Clear and Bright: Chapter Sixteen: Broken Wing

                                             
                                             
I have been imprisoned. I sit in my posh cell--Jaimin's office at Jouissance--and doodle purposefully into my sketchbook. Poor Michel has been mercilessly attacked by a terrible case of the flu, and Jaimin was no longer confident that things were under control here without him. It makes me smile to know how valuable Michel really is to him. I wonder if he knows...


I'm not happy about being locked up, but his eyes lit up the second we walked through the doors, and that was worth my confinement. He loves this, and he's been away far too long because of me. I hung out in the kitchen with him for a while, but as much as he seemed to like it, his staff did not appear as pleased. I told him I felt in the way and I saw the hopeful expressions on their faces that he might let me leave. He saw them too. They may have resented that I was keeping their boss away--maybe--but having him back and pissed...

I tried to play hostess for a while, which he thought was adorable, and made him smile like a child on Christmas morning... until a group of gentlemen patrons were trying to share in his joy, which he saw, of course, because once I was out of his sight, he came to check on me every five minutes. Needless to say, my career as a hostess ended abruptly. And people think Hell's Kitchen  is entertaining...

So here I am, imprisoned in my impossibly overprotective, overbearing, arrogant bastard's lair. Of course he wouldn't let me leave, even though I promised to go straight home and stay there until he called me to pick him up. The answer was no. I batted my eyelashes at him and tried another approach to gaining freedom and said I wanted to go shopping, thinking he might not deny me wanting to be spoiled...  he said I could have anything I wanted and turned on his computer, dropping his credit card on the desk. So not what I meant! I did order something, though... I found a fun little online shop and ordered a pair of handcuffs covered in faux chocolate-brown fur and had them sent to him.

And being the smart ass that I am, I then called a designer friend of mine and asked her to make me a sexy little prisoner outfit, with very little shorts, in chocolate and cream pinstripes in some sinfully soft material. She was only too happy to do it, thrilled that 'sweet little Claire' had apparently discovered her inner naughty. I trusted her to make something fabulous, and she knows my measurements like the back of her hand, so I told her to just send it to him when it was finished. Of course she nearly had a stroke when I told her who he was, which nearly gave me one, but she assured me she'd never had the pleasure. I told her I hadn't yet either... near-stroke number two at his restraint, but once she recovered she promised to do her best to help me out with that. Then she said she'd pray for me, but if her prayers failed and her design didn't, that she promised I'd be laid to rest in something magnificent when he could no longer resist and it killed me. The man certainly has a reputation.

I'm wondering if I should actually be afraid, and laughing because even if I should, I'm not, when my phone alerts me to a text. The fact that I am even in possession of my phone is in itself a huge battle won for me. He never did let me see the messages I had received, or the ones since, but I didn't push. I check it now and breathe a huge sigh of relief when I see that it's from Jaimin.

J : What are you doing, beautiful?

Since ten minutes ago when you last checked on me?
C : Digging an escape tunnel.

J : NOT funny.

C : That's up to interpretation. I have to do something, I maxed out your credit card an hour ago, and I was bored. For someone with very deep pockets, your limit was no match for me. I'm rather disappointed.

J : If that were true, I have other cards which I would be more than happy to let you indulge yourself with, but since I know it's not, unfortunately for your MY pretty little ass, you have just lied to me. Twice, in fact, as I also know there is no tunnel. This is unfortunate for you, because your implication of digging said escape tunnel means you intended to run away from me. You're in deep shit, sweetheart. You're going to wish you were in prison by the time I get through with you.

Crap. Really didn't think any of that through...
C : I'm going to tell your mommy you're being mean to me.

J : Okay, my sweet *cough* , scared little girl... then I won't EVER lay a hand on you. Or anything else. Don't say I never give you your way.

Craaaaaaap! How did this go so wrong?
C : I was kidding. *crying* I didn't mean it. I'm not going to tell her anything but how sweet and wonderful and kind and forgiving you are.

J : More lies. You are determined to test my stamina... my poor, pretty little ass. I think I may cry now, too.

C : I love you.

J : Thank you, but sucking up won't help you now.

C : Okay, you don't like up. How do you feel about down?

That's probably going to get me in even more trouble, but how much worse can it get than deep shit? Why is it taking him so long to respond?

I wait a few more minutes, but still nothing. Maybe he just got busy. Back to my drawing it is... It's me, behind bars, gripping them helplessly, big sad eyes and pout in place. I even did some mirror research, ensuring I got the pout just right, since he sees it so often. Not bad, if I do say so myself. It should get me a little leniency, even I think it's kind of adorable.

I'm pulled from my self-inspired awww moment by my phone. Let's see how much trouble I'm in now...

It's incredibly rude of you to continue to ignore me. I know you can be self-centered, but you used to at least have manners. You also used to sleep in your own bed. Alone. I was patient. A year, and still all I got were sweet good night kisses before you pushed me out the door at a respectable hour. I didn't complain, though, did I? No. Well, you know what, baby? I don't think there's much sweet about you anymore, and I don't like it. I don't like it one bit. To be completely honest, it pisses me the fuck off! You've seen me mad, Claire. I never would have thought it possible to be angry with you, but as you've proven, THINGS CHANGE.

I was so sure it was Jaimin, I didn't even consider it might not be. Just at that moment, his office door flies open and scares the hell out of me. He sees that he startled me and sees my open phone and I know he knows. The cocky smirk he was wearing instantly disappears as he comes to me and takes it from my trembling hand. He doesn't look at it yet, placing it face down on the desk, his worried eyes focused on me.

"I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm sorry," I say softly, looking up at him and reaching for his hand. "You tried to tell me... I should have listened to you... "

"You don't have to be sorry, sweetheart, you didn't do anything." He squeezes my hand and lets it go to lift me from the chair and sit, pulling me into his lap and wrapping his arms around me.

"I thought it was you."

"What?" he asks, stroking his hand up and down my back.

"The message... I thought it was you."

"I know, I'm sorry. I wanted to answer that last one in person... I'm sorry it took me so long."

"He's different... angry... is that why you haven't been letting me see?"

His jaw tenses and he reaches for the phone, no longer able to ignore it. I watch him and his eyes blaze with fury as he reads it, then he pushes a few buttons and I know it's gone.

"Jaimin, I'm not trying to upset you, but I wanted to forward that to Loring... "

"I won't let anything happen to you, Claire."

"I know that, I do, but I just think he should know that Leal is getting... "

"I agree with you, sweetheart. Let me take care of it, okay?"

"Okay."

"And I'm getting you a new phone. New number. This one stays in my possession from now. I'm not asking you."

I'm not going to fight with him now, it would do me no good. "Okay."

