talk, but to watch. It was an interesting pastime of his. Once upon a time as they laid on bed, he quietly regarded her in the sharp contrast of the moonlight and shadows when his nightmares were too difficult to bear. His green eyes scanned every visible element of her. The twitch of her closed eyelids. The fullness of her slightly parted lips. The delicate rise and fall of her chest. The gentle snores that fluttered through the air. The restlessness of her body as she tossed and turned throughout the night—occasionally kicking and bumping into him—without cracking her eyelids once. The inviting warmth of her body. The softness of her chestnut brown flesh.

Now he laid in a bed with only himself. He only had himself to blame, but he didn’t regret the abominable sin he committed. He only regretted the rift between himself and his wife because of it. He did not blame her for feeling and acting the way she did, but he was a greedy and impatient man who wanted back in his wife’s good graces.

Against the symphony of the ocean breeze and crashing waves, he heard a thumping sound of footsteps from upstairs. He arched an eyebrow as he listened as the footsteps traveled across the ceiling and then the echoing of footsteps down the stairs. Soon, he heard the fridge door open, a string of muffled curses, and then the fridge door slammed shut. Then, the hinges of cabinet doors creaking and the clanking of glasses as his wife rummaged through the cabinets.

Sebastian got off the bed and left the bedroom, turning a simple corner to get to the dark kitchen, moonlight spilling from the glass windows all around. He watched with a cocked head as he watched his wife search through all the cabinets with a fuming frustration pouring off her.

“Where in the hell is the liquor,” she grumbled angrily, unaware of his presence.

“The liquor cabinet is in the dining room.”

Willow swirled around on her heels with widened eyes and a gaping mouth, but the shock wore off quickly. She pursed her lips together and took one last look at him before she marched into the dining room with a short glass in hand. He followed her at his own pace, watching in mild amusement as she pulled at the cabinet’s silver handle, but it wouldn’t budge.

“It’s locked,” she announced. “Great.”

Sebastian approached her from behind, pressing into her backside as he reached overhead to retrieve a key located on top of the cabinet. He slid the key into the lock and twisted it. The glass door cracked open slightly. He placed the key where he had found it, but stayed where he was—relishing her sweet scent and warmth. She retrieved a 3,000-dollar bottle of vodka. His father always had a taste for the finer things.

She circled to face him with a stubbornly clenched jaw, tilted-up chin, and narrowed eyes.

“Excuse me,” Willow said. “I need to get by.”

“You’re gonna drink that by yourself,” he queried, cocking his head once more.

“Surprisingly, I just so happen to be a big girl,” Willow returned, “who can hold her own.”

“I think you should be a little nicer to the man who can make this liquor cabinet and all that’s inside of it disappear before morning,” Sebastian threatened smoothly.

Willow scoffed at the warning, a bitter but amused smile at her lips. “So, you’re gonna play dirty now?”

“You say that like you’re surprised,” Sebastian said. “These hands have never been clean.”

She bit her bottom lip, shaking her head as she glanced away from him. “Pray tell, what’s the catch to all this?”

“An innocent nightcap,” he proposed.

Willow chuckled, running her pink tongue over the top set of her teeth.

“Innocent,” she repeated, highly amused. “Why don’t I believe that?”

“You don’t have to believe it,” he said, smirking. “All you need to do is agree to it.”

Her hand gripped the alcohol bottle, gazing up at him with a curled lip and a desire to knock him upside the head with said bottle flashing brightly in her beautiful brown eyes.

Fine,” she bit down through grit teeth. He moved to the side to allow her passage to a location of her choosing. She decided to go outside on the covered front deck, plopping into a swinging hammock. As she laid there swinging, she raised her empty glass into the air. “Fill me up.”

Sebastian twisted the bottle cap and went to her, carefully pouring the clear strong alcohol into the raised glass without spilling a drop.

As she lowered the glass to her face and took a sip, he brought the bottle to his lips and took a deep gulp, savoring the intense burn that slithered down his throat.

Sebastian had never been much of a drinker. Alcohol impaired him. It left him vulnerable. It loosened his practiced control. There was this internal need to be in control always. Being in control of himself kept him alive. But tonight…In that very moment, he wanted to loosen the reigns he had imposed on himself, especially if it meant getting his wife back.

He sat on a cushioned wicker couch, staring out into the beach. The moonlight played across the turquoise waters. The quarter moon shining high in the midnight blue sky. Billions of flickering stars surrounding the celestial orb like faithful followers.

A soft moan drifted through the air forcing his head to turn in the direction it came from. His wife lounged in the swaying hammock. Her eyes were closed as she took her time sipping on her glass of vodka. It was only then he took in all of her. Her hair was piled up on her head. She wore a silky powder blue knee-length nightgown that shimmered in the moon’s illumination.

Say something, motherfucker, a voice barked inside of his head.

The feelings of uncertainty and awkwardness swirled in him. He hadn’t felt like this way in many years. He made a living as a contract killer for Christ’s sake! Why did he feel like an awkward teenaged boy afraid of approaching a girl? He was married to her! He had seen, touched, and tasted every inch of her and yet…in that moment, he felt as if they had never met—as if they had never truly known each other.

He took another gulp for an ounce of courage.

“Do you remember you introducing me to your friends,” he wondered, the memory easing into his mind.

She let out an embarrassed groan. “Oh, don’t remind me! I had so much to drink that night that I was spilling my drink all over the place. Then you tossed me over your shoulder and took me home. My friends wouldn’t let that go for weeks!”

He grinned as he recapped the events of that night. “Is that all that happened, Willow?”

There was a long moment of silence before she said softly, “No.”

“Slide your jeans down,” he ordered. “Show me what I’ve been thinking non-stop for two days straight.”

“So, you remember then,” Sebastian questioned before he brought the bottle to his lips again.

“Be my good girl,” he said as he nuzzled his head against her belly, his hot breath fanning against the sensitive flesh there, “let me taste you. Gotta eat you up, Willow.”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Willow trailed off.

He quirked an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“You’re trying to get me worked up.”

“Is it working?”

She rubbed her thighs together for a moment and he knew in that moment that she was worked up, but her verbal answer contradicted the physical evidence.

“No, it’s not,” she replied.

Sebastian sampled some more vodka and licked his lips.

“I believe you,” he lied as he leaned back into his seat, stretching his legs out. “If you were worked up then you would be breathing a little faster. Your nipples would be stiff and begging to be sucked and bit. Your pussy would be wet and slippery—perfect for fingering and fucking. And your sweet little clit would be hard and throbbing, waiting for some love and attention. Right, Will?”

She breathed out, “Yes.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not worked up then,” he said throatily, “but I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t.”

“What,” she stuttered out.

“My hands have been aching to palm your breasts, play with your nipples, slid in between your legs to see how wet you are for you, and smack that ass when it bounces on my cock. My lips want to leave a trail of kisses on your skin. My teeth want to mark you as mine. My tongue forgot how good your lips taste, Will. Both sets,” Sebastian delivered in a casual unaffected tone though his body was the exact opposite.

His being was tensed and heated. He was ready to pounce—ready to claim his wife once more—but he had to be patient.

Sebastian took another sip. His head felt like light and an addictive warmth consumed every inch of his skin. The alcohol was getting the best of him now. He wasn’t drunk, but he definitely wasn’t sober either.

“My dick wants you in any and every way it can,” he chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “It wants to slid deep into your pussy and pound it until you don’t even know your own damn name. It wants you to wrap your lips around it and worship it until your mouth is full of cum.”

With a bit of struggle, Willow got out of the hammock and sauntered over to him. She snatched the bottle out of his hand.

“I think you’ve had enough, Sebastian,” she said matter-of-factly.

He tilted his head back to look up at her. “It’s never enough especially not when it comes to you. I can’t never get enough of you,” he said, his words rumbly but a pinch slurred. “You could kiss my goddamn cheek and I’d be satisfied.”

Willow shook her head at his words, but squeaked in surprise as he tugged her in between his legs and buried his face into her stomach—an old habit of his that he couldn’t let die. She lifted her hand as if she were going to reprimand him for such a bold intimate move, but instead she hesitantly placed her hand on his head—an old habit of hers. She stroked his hair tenderly, running her fingers through it every few moments or so.

“Maybe, I’ve had enough too,” she uttered softly, glancing at the bottle in her spare hand. “I should be pushing you away right now. I shouldn’t be feeling this way right now…”

Sebastian rose from his spot, towering over her. Fear clenching him at the possibility that she was reverting, disregarding the small progress they had endured. Her hand was still on his head, but instead of removing it right away, she moved it downward to caress the side of his face. He closed his eyes, savoring the tender touch as her fingertips explored his skin and thick beard. Her warm fingers traced over his lips before she parted from him.

His eyelids snapped open at the sudden withdrawal. Her backside was turned to him now and she tossed back a deep gulp.

“No more nightcaps,” she panted as wiped the back of her hand across her lips.

She shifted halfway and handed him the bottle. “Goodnight, Sebastian.”

Willow sauntered off the front deck and back into the beach house.

Sebastian gazed back to the vodka bottle before returning inside. He placed the bottle back into the liquor cabinet and decided to leave it all unlocked. He made his way back to his room, but halted in front of his door. His eyes drifted upward to the ceiling, wishing he could see her from where he was downstairs.

Go to her, motherfucker, his inner animal barked.

