Page 7 of Freak

Summer

C opper it’s a debt I owe, a burden of being unforgiven, of begging and praying for the chance to make things right… to fix us .”

“There is no us!”

“Then there’s only you!” He shouted, his voice filling the entirety of the classroom.

The gold chains sawed themselves into the wood above his head, rattling the closet with the force of his bullish strength.

“And that’s how it should be. I don’t have the privilege of knowing the depth of what you felt, but I have the desire to resolve it, to fucking beg and work for even an ounce of pity. ”

His eagerness to even explain felt selfish, to desire some resolve to make himself feel better.

He wanted it, and I could tell, but the urgency in his eyes, the desperation, was as upsetting as it was cruel.

This was supposed to be my moment, my chance to fix what I felt inside, and now, what I felt was more of a punishment than a reward.

“You want pity?” I clutched the bracelet in my hand, squeezing it, letting its beads dig into my palm with pain. “You called me a freak. You all did.”

Rafael simmered in the closet, his voice finding itself up my knees and into my ears from across the room.

“Freak… Bugs… Summer… whatever they called you, whatever I called you, was a fucking lie. Not even your name is good enough to be said, because all I wanted to call you was love.”

“Stop.”

“I love you, Summer.”

My hands began to shake as I backed away from the closet, reaching for the balled-up paper next to my dress on the floor.

“Stop it!”

“I’ve always loved you, and not just the woman standing in front of me, but the girl with glasses, the one with frizzy hair, and cute front teeth.

I loved every perfection you thought was imperfect, but I loved how you’d look at me the most, like I was the only person in the world who deserved you, when in reality, I deserved nothing at all. ”

“See this?” I held up the receipt, the insignificant proof that I was owed his time. “I own you. I’m supposed to own this moment.”

“Then own it, but do so knowing that hurting you was the single most regrettable moment of my life… and that no one, not even the devil himself, will keep me from bowing to you, from protecting you from anything like that ever again.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I growled, slamming the bracelet on the table.

Suddenly I felt entirely nude, my strong leather harness another humiliating mess.

My bladder tossed inside me, twisted with a need to cross my legs.

I couldn’t escape who I was or the fact that what he said had an effect on me.

He loved me… and—damn it—when he said that out loud, it buckled every intention I had, every ounce of control I mustered from years of impenetrable anger.

And what I hated more than what he just said, was what he made me feel, which was everything he described.

I loved him, too.

Always had.

“Yes, Ms. Evans.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Yes, Ms. Evans.”

“Stop!” I cursed, marching in his direction, reaching for his wrists. “I don’t want this anymore. This wasn’t part of the plan.”

“And what? You want to free me?” Rafael questioned into my ear as I leaned against his body, reaching for the leather strap.

“Yes. You can go. You can do whatever it is you?—”

Rafael’s hard body pushed me away as the wood bar above his head snapped from the yank of his strong arms, splintering into two thick halves.

I covered my mouth, my body still sticky from his sweat as I backed away from the closet, terrified by the enraged focus he dug into my eyes.

“Rafael… what are you doing?” I whimpered, as he dropped the bars of wood out from his hands and onto the old tile floor. They clunked with an echo, a hypnotizing roll of sound that competed with Rafael’s heavy steps and the dragging gold chain that scratched along the floor.

I leaned against the lab table, my bare ass chilled from its black metallic surface as Rafael met my face. He had me pinned, his shirt tattered from the rip, his big cock digging across my torso, hot and wet, bent and thrumming with blood.

I was deaf to the sound of my ringing heart, or maybe it was his? Both of our pulses beat in unison, making me want to cry and scream.

I was sure he was going to fuck me, that he was going to slip his fat dick right into my already wet pussy, but he hesitated, slowly, carefully, kneeling before me, dropping to his knees while bowing his head.

“This is what you want.” His lips purred at my thigh, grazing their softness down towards my heels.

His large shoulders twisted into knots, perfect tan grooves of sculpted flesh.

“This is my gift. Total submission, just for you. I’m yours, and I’ll be yours.

Your protector, your servant. No safe word, no consent needed.

Take me how you want, Ms. Evans… I am your fucking slave. ”