"I don't want you to worry about it. I don't want you to be afraid. I'd never let him hurt you. Try not to think about it. Can you do that? Try to put it out of your head? Please, for me?"

I nod my head, and look at my drawing on the desk. "I know you need to be here, and I know you need to know where I am at all times... I understand that, but please don't lock me up in here. I'll go crazy... please."

He follows my eyes and picks up the sketchbook, a smile forming on his lips. "I'm sorry you feel like a prisoner, but you are positively the most adorable thing I have ever seen."

"Adorable needs to breathe. There's no air in here. I'll suffocate."

He knows I don't mean it literally. I know he understands, but I know just as surely that I have no chance of freedom. His eyes give me my answer without him saying a word.

"I need you safe, Claire. The only way I can be sure that you are is if you're with me."

"I understand."

"Please don't sound so sad, it's breaking my heart."

"At least this time I know my jailer isn't trying to forget I exist."

The pain in his eyes is unmistakable. My little pity party is hurting him, and he only wants to protect me. I feel like a complete jerk. It doesn't escape me that I'm starting to be aware of my own self-centered behavior, aware because of him. He thinks I make him a better person, but I think he may have that backwards.

I see him struggling through his pain for me for the right words. I don't want him to struggle with anything, he has more than enough. I take the sketchbook from his hand and lay it on the desk, and reposition myself to straddle his lap, rolling my eyes as his hands move instantly to my hips.

I put my hands around the back of his neck and smile. "And I'm pretty sure he'll never forget to feed me."

"Never. To either."

"I do love you, I wasn't just trying to suck up."

"I know."

"I'm glad you know."

"Me too."

"So.... since I'm positively the most adorable thing you've ever seen, does that mean I'm not in trouble anymore?"

"One has nothing to do with the other."

I frown and he smirks at me. I look up at him as sweetly as I can, "Don't you feel sorry for me? Even a little?"

"I feel sorry for my pretty little ass. Really sorry."

"You know... you're so very busy already...  brilliant chef, restaurateur, and vintner... adoring, perfect boyfriend... marshmallow architect... master and commander of all things Claire and Jouissance - together and separately... " I pause and give an appreciative sigh for effect. "You deserve a break. Surely you shouldn't have the tedious responsibilities of judge, jury, and executioner added to your already full plate. You'll be positively exhausted. It will worry me so... my poor, sweet, tired baby... " I stroke his face, drowning my own with exaggerated worry and concern.

"Master and commander? God, I love you... "

"Is that the only thing you heard?"

"It's definitely my favorite part, but I believe I also heard brilliant and perfect."

"Which you are."

"Sucking up still won't help you."

"Didn't you say you came here to talk to me about that?"

"I did."

"I'm all ears. And mouth."

"You're a brave little thing."

"I am," I say with a suggestive raise of my brows.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and replies in a pleading voice, "You have got to stop teasing me."

"I'm not teasing."

"I know. That's why you need to stop."

"Are you weakening, Mr. Guillory? Is there a chink in your armor?"

"Your master and commander admits no weakness."

"I really need to learn when to shut up... "

"Oh, I disagree."

"I'm not calling you that."

"We'll see."

"You wish."

We're both laughing when the phone on his desk rings. I reach behind me and pick it up and put it to his ear.

He nods at me to put it back. "Your dinner companions have arrived, beautiful."

"My dinner companions?"

"Yes. I should be able to join you to eat, but my parents will keep you company while I prepare heaven. Is that okay?"

"Of course. I look forward to talking about you behind your back."

"Maybe I didn't think this through... "

"Welcome to my world."


                                                     ~



Dinner with his parents went off without a hitch. The rough start with Caressa is long forgotten, and I adore them both. The most shocking part of this is that that adoration seems to be returned, even by her. He was right, but I think I'll keep that little acknowledgement to myself.

"What are you snickering at?" He leans his head back to gaze up at me with narrowed eyes.

We're both showered and ready for bed, I'm sitting on the couch and he's sitting on the floor between my legs while I massage his neck and shoulders. Another battle won for me, considering he hardly ever lets me touch him in any way.

"Nothing," I smile at him.

He quickly pulls my legs over his shoulders and locks my ankles in one of his hands and tortuously tickles my feet with the other. "Another lie... don't think I've forgotten about your impending punishment for your earlier offenses. You're only adding to it, and there are many ways I can punish you."

I squirm and squeal but he doesn't let up. "Please!" I beg, but it only makes him laugh.

"You're keeping secrets from me. I don't like that, so I will torture you until you tell me."

I have no doubts that he means it, and I really can't take any more. "Okay! Please stop! I was just thinking that your mom kind of might maybe adore me and that you were right, which I didn't want to acknowledge to you, because your head is already big enough. Now please stop."

"See, that wasn't so hard. And of course I was right, I told you I didn't have any doubts about that. What happened that night at dinner was about me, not you. I knew they would both love you, and they do."

"Well, I am adorable."

"Yes you are."

I pull his head back and give him a sweet kiss. He winks at me, and upside down or not, it melts me just the same.

"So, do you think you can handle another day of confinement tomorrow? I don't want you to feel like you can't breathe, sweetheart, but I just can't leave you alone."

He's got my legs pinned securely against his chest, trailing his fingers lightly up and down my skin under my pajama bottoms, all my hands can do at the moment is play with his silky dark hair. "I'll manage, I promise to try not to complain too much. You know, you're supposed to be getting a massage here... "

"I did, and it was wonderful, thank you, but I'm rather comfortable if you are."

"Do you think you could be comfortable up here with me? I've been thinking about something and I'd like to discuss it with you, and I'd prefer to see your face if that's okay? Unless you're too tired?"

"Of course." He slips himself out from under my legs and sits down next to me. "What's been going on in that beautiful head of yours?"

"Well... I know things are a little complicated at the moment, but I can't just sit around forever and do nothing. I do love what I do, and I want to work. I need to be around it. I miss it."

He frowns and I know why, but I don't want him to think that way. "Don't do that... I have loved every second of the time I've been getting to spend with you, please know that, but it's not all we are. I know you haven't complained once, but your face lit up today when we walked into Jouissance... I saw it. It was beautiful. You've missed it. I'm not hurt by that, only that I've kept you from it."

"I was where I wanted to be. I was taking care of the most important thing in my life. I mean that, Claire."

"I know you do, and that means the world to me, but I don't want you to give something else you love up for me, not for any amount of time. You know how much my painting means to me, that's why you gave me a place to do that here. It's a part of me. You understand that, and you're one of the few people in my life that has. You haven't tried to take it away from me, or me from it. You support me, and my love for it. That means more to me than you could understand, and I think one of the reasons you can is because you feel true passion for what you do. I think we're very much the same that way. Your passion is one of the things I love most about you."