He did as he was told and made his way upstairs. When he reached her door, he rose his fist to knock, but stopped.

Don’t knock. Just open, the animal ordered.

Sebastian twisted the doorknob and opened it slowly. The double doors leading onto the balcony were wide open, salty breezes fluttered into the room causing the airy canopy curtains to dance and sway around the bed. He approached the bed, standing just outside the translucent curtains. She laid on the bed, above the covers. She was wide awake, but lost in thought and completely unaware of his presence.

He pushed aside the curtains at the foot of the bed. Her attention snapped to him and she sat up. At first, she was surprised, but it disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. A look of uncertainty splattered onto her face now. He eased one knee onto the bed, prowling up to her like a sleek predator. When he reached her, his calloused hand clasping the back of her neck as he slanted his mouth onto hers.

Willow didn’t fight it. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged him downward, bringing the muscled weight of him onto her. She widened her legs, wrapping them around his waist as their tongues swirled and flickered heatedly in each other’s mouths. He shuddered as she stroked the nape of his neck, growling as her hips lifted off the bed and winded against his. Her clad pussy grinding deliciously against his caged hard dick.

Out of breath, he pried his lips from hers. She rolled him onto his back, straddling his waist before she swooped down to kiss him and thrusted her sweet pink tongue into his mouth, declaring herself the master over him. His hands drifted up the back of her bare thighs, slithering underneath the silky nightgown to grab ahold of the delectably plump ass that ground into his stiff cock straining against his pants.

Pulling back from the kiss, she sat up and slowly took off the nightgown revealing her lace undergarments.

She tossed the silky garment to the side and freed her hair, allowing it to cascade around her round face. He was mesmerized at the dark-skinned goddess gyrating and rocking herself on him. She balanced herself with a right hand on his chest as she did it. Closing her eyes, her lips parted as her breath hitched. With her spare hand, she cupped her left breast and squeezed it as she pleasured herself using his body as an instrument of her possession.

He was beyond the point of ‘worked up’.

He was working overtime. He wanted to flip her onto her back or her belly, free himself, and fuck her like his life depended on it, but there was a method to this madness. They needed to make up for lost time, no matter how deliciously painful it was.

He would wait for her until she was ready.

“You like dancing on my cock, baby girl,” he wondered huskily—encouragingly. She bit down onto her bottom lip and nodded her head eagerly, never breaking her trance.

“You can use me all you want,” he purred as he grabbed her hips, “as long as I get to watch you cum. Will you let me?”

She felt so good on top of him.

She moaned deeply and tilted her head back, picking up her pace. Her hand that rested on his chest, gripped at his shirt for dear life.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckled.

His green eyes take in the sight of her and carve every detail to memory. She was all his dreams in the flesh. He loved the look of pure ecstasy that shined on her face. He loved how she bit her bottom lip and breathed deeply through her nose to hold back a moan, but failed to stay quiet. Soon, her jaw dropped open, her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and a beautiful scream tore from her throat when she came.

Her working hips eased to a halt as the orgasm raged through her before she collapsed onto him, panting heavily. Sebastian kissed her head tenderly as she laid spent on him.

“You know I’m reclaiming that pussy as mine tonight, right?” He wanted her to know as he caressed her cheek with the crook of his finger.

Willow lifted her head to gaze at him, still catching her breath.

“And when we’re finished, I’m sleeping with my wife in this bed. Do you understand me?”

Willow rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, slowly nodding her head. Her agreement to the command was a step in the right direction. A step closer to earning her forgiveness, but he knew there was still much to be done.

Sebastian pushed aside the canopy curtains and got off the bed. He undressed every stitch of clothing from his body. His hard dick ached to sink balls deep into his wife’s cunt, but first, he had a thirst that needed to be quenched.

He moved the curtains to return to bed but stopped himself as he was greeted with the sight of his wife—who though now naked—concealed her body by lying underneath the sheets.

He pulled back the sheets and climbed into the bed, situating himself in between her legs. He pressed his lips against her lips before he placed a kiss on her cheek then along the curve of her neck and downward. He placed a trail of kisses in between the valley of her breasts, stopping momentarily to suckle and tease each nipple with his tongue. She arched against him and moaned, pouting in disappointment when he continued his journey down to her plump soft belly, his head disappearing underneath the sheets.

Sebastian wedged his shoulders in between her thighs before he planted kisses from the side of her knee to her inner thigh before he took a desirous bite.

Her body jerked and she moaned. He grinned at her reaction before he leaned forward, sliding his tongue into the creamy wet lips of her pussy. His tongue teased her hole, groaning appreciative as creamy juices from her orgasm coated his taste-buds. She ground herself into his face.

He explored, suckled, and lapped her, but purposely avoiding her clit—wanting her to wait. Wanting to punish her…just a little.

Deciding to be generous for a moment, he gifted the underside of her clit with a deep tongue stroke.

Sebastian,” she groaned desperately—pleadingly.

His name washed over him like a bucket of scorching hot water, giving him a jolt of passion that raced up and down his spine.

He had almost forgotten how wonderful his name when she expressed in a moment of pleasure like this. He awarded the tiny hard nub with another lick. She shuddered, moaning his name again. A grin curled onto his lips before he drew her into his mouth, sucking and lapping his tongue at it rhythmically. She rocked herself against his face harder and squeezed her thighs around his head.

At first, he had wanted just a taste, but now he decided to have a whole feast.

“Ooh, god, Sebastian,” she cried out as she climaxed again.

After drinking more of her essence, he resurfaced from the sheets licking his lips and plopped onto the bed beside her. Willow rolled onto her side, panting as she recovered from her second orgasm of the evening.

“Goddamn,” she whispered shakily.

Sebastian was far from over as he moved to his side as well, pressing himself against her in a spooning position. He leaned in, kissing from the crook of her neck to the end of her shoulder while he caressed her from hip to knee before he positioned his dick against her pussy, rubbing the fat head of it up and down her slit—coating it with her wetness.

In unison, they moaned aloud as he sunk into her from behind real slow.

Once he was fully seated inside of her, he stilled for a moment as he savored the tight wet warmth he had been denied from for what seemed like so long. Finally, he reared his hips back just enough before he slid deep into her pussy again. As they laid on their sides pressed against each other, he gripped the underside of her thigh and lifted it as he unhurriedly plunged his cock in and out of her.

Willow tilted her head back to rest against his shoulder as she moaned aloud and he drew her earlobe into his mouth, nibbling and sucking it. She melted against him, grinding her ass against him. She reached around and grabbed the back of his head, gripping it to hold his mouth right there.

“You treat me so good, Willow,” he whispered huskily, his breath fanning against her ear. “So, fucking good.”

She quivered against him. Goosebumps prickling across her flesh.

He drove himself into her with a faster rhythm and more force. He knew she loved it because her pussy squeezed him tight, making him work harder—making him love every damn moment being with her.

“You deserve to be treated like a fucking goddess,” he continued, tugging her earlobe with his teeth—gripping her thigh tighter and lifting it higher as an animalistic sensation overcame him. He rolled his hips upward with every deep thrust, hitting all the right spots that made her moan and cry.

He breathed, “You’re all mine. Allfuckingmine.”

“Yes, fuck, yes,” she yelled out.

Sebastian pushed her onto her stomach, never missing a beat as he continued to fuck her roughly and deeply, feeling his own climax steadily approaching. His heavy calloused hands gripping her hips, forcing her beautiful ass to bounce and smack against his pelvis.

His green eyes gazed down at the arousing sight of her jiggling rear and his pale glistening cock disappearing into the folds of her heavenly pussy. His line of vision traveled from the curve of her ass, up her sweat-coated back to her neck and finally, her face that was buried deep into a pillow.

Sebastian smacked her ass causing her to jerk her head upward.

“Look at me when I’m owning this pussy,” he growled.

Willow looked over her shoulder, warm innocent brown eyes locking with intense dangerous green ones. He licked his tongue across his teeth as he grinned darkly at her obedience even though it was her who was the true master.

The sight of her watching him heightened his arousal, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Her sounds of pleasure and the wet smacking of their collective flesh echoing in his ears.

He pumped into her harder and harder until he tossed his head back, a profanity taking from his throat as he emptied his seed into the tight wet warmth of his wife. He gave three more thrusts before he stilled himself.

Her cunt milked him, drawing him in deep and keeping him there. He let out a low moan, leaning forward to kiss along the nape of her neck appreciatively.

Finally, he pulled out and collapsed onto his back.

He dragged a clammy hand down the landscape of his rugged bearded face as he fought for breath. His chest heaved up and down. His heart raced in his ears. The taste of copper was thick in his mouth.

The two laid there in bed completely spent.

Sebastian lolled his head in the direction of his wife who was quite still aside from the rise and fall of her glistening back. Her cheek was pressed against the pillow she had being screaming into. Tiny snores soon filled his ears. The sound made the corners of his lips quirk upward.

Though exhausted, he indulged himself in his favorite pastime: watching his wife slumber.

 

No longer a wishful thought, now reality.

 

End Notes:

Can they blame it on the alcohol? This was a fun chapter to write, but there is still a lot to be done. This is a step in the right direction, but Sebastian still has some work to do. 

I've read the latest reviews about the previous chapter and everyone made very excellent points and I agreed with all of it! I know Willow can be a frustrating character because she can be frustrating to write for me, LOL. But every characters goes through a trial of challenges and growth. There is a method to my madness though! 

