"You," she whispered after a while. And then she fell back asleep.
You.
What am I supposed to make of that? Nothing, probably. She was sleeping, dreaming maybe.
It's close to nine in the morning, the coffee is almost done brewing, and I want to check on her one more time, if only to decide whether I should prepare eggs for the both of us, or just for myself. But just as I'm about to make my way up to her bedroom, I see her coming down the stairs, looking tired and vulnerable, her hair tied up in a messy bun. She's wearing the white silk robe I deposited in her room, and it drapes her limber body in a soft embrace as she staggers down the stairs, rubbing her tired eyes. I cleaned her face before I left her to sleep, removing the crusts of smeared make-up that covered her eyes and cheeks, reminders of her tears of torment and bliss. I fucking love that picture on a woman's face. There's nothing more satisfying in the world. But so is seeing a pretty girl's face without any paint on it for the first time. Especially on a natural beauty like my Button.
She takes a deep breath before she comes up to the counter separating the kitchen from the living area, climbing on one of the high chairs while holding on to the counter top. The bruises on her neck have darkened and are clearly visible now. She needs to take precautions if she wants to leave the house today.
"Coffee?" I ask her.
She nods. "Yes. Please."
I place two mugs of freshly brewed coffee on the counter, leaning on my elbows opposite her. She evades my eyes and reaches for the mug right away, only to realize that it's still way too hot to drink.
"How are you feeling?"
Her face grimaces when she burns her lips on the hot coffee. She places the mug back on the counter top and shrugs.
"Fine. Exhausted."
Fine? That's all she's giving me? After all that happened last night?
"Fine, huh?" I say. "Glad to hear it. And I'm sorry if you missed me this morning."
She looks up with a puzzled expression. "Missed you?"
"I've heard complaints from girls about them having to sleep alone after I fucked them."
She huffs. "You won't hear those words from me. I like having my own bed."
I take a sip of my coffee and try to swallow the weird knot her words cause in my throat. "Good."
"Besides, I know what I signed up for," she adds, casting me a tired look. "Just fucking and playing loyal partner in the public eye. I don't believe the contract said anything about cuddling sessions."
I snort and shake my head at her. She's unbelievable.
"Was that just fucking for you last night?" I want to know. "You passed out while you were still wrapped around my cock."
She lowers her eyes and presses her lips together, a hint of shame traveling across her expression.
"It was intense," she admits. "And I'm sorry I passed out. I didn't want to ruin it for you like that."
"You didn't ruin anything. Was this the first time you were choked while getting fucked?"
She looks up at me, knitting her eyebrows as if I'd just said something ridiculous. "Of course it was. No normal person would do that."
"Did you not like it?" I ask. "Because if you didn't, I won't do it again."
Her face relaxes, making room for an expression that's impossible to read, solemn and contemplative, maybe sad. Is she afraid to tell me?
"You need to tell me if I ever do something you don't feel comfortable with," I say seriously. "We haven't established a safe word, but maybe we should if-"
"No, I liked it!" she interrupts me, lifting her hand. "That's not it. I liked it a lot, actually."
I knit my eyebrows and lean down so I'm at eye level with her, but she evades my gaze.
"What is it then?"
"Nothing," she lies. "Don't worry about it."
"Don't tell me not to worry."
She turns to me and looks at me through narrowed eyes. "You're not my boyfriend, you don't have to care about this."
I roll my eyes at her. Does she really think she's the one who gets to draw the lines here?
"Maybe. But I also can't fuck a girl who keeps shit from me that I should know about," I say. "Believe it or not, I don't enjoy that."
She sighs and drinks from her coffee cup. "Have you never learned something new about yourself that... kind of shocked you?"
So that's it. She's afraid of that persona we're about to uncover. She has always been the strong girl, the confident one, strong-willed and mouthy. And now she realizes that she gets off on being humiliated, spanked, and choked by someone like me.
"No, I haven't," I tell her. "But I've seen many girls go through what you're going through right now. Believe me, you'll be fine."
"Of course I'm going to be fine!" she says, furrowing her eyebrows as she glares at me. "It's just..."
"New? Strange? Something that's hard to accept with who you thought you were?"
She huffs and nods. "Yeah. I guess you could say that."
I get closer to her, stroking along her neck and moving the long strands of hair to the side to reveal the bruises beneath. She lets it happen, neither moving away from my touch nor leaning into it.
"Don't question yourself," I tell her. "You're not weak for letting this happen. It's a part of you, something that makes you the person you are, in every aspect. You just need to find the right person to unveil that part of you."
She flinches when I let a finger travel across the sensitive skin of the bruise on her neck, tilting her head to the side to grant me access. Her eyes find mine and fixate on me solemnly.
"And you are that person?"
I should have expected that question, but still, I find myself unprepared to answer it.
"You should know the answer to that better than I do," I tell her. "Do you trust me?"
She ponders the question, moving her lips as if she's tasting the words, while tense silence stretches between us. I watch as she lowers her eyes and absentmindedly plays with her coffee mug, her slim fingers touching the brim, turning the mug in endless circles while she makes me wait for a reply.
"You know..."
She takes a deep breath and clears her throat before she continues speaking.
"They say the most vulnerable part of our body is the throat."
Her gaze meets mine again. "You never know how you feel about someone until they've had their hands around your throat."
I huff. "So? How do you feel about me?"
A shy smile appears on her face. "I trust you, Sir."
Such a fucking good girl. I wish I could show her just how much those words mean to me right now.
But I can't. I'm already late and, unlike her, I have places to be, work to that has to be done. After breakfast.
"You need to eat something," I say, turning away from her. "Eggs?"
"I can do that," she says, on the point of getting off the chair.
"No, let me," I tell her, raising my arm. "I don't want you to burn the place down again."
"Ha-ha."
She gives me a playfully grumpy look. "But I have nothing else to do! You have to work and I just-"