"Your understanding of me confounds me, along with every other thing about you."

I smile at him and he gently strokes my hair away from my face as he looks at me, his eyes wary. "Are you reconsidering an offer? I thought we'd already decided nothing was right for you."

"We have. I'm not reconsidering any of them, but I think I understand why none of them are right for me. The Bouchards gave me free reign... as far as my position, which changed over the years, they always had complete trust in me...

When they wanted to retire, they asked me to run things, not Nadine, even though she was already deeply involved in the business. I wasn't interested. It was more responsibility than I wanted. I worked my own schedule... they'd never had a problem with it, but if I had taken them up on their offer that would have changed. I wouldn't have been able to spend as much time away from the gallery. I wasn't willing to make that sacrifice. I wasn't willing to give up that much of myself.

The artist side of me is very particular. I need things a certain way. I need control. They gave me that. The art world knows me, and knows my work, but that happened slowly - the connection between the two. I prefer a certain level of anonymity. I don't have to tell you that I don't put my name on my paintings... "

"No, you don't. It certainly would have made things easier for me." He scowls at me and a part of me wishes I had, so he could have found me a long time ago.

"I know," I sigh, "But, lucky for me, you never gave up."

"As if that were even possible once I saw your beautiful face?"

"But, Jaimin, that's why. I paint for me, I always have, but when I decided to share that, I wanted my art to be appreciated for what it was. I don't mean this to sound arrogant or cocky, but I know what I look like. I know how awed people sometimes are by it. I saw very early on how my face could affect things... I didn't want anyone to want my paintings because they wanted a piece of me. I wanted them to want my art because it spoke to them, or they though it was beautiful, not the face of the person who held the brush that created it. You wanted me because you saw my face on a canvas, but you wanted my paintings for something you saw in them. That's what I want. That is everything to me as an artist.

It's not about money. It's not about fame or greed. I don't care if no one knows my name, and I prefer they don't know my face. My work stands on it's own. It's enough for me."

"You amaze me."

"You should understand it. I hated you, but I would have walked through hell every Monday morning for that plate. Oh wait... I did."

He gives me a guilty, apologetic smile. "Would you do it now that you know?"

"Now that I know, I'd crawl through hell if I had to... but to get to the arrogant bastard who creates it, not for the plate itself. Not that it isn't worth it."

"Well, I promise you, you'll never have to crawl to get to me. Not that I wouldn't perhaps be intrigued to stand behind you while you crawled... "

"But if you were standing behind me, I would be crawling away from you, and I would never do that. Your little fantasy is flawed, but I'd be more than happy to help you come up with a new one, and fulfill it to the best of my ability."

"Why, Miss Beaulieu... your devotion and dedication to your arrogant bastard is commendable. I think it should be rewarded. I do believe you have just been granted a pardon."

"A pardon?"

"My pretty little ass is safe."

"I'd be willing to sacrifice it for a different reward."

"I'm sure you would, but it's mine, and therefore not yours to offer as such sacrifice."

"Did I mention that my arrogant bastard is cruel?"

"You may have once or twice, but consider this... what you view as cruel may, indeed, be intended as kindness."

"I'm not afraid, you know. I'm brave, remember?"

"Patience, sweetheart. Now, I believe we were having a discussion?"

I stick my tongue out at him and he chuckles wickedly. "I assure you, I will let you use that one of these days. I may even be bold enough to issue it as an order. We'll see how brave you are then. And if it helps you to know... I'm quite looking forward to it."

An order? I shouldn't like that, should I?

You shouldn't.


Yet, there's something...

You're on your own. I already know about your other decision, and you have my full support on THAT. Good night, freak.


I look at him and he's staring at me with an amused expression. "I'd give anything to be inside your head."

Traitor face! "Just there?"

"But then again, I think you let most of what's in there fly out of your smart mouth, so... and NO, not just there. Now, can we please get back to what else is in there?"

"Okay, since you asked nicely. I... "

"Hold on... that's all I have to do to get you to behave? Ask nicely?"

I laugh at his ridiculous, in-his-dreams question. "Have we met?"

"Point made, you adorable brat. How foolish of me. You were saying?"

"What I was saying is that I don't think anything is going to be right for me. I don't think anyone will give me everything I want. I had a unique situation with the Bouchards, I don't believe I will find that again. I might get close, if someone wanted me bad enough, but I'd probably have to budge on something. Well, I don't want to budge. I want my way. I want everything that I want. The only person who will give me that is me. I don't want to work for anyone. I want my own place.

So, there it is. That's what I've been thinking about. I'd like to know what you think. Your opinion is important to me. So is your support, but I know you'll be honest with me, even if you think I can't do it."

"You want to know what I think? Really think?"

"I do."

"I'd like to hear those two little words come out of your beautiful mouth again someday... " His voice trails off and his innocent smile returns to melt me. He's instantly vulnerable, and I'm mush.

"You will," I whisper, "if that's what you want."

"I want it to be what you want."

"I think you should refer to your notes."

"I think you should come here so I can answer your question."

I sit up on my knees and scoot closer to him and he laughs. "Since when do you wait for my permission?"

I shrug innocently and give him a shy smile. His arms move quickly, pulling me to straddle his lap in an anything-but-careful manner, as his lips find mine. I feel vulnerability in his mouth, but his hands are desperate, one cupped around the back of my head, one around his pardoned prize, both holding me securely against him. I thread my fingers into his hair gently, knowing that any frenzied movement will probably make him stop. His answer can wait, this is what I want now.

I feel his fingers tangle into my hair and pull, my head falling backwards as his lips leave mine to feast on my neck. He begins to speak and his voice keeps me from falling over the edge of dizzied bliss. "I like that you don't want to work for anyone," he murmurs against my neck. He resumes his heavenly torture before he speaks again, "I don't want anyone telling you what to do."

"No one?" I ask breathlessly.

"No one but me."

"Of course."

He chuckles against me and then his mouth leaves me, his eyes suddenly serious as he looks at me. "What I think, Claire, is that you can do anything. You don't have to want my support, you don't have to ask for it, you have it. Don't ever question or doubt that. I want you to have everything you want, but I also want you to know that you're not the only person who can give it to you. You're strong enough, I know that absolutely, but I believe I can give you everything you want... "

"Oh, I know... but there's a difference... one detail that I can't ignore... You said can. I said will."

He smirks arrogantly at me, and the next thing I know, we're up and moving. "We'll have to come back to that, because right now I want something."

"What do you want?"

"I'm hungry."