I can't believe I was able to write 4,000 words in one day! WOOT! WOOT! I haven't done that in a long time!

Have a wonderful Sunday! 

Feedback is grealy appreciated!

Lost Children by Missus James

For as long as she could remember, the beach had always been a natural enemy of Willow’s. Her short plump stature clung throughout every developmental stage of her life. While Farrah only grew taller, slenderer, and prettier, Willow’s baby fat developed into just plain fat. From a young age, she had struggled with accepting her fat rolls and cellulite. The clothes she wanted were never in her size and the clothes that were in her size made her look ugly. So, she fell into a tomboy stage that stretched to adulthood. Dark baggy clothes were a staple in her closet that loosened her obsession on what everyone else thought of her. She rarely strayed for she had a sense of loyalty and no one questioned her for it.

However, when it came to the beach, she became very self-conscious. She had tried on many swimsuits and even bought a few, but never had she went to the beach wearing one. Instead, she always opted for baggy shirts and gym shorts much to the dismay of her family and friends.

However, this time around it was…different.

All her safe choices were collecting dust in her closet on American soil. All her available choices were things she would never wear in a million years. Though she couldn’t deny the fact that the things hanging in the closet and folded in the dresser were gorgeous, her self-esteem prevented her from properly picturing herself looking decent if she wore them.

On this day, she wanted to get out of the house for being in the same proximity as her husband wasn’t a good idea considering what happened last night—or at least, what shouldn’t have happened. She effectively dodged him for much of the day or at least, she wanted to believe. Somehow though a tiny piece of her thought her husband was purposely giving her space. She would never know unless she asked and that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

So, she decided to go to the beach and dressed herself in a 1950s-styled lime green halter-strapped swimsuit with white polka dots that hung nicely in the closet. She even found a pair of white sunglasses and sandals. Soon, she found herself on the private beach lying out an jumbo orange towel before she settled down onto it. The sunlight beamed down upon her, soaking into her brown skin. It warmed her like a snuggly blanket. Pleasant ocean breezes licked her from time to time. The rustling sound of the ocean streamed into her ears—a sweet lullaby that coaxed her into a nap.

Much later, she woke underneath the comfortable shade of a beach umbrella. Her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as she gazed up at the object that had seemed to have somehow magically appeared while she slept. She sat upright, peering all around her for the magician who pulled such a trick. A glimpse of something in the turquoise waters she noticed from the corner of her eye caught her attention. She arched an eyebrow as she applied her full attention to the breathtaking scenery, cocking her head to the side.

Then something—no, someone—resurfaced from the vibrant depths, rolling waves crashing against his backside.

Willow’s eyebrows shot upward in pure awe as Sebastian sauntered back to shore, a pair of dark blue swim shorts hanging deliciously low on his hips. She pulled the sunglasses to the top of her head, her jaw slowly down as she witnessed what played out before her. His flesh dripped with droplets that glistened in the sun like bright stars, giving him an unearthly glow of a Greek sea deity. He smoothed back his damp short brown hair with his fingers as he advanced in direction.

After picking up her jaw, she cleared her throat and put her sunglasses back on before he finally arrived in front of her. He stood at the edge of the umbrella’s shadow, wet skin still glimmering in the sun’s rays.

“Sleep well,” he questioned.

She bit her bottom lip and nodded.

“Mm hm,” Willow hummed.

“Good,” Sebastian replied. “Now get up.”

Willow blinked in surprise. “Wh-what?”

“Get up,” he ordered.

She snorted at his command before she reclined back onto the towel, adjusting her sunglasses as an added move of dismissal. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nostrils, attempting to relax. However, her effort was futile as a strong hand clasped around her arm and pulled her up. She stumbled to her feet with a yelp and before she could even comprehend what the hell was going on, Sebastian bent his knees and hauled her over his shoulder.

He turned on his heels, marching from underneath the shade of the umbrella with a protesting Willow who kicked and screamed as he marched towards the waters. His hold on her was firm even as her legs flailed wildly and her hands pounded into his slick muscular back like a tribal drum. Sebastian waded chest-deep into the waters before he released her suddenly, which mixed terribly with her violent reaction. When she bucked against him in opposition, it caused her to fall off his shoulder and plunging into the water with a shocked scream.

SPLASH!

She emerged from the salty waters, gasping for air. Her sunglasses now belonged to the ocean. Willow balled up her fist and punched him hard in the back. However, it did more damage to her than it did to him. Sebastian turned to face her with a charming grin that almost immediately washed away any ounce of anger she had for him in that very moment. Nonetheless, she narrowed her eyes at him.

“You’re a bastard,” she sneered before she swirled around, wading angrily back to shore.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist, holding her firm to him. A strong chin rested on her right shoulder, his lips brushing against her ear.

“Is it wrong for a husband to want to have a little fun with his wife,” he breathed into her ear. Her eyelids slid shut, her body shuddering against him.

“Not when the wife’s husband is being a dick,” she said, trying to resist the urge to melt into him. He countered with a husky chuckle as she managed to break away from him. She turned to face him and he gazed down at her with brilliant green eyes that shined with humor and what she feared even more: adoration.

“Don’t,” she said in a way that could very well be considered pleadingly.

He arched an eyebrow. “Don’t what?”

“Look at me as if everything is alright because it’s not, Sebastian,” Willow said. “Just because we fucked last night doesn’t between it’s time to break out the friendship bracelets and sing kumbaya while I braid your hair.”

Sebastian ran his fingers through his wet hair. “I never considered having braids, but I’m always willing to try something new.”

Willow looked at him unamused. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to laugh?”

His eyes bored into hers for the longest moment, a thoughtful expression etching itself onto his face. “Maybe this is the part where you punish me—where you teach me a lesson.”

Willow’s head reeled back in surprise and a tiny gasp escaped her lips as she absorbed the weight of what he was implying. Her eyes frantically scanned his face, searching for a lie or a joke, but all she caught was raw truth.

He wanted to be punished for his sin by her hand.

He expected it.

Deep down, he probably believed that he needed it.

In that moment, her bitter anger was replaced with sympathy. Her face softened as she gazed at him, her brain piecing together all that she knew to be true of her husband. He was a creature that thrived on pain and suffering because that was all he knew.

He suffered the pain of tragically losing his first wife and daughter. 

He suffered a childhood of his mother’s hatred of him.

He suffered a lifetime of his father’s cruelty and coldness.

He suffered underneath the iron grip of Juliette.

“I’m not your fucked-up father or that bitch Juliette, Sebastian,” Willow said. “I’m nothing like them. I could never hurt or punish you like they have.”

“This rift between you and me is torturous. I don't know how much longer I can take this...take us being on opposite sides." His voice was gruff and restrainted as if he were holding himself back, as if he were trying to bury his feelings like skeleton bones in the backyard and he knew she was watching.

“And who exactly was responsible for that? Because it sure as fuck wasn’t me,” Willow shouted, losing her patience. “You killed an innocent man.”

“I DID IT TO PROTECT YOU,” Sebastian exploded.

Willow widened her eyes in shock and fear at his apoplectic outburst. Her heart jumped into her throat and she retreated backwards, splashing water as she flailed her arms when she nearly lost her footing. He had only ever his voice at her once before. He had only ever lost his composure in her presence once before. Sebastian was the embodiment of cool, calm, and collected since then and until now.

His nostrils flared as he breathed in short spurts like an enraged bull. His broad shoulders rose and fell with every inhale and exhale. The veins in his neck and face bulged against his reddened face.

She should've been scared at his outburst. She should've gotten as far away from him as possible, but she didn't.

She couldn't. 

Deep down, she knew he could never hurt her. 

Then in a flash, his fury was gone.

His face was now a perfected emotionless mask while his eyes raged with all types of emotions. It didn’t take much for her to figure out that a war was raging within them. An internal battle between Sebastian the monster and Nathaniel the man with no victory in sight for either. In that moment, she understood him. She understood that when it came to her, he was ripping himself apart to find a perfect balance of monster and man to keep her—to fight for her.

His need to protect was severely misguided, but it was still there ever present with no intentions of going away.

She understood now why he did was he did.

Simon caused her suffering and Sebastian protected her by removing Simon from her life. He protected her because he knew what it was like to be thought of as less than. He knew what it was like to be defenseless to the cruel intentions of others. So, he protected her even though he couldn’t protect himself.

Willow understood now, but that didn’t mean she agreed with it.

That didn’t mean she accepted it and she was far from forgiving him, but there was this internal need to protect him in her own way and she decided that she would act upon it.

Sebastian was the first to move as he waded past her silently to go back to shore. A cold blank expression radiated from his face as he passed her. She turned halfway to watch him go. She knew he wanted to be alone, so she didn't follow him.

Willow wasn't sure what to say or do to him if she had. 

She needed time.

She needed to think. 

She swam a few yards out and reclined backwards, floating on her back against the sway of the water ocean. She stared at the brilliant blue sky dotted with cottonball clouds and surrendered herself to her troubling thoughts.

She thought of him,

She thought of his past.

She thought of their marriage.

She thought of their future.

Willow’s brain scrambled to make sense of him—of everything.

Together they were polar opposites birthed into different circumstances and yet they somehow fit. It wasn’t a perfect fit. Their jagged edges were unforgiving to each other, but hey were both stubborn to solve their puzzle of a marriage.

A spark of realization ignited inside of her.

