Conflicting Hearts (16 page)

Chapter 16

Conflicting Hearts

When Friday evening arrives, I’m proud that we actually made
it through our pizza party without having sex. Instead, we had a great make-out
session, which ended in more conversation and close sharing.

Later that night, Ian drove me home. By that time, I had
completely forgotten about Susan. Since we had both confessed that we were
falling in love with one another, I pushed away any threat she might possess.

I’m sad, though, when we arrive at the coast Friday night,
that the forecast is rain for most of the weekend. It is Oregon, after all, but
I’m disappointed we can’t enjoy the outdoors. Nevertheless, the view from Ian’s
great room is worth the show. I dream of the winter storms, which should be
spectacular to watch at Haystack Rock.

By the time Saturday night rolls around, we both have cabin
fever after being cloistered together watching television and talking. Since we
arrived, the sexual tension in the air has been palpable, and both of us have
been teasing one another like teenagers. We’re at a breaking point.  

Ian’s resolve not to touch me is crumbling like a sand
castle battered by the Pacific Ocean. I’m definitely tuned to my easy-lay
channel. His defenses are weakening by the look in his eyes, and mine are
non-existent.

After dinner we make it to the couch again, and I’m ready
for another make-out session. Only second base is wide open for the taking, as
far as I’m concerned.

I’m cuddled next to him, with his arm wrapped around my
shoulder. We’ve both been quiet for a while, looking at the fire and listening
to the pelting rain outside. As usual, the distant sound of the roaring waves
puts me in a romantic mood, to say the least. I’m aching just sitting next to
him.

I turn and look at him. His face is aglow from the golden
flames in the hearth. He looks deep in thought, and I wonder if he is dealing
with the same torturous feelings that run rampant through my body. I almost
want to peek and see if he has an erection. The slut in me is hopeless.

“Kiss me,” I invite him in a sultry voice. Ian’s head turns
toward me. He looks at me with a questioning gaze, and I look back with the
invitation of an available woman. He puts his warm lips upon mine, and I feel
his tongue find its way between my lips. I part my mouth to grant him entrance
and enjoy the wonderful taste.

A moment later, it feels as if the fire before us leaps into
our hearts. Ian comes alive with a brash longing that I’ve never seen him
display. His hands aggressively roam over my body.

“Are you sure you want to go down this road?” I gasp,
searching for breath. He says nothing for a moment, and just clasps my breast
with his hand, pinching my nipple with his fingertips.

“I’ve gone long enough being good,” he says in a heated
tone.

He unhooks my bra from underneath my tee shirt. My naked
breasts loosen in his hands, and his warmth clasps them tightly. This isn’t the
Ian that’s fondled me before. My only conclusion is that the man is really
horny.

“Are you going to close the drapes?” I ask worriedly. “Or
are we giving Cannon Beach a show tonight?”

“Forget Cannon Beach,” he says, pulling my tee shirt over my
head and striping my bra from my body.

“You and me. Now. Upstairs.”

He rises from the couch, pulls me to my feet, and leads me
up the stairs in my topless condition. When we reach the landing, Ian takes off
his shirt and throws it on the floor. Enough light from the fire below filters
up to his loft, and I melt at the sight of his six-pack abs and taut chest.

The next I know, he throws me onto the bed and attacks my
neck and lips like a devouring animal. Sweet Ian is on fire, and his actions
engorge my body with longing.

“God, what’s got into you?” I cling to him like a desperate
woman.

“It’s time to pay up, babe.” His voice is dark and
threatening.

My eyes bulge out of my head.
Did he say “pay up”?
Just
the thought and I’m wet and ready.

He pulls away and unzips my jeans and tugs them off my body.
A moment later, his fingers claw at my panties. After pulling them down, he tosses
them over his shoulder. I can’t help but giggle at his antics.

Afterward, he stands by the bed looking at me with dark eyes
as if he’s deciding what to do next. Suddenly, he retreats to the bathroom. I’m
confused, until he comes back with the tie to his robe between his fingers. My
heart jumps into my throat as he heads toward me.

“Give me your hands,” he commands.

I do. He wraps the tie around my wrists, draws a knot, and
then binds the other end to the bedpost bringing my arms over my head.

“Ian, what are you doing?” My voice quivers.