Then why are we headed... ? "Jaimin... the kitchen is that way." I point in the opposite direction just as he crosses the threshold to his bedroom.

He throws me down on the bed and grins at me, and licks his lips. "You told me to refer to my notes... I'm giving you what you want."

"But I... oh... "

He climbs onto the bed and hovers over me, his brows raised in question, "Unless you don't want that. You can always say no."

Well, he does have a way with words... "I can't. The thought of you hungry hurts me."

He pulls my top over my head and throws it to the side, smiling at me. "You don't know how much it pleases me that you listen to the things I say to you, and that you're so sweet."

"Of course I do. I'm devoted and dedicated... and if you want sweet, there's lots more where that came from, all for you."

He yanks my pajama bottoms off of me a little less than gently and my breath catches in anticipation. I watch his eyes trail over me and I know he won't stop, he'll take what he wants, but just maybe I can get him to be fair...

I'm immediately distracted from my intended request by his mouth on mine, no longer vulnerable, his hunger unmistakable. He doesn't linger, the frenzy is building quickly, pulling him down my body... my neck, my shoulders, my breasts... his hands and mouth staking their claim. His hurried pace leaves no question, he wants it, he wants to taste me, and I will gladly give it to him, but I want something too. His mouth reaches my stomach, his fingers nearing the one piece of fabric that stands between his tongue and what it craves, and I know I have to find my voice or it will be too late.

I reach for his face, trying to tilt it up to me, hoping he won't be able to deny me when he sees the want in my eyes. "Jaimin... "

His eyes flit to mine, but his mouth doesn't leave me, continuing it's course as I feel his fingers reach the inside of my panties.

It's now or never. "I'm hungry too," I murmur silkily, as his face slips from my grasp.

I see the temptation for one brief second and then it's gone, his smirk back in place. "Sorry, you beautiful, spoiled little brat, my kitchen is closed."

A pout forms on my face, but quickly disappears as I watch him shred the delicate fabric of my panties as he rips them from me.

He pushes my legs open roughly and moans, his eyes now focused on what's before him. "Yours is open, and you're going to feed me."

The shyness I sometimes feel threatens to overtake me, but I fight it. I don't want it here, not now. I focus on his want and push it away. It's not hard... His desire for me fascinates me. It's pure and raw and so intense it makes my head spin. The anticipation of what I know his mouth will do to me makes me tremble with need and his playful words give me courage. I trail my fingers down my body slowly and the movement distracts him. I consider that it might make him angry, but he said yours and so I'm taking a chance. I watch his eyes closely as they follow my trail, looking for any signs that my actions will make him jealous, but I don't see any, not yet. My right hand reaches my anxiously waiting flesh and I see his eyes narrow. He just can't help himself. I know I'm pushing it, but I don't stop, my only intention to give him what he wants. I let my left hand graze over me and up the inside of my thigh just to where I can reach his face and cup it in my hand as my right finds it's prize. My fingers move through my soft folds and I'm careful not to writhe my body against my own delicate touch, but his possessiveness has already taken over. His eyes fly to mine and the angry set to his mouth tells me he misreads my intentions.

"No, baby," I shake my head and smile at him. "Only for you. I just want to feed you."

His eyes flicker and I bring my glistening fingers from my wetness to his mouth. He opens for me before I can ask him to, anxious for what I offer. He licks each one slowly before pulling them seductively into his mouth, looking at me as he sucks appreciatively.

"More," he says in a low, sexy voice.

I smile sweetly at him and return my fingers to my pooling juices. I'm dripping wet from the knowledge of how much he craves me and the pleasure that I know awaits me. He doesn't follow my hand, his eyes stay on my face. He needs to see that it's only for him, that my pleasure will come from him and him alone. My need to give him what he wants is stronger than any physical sensation I feel as I gather my sweet gift to him on my fingers. I gently stroke his cheek with my thumb, and something about the way he lets me hold his face in my hand as I bring my soaked fingers back to his waiting mouth swells my heart so much I fear it will burst. I know he sees the love in my eyes, I see what it does to him as he graciously accepts my gifts. I watch with pure awe as he licks and sucks every drop from my fingers and his tongue searches for more, his eyes pleading with me.

I move my hand to thread through his hair before gently gripping the back of his head and pulling it towards me as I lift myself to him, my voice soft and sweet, "Here, my love. It's right here."

He smiles at me with such joyful desire that I crumble before his mouth even touches me, but touch me it does... His soft lips move lovingly over me, slow gentle kisses, his frenzied pace now calmed. His fingers trail lightly up and down my thighs as his tongue mimics his movements, featherlight over my sensitive flesh. My own fingers are gently tugging at his hair, pulling him to me as I move against his sweet, selfless mouth. Our eyes are locked on each other and I smile as I realize how wrong I am about the selfless part. He wants to make me feel good, wants to leave no doubts that he can, but this is for him. My arrogant bastard is enthralled.

Did I mention arrogant?

"Stop moving."

I pout and he bites down on me, narrowing his eyes. "Master and commander... your words, sweetheart."

Well, two can play at this game... "My kitchen... your words. Maybe I should close it."

Perhaps I shouldn't have said that. In one swift move he flips me over and pulls me up on my knees, my ass in the air. I know what's coming. I grit my teeth and grip the pillow, waiting for what I expect may hurt like hell. I won't complain, I deserve this one for what I just robbed myself of. Me and my stupid, smart mouth...

Why don't I feel pain? Oh... of course. He has his precious ass up in the air before him, and it's bare. It's the first time he's seen it in all it's natural glory. I hear him mumble something, but I can't make out the words. Like I would miss this? I raise myself up on my elbows and turn to look. He looks like he's just found the Holy Grail. He wouldn't...

I'm so enraptured by his fascinated gaze that I don't notice when his hand rears back and comes down hard on my right cheek.

"Shit! Damn it!" God, it hurts... tears spring instantly to my eyes.

He repeats his punishment on the other side, just as hard, if not harder, and I clamp my mouth shut. I know what the second one was for, I won't make that mistake again.

I feel him start to kiss tenderly up my back, and the sensation momentarily distracts me from the pain. He moves my hair away from me, and out of the way of his lips, and stops when he reaches my neck, to whisper in my ear.

"Do you know why I did that?"

I nod my head slightly and he expels an irritated breath. I feel the shift as his hand rears back again and I reach back to cover myself, pleading, "Please don't. I'm sorry... yes, I know why."

"Move your hands."

"Please, Jaimin... "

"Now."

I move my hands, not wanting to make him any angrier, and bite my lip as I wait, but instead of his hand exacting more punishment, it strokes gently through my hair. He leans over me, his body pressed against mine, and rests his chin on my shoulder.