She needed to try and accept him back into her life bit by bit. And if she couldn't live with his sins then she would walk away once and for all knowing that at least, she tried. 

Eventually, she swam back to shore. She folded the beach umbrella and picked up her towel. She slipped on her flip-flops before retreating to the veranda. She leaned the umbrella against the veranda’s railing and made her way inside with her jumbo towel slung over her shoulder. She froze as she stared at the destruction that awaited her.

The floor was a minefield of scattered glass vases and overturned furniture.

Sebastian did all this?

He was rapidly unraveling and now she was terrified. Now for herself, but for him. A rush of panic overcame her and she ran through the wrecked living room, racing towards his room while praying that he was still in one piece. However, her right foot slipped on a patch of broken glass which caused her to lose her balance and fall forward. She landed on her hands and knees, crying out as the glass shards cut into her.

Sebastian barged into the living room and quickly went to her, scooping her off the floor and into his arms like a bride. He took her into his bathroom and placed her onto the closed toilet seat. He took ahold of her hands to survey the damage. There were tiny bleeding cuts on her palms. It wasn’t too bad. It was tolerable. However, her knees were a different story. Impressive cuts dotted her kneecaps. Her knees stung and burned, but it was nothing excruciating.

His nostrils flared as he exhaled angrily.

Sebastian straightened his backbone and ran his fingers through his thick short hair roughly, cursing as he went to the cabinet underneath his bathroom sink and retrieved an impressive first aid kit.

“It’s not that bad, Sebastian,” Willow assured, sniffling.

“You’re bleeding,” he said gruffly. “That’s bad enough.”

He took out the necessary items before he dropped to his knees in front of her and stared to clean her wounds. He began with her palms and cleaned them with peroxide and cottonballs. The liquid stung a little as it fizzled and bubbled in her tiny cuts. His calloused hands were careful and gentle as he dabbed and swiped in light strokes, the cottonballs transforming from a snowy white to a light pink from the blood.

She gazed at his face hardened with a look of concentration, guilt, and self-directed anger.

He was furious with himself.

She remembered the day she found him beaten and battered by Juliette’s doing. He ended their relationship because he thought it would spare her from having a weak and injured man as her protector, as her lover. There was this constant need inside of him to be a perfect protector and soldier. Losing his cool was a weakness he thought he couldn’t afford.

Willow could see that now.

“This isn’t your fault.”

His green eyes cut to her face at her words. “You know that’s a lie.”

“It’s my fault. I ran across the room knowing there was scattered glass. I shouldn’t have done that,” she said.

Sebastian snorted sharply as he proceeded to clean up her left knee. “Stop making excuses for me.”

“I’m not making excuses,” she replied, wincing at the treatment of her sore wounds. He was very gentle, but it still hurt.

He kept quiet and kept on with his task.

“Look at me, Sebastian,” Willow asked softly—worriedly.

He wouldn’t.

She needed to do something and she needed to do it fast before she lost him to the turmoil he battled within himself. 

Willow reached forward and grasped his bearded chin, tilting it upward so she could see his intense eyes. 

In that moment, she was unsure of what to say, so she leaned forward and slammed her mouth against his. A good kiss was worth a thousand words and she hoped that he’d listen to what she had to say. Her tongue slithered into his mouth hungrily and navigated the course of the desperate kiss with eager flicks and bold swirls. She shuddered as she gave into her emotions and desires, pouring everything she had into that kiss. Their tongues danced to each other. Their mouths worked in unison like a perfect partnership.

She wanted to show him that she was going to take care of him to keep true to their wedding vows that she had planned on walking away from.

She wanted to show him that she loved him.

She wanted to show him that she wanted him.

She wanted to show him that she needed him—that they needed each other.

Willow broke the kiss, panting heavily. She pressed her forehead against his.

“We’re going to be okay,” she whispered.

 

End Notes:

It's been a little while. At the end of the school year, there was lots of drama at my job. My best friend and colleague is being moved to a different grade level and is being replaced by a new teacher who is absolutely crazy. My muse was absolutely shot because I was stressing over how I have to deal with this woman next school year. She is absolutely terrible.

Now I am slowly getting my muse back. 

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Willow is starting to understand why Sebastian did what he did. That's a good start, but Sebastian is losing control of himself. :<

Hopefully, I can post His Mercy very soon! Have a wonderful Saturday!

Tiny Punishments by Missus James

A tired smile eased across Giselle Mercer’s lips as she felt her husband shower kisses along the delicate curve of her neck. Her body prickled with goosebumps as his five o’clock shadow lightly scraped against her pale skin. She snuggled herself closer to him as they rested against each other. Her backside nestled against his front. His strong muscular arm draped across her hip while his digits drew invisible swirls and lines on a slither of exposed flesh between the hemline of her fitted tank top and the waistline of her pajama shorts. She shivered in response, but willed herself to bite back a tiny moan.

“Are you awake yet,” Nathaniel asked, his voice dripped with sleep but there was an underlying tone of mischief that she knew all too well.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to sleep when your husband is molesting you,” she yawned softly.

He chuckled throatily at her answer, his calloused hand sliding underneath her tank top and up her torso until his palm reached her left breast. He cupped it and gave it a playful squeeze before his index finger and thumb caught a sensitive nipple. His fingers gently rolled and tugged at the hardening peak.

Giselle moaned, arching against him.

“As your husband, it’s my right to molest you whenever I want. Whether you’re asleep or awake,” Nathaniel replied, his lips brushing against her earlobe before his pink tongue darted out to flick her earlobe. She shuddered, moaning again.

She willed herself to remove his exploring hand from underneath her tank top and sat up to look at him.

“Oh, yeah?” Giselle arched an eyebrow as she pushed him onto his back with a grin, wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine. “And what exactly are my rights as your wife, Mr. Police Officer?”

Her voice oozed in a mocking innocent as she batted her eyelashes sweetly at her husband. A lazy grin stretched across his lips as she climbed on top of him, straddling his waist and sitting nicely on his morning wood.

“You tell me, Mrs. Mercer,” he spoke throatily, his hands sliding up her thighs and grasping her waist. She opened her mouth to speak, but a sharp gasp tumbled out instead as his hand landed a hard slap on her ass. His green eyes darkened with hunger and she knew that she needed to sate it by giving him something good to eat.

She planted her hands on both sides of his head and dipped her head down, her face hovering dangerously close to his. She brushed her lips against his teasingly. “You got any personal requests for breakfast?”

“Your pussy on my face would be a great way to start my morning, but fucking you in the shower is a perfectly acceptable substitute,” Nathaniel said.

They chuckled together before they shared their first kiss of the day.

Then a chant filled the air. It came from a source down the hallway and rapidly grew louder.

“First day of school! First day of school! First day of school,” their five-year-old daughter exclaimed in a cheerful singsong voice as she burst through the master bedroom door. By then, Giselle had already rolled off her husband.

Valerie hopped up onto the bed and began to jump and down. “Mommy! Daddy! Do you know what today is? Do you? Do you?”

Her curly blonde locks were tugged into a high ponytail that sat at the top of her head like a pom-pom. She wore white pajamas with Minnie Mouse’s face all over. Nathaniel watched his bubbly daughter, a tired amusement twinkling in his green eyes. She bounced up and down on the king-sized mattress with the brightest smile he had ever seen.

The familiar crackle of a firing gun sliced through the air. Valerie stopped jumping and looked down at her pajama shirt. Dark red dot appeared on her shirt and widened quickly as she bled through the crisp white fabric. She pressed her hand against her bleeding belly and gaped her mouth before she looked at him, her youthful eyes wide and shining with horror.

“Daddy?”

Nathaniel looked down at his quivering hand that held the gun. He dropped the weapon, scrambling to catch Valerie as her corpse collapsed onto the bed, but a bloodied hand gripped his forearm.

His head snapped over to his wife who laid beside him with six bullet holes in her chest.

“You’re a fucking monster, Nathan. A fucking monster,” she gasped as she tried to fight for breath. Blood spurting from her twisted mouth, tears streaming down her face. Then her chest stopped moving and her eyes went dull.

“She’s right, Nathaniel,” Juliette said, suddenly appearing at their bedside. She caressed Giselle’s bloodied face. “You’re a monster like me. Like your father. Monsters function beyond the notions of simplicity and normalcy. Even when you wake up from this dream, this nightmare is far from over.”

She leaned over his dead wife’s body, her face barely a few inches from his.

“You can run to your daddy’s little island and make amends with your little black whore, but she won’t accept you, Nathaniel. She’ll never truly accept what you are. She’ll never give you what you need,” she whispered before kissing his forehead gently. “Remember that, my little monster.”

{}{}{}

 

Sebastian’s eyes snapped open and he jerked himself upright. Sweat coated his flesh, glistening in the yellowish orange morning light. His chest heaved up and down as he attempted to catch his breath. His heartbeat pounded rough and hard in his ears. The taste of copper stained his mouth. As he suffered through the side effects of his nightmare. His eyes were wide with fright and horror. He was overwhelmed with memories mixed with fantasy that consumed him all at once, unrelenting and merciless as he adjusted to reality. He pushed back the bedsheets and planted his bare feet onto the ground, hunching over and shaking.

Valerie. Giselle. Valerie. Giselle. Valerie. Giselle.