“You told me you wanted to be bound, so that’s what I’m
doing.” His voice is empty of emotion.

I can’t believe he’s tethered me like this, but I’m excited
as hell feeling helpless before him. He pulls his eyes away from me as if he
can’t acknowledge, even to himself, what he’s done.

Ian unzips his pants and disrobes in front of me. My eyes
see his hardened erection waiting to take me, and as usual, I glance away at
the sight. I close my eyes for a moment, until I hear him pull open the
nightstand. I turn and look, and he has grabbed a condom from the drawer. A
moment later, he’s rolled it on, and he’s ready.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands, looking down at me with
narrowed eyes. “You said you want it rough. How rough? What do you want me to
do to you?”

His words send a chill down my spine. The sheer thought of
him giving me my desires nearly bring me to an orgasm. I pull on the restraints
that send a coursing surge of fire through my veins. The throbbing in my body
is overpowering.

“Tell me,” he demands. “I want to know. You’re not leaving
this bed until I hear you scream in satisfaction.”

Dear God, I melt into a puddle in the middle of the bed.
“Touch me,” I whisper, barely able to speak. My eyes are staring at him in
disbelief, and then I quickly close them to hide in my dark room.

“Open your legs,” he orders. I part them a little, and Ian
pushes his knee against my inner thigh and spreads me open so I can’t close
them again. “Look at me,” he orders.

I’m hesitant, but obey. I open my eyes and see a changed man
leaning over me. Suddenly, I’m not sure if I like this Ian or not. A rush of
fear captivates me. With a drugged look of pleasure, he parts my cleft, and
quickly slips a finger deep within my vagina pushing it in and out.

“You’re so wet, Rachel,” he drawls. He lowers his head and
watches his fingers fondle me as if he’s finding pleasure at the sight. His
other hand squeezes my breast tightly. After a few moments, I beg.

“More,” I gasp.

“More what?”

“Another.”

“Another what? Another finger?” he teases, slipping his
index finger alongside his middle one.

The entrance into my body is intense. “Oh, my god.” I moan,
pulling on the restraints and pushing my breasts into the air. Ian shoves his
fingers in and out, but it isn’t enough. He still is too tender, too careful,
too detached from the hurt I need.

“Do it harder. Hold me down, Ian. Take it from me. Hurt me.”

I know it’s a horrible thing to ask of him. A part of me is
sorry. As soon as the words leave my lips, he removes his hand from between my
legs. My eyes shoot open, and I see his troubled gaze. I’ve scared him. He
looks at my hands tied above my head, and a moment of remorse flashes in his
blue orbs. This isn’t him. He’s acting this way because I want him to. Ian
looks at me with hesitation mingled with desire.

“Please, Ian,” I plead. “I need it as rough as you can give
me, if you want me to come.”

My words ignite something in his soul and darkness fills his
eyes. The kind countenance I know disappears, and Ian looks as if he’s
possessed. He’s angry. I don’t care, because I want him to do me like I’ve
imagined in my mind every night.

A moment later, my dreams turn to reality. He leans his
massive, muscular body against mine and pins me helplessly against the
mattress. His knee shoves my thighs apart as far as he can. I can’t look at his
face any longer. When I close my eyes, I feel his long fingers bury themselves
into my craving body.

I scream at the onslaught of pain, but Ian has disappeared
into his character of the sadist I crave. He partakes in my carnal lust and
takes me beyond the point of my endurance. My fantasy turns to reality as his
hand relentlessly pushes deeper into my body. I love and hate him, all at the
same time.

“You want me to fuck you with my hand, is that it?” he
grunts, doing it faster and harder.

He inserts another finger. I think he will tear me at any
moment.

“This is what you want, now take it! Come on my hand!”

His forceful command of domination pushes me over the edge. An
orgasm bursts within me, and I let out a bloodcurdling scream from the surge of
discomfort and pleasure that racks my body simultaneously. My heart feels as if
it has stopped beating for a few moments as I slip into the ecstasy of dark
pleasure.

Slowly as the peak subsides, I open my eyes and behold his
face. I’m shocked at what I see. He’s bitter, undone, and wild. Swiftly, he
unties my hands and roughly flips me over on my stomach. Ian grabs me by my
hips, lifts my ass up, and shoves his penis into me hard and deep. I gasp as he
fills me, astonished over what he’s done.