"You can always tell me no, Claire, but doing it, or threatening to do it, just to spite me, is not something I will accept from you. I realize you may have just been teasing, but I didn't like it. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"And I've told you before about that pretty mouth of yours and what I don't like to hear come out of it. I've let it slide a few times, but I won't make that mistake again. Do you hear me?"

"Yes."

"You made me break a rule today, that won't happen again. No more pardons. You might want to think about that. Whatever your smart little mouth does to get you into trouble, my pretty little ass will pay for. And now that I've seen how pretty it really is, that makes me unhappy. Very unhappy. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

"Yes."

"I hope you do, sweetheart. And, Claire?"

"Yes?"

"Don't ever cover yourself. Don't ever put something between me and what I want, what's mine. You belong to me, and you will endure for me whatever I choose to do to you. And before you point out the obvious, you're smart enough to know the difference. Now, have I made myself clear?"

"Yes."

"Good." He leans up slightly and kisses my cheek, "Did I really hurt you?"

"Yes. I know you're mad, but please don't do it again, I'm... "

"Shhh... I'm not mad. It's over, I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't realize it was that hard."

I lift my head just enough to see his eyes, and they're not angry. "Can I have a kiss?"

"I'm sure I don't deserve for you to offer me that beautiful mouth, but if that's what you want... "

His voice trails off and he kisses me deeply. I taste myself on his tongue and desire courses through me, desire for what I deprived myself of. I moan into his mouth, begging selfishly for him to want me, to want to give it to me. His hand comes off the bed to wrap around my throat as he pulls my mouth harder to his, his possession taking over. I feel his body as he shifts his weight and lifts his other hand from the bed to my left breast. The mix of sensations I feel is dizzying. His dominant grip on my throat, his controlling kiss, his relentless tease of my nipple between his fingers as his rough hold of my breast pulls my body back against... oh my... his arousal grinding wonderfully against me. His pajama bottoms do nothing to disguise how much he wants me and I can't help myself, I raise myself up on my hands and push against him greedily.

I'm left gasping for air as his mouth leaves mine, and he pulls roughly on my nipple. "As much as you know I want you, I will stop if you don't hold still."

"No... please... "

"All up to you, beautiful."

"I won't move."

"I don't know... it won't be easy... holding completely still, while not holding your breath, and not, under any circumstances, turning yourself off to me... I'm not sure you can do it. And sweetheart... I'll be very disappointed in you if you can't, because I really don't want to stop."

"I promise. I won't disappoint you."

"We'll see."

I'll prove it to him if it kills me. I take a deep breath and let it out, concentrating on my breathing until I find a slow, steady rhythm. I hear him chuckle behind me at my efforts and then feel his hand sweep my hair to the side again as his lips fall to my back. My efforts were for naught... my breaths are instantly ragged and I know he hears it. He chuckles against my skin this time, but continues his trail of kisses downward. It can't be normal how sensitive this part of my body is, I am positively trembling with every soft touch of his lips.

"You're teetering," he warns between kisses. His right hand moves under me to cup my breast as his left continues it's torture on the other. I give a small cry as he takes my nipple between his fingers and I must move without realizing it because he stills all of his movements. Oh no...

"Let me help you." He slides his hands from my breasts, down my stomach and around my hips. They move up my back and gently rub my shoulders, before stroking down my arms and stopping. "Bend, sweetheart, and rest on your arms and lay your beautiful face on the pillow."

"You're not stopping?" I ask, as I position myself the way he told me to.

"No. Are you more comfortable now?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He reaches up and adjusts my face on the pillow, closer to the edge. "Can you breathe?"

It melts my heart that he would think of such a thing now. "Yes," I smile sweetly at him.

He kisses me tenderly, inhaling my hair, and whispers "Now, where was I?" bringing his mouth back to where it left off.

"I think it was higher."

"Here?" he asks, moving up slightly.

"Higher."

"Here?" Another kiss, higher still.

"No, keep going."

"Be careful, Claire, if you want me to start over, just ask me, but don't lie to me."

"Please, will you start over?"

He laughs and trails his tongue up my skin until it reaches my neck, sending shivers convulsing through me. "See? I will give you what you want." His hands begin to move over my back in a gentle massage, his mouth following with open mouthed kisses over every inch.

I can't control the endless whimpers that flow from my lips, but he seems to like that, hearing how good he makes me feel. He backs further away from me with every gift of his mouth and his hands are now grasping my hips. I feel the absence of his lips and he makes a small, strangled sound, leaning over and turning on the lamp. I feel his cool breath flow over my stinging behind and I know... he now knows how hard he smacked me. He must have left some kind of mark. I close my eyes in frustration, sure he will stop now, but then I feel his lips on my tender, stinging skin.

"I'm sorry. It was much too hard... I'm so sorry I hurt you... "

"It only stings a little now... you're making it feel much better," I murmur softly, because it's true, his lips feel heavenly.

He continues his heavenly apology, between whispers of the same, and his adoration of his prized possession is clear. His hands move very lightly over my skin and down between my legs. He trails the backs of his hands along the insides of my thighs, pushing them farther apart, and then his fingers glide through my wet, pulsing heat. My legs tremble violently with my effort not to move against him, I couldn't bear it if he stopped now. My soft moans urge him on and his fingers move more quickly, up over my sweet spot and down again, a game of blissful torment, as his left hand moves to stroke up and down my back. He teases again and again the place where I open for him, but moves away each time, leaving me aching. I twist my neck slightly, so that I can look at him, expecting to find a smirk on his face, but his eyes are on me, and his smile is sweet.

I give him a small pout, and his fingers make their way back down, just where I want him, and he raises his brows in a silent question.

"Please?" I ask, but he only smiles and moves them away. I'm nearing a full-on tantrum when he reaches that little nub of nerves again and my hands grip desperately to the pillow to keep from moving, though it does nothing for the helpless cry that escapes from my mouth.

His voice is low and sinful as he speaks to me, mixing with the subtle sounds of his fingers moving through my dripping flesh. "Do you hear that? How wet you are for me?"

"Yes... please... don't you want me? Don't you want to take what's yours?" I try, shamelessly.

"You mean this?" he asks innocently, as he drags through my folds and slips a finger very slowly inside.

I whimper a pleasure-filled yes, but it's not the only sound, it's met with a low, growling "Fuck" from his now-slack mouth. His eyes nearly close and his hand on my back stills as he agonizingly slowly moves it inside of me. My own eyes close with the sensation and I feel his labored breaths on my skin as he bends to rest his head on my back.