A warm hand rested gently on his back, veering him off the path of his psychotic breakdown, but he was still drunk on his emotions and his nightmare. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t remember anything. All he knew was he was a monster—Juliette’s little monster. He reached around and snatched away that hand, gripping its wrist tightly. He froze and blinked at the owner of the hand.

Willow was kneeled behind him, her face twisted in a grimace briefly as he kept her wrist in his possession. Quickly, he let go and she rubbed her wrist for a moment. He caught glimpses of tiny healed cuts on her palms. His mind was clouded and disabled, but there was a spark of recognition as he stared on.

Somehow, he knew it was his fault.

It was always his fault.

Monsters never do anything right.

A deep sense of concern was etched all over her face. In her brown eyes, he could’ve sworn he saw a twinkle of pity. He didn’t like that. No, he fucking hated that. He didn’t want her pity. Pity did him no good. Pity wouldn’t change the fact that he was falling prey to the beast that dwelled deep inside him. A beast he spent years taming, feeding its bloodthirst for cooperation. Now, the beast wanted free and he was becoming more than half-tempted to let it roam.

He didn’t want to her to play witness to that.

Sebastian turned himself back ahead. An ocean breeze blew into the room through the open balcony doors and the soft airy curtains flutter and dance to the warm current.

He felt the bed shift underneath him, but he didn’t budge. He closed his eyes as she rose on her knees and wrapped her arms around him from behind, snuggling her head against the side of his bearded face.

“I’ll protect you,” she whispered in his ear. He thought her promise to be absurd in that moment. She could easily be overpowered. She could easily be destroyed. How could she protect him?

How could she save him from Juliette?

From his father? From…himself?

Yet the delivery of her words...the warmth of her presence was comforting the longer he allowed her near. The longer he allowed her to embrace him. With every passing moment, his hardened nature began to chip and fragment like a glacier gradually crumbling to warming waters, but there was still much left to him. Her soft fingers stroked his bare chest in tiny up-and-down movements that send ripples of subtle pleasure through him. Her lips pressed a tender kiss against his neck’s pulse.

“Anything in particular you want for breakfast,” Willow asked in a whisper against his neck, but he said nothing as he lived a tiny piece of his nightmare that is dressed up as a memory.  

She planted her hands on both sides of his head and dipped her head down, her face hovering dangerously close to his. She brushed her lips against his teasingly. “You got any personal requests for breakfast?”

Willow didn’t probe or pry an answer out of him.

“I’ll figure something out,” she assured before she withdrew from him and crawled off the bed.

He watched her with careful eyes, drinking in the sight of her in her buttercup yellow nightie. The hemline of the nightie ended mid-thigh, allowing him to see the bandaids on her knees. An ounce of guilt prickled him. She moved over to the dresser and grabbed a hairband, pulling her hair into a sloppy ponytail as she gazed into the vanity mirror. She hummed an unfamiliar tune as she left the bedroom.

The room felt empty now.

He felt empty now.

Instead of following her downstairs, he made his way into the bathroom and decided to take a shower. The scorching hot water pounding upon his head is a good punishment and he scrubbed roughly his skin as if he were trying to sand down his jagged edges, but is unsuccessful. He lost track of time in the shower, lost in his thoughts of all the women in his life—dead or alive. Willow. Giselle. Juliette. Isa. Vivien, his mother…

He shuddered.

He didn’t like to think about his mother often, but bitter memories barged into his brain and he couldn’t stop them.

{}{}{}

“You’re a fat fuck,” Vivien hissed in disgust as she watched her twelve-year-old son walk into their beaten-down trailer home’s kitchen. She was dressed in a dingy white shirt with brown cigarette burns dotting the fabric. Both of her feet were propped up on the tiny kitchen table while she took a long draw from her lit cigarette. The clothes the short plump boy wore were a size too small. The fat of his belly peeked out from under his tight green shirt and formed a muffin top over his battered jeans. The soles of his beaten sneakers squeaked as he went to the fridge to retrieve his peanut butter and jelly sandwich wrapped in aluminum foil that he had made for lunch the night before.

He opened the fridge and peeked inside the cool darkened space. The fridge’s light had burned out years ago.

Nathan couldn’t find his lunch.

“You lookin’ for somethin’, darlin’,” Vivien asked innocently from behind. Nathan turned around to find his mother waving his lunch in front of him teasingly. It was nothing more than bait and he knew better than to go after it.

“I’m gonna be late for school,” Nathan frowned. He could see it in her reddened droopy eyes. She had already partaken in some liquor and it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet. Along with the strong stench of cigarette smoke, he could smell the potent aroma of vodka.

Vivien snapped her head back and let out a scratchy laugh.

“You’re gonna be late to school anyway. You’re slower than a fuckin’ slug. Maybe if you skipped out on lunch for a while, you’d lose some fuckin’ weight and get to school faster,” she sneered.

One of Vivien’s ‘friends’ appeared at the mouth of the kitchen. “What in the hell is all the commotion,” he demanded to know, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Bill, you hungry for a PBJ sandwich, honey,” she asked sweetly, straightening up in her seat. She tossed the wrapped sandwich over Nathan’s head and to Bill.

“I’m allergic to peanut butter,” Bill replied as he caught the sandwich and handed it over to Nathan. “Go to school.”

Nathan squeezed past Bill in a hurry with the sandwich in his hand and went to the front door where his heavy backpack and his instrument case that contained his saxophone. By then, Vivien had stood up from her chair and went to Bill, kissing him.

 “Go back to bed. I’ll be in there a minute, okay,” she purred against the man’s lips. He obliged her, glancing to Nathan before returning into the bedroom. Nathan was half-way out the door, but Vivien wrenched his arm and snatched him around. Nathan bit down hard onto his bottom lip to hold in the pained cry that was clawing itself up his throat.

“Don’t think you gettin’ off easy,” she hissed in a low voice, glancing over her shoulder to ensure that her lover wouldn’t come back out the room again. “Give me the fucking sandwich now.”

She snatched it from his grasp and unwrapped it, peeling back the top bread slice. She spat into the jelly-peanut butter mixture, shoving it into his shirt with a smirk. Nathan clenched his jaw, narrowing his eyes at his mother, anger building up inside of him. Her smirk deepened as she leaned forward, her face barely an inch away from her son’s.

“You want to hurt me, don’t you,” she asked mockingly as she gripped his chin tightly, digging her nails into his flesh unforgivingly. “You want to hurt me just like your daddy did. I can see it in your eyes. I can see him in your eyes. Hurt me. I dare you. Go on. Give me your best shot, you little shit.”

{}{}{}

Unable to bear the memory, he banged his head against the shower wall until the painful memory faded and there was nothing but pain. He turned off the showerhead with a twist of a knob and stalked out of the shower, much tenser now than he was when he went in. He was naked and dripping wet as he barged from the bathroom, not bothering to grab himself a towel. He made his way downstairs. The kitchen was empty, but the evidence it had been used was there. There were dirty fry pans with tiny remnants of food there. One pan had fluffy yellow bits. Another pan had burnt shredded pieces. The last pan was greasy and smelled like cooked meat.

He surveyed his surroundings with a predatory eye until he caught sight of her through the wide front windows that presented the veranda and the sandy beach. He went onto the front deck, drinking in the sight of his wife curled up on the cushioned wicker couch eating breakfast while gazing out into the ocean. A breakfast spread of eggs, hashbrowns, sausage, and a pitcher of orange juice were situated on a glass-top wicker coffee table in front of her. She shifted her attention away from the breathtaking scenery to him. Her delicate eyebrows shot upward in astonishment, blinking at very nude, very wet Sebastian.

She placed her plate down onto the coffee table and rose from the couch.

“Sebastian?” He could hear it. The concern. The pity. They wormed themselves into every pronounced sound that blended together to utter his name.

Prove to her you don’t need her pity, you little shit.

He went to her with rushed determined steps and pushed her roughly onto the couch. She plopped down with a tiny squeal. He doesn’t waste time dropping to his knees, grabbing hold of her thighs and yanking her ass closer to the edge of the couch. His hands frantically pushed back the hemline of her nightie to reveal her pussy.

No panties.

No obstacles.

“Sebastian, what are you d-ahhhh!

She tilted her head back and cried out after he buried his face into her pussy and ran his tongue up and down her wet slit, tasting her essence. He groaned appreciatively and snuggled his face deeper in between her legs, covering her snatch with his hungry mouth. He roughly slid her legs over his wet broad muscular shoulders. More access. More for him. More, more, more.

Her fingers glided through his tousled hair, her nails raking across his scalp before she seized a fistful of hair and tugged at it sharply as his teeth scraped against her clit. He grunted in approval—in gratitude—at the pain. A tiny act of punishment she wasn’t aware she has inflicted on him. Now, he was desperate to feel it again like a junkie needing to get high and Sebastian couldn’t deny that she had always been his drug.

The closeness of her, the taste of her, and the pain filled a void inside of him.

He worshipped her clit with suckling lips, a flickering tongue, and teeth. Using his teeth gave him exactly what he wanted again. Another sharp tug of his hair. Another tiny punishment just for him, but there is pleasure there too for him at knowing she loved it when he brushed his teeth against her swollen nub or caught it in between his teeth gently, greeting her clit’s exposed head with the tip of his eager tongue. Her hips jerked when he did that. She ground her pussy into his face when he did that. She groaned and gasped his name much louder when he did that.

