Page 6 of Freak

Rafael

C autiously, I walked ahead, particularly sensitive to every breath Summer took, to every move she made in her tall, gorgeous heels.

Was this what she envisioned happening, and if so, how long had she wanted this? Was it as long as me, was it as fucking unbearable as I imagined? No. I was sure it was worse for her, because I was the one with guilt, but she was the one with pain.

“I think of you every day,” I finally admitted, running my finger along the table, surprised by how clean it actually was.

“That’s ridiculous,” she inhaled, shaking off the notion.

“No, it’s not,” I said sternly. “When I say every day, I mean it.”

“Well, I guess we have that in common.” She placed her bag on a table, cocking her head for some witty comeback.

I had nothing but the truth.

“I know it’s not a compliment. I see how you look at me. I deserve that… It’s just ironic is all.”

“How so?” she asked, making her way to the closet in the back, the closet. I shut my eyes, squeezing them as hard as I could, hoping, praying, that somehow, whatever was supposed to happen would get me closer to what she needed.

“All day I’m in surgeries, spending hours and hours helping kids, fixing hearts that otherwise would’ve failed had it not been for you.

It’s your chips, your implants that I see in those moments—those seconds—where everything I was trained to do boils down to the renewed beat of a heart…

a delicate, steady beep of an EKG that reminds me of one single goddamn thing. ”

Summer turned her back to the closet, her hands wrapped around its handles as she tilted her chin to the floor.

Her silence was deafening, her unresponsiveness beating like a drum inside my ears.

“What does it remind you of?” she asked.

“Summer, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for that day. For Jake, for Veronica. Fuck… for me.”

“Tell me,” she said calmly, her eyes shifted into cool, stealthy, black diamonds, her lips full and red, nipped by the clench of her teeth.

I spilled my guts, avoiding a response.

“I never should’ve done what I did… I shouldn’t have cared what they thought, or what my father wanted, or the acceptance I craved. I missed the fucking mark, and goddamn it, it kills me that I?—”

“Answer me!” Summer shouted, stilling the air with her command, pinning the hairs on my neck into fine needles. Everything about her changed; her hair, her teeth, her posture, and poise. But one thing that hadn’t, and that I cherished more than anything, was her same unbreakable, wide, green eyes.

No, not green.

Green was too simple to say, mundane like some forgettable crayon or some simple blade of glass.

What she had, and what they were, was more than that.

They were vast and dark, mossy as a forest—an entire one at that—terrifying and beautiful just the same, the perfect viridian portrait to a girl that I loved since junior high.

And fuck if I couldn’t just say that out loud, knowing that it would either make those same precious eyes go just as big.

But if they narrowed, or even shut, I’d lose all hope of seeing what I loved so much.

“It reminds me of you…” I confessed, refraining from shouting back. “That with all my expertise and skill, the one heart I wish I could fix is out of fucking reach.”

Summer glared in my direction, her top lip twitching from some unseen pulse that I imagined boiled in her veins. She stepped away, pulling the closet door open, revealing a black void of shadows and darkness inside.

“And what? You want me to forgive you?” she asked, desperate for some laughable response.

“I want whatever it is that will make you happy,” I settled.

Summer made her way back to the bag, slowly unzipping its top. She spoke into it, giving me a demand.

“I want you to remove your jacket.”

I took a small breath, curious as to what she rummaged for, as I carefully rolled my shoulders free from my coat. I tossed it on the table by her side, as she peered back up in my direction.

“Do you trust me?” she asked, knitting her brows.

“I do.”

“Then step into the closet.”

My heart began to pound. I did as I was told, willing to accept whatever it was to come my way.

Stab me? Shoot me? What the fuck did I care anymore?

Summer’s eyes dared me to comply, and the intoxicating grin that formed on her perfect lips churned my stomach.

One look at her natural, pouty lips made me feel like I was falling, causing my muscles to react and tighten in my shirt as I stepped into the dark.

“Ok.”

“No,” she corrected. “Not, ok. When you fucking answer me, you call me Ms. Evans moving forward.”

Ms. Evans?

It echoed in my head like a canyon and made its way down past my chest and into my slacks. Why did I love the sound of it, and why was it so immediate?

The sound of a chain rattled from her bag; its distinct clink made my jaw tighten.

Whatever this was, whatever she planned, made me shiver in the most perfect fucking way.

“Nod if you understand me.”

My brooding expression tensed as I followed her order.

Her heels clicked again as she made her way back from the bag, twisting a small gold chain in her hand—a yankable fucking leash with matching leather cuffs.

“Give me your wrists,” she snipped, prompting me to lift my forearms, exposing the veined underbelly of what she desired. “Now let’s try that again. Do you trust me?” she asked, slipping a cuff over my wrist.

“Yes… Ms. Evans,” I grunted, triggered by the hard tug she gave its leather strap.

She made it so tight, clasping the metal buckle into the furthest position my broad muscles would allow. She worked on the other, before tossing the gold chain around a wooden bar above our heads, a place specifically meant for hangers.

“Good. I want you to trust me,” she hummed, pulling the chain down the other end, catching me off guard with how strong her command was. My hands sprang above my head, catching my breath with a shallow grunt that fell out from my mouth.