He mutters something unintelligible and suddenly pulls it from me, and my desperate pleading is silenced as his mouth reclaims me in a rapturous assault. It's the last thing I expected from the position he kept me in, but the sensation of his mouth taking me this way is exquisite. I cry out as his tongue works feverishly to fill it's need, his fingers digging into the flesh of my thighs. I can't hold still anymore, and I no longer try to control it, because I know he won't stop now. His mouth is ravenous and it won't be denied. I wriggle and writhe and squirm as he tries to satiate his hunger, but I don't think he will ever be full. My moans turn to cries and cries to screams as he takes and takes and takes, and when I come apart and my legs can no longer hold me up, still he doesn't stop. I'm lifted and held securely in one arm as his other wraps around my hips to pin me to his relentless mouth. I have created a monster. I might jump up and down and do back flips for my good fortune if I weren't hanging upside down, my hands gripping for purchase on the luxurious duvet beneath them.

"Jaimin... " I plead through gasping breaths, "please, baby... all of the blood is rushing to my head... "

His right arm grips tighter over my hips to hold me as his left slides down my back until my head is cupped in his hand. He tucks it under and I let go of the duvet and let him drop me down on the bed. I'm completely unaware of the advantaged position he's placed me in because my head is spinning wildly and through all of this, his mouth has still not left me.

"My God, you're relentless... " I muse breathlessly, completely in awe.

He laughs against his ravished treat and an indescribable jolt surges through me, sending my hands gripping for purchase again. It is now that I realize he is straddled over me and what I long for is within my grasp. My eyes fly open and just as I reach for him, his mouth locks down on me in one final mind-blowing suck, the force of which nearly lifts me from the bed. This distracts me, of course, because I'm pretty sure my mind and body, together or separately I'm not sure of, leaves planet Earth. Holy. Hell.


When I open my eyes again, he's lying beside me, his head propped in his hand, grinning wickedly at me. "Welcome back, sweetheart. How was your trip?"

My voice is weak, even to my own ears, "You... are... shameless."

His cocky laugh leaves no question that he's proud of this. "That's true, but it's your fault. You... are... heaven."

"Thank you. Truly, THANK YOU. And you can feel free to visit heaven any time."

He laughs harder this time and the sound is beautiful. "You're very welcome. And I assure you, I plan to, with or without your invitation, being that said heaven belongs to me."

"As you see fit... Now, speaking of heaven, I'm hungry. Please reopen your kitchen, I need food to regain my strength. Feed me."

"Anything for you, my sweet. What would you like?"

"I think I need protein, and since you won't give me any, I want eggs."

"The things that come out of your smart mouth... Anything else?"

"Yes. I have been dangerously depleted of fluids. I need something to drink."

"On that, you are correct. Very dangerously depleted. And since I am fully and blissfully responsible for that depletion, and deeply concerned about you, allow me to make up for that now."

"I insist on it. Now, give me my pajamas."

"I don't think you need them. Besides, they just stand in the way of my heaven."

"You've had enough for one day. Give."

"What did you just say to me?"

Oh crap. "I'm not responsible for the things I may misspeak of, my starvation and fluid loss, which you choose to ignore, are making me delirious."

"We will come back to this. Now, would you like to stay here and relax and have your demands brought to you or come with me?"

"I want to come."

"Again?" he asks with a smirk. "Okay, beautiful, just let me feed and rehydrate you, and then your wish is my command."

I giggle, not realizing how it sounded until now. He finds my pajama top and pulls it over my head, smiling at me adoringly.

"I didn't mean it that way, I swear," I say, pushing my arms into the sleeves. "But with you, absolutely. If I'm ever granted the privilege. Where are my bottoms?"

"Forever's a long time, sweetheart. There is no if, I promise you." Something flashes in his eyes, but he pushes it away, and adds "I like you without the bottoms."

"Okay, if that's what you want, but we either both wear them or both don't."

"Look at my precious brat trying to make rules... she's a brave little thing."

I smile at him sweetly and then spot my bottoms on the floor. "Could you hand me those, please?" I ask, pointing to the spot where they lay.

"Why don't you lean over and get them?" he replies with a wicked grin.

"Because I'm not that brave. And I really don't like pain. I may be in trouble again, and I don't think I could take any more punishment right now."

"I'm not going to hurt you. Pick up the bottoms, Claire."

I start to protest, but I see the test of trust weaved into his playful order. I won't fail it. I lean off of the bed to pick them up, giving him full view of what he wants to see. I watch his admiring gaze until he sighs and reaches for them. I give them to him and he holds them up, and I stand up on the bed, holding his shoulders as I step into them.

He gives me an appreciative squeeze once he's pulled them over me. "Ready?"

"Almost," I say, and start jumping on the bed.

He shakes his head and laughs as he watches me. "You're adorable."

I giggle and leap from the bed into him, and he catches me perfectly, my arms and legs wrapping around him. "Thank you. I was just testing the bed... and you... you know, for sturdiness. You both passed."

He laughs and kisses my nose, and heads to the kitchen, with me still wrapped around him. "I'm not sure how much of a test you are, sweetheart. The brat in you is mighty, but you're kind of little."

I stick my tongue out at him childishly and he reaches up and tugs on my hair. "You should wear pigtails, little girl."

"Whatever turns you on... "

He winks at me and starts to set me down on the counter, but I climb back onto him and lock my legs tight.

"I thought you were hungry? I have to put you down to feed you, monkey," he laughs.

"I know," I say softly, "I just like having my arms around you." I lay my head on his shoulder and nuzzle his neck with a contented sigh.

He moans softly and holds me tighter, stroking my hair. We stay this way for a few moments, and when he tries to put me down again, I don't fight it. He sets me gently on the counter, and takes my face in his hands, looking into my eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too," I whisper, and kiss him deeply, then narrow my eyes at him. "Are you ever going to wash me off? I miss the taste of you."

His eyes blaze and he shakes his head while licking his lips. I roll my eyes and sigh. "Selfish. FOOD."

He chuckles and walks to the refrigerator. "Are you sure you want eggs? The monkey is on the loose again... we have bananas."

I laugh and shake my head. "Eggs."

"As you wish. And to drink?"

"Orange juice."

He pours my glass of juice and starts to hand it to me, but pulls it back, speaking softly, "I shouldn't have put you there. Why don't you hop down and sit where you're more comfortable?"

"I'm fine. I promise. I like to sit here. It's my spot."

"Why?" he asks, handing me my juice.

"Because I like to watch you spoil me," I say, and take a long drink.

"I think you like to watch a lot of things."

His sexy smile makes my heart pound.

"I'm a visual person. The sense of sight is very important to me. You should show me something."

"Maybe I'm afraid it would make you run away from me," he smirks.

"I promise not to. And like you said... I'm a brave little thing."

"Believe me, I know."

His I know was not playful. "What does that mean?"