This scenario was so unlikely and yet it was unfolding rapidly before them. A husband devouring his wife’s pussy on the veranda of a beach house. The salty air wrapping around them. The roar of the ocean an imposing entity. The morning sun staining them with pure light.

He didn’t want this moment to end, so when she was close to surrendering to an orgasm, he stopped cold and panting warm breath against her clit. Eager green eyes gazing up at her, observing her as she struggled with being denied the right to cum. She whimpered, squirmed, and pouted. After a few moments, his tongue stroked her inner lips and clit torturously slow before eating her pussy like he should, but he was a greedy man and he denied her two more times. Always pulling back before she could fall over the edge. She quivered before him, a victim to his cruelty.

“Please,” she pleaded, finally speaking.

“Please, what?”  

He needed to hear her need for him.

Not her pity for him.

“Please, let me…let me…” She was a broken record, but her words died in her throat as he decided to give into her—giving her exactly what she needed. When she came, her scream was glorious and the pain from her nails digging deep into his skull was exquisite. Her grip is merciless as she rode out of the wave of the orgasm. As her climax subsided, her hand went slack against the back of his head.

“Thank you,” he breathed against her inner right thigh, snuggling and kissing there.

He was fucked up.

In that nightmare, Juliette was right.

He was a monster, but he was his wife’s monster.

And no one would take that away from him.

 

End Notes:

I hope this chapter gives you more insight on Sebastian's past and the important women that played a role in it. There will be more flashbacks. 

A First Time for Everything by Missus James
Author's Notes:

To begin mending, Willow and Sebastian experience a few firsts. 

Willow cautiously opened the personal gym’s door. It was a long rectangular room packed with enough standard equipment to open a gym to the public. The walls were a crisp white except for the wide ceiling-to-floor windows that revealed a different scenery: a lush green jungle. The gym was located on the opposite side of the house. She had never been back here before, but the view was a welcomed change. Sebastian was stationed in the middle of the gym, delivering swift but brutal jabs to a punching bag.

After he thanked her for allowing him to eat her pussy, he left her out on the veranda recovering from an orgasm while she tried to figure out what just happened. That was nearly three hours ago. Since then, their appearances changed.

Sebastian had cured his nudity with a pair of black boxing shorts. Willow was freshly showered and wore a turquoise tanktop with cut-off denim shorts.

His bare back faced her, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his sharply defined muscles.

She quietly entered the gym and moved towards him, rounding the punching bag to face him from the opposite side. He stopped his assault of punches, dropping his hands that were decorated in royal blue boxing wraps.

Willow gripped the punching bag from where she stood and positioned herself to keep eye contact with him.

“Give me your best shot,” she said teasingly with a light smile. Sebastian eyed her carefully and she recognized a thoughtful uncertainty in his green depths.

“I’m not a fragile porcelain doll, Sebastian,” she assured, swaying the extraordinarily heavy boxing bag just a little to encourage him. “Hit me.”

He shifted into his boxing stance and delivered a punch. She felt the force of it through the punching bag, but she knew it was watered down—most likely for her safety. She considered the act of reiterating to him to give her his best hot, but decided against it. She wanted to go with the flow of his routine, not go against the grain. She shifted herself to a different posture for better footing as she braced herself against the punching bag.

“You didn’t eat breakfast,” she said, clearing her throat. “It was really good.”

He smirked as he delivered another jab. “Ate something much better.”

A tingly wave of arousal pulsed through her at his words. She cleared her throat much harder this time and returned, “What you ate wasn’t breakfast.”

Another punch. “It was more along the lines of dessert, but I can never deny my sweet tooth.”

“I’m worried about you, Sebastian,” she said quickly, wanting—needing—to change the subject before it got out of hand.

Another punch, but this time there was a smidgen more force behind it. “You shouldn’t.”

“I should,” she countered, “and I will until you let me in. I know we had a rough start on this vacation, but for this marriage to work, we can’t build up walls against each other. There needs to be complete transparency between us.”

“You know everything about me.” Another jab, more force.

It was true. She knew about his past. He recited it to her as she aimed a gun against his head that night she saw that horrific video. Threatened him to do it or she’d walk away for good.

She wanted a fresh start on neutral territory.

She wanted to hear the truth without guns and threats.

“I want to hear it again,” she admitted. “I want to hear all of it again because I feel like I’m missing something.”

Sebastian struck the punching bag with a double jab. It was so quick and smooth that it mesmerized her. “You’re not missing anything.”

“Please, Sebastian,” she said with a subtly pleading voice. “For me. For us.”

He straightened his stance and backed away from the punching bag, craning his neck from side to side and rolling his shoulders before he undid his boxing wraps on his left hand. He gazed her carefully, a pensive glimmer in his eyes as he considered her words—her plea.

“I’ll do it,” he finally spoke.

A weak smile broke out on her lips.

“But not here,” he continued.

She nodded her head in agreement. “That’s totally fine. We talk in the living room or on,” she paused as the features of her face glowed with a bashfulness, “the veranda.”

His lips quirked upward slightly. “No, not at the house.”

She blinked in utter confusion. “On the beach then?”

“We’ll talk over dinner in town,” he revealed.

“You’re taking me out on a date?” 

“Don’t sound so surprised. I’m fully capable of functioning like a normal human being in public if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Willow casted her eyes downward, shaking her head. “I never doubted that you couldn’t. It’s just…you’ve never taken me out on a date before.”

A long moment of silence drifted between them.

“You’re right. I haven’t,” he admitted. He restrained his expression, but she could hear slither of regret worming into his voice.

“What time should I be ready?”

“Before sunset,” he answered.

“It’s a date then,” she said, a shy smile easing across her lips before she left the gym with butterflies fluttering around in her stomach.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Three ice cubes clanked as he lifted the rocks to his lips and took a deep sip of bourbon. He enjoyed the burn that slid down his throat so smoothly and took another appreciative immediately after. He leaned back in the cushioned wicker couch on the veranda. A kind salty breeze licked at his face. It was potentially two hours before sunset. The sun was nice and low in the sky, teasingly hovering near the horizon—bleeding out a brilliant orange that mingled with the softening blue that still represented day.

So close, but not close enough yet.

Sebastian stared out into the ocean, watching the light simmer and dance across the waves. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, he felt at peace with himself.

Never in a million years would he have thought that he would find a morsel of peace in his father’s house—on his father’s island. This island and nearly everything on it was owned by his father. Sebastian was no exception to the rule. However, there was only thing on this island that wasn’t in his father’s possession.

Willow.

She was his and his father nor Juliette couldn’t take her from him.

The ice cubes rattled against each other again as he took another sip.

Sebastian was clad in a sharp suit. His dark brown hair was slicked back nicely. He had taken the time to trim his beard. He looked presentable for a proper date. The kind of date that Sebastian had never taken Willow on. A decision, in which, he regretted. A regret that clenched him by the throat and brewed up a nice soup of jealousy and bitterness at the fact that Jasper took her on quite a few dates before him.

Willow never asked for much, but Sebastian should’ve known better than to take her “low maintenance” perspective for granted unwillingly.

He should’ve wined and dined her.

He should’ve showered her with gifts.

He should’ve swept her away to faraway places.

She had been content with what he had gotten her, but in retrospect, Sebastian now realized he hadn’t given her much.

Tonight, however, he was determined to change that for her sake and his. He now realized that he couldn’t trap her on this island with him to mend their marriage. He didn’t want this island to be her prison and her to be his prisoner.

He wanted to keep her to himself, but he now understood that he needed to show her off to the world. He needed to act like a proud husband in public as he did in private. He needed to treat her as his wife in public as he did behind closed doors. Being together shouldn’t have been a secret and yet, they both practiced it so religiously that it had ingrained itself into the fabric and philosophy of their marriage.

A marriage hidden from all.

He didn’t think anything of it at first before it was a difficult task to step out of the shadows when you’ve thrived in them for so long. It was difficult not to keep a low profile. He had perfected the ability to hide in plain sight and not to draw attention. He was trained and conditioned to believe that staying hidden kept you alive, but that couldn’t be applied to relationships, love, and marriages.

It was another step in the right direction even as he slowly spiraled down a path of self-destruction.

Another step closer to bringing her back to him even as he lost pieces of himself.

“Hey,” a soft voice said bashfully.

Sebastian had been in mid-sip when he heard it and his eyes immediately flickered to the direction it came from. He swallowed down the bourbon hard as he drunk in the sight of her.

His wife was leaned against the doorway. Her hair was a lush mane of kinky curls that fell about her shoulders and framed her heart-shaped face. Her soft brown skin had a mesmerizing glow. She wore a vibrant purple chiffon dress with an illusion necklace. The top skit of her dress was flowy and translucent, which revealed a knee-length solid skirt that hugged her curves and her sexy legs. The dress was the equivalent to a torturous tease, giving him peeks and glimpses of all the things he loved about her body.

It wired him up. His hands now ached to reach up under that damn dress to touch and worship those beautiful legs and the slither of heaven that dwelled in between them.

Willow bit the right corner of her bottom lip, the nervousness rolling off her was palpable. She pried herself from the doorway and stepped onto the veranda, slowly making her way to him. She looked like moving art in that dress. His green eyes trailed down her curvaceous hips as they swayed hypnotically when she walked.

She eased to a halt in front of him, putting her hands on her hips. “Are you just going to sit there and stare at me or are you going to say something? If you don’t like what’ve I’ve got on, just tell me what you think. I’m a big girl.”