“Now it’s my turn. I’m not finished with you yet.” His voice
startles me.

“Ian!” I grab the pillow with my fists. My body trembles at
the onslaught. Again and again he bangs me in anger. Then with one throaty
roar, he comes within me, digging his nails into my hips. When he’s finished,
he stops and pushes himself deeper into me as if he’s punishing me for taking
him to this place of wantonness. Then slowly he pulls out, and lets me drop to
the bed.

Tears stream down my face. I’m satisfied but troubled.
Relieved but embarrassed. A myriad of emotions drown my soul. It was what I
always wanted, but now I feel ashamed, violated, and yet—I immensely enjoyed
every depraved moment.

I’m so fucked up
, I cry inside. I bring my hands to
my face and hide behind them in disgrace. My body curls into a fetal position.

“Satisfied are we?”

His tone is demeaning and filled with disgust. I feel
stripped before him.

“Answer me!”

I dare to roll over and look into his face. He has changed,
and my heart breaks.

His angry eyes narrow. “Why the hell are you crying? I
thought that’s what you wanted,” he snaps. “I finally performed to your liking,
didn’t I?”

I can’t bear it any longer. I’ve ruined him. “Ian, I’m so
sorry.”

“For what?” After taking his condom off and throwing it into
the waste basket near the bed, he grabs his tee shirt from the floor and pulls
it over his head. Next, he takes his jeans, and one leg and a time, steps into
them. He zips them up and looks at me curled naked upon the bed.

“I decided the next time we made it to the sack, I was going
to give you rough.” He looks at me in contempt. “Don’t ever fucking ask me to
do that again,” he says clenching his jaw. “Do you hear me?” His voice cracks
as if he’s on the verge of tears.

I shake my head in obedience and watch him turn around and
run down the stairs.

“Fuck this sick crap,” he growls.

Ian’s anger bursts into a tirade. His wrath fills the house.
I hear him stomp back and forth across the carpet for a few moments like a
crazed man, and then he stops. His voice bellows at me from below.

“Rachel, don’t you
ever
ask me to do that to you
again. Do you understand? Ever! I’m not some goddamn abuser like your pedophile
neighbor for you to get off on!”

Then I hear his voice break. Ian gasps into a sob. “Christ,”
he cries. “I’m sorry.”

I bury myself underneath the pillow and cover my ears,
hiding from the sound of his voice, but it doesn’t stop the anguish that I
feel. I have sullied the kind and tender heart of the man I love. My hunger for
pain dragged him to my level, and I forced him to succumb to my depravity.

The sound of the ocean fills my ears when I hear the sliding
glass door open. Ian pulls it shut behind him with a bang. The house grows
deadly quiet. I sit up in bed and see him disappear into the dark toward the
water. My whole body trembles. The only thought I have is to run, and I do.

I rise from the bed. My body hurts from the assault.
Quickly, I dress, grab my sweatshirt, purse, and leave the rest of my things in
the upstairs bedroom. I descend the stairs. Ian is nowhere in sight. The rain
sounds as if it has subsided enough so I won’t get soaked. As soon as my shoes
are on, I pull my hood over my hair, open the front door, and disappear into
the dark.

At that moment, my world crashes down around me like
shattering glass. I can never look into the sweet, tender face of Ian again,
after turning him into an abusive monster. My heart is heavy and sorrowful as I
walk up Hemlock Street and head into town in the middle of the night. It’s a
mile walk, but I don’t care. I creep along in the shadows, crying the entire
way.

When I arrive downtown, Cannon Beach is a ghost town. All of
the shops are closed and the road deserted. I find a bench near the courtyard
of a variety of stores and sit down. The rain has subsided, but I’m chilled to
the bone. I wonder if Ian has discovered me gone or if he even cares about me
any longer. My phone in my purse rings, and I open it and look at the caller
ID. It’s Ian. I ignore it.

Numb, I sit there for ten minutes wondering what to do next.
I can’t walk to Seaside; it’s too far. I’m too scared to hitchhike. There are
no car rentals in the resort town. I’m screwed. Maybe I can find an empty room
in some hotel somewhere, but I know it will cost me more than I can afford. I
see headlights coming up south from Hemlock, and I wonder if it’s him. When the
car gets closer it slows down, and I see the emergency lights on the roof. It’s
a cop.