"I think we should talk about something else."

"I want to talk about this. No games, no jokes, no smart remarks. Why won't you allow yourself any pleasure?"

"I assure you, I do."

"I know that you take pleasure in visual stimulation and I know that turning me inside out does something for you, and I'm shamelessly grateful for that, but that's not what I meant and you know it."

"Claire."

"No. Not this time. I remember what you said, Jaimin. All of the reasons you gave me...

You said I wasn't ready... a lot has changed since then. Believe me, I am ready.

You said you needed me to trust you... well, I do. I think I prove that to you every day.

You said you wanted me to trust that you were capable of more... I don't know exactly how you treated the women whose beds you crawled into, and I don't care, but I know the tenderness that you're capable of... the tenderness that you show me."

"Claire, if you're going to make a point, and use my words to do it, do it honestly."

"I didn't say you were always tender. I said I know that you're capable of it. Is that what this is really about? Are you actually afraid of hurting me?"

His eyes are sad, but he doesn't answer. He sits the plate down next to me and gathers a bite of eggs on the fork, blows on it and holds it up to my mouth. "Open."

"I'll let you feed me, but we're still talking about this," I say stubbornly, and open, letting him put it in my mouth. "Aren't you hungry?" I ask through my mouthful.

"I had what I wanted," he says with another cocky smirk.

The blush makes it's uninvited appearance on my face and his smirk turns into a sweet smile. "There's my innocent girl."

"Are you afraid she'll go away? Is that it?"

"No, I think that part of you will always be there on some level. It's who you are. But if I'm wrong... and I do something to kill that part of you, I'll never forgive myself." He feeds me another bite and I look at him thoughtfully.

"How can you think making love to me, or letting me give you something will do that? Getting back to your words... you said you want me to understand how you feel about me. You need me to know it would mean something to you... I know that you love me. I knew it before you said it. And if it didn't mean something to you, you would have taken it a long time ago without a second thought. I do believe you're afraid of hurting me somehow, but just maybe you also needed me to feel a certain way about you first. I love you. I love you more than I ever thought I was capable of loving anyone, and I will love you forever. I know that. I'm sorry if I've failed in making you know it."

I open my mouth for more and he hurries to slip a bite in, looking at me tenderly. "You haven't failed anything, Claire. Only I've done that."

I shake my head and he puts down the fork to hold it still. "Yes. And you left something out. I know what I said to you that night. And I know why you didn't repeat it to me now. You don't think... "

"No," I cut him off, "I know what you said, too. I wasn't finished... "

He cuts me off this time, "You already said it... right here in this kitchen the other day. And that wasn't the first time you've said I disrespected you. I do respect you, but you don't believe that. That's the truth, and you will really make me angry if you try to deny it."

He picks up the fork again and tries to feed me another bite and I shake my head stubbornly.

"Open your mouth."

"It's not that black and white with you, Jaimin. It's not at all." I open my mouth and hope he hears me.

He shakes his head with a frustrated sigh. "Are we back to you bending for me?"

"You know, I try my best to understand what you want, but it can be very confusing sometimes. You say you don't want me to bend too much for you, you told me not to sacrifice myself to please you, or to make myself less than whole for you... but you want to control me. And you want me to submit to you. You can't deny that. I want to make you happy, but you don't put me in the fairest position to do that. You don't realize it, but you set me up to fail every day. It's not hard to love you, but pleasing you isn't the easiest thing in the world, my smart mouth aside.

You are not black and white. I know about colors, Jaimin, and trust me, you're everything but." I stop and look at my plate. "Feed me the rest of that, so I can show you something. Please."

I can see that my words have hurt him, and it breaks my heart. He's already punishing himself on the inside, but I'm not done... I will make him see, the only way I know how. He puts the last bite into my mouth, and I quickly pick up the plate and jump down to put it into the sink. I turn on the faucet for a second, just enough to give it a quick rinse, and then shut it off, grabbing his hand. He lets me lead him into our shared space, one of his many gifts of tenderness to me. I watch him closely as I move about, making my preparations, gathering what I need, and a small, innocent smile starts to form on his lips when he realizes I'm going to paint something.

He helps me roll out the heavy canvas to cover the floor, which I am terrified of ruining, and something occurs to me. I look down at myself and sigh, "I hope these pajamas aren't your favorite, because I'm probably about to ruin them."

"I am very fond of them, on and off, but ruin away, sweetheart. They can be replaced. This moment can't."

Tears fill my eyes at his words. For him to understand... for this to mean so much to him touches my soul. No one has ever broken down the wall around that. Until now.

"Please don't stop," he whispers, as he wipes my tears. "I didn't mean to... "

I shake my head, "I'm not stopping. It's too important. To both of us."

I know he doesn't understand yet what I want to show him, but I hope he will. I pick up a palette, adding to it my first two colors, black and white, and look at him, letting all that is him wash over me. I reach for my brush and begin to blend a multitude of shades and tones of gray. I want to make him see what I see. A new vision of himself. My hand moves furiously but purposefully over the canvas creating a chaos of shadows.

"Is that me?" he asks in a quiet whisper from beside me. I give him a sideways glance and he misinterprets it. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... Not another word."

"You can talk," I say with a smile. I'm used to quiet when I paint, but his beautiful voice could never bother me.

One would think the muted, dull gray tones would lay flat and lifeless, but they dance on the canvas, pulling you into their oblivion. They are him.

"It's part of you," I finally answer, stopping for a moment to turn and look at him.

He's staring at it intently, his mouth turned down. He has returned to his self-assault. I don't say anything, and turn my eyes back to the brewing storm. His eyes follow my hand as I pick up another brush and drag it through the black and I hear him sigh. I can't focus on his misunderstanding, can't let it distract me. I let the black take over, as if I could deny it... He doesn't know what it is, not yet, he probably sees it as some kind of evil, but it's not at all, and he will see.

I drop the brush and grab another, abandoning my process, not willing to waste time. I dip it into the white, and bathe my beautiful chaos in delicate light.

"That's you," he whispers again, a smile in his voice this time.

"No, still you," I correct softly, laying down my palette and picking up another. He shakes his head, but doesn't say anything else, and watches as I fill the new palette with a myriad of colors. I dip my brush again into the discarded white on the table and am ready to show him how beautifully confusing he is.

I work to control my usually lost state because I want to see. I glance at him often, and it is him who is lost, mesmerized by each stroke of my brush in my hand as the chaos of grays and light is transformed. I know when his moment of recognition occurs, though it's long before I expect it, when his hand reaches up to tenderly stroke my hair. The seemingly meaningless shadows and light take shape and purposeful definition as his face begins to appear, brought to life by a dizzying mix of color and careful strokes.