Sebastian brought his glass to his lips for another taste of bourbon while his eyes swept over his wife’s figure from head to toe. His skull filled itself with filthy things.

“Do you really want to hear what I think,” he questioned, arching an eyebrow.

She nodded her head, staring at him expectantly. “Yes, I do.”

“I think you’re the most breathtaking thing I’ve ever seen,” he stated huskily. “I know I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself.”

Her mouth dropped open at his confession, but she recovered a split second later. “Maybe, that’s what I wanted all along. For you to touch me.”

Sebastian placed his bourbon on a small table to the right of wicker couch before he stood up, towering over her even as she wore tall wedged scandals.

“Think very carefully about that, Will. I’m greedy enough to take it for granted,” he said as he stood ahold of her chin and tilted it up, their eyes locking and their gazes unfaltering. The distant hum of an approaching speedboat lingering in the background, announcing that their ride back to the mainland was near.

“Maybe, I want you to take it for granted,” she said barely above a whisper as she plucked his grasp from her chin and carefully grabbed his hands, planting them on her hips suggestively before wrapping her arms around his neck. She craned her neck a little to nuzzle her nose against his, her warm breath brushing against his lips. Her mouth was barely two or three millimeters away from his, hovering there teasingly.

A ghost of a smile curling at her lips’ corners.

Sebastian’s hands slid from her hips to perfect round ass, giving it an ample squeeze. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she moaned a little. The sexy sound sent an encouraging jolt through his body. His right hand traveled down the curve of her ass before he gave it a nice smack. Willow tilted her head back slightly and let out another moan that was much louder and deeper. He attacked the curve of her neck with sharp desperate nibbling and wolfish kisses.

Willow breathed, “Claudio will be here any minute.”

“Fuck Claudio,” Sebastian said gruffly against her neck.

“That’s not very nice,” she said before groaning loudly when his palm came down upon her ass again before he gave it a possessive squeeze. Sebastian lifted his head from her neck, leaning it extremely close to hers. He drew her plump lower lip into his mouth with his teeth and tugged it darkly before letting go.

“Does it look like I’m a nice guy, Will?” When she didn’t answer right away, he gave her right ass cheek another thwack and she squeezed her eyes shut, gasping aloud.

“I asked you a question, baby girl. I expect a damn answer,” he said throatily, relishing in how she was melting in into him—falling under his spell. The sound of Claudio’s speedboat grew closer and closer.

Willow shook her head lightly and rasped out, “No.”

Pleased with her answer, he planted a kiss on her forehead.

“I can’t wait to show you how much,” he promised. She shuddered against him at the promise, the reaction made him grin.

The speedboat slowed to a stop at the private dock.

They stepped off the veranda and followed a solid path along the beach to the dock. Claudio’s eyes lit up with intrigue at the sight of Willow, but a sharp death glare from Sebastian drained the light from the handsome Brazilian man’s eyes. Claudio cleared his throat before chuckling nervously.

“Good evening, Mrs. Smith,” Claudio greeted with a smile, “and of course Mr. Smith.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Claudio,” Willow said with a warm smile as Claudio offered her his hand to step onto the speedboat safely with Sebastian steadying her from behind. She happily took his hand as she descended into the boat.

A charming toothy smile spread across Claudio’s face and he dipped his head, kissing the back of her hand as he held it.

“The pleasure’s all mine, señora,” he said, giving her a wink.

She giggled bashfully and Claudio joined in with his own amused chuckle, his eyes never straying from her face.

Sebastian wasn’t pleased.

He wasn’t pleased at all.

As if Claudio and Willow sensed his jealously, they both looked over to a brooding Sebastian and had their own little moment of laughter, exchanging looks with each other as if they were pals amusing themselves with an inside joke. A joke that Sebastian was apparently the butt of.

While Claudio navigated the speedboat away from the private island, Sebastian stared at the back of Claudio’s head, brainstorming ways to end the man’s life. His murderous gaze broke away when he felt a hand slap at his shoulder. Shifting his green eyes to Willow, she looked at him with narrowed eyes and pursed lips—a look of warning. The kind of look that demanded him not to harm a hair on Claudio’s head.

“Don’t you dare,” she mouthed, wagging an index finger at him.

Sebastian caught that finger and brought his mouth, kissing the tip while his eyes bored into hers.

A silent promise—a agreement—passed from him to her.

Her face softened.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Deep inside the complicated town with colorful mismatched buildings was a thriving restaurant. They managed to squeeze themselves inside and found a table by the thickly occupied dance floor. The music played by the live band on the stage wrapped around them snuggly. Sebastian moved his chair to sit directly beside Willow, not hesitating to caress and stroke her thigh under the table as he spoke fluent Brazilian Portuguese to the waitress who in turn scribbled down what he was saying on her notepad. When the waitress walked away, Willow nudged her shoulder into his with an impressed smile.

“You didn’t tell me that you knew Brazilian Portuguese,” she said as she bobbed her head to the live band’s colorful music.

“My occupation sends me all over the world. In order to blend in, you need to be well-versed in many languages,” Sebastian said.

Willow grabbed his black tie and tugged at it, forcing him to dip his head closer to hers. She arched a delicate eyebrow as she smiled at him temptingly. “Are you saying you have a talented tongue, Sebastian?”

“It’s very talented,” he said, returning her smile with a dark grin of her own while he slipped his hand in between her draped thighs. She parted them and he stroked his fingers up and down her inner right thigh, dangerously close to the apex of her thighs. “If I do recall, I gave you a demonstration this morning.”

“You’re right,” she purred. “Now, I want your tongue for something else…”

Sebastian closed in to kiss her, but what she said next made him stop dead cold. “Tell me about your past, Sebastian.”

He pulled back slightly.

“You promised,” she said.

After a lengthy moment of silence, he said, “I did.”

Willow leaned up to kiss him softly. “Tell me, Sebastian. Tell me again from the beginning.”

He closed his eyes, savoring her sweet kiss. Before he could deep in, she broke it, licking her lips.

The kiss softened the burning pain that pooled inside of his chest as he readied his tongue to give her exactly what she wanted: his past.

“I was born to Phillip Nathaniel Mercer and Vivien Georgeman. Two individuals that had no business having a child. My mother had been a stripper at an upscale gentlemen’s club in the nation’s capital. My father was an ex-Army Specials Force officer who joined the CIA as a field agent. They crossed paths at the gentlemen’s club. It wasn’t love at first sight,” he said, his eyes locking onto hers.

Not like us, he wanted to add.

He remembered the first time he saw her as she jogged on the park’s path—in his path. Her determination shined bright on that dark early morning. She barely lasted two minutes into jogging, but she marched on the rest of the way even as she panted heavily. He past her by, admiring her perseverance from a distance, but the moment he saved her from that bastard who attacked her, he knew he wanted her but he didn’t act upon it right away. His desperate need to protect a woman he didn’t know—a woman he shouldn’t care about—terrified him.

“It was pure greed. My father wanted a beautiful brunette as a bedwarmer and my mother happily obliged for the sake of money. Their relationship evolved into something abusive and explosive. They both played a hand in the abuse they aimed at each other. The slapping, punching, choking, and biting were acts of normalcy in their fucked-up arrangement, but they couldn’t walk away from each other,” he said.

Just like the two of them couldn’t walk away from this.

Willow was nothing like his mother, but there was this agonizing feeling that he was turning into his father. Sebastian would never raise his hand to his wife, but his presence in her life was poison. Just like his father poisoning any chances of his mother becoming a decent person—living a decent life.

“My mother got the bright idea of poking holes in condoms to get pregnant, so she could trap my father. But Phillip did the opposite and left when she got pregnant with me. She couldn’t work at the gentlemen’s club anymore because patrons weren’t too keen on tossing bills at a woman with a growing belly. With no financial security, she ended up in a homeless shelter with social workers shoving pamphlets in her hand about adoption, but she decided to keep me for some reason,” he said with a cold smirk, “which I always thought was strange because she always told me that she wished she had an abortion.”

Willow winced at his unveiling of his past—the pieces he kept to himself when she demanded to know the truth as she aimed a gun to his head.

“It wasn’t until she had me did Dear Old Dad pay us a visit. Reconciliation wasn’t on his agenda. He wanted to a good look at his legacy. A legacy he didn’t ask for. My father didn’t want no part in being a father, but I guess he didn’t want my mother taking his newborn son back to a homeless shelter, so he bought a piece of land and a trailer for us. My mother made it her mission to make my life a living hell. In between guzzling down booze and cum from men she met at dingy bars, she loved tormenting me. Her little way of retribution, I guess. I was proof of the best of their worst sides. A constant reminder of my father, so she abused me for it. For something I couldn’t control. She loved to kick me when I was down. Make me bleed for a reason to smile. Bruise me to look at them like trophies,” Sebastian continued, his words streamed out of his mouth with such ease.

The pain of taking a trip down memory lane was therapeutic.  

Willow closed her eyes, shaking her head. His wife looked physically ill as he told her all the sharp edges that made him him.

“You don’t have to say any more, Sebastian.”

Sebastian placed a finger under his wife’s chin to tilt her head up. “I need to do this, Willow. Do you understand?”

She squeezed her eyes tighter and nodded her head slowly.