Why the fuck did I feel like an animal? Some untamable monster that needed some order, some control from a master.

“I trusted you, too… but,” she mused, bending over, tying the chain to a bolt in the ground, leaving no room for my arms to move from where I stood.

I tested its mobility, the wings of my back perked into a perfect triangle, my chest bursting from my tightly fitted, white shirt. I couldn’t even budge an inch.

“But what?” I asked, my forehead leaning onto Summer’s as she stood up, struggling, attempting—but failing—to reach her lips with mine. The spit from my mouth nearly fell out onto my chin.

“But you fucking betrayed me…” she growled into my ear, the heat of her breath surprised me, just as much as the sudden chill that engulfed my entire hard torso.

Summer ripped my shirt, her black, stiletto nails digging into the curved peaks of my abs as buttons scattered onto the floor. I leaned as far as I could as she stepped out of the closet, begging to get closer, to suck the sweet sugar cane scent out from her flesh.

“Is this what you want?” I bit into my words, heated and elated, but also agitated from restraint. Summer looked up to my hands, my knuckles cracking from my clenched fist.

“I want to give you everything you deserve,” she replied, her thumb and finger pinching the black velvety string that held her dress in place.

“I want to see you suffer. To be a fucking, wet, humiliated mess! To be haunted by unjust shame.” She rolled her shoulder out of her dress, and exposed the length of her arm from its sheer fabric.

“How the fuck you going to do that?” I baited, daring her to get closer, to cross into the darkness.

“I’m going to treat you like the little disposable garbage that you are.

My fuck toy, my object. If I want to beat you, I will, if I want to milk you, I will…

if I so wish to piss in your fucking mouth, I’ll do as I fucking please.

” She pulled off her next sleeve, tugging the sequin dress past her chest, and down to her waist.

My eyes felt red, fucking hot, unblinking at the sight of her perfect, little tits, perked and soft, caught in the iridescent shine of a full Virginia moon outside. She adjusted her neck, shifting the carefully placed strips of leather that laced across her body.

I wanted to drop to my knees, but couldn’t, begging to lick that perfect slit of a navel, to suck open the gold buckles that hoisted the frame of her rosy, pink nipples. She was in a harness, a fucking sexy tamer to whatever beastly desire that now coiled up from my toes and into my rock-hard cock.

She seemed to take notice, shimmying her hips out of her dress.

“I always wanted to ask you…” she started. “What’s a pocket pussy?”

I swallowed, rejuvenating how dry my mouth felt.

“I don’t understand.”

“Jake called you a pocket pussy the same day you shoved me into the closet. You seemed so upset by that.”

“It might not mean what you think… it was a dig on how un-versatile I was on the field.”

She sneered.

“I hated how he said that… and how men in general use the word pussy to describe weak things.” Her dress fell past her thighs, dripping into a puddle by her black heels. “Men are weak… don’t you agree?”

Summer’s harness continued, strapped to her thighs, but absent to the space between her legs, leaving her perfectly bare pussy on complete display.

I trembled.

“Yes, Ms. Evans.”

She palmed the side of her body, running her hands down past her hips and right to her slit. Fuck. She circled that perfect, little pussy, its silky wet lube a whistle to my insatiable appetite.

“Does my pussy make you weak, boy?” she circled her clit, spreading her lips for my eyes as an unbearable tease.

I yanked on the chains, my wrists burning as the wood bar above creaked from how hard I fought its strength. She shook her head with a tsk.

“Yes, Ms. Evans. So fucking weak.”

She stepped closer, pinching her tits for my eyes.

“You want a sniff, you dog?”

I chewed the top of my lip, leaning as far as I could, hungry for even the hint of her cunt.

“A taste?” she asked. “Stick your tongue out.”

I snarled, my forearms expanding, my triceps embossed with sweaty veins, as my tongue fell out of my mouth.

Closer and closer, I fought to reach her, her soft scent finally notable, but her taste an agonizing millimeter away. And as soon as I thought I had it, she pulled back, her hand engulfing what little of my neck she could wrap around, shoving me back against the wall.

I growled, shouting out in frustration.

“Only good boys get pussy…” she scolded, squeezing my neck, constricting the flow of blood that made my lips feel so euphorically fuzzy. “Don’t worry, I’ll get that cum out from your fat cock. I’ll shoot your load all over these fucking abs, then leave you here for Mrs. Wilkins to find you.”

Her heel dug into the tip of my dress shoes, piecing a unique pain that was as sharp as the sound of my belt she freed from my waist.

Fuck, I was already sweating, dripping onto her body, covering her with a sheen that slipped along her tits.

I couldn’t believe how full she made me, my cock springing up and out from my pants, teasing an uncontrollable dot of precum that boiled to my tip.

But all that: the pain, the pleasure, the shame and impending humiliation softened itself as her grip on my neck loosened up.

She lifted her free hand out from my pocket, confused.

“Why do you have this?” she asked quickly, the tail end of her question met with an unexpected somber tone.

I focused on her hand by my waist, her tight grip clutching onto the bracelet I made for her over a decade ago.