This is what I wanted to show him. This is what I need him to understand. He is anything but black and white. He is anything but simple. He is complex and layered and beautifully chaotic and as much work as it is, I will take the time to understand and make him happy and keep him real. It's not an easy path, it dips and turns and dances before me... Sometimes I stumble, sometimes I fall flat on my face, but I get up and try again; over and over again, and keep going, because what's at the end of it is worth everything to me. It is my future, it is my life, it is him.

I have only to choose an expression and I smile at the possibilities. What do I want to show him? There are so many to choose from... his arrogant smirk... his don't-disobey-me glare... his sexy as hell distracted-by-desire gaze... his playful grin... his face-splitting pure happiness smile...

I'm getting nowhere, the list is endless, and I want to see them all... but this isn't for me. I have forever to capture his each and every mood, and I will, but right now he needs to see something that will make him see good in himself. There is only one face I can show him.

I can't help the smile that plasters itself to my own as I finish. And I can't help but be proud of how perfect it is. I really am brilliant.

I drop my palette and brushes onto the table and turn to look at him. His expression is pure awe. I will capture that one too, but not now.

"How did you...? I watched you... but how...? It was a gray storm... beautiful and hypnotic... but confusing... and now... "

I give him an exasperated sigh, "That is you."

He looks at me as though he can't believe I'm standing here, and lifts his hand to stroke my cheek. "The way you see me... it's incredible, but that's not me."

"Yes it is."

"It's my face, but the expression... maybe that's just what you want to see... "

"No... I see that face all of the time."

"There's no evil in that face, Claire. No arrogance. It's gentle. It's vulnerable, and while I know I've had my moments of that with you, it's also innocent, and that's not possible... " He trails off, shaking his head, and I smile at him, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"That's what you think because you don't see yourself when you look at me. Not always, of course... you have a thousand different moods, but when you're sweet... when you're not angry or irritated with me... when you open your heart wide and offer it to me in a way you're not sure I'll take... this is the face I see. This is the face of the man I will do anything for.

I know I get it wrong a lot of times, but I promise you I try, Jaimin, I do, and I will never stop trying. Please have patience with me... that beautiful, hypnotic storm isn't always easy. I'll endure it, I'll endure anything for you, but I do have to bend for you. It doesn't break me, but you might if I didn't. I can't give you what you want... I can't give you what you demand... I can't give you what you need without bending. Can you see that? Can you try? For me? Please? And can you bend just a little in return?"

He's quiet for a long time and I watch him, my chin resting on his chest as I gaze up at him, my arms still wrapped around him. He opens his mouth a few times, but closes it, perhaps thinking better of what he wanted to say. His eyes move repeatedly from my face to the painting and I know he's struggling, though exactly with what, I'm not sure. Maybe I said too much.

He cups my head in his hands and lowers his lips to place a gentle kiss on my forehead, and then reaches behind him to free himself from my arms. "I just need a few minutes... " He turns then, and leaves the room and I'm left staring open-mouthed and alone.

He needs a few minutes? A few minutes for what? Shit! What did I say? He's never walked out on me before. He's never turned his back on me. He's never pulled away from me, except to stop something he thought had gone too far... but this isn't that. This isn't that at all. Oh God, what have I done?

I hear what I think is the bathroom door close and try to get a grip on myself. Why am I panicking? He said he just needed a few minutes. Surely he's entitled to that. Geez, clingy, let the man breathe! Yes, I can do that. I have a mess to clean up anyway. I try to distract myself by doing just that... I've never used so many brushes in my life, and they definitely need tending to and now.

The panic starts to creep back up on me when I'm finished and he still hasn't come back. It has been much longer than a few minutes. I heard the bathroom door open a long time ago...

I don't know what to do. I don't know where he is in the apartment, or what he's doing, and I don't want to push myself on him when he clearly wants to be alone. He always says I could never bother him, but he's the one who left and hasn't come back to me. If I had done that to him... yeah, right... he'd have never let me walk away from him.

I wander aimlessly about the room, my eyes moving again and again to the open doorway, willing him to appear, but it remains empty. He's only feet away from me, I know that, but not knowing what the thoughts are that are consuming him, and why he can't share them with me makes it feel like we're worlds apart. I want to go to him, to prove to myself that he's somewhere just beyond that open door, but how can I when he walked away from me out of need?

I can't.

He's taken my space away.

I look one last time towards the door as tears blur my vision. It's not open anymore, not for me, it's closed and I am locked in by his words.

No space means no air, and I cross the room to the window and open it wide, the cool air blasting across my tear-drenched cheeks. I don't care that I'm probably stupid for crying, yet again, and I don't try to stop myself. I feel fear and I feel pain and that brave little girl is nowhere in sight. She's sleeping peacefully somewhere, dreaming of fields full of flowers and playing in the rain.

I look to the sky, begging it to have mercy on me, willing her to hear my silent plea, but the rain doesn't come. The only puddles that will form will be from my own tears. I curl up in the overstuffed chair and pick up my sketchbook. I open it to my last drawing of the sad-eyed, adorable prisoner, and wish I could trade her places. The sadness she felt was nothing compared to being trapped behind an open door.

I flip to an empty page and the tears continue to fall as my hand moves over the paper. I don't look up again, I can't bear the emptiness I know is waiting there, my eyes concentrated intently on the images coming to life before me.

The cold is chilling me to the bone, my body shivering with it, and my bare feet are numb, but I don't stop to close the window. I want the numb, I want it to envelop me, and dull the ache.

A deep feeling of exhaustion threatens to pull me under, but I fight it. I need to see. I need to see what the pain looks like. This only I can give to myself, my gifted fingers in perfect sync with my fearful mind and wounded heart.

My hand stills and a new wave of tears rolls unrelenting over my cheeks, stinging from the cold, as I study the vivid sadness. A wounded bird sits helplessly with a broken wing, trembling and unable to fly. Tears fall from it's big eyes, my eyes, and pool around it, each drop rippling the pool. The detail is extraordinary... the movement shockingly and painfully real. My heart breaks for the scared creature, my own tortured eyes burning a hole through my exposed soul.

It starts to blur before my eyes, whether from my tears or the exhaustion that I can no longer fight. My eyes flit desperately to the doorway one last time before my lids fall closed and a violent shiver courses through me as the black pulls me into it's dark abyss.


                                                    ~ ~ ~

This chapter kicked my jealous-not-to-be-adored-or-punished-by-him-ass. Thank you, Missy, for giving me a shove back onto solid ground every time I teetered on the edge. As for it, it's what it is. Who am I to tell the arrogant bastard he can't be enthralled? As if.   ~CM