“My father slipped in and out of my life until I was about nine then he disappeared for good. I was short fat kid, but I wasn’t much of an eater. My mother taunted and ridiculed me for my weight, always trying to get a violent reaction out of me so she could justify why she hated me. So, when I lashed out, she could toss the fact that I was every bit of my father in my face like a fucking curse,” he continued on. “When I got to middle school, I met my future wife—”

“Giselle,” Willow said.

He nodded. “Giselle and I had an odd friendship. People could understand why a beautiful girl like her hung around a kid like me. Over time I realized that she liked fixing broken things and she fixed me. She made me laugh and smile. She made me happy. A feeling I had little experience with and I wanted more of it. The older we got, I wanted more. I wanted her. The older we got, I wasn’t some short fat kid. The fat melted off and I was a tall beast. I wasn’t a boy anymore. I was a man and I let her know that when I couldn’t wait anymore for her to be mine. She took me without a single hesitation and my eagerness got her pregnant during our senior year of highschool.”

“Her father, Harry, was a cop and thought of me as a son over the years. He wasn’t exactly pleased at first about the pregnancy, but he eventually accepted it once he realized that she and I were both eighteen. I made an honest woman out of his daughter before Valerie was born. By then, I had cut all ties with my mother. After we had Valerie, Harry convinced me to go into the police academy. I graduated with high honors and went into the force, eager as hell to become a good husband and a provider for my family. Eager to prove to my mother that I was nothing like my father,” Sebastian paused for a moment. “Then…”

Willow urged softly, “Then?”

Sebastian closed his eyes and took a deep exhale. “I was a damn good cop. I loved my job and I was eager as hell. My partner Mike was a seasoned cop always telling me to slow down, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. In my head, I always had to prove myself to my mother and father even though they weren’t watching. Even though they didn’t give a flying fuck if I was alive or dead. My partner and I had been investigating a drug operation for months. Four dead bodies were linked to the drug operation and the body count went to five—my one of trusted informants. Mike told me to wait for back-up but we heard gunshots in the traphouse and I was tired of waiting. We busted the operation. They gunned Mike down like a dog and I emptied a round in the operation’s tog dog’s chest…”

“But the others got away,” Willow finished.

He nodded. “Mike was bleeding out fast and I didn’t want to leave him behind. I thought watching him die was punishment enough, but those punks decided to avenge their gang leader by shooting…my daughter in the stomach while she slept and emptying a clip into Giselle’s chest.”

Willow buried her face into his neck, her hot tears wetting his skin. “I’m so sorry, Sebastian.”

He got revenge, but she didn’t need to know that.

At least, not yet.

That was how his father coaxed into to a Faustian contract.

“Everything’s fine now,” he lied as he brushed away her tears.

They both knew it, but she let him get away with it.

A promise of protection burning in her eyes.

The waitress appeared at their table with two alcoholic beverages, apologizing profusely for the long wait. Brandy on the rocks for him and a Caipirinha for his wife. Willow practically gulped down her drink as if to wash down the stark bitterness of his past. When she was finished, he kissed her hard. The restaurant faded to black and they were the only two in the world mending something that was broken and making it three times as strong. They tasted each other with hungry swirls and flicks of their dancing tongues, but their public display of want was interrupted when the waitress arrived with their dinner of panquecas and torta de frango.

They shared forkfuls with each other. During that time, Sebastian ordered his second glass of brandy and Willow ordered two more Caipirinha’s. When the waitress took away their plates, Willow stood up and tugged on Sebastian’s hand. She was a little wobbly from the liquor and there was a carefree smile on her lips.

“Let’s dance,” she said eagerly, nodding her head towards the crowd of dancing bodies.

“I don’t dance,” Sebastian stated.

“Fine,” she huffed dramatically. “I’ll dance by myself.”

She swirled on her heels and moved to the dancefloor barely three feet away. With a front row seat, he watched his wife become consumed by the music. She cocked her head back, her kinky curls cascading and swaying down her back. She raised her arms in the air, slowly twirling her wrists as she gyrated to the beat. The long skirt of her dress moved with her hips so fluidly, the dress felt like an extension of her.

He had never seen her dance like this.

Then again, he had never seen her dance at all.

This was a rare side of her that he had never seen in the flesh until now and it enthralled him. Beckoned him. Kindled him. He tasted his brandy and observed his wife, greedily taking in the sight of her sensual dance. The dance was so inviting, he ached to join her, but kept his distance.

He thought his restraint was well-measured until his body had a mind of its own and coaxed him onto the dancefloor, situating himself behind Willow. He placed his hands on her hips, anchoring her ass to him. At first, she was startled and jerked her head to look at him from behind due to the fact that she had been dancing with her eyes closed.

They moved against each other like a well-oiled machine.

She grinned at him excitedly over her shoulder. “I thought you couldn’t dance.”

“I said I don’t dance. I didn’t say I couldn’t,” he corrected her with a slight grin.

“Then why are you dancing with me,” she asked curiously.

He whispered in her ear, “Because I couldn’t wait any longer to touch you again.”

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Willow stumbled onto the sidewalk from the restaurant, giggling madly. She was wobbly on her tall wedged scandals from the drinking and Sebastian contemplated on whether to carry her back to the speedboat himself. However, she was so bubbly and happy that he didn’t want to end the fun just yet. She swirled on her heels and fell into him, instinctively he held her up by the waist to keep her from falling. She crooked a finger at him to move his face closer. He obliged, but not quick enough as she wrapped her fingers around his tie and tugged at it roughly, bringing his bearded face dangerously close to hers.

“I want you so badly right now,” she said in a raspy voice with slight slur.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink.”

Willow pouted in an adorable way. “You don’t want me, hubby?”

“Quite the opposite, wife,” he assured.

“Then let’s do something about it.”

“First, we need to go back to the island. I believe public copulation is illegal here,” he replied, an amused grin stretching across his lips at his wife’s eagerness.

Willow vigorously shook her head, gripping his tie tighter. “I can’t wait that long, Sebastian. I need you now,” she said before she kissed him roughly. He growled in her mouth and she drunk in the vibrations.

The need to claim his wife had simmered within him for the duration of the night, but that kiss was the perfect motivation he needed to throw caution out the window. He knew the town quite well and there was an inn not too far from where they stood outside the restaurant. To make the journey quicker, he hauled her over his shoulder like a stack of potatoes and stalked in the direction of the inn, occasionally giving his wife a sound smack on the ass to keep her from waving at gawking strangers and trying to talk to them.

A short petite older woman stood behind the front desk, watching a soap opera on a small television with fuzzy reception. Her eyes cut away from the screen as he marched into the tiny lobby and her face scrunched in confusion. A stairwell was directly to the left of them.

With one arm secured around Willow to keep her balance on his shoulder, he used his spare hand to retrieve his wallet.

“Take as much as you want. Just give us a key,” he said impatiently as he tossed his wallet onto the front desk. The older woman hesitantly opened his wallet and took out the required price that was posted behind her on the wall. Nothing more, nothing less.

She asked him if his wife was alright and he informed her that all she needed was a bed to lay down in. The older woman handed him back his wallet, which he quickly shoved into his pocket and then she handed him a key.

After thanking the old woman, he marched upstairs and down the hallway until he found the door with the room number that matched the keychain number written on the oval white piece of plastic. He jabbed the key into the hole and twisted it roughly before he stormed into the room. He kicked the door shut with his foot and moved to the middle of the room, taking his wife off his shoulder.

Almost immediately, he impatiently shrugged off his jacket while Willow’s fingers unbuckled his belt and unclasped his slacks. Together, they unbuttoned his shirt and when his bare chest was revealed, she kissed, licked and scraped her teeth across his scars. He cocked his head back and groaned, his flesh searing from her exploring mouth. Then he grabbed the back of her head and brought his lips upon hers, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, kissing her ravenously. She pressed her palms against his chest and dragged her fingernails down his torso, scraping over the hardened features of his muscular body.

Somehow, someway in between the fondling hands and hot kisses, they managed to free him of his suit until he was down to nothing but his underwear.

Now it was her turn.

Sebastian swirled her around to face away from him and pulled down her zipper with a rough yank that was followed by the sound of clothing ripping. Willow gasped aloud in surprise before bursting into laughter. He helped her out of her dress and allowed it to pool to her feet, sucking in a breath as he unearthed what she was wearing underneath.

A strapless black bra and cheeky panties with so little fabric it could be constituted as a thong.

Willow bent forward as she crawled onto the bed on all fours, wagging her plump perfect ass at him like a challenge. He didn’t hesitate to tug her panties from over her ass, leaving them halfway down her thighs as he pushed her down onto the bed and rained kisses over her ass.

Sebastian loved her ass.

It was so soft, plump, and round.

So fucking perfect.

He had accepted the fact that he had become obsessed with it.

He loved touching and squeezing it when it was bare like this before him like a gift from the heavens, feeling the smooth warmth seep into his calloused palms.

He loved kissing, licking, and biting it and he knew she loved it too from the beautiful sounds that came from her as he did it.

His lips journeyed upward from her tailbone and up the curve of her spine. He knew she loved the attention because she groaned and shivered from it. When he bit the nape of her neck, she gasped and arched herself against him. He moved his head to nuzzle it against the side of her face from behind.

“Do you trust me, baby girl?” His voice was dark and husky in her ear.

 “Yes,” she breathed out.

“Good because I want to treat you to something different,” he answered.

“Different like what?”

 

“I’m going to eat your ass.” 

End Notes:

What can I say, Sebastian's a freak. *shrugs*

 

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