Ocean Of Need

18 Found - Spice Rating 🔥

May 3rd

The door to the room swings open, and I smell the scent of you immediately. 'Miss Amber,' you say, in that deep gravelly way you do.

I glance behind and throw a breezy, 'Hi,' over my shoulder, then turn back to my work. I refuse to be the girl who throws herself into your arms after you've been off the scene for four fucking days.

I carry on pretending to write, while feeling the weight of your stare on my back. I glance up at the window, see your reflection. You walk to your easel, sit down at it, watching me. Not painting, or making coffee, or small talk. Just sitting and watching.

*

You've been staring at me for the last five minutes and I can't stand it anymore, so I put down my pen and turn to you.

'Ready to talk to me now, Miss Amber?' You say in that voice that makes my breath hitch and my honey glide. The one that's edged with aggression, and control.

I roll my eyes, 'Not really. No.'

Your jaw ticks and your eyes narrow. But I don't fucking care. It's been four days without a word and now I'm supposed to be the dutiful good girl? Fuck that.

'How are you feeling right now Amber?'

'Just fine,' I say, still in the fake breezy voice. 'Busy actually, things to do.' I throw my pencil onto my desk, pick my bag up and stride towards the door.

Before I make it to the door, you're there, blocking it, your arms folded across your chest. Fuck. I realize just how much bigger and bulkier than me you are.

I throw my chin up and say, 'Excuse me Macallan. I need to go.'

'Macallan? Don't you mean Sir?'

I fold my arms across my chest, matching your stance. 'If I meant Sir, I'd say Sir.'

'Don't push your luck, Amber,' you say, running your hand up into the back of my hair and gripping it tightly, pulling my head back.

'Fuck off,' I yell and hit at your hand, but you're already dragging me over to the bed.

'Sit,' you say.

I sit on the bed.

'Are you quite finished playing around?' you ask.

I pout and look out of the window.

'Do you want to talk about what's on your mind beautiful girl?' Your voice is so soft that it catches me off guard, and I find myself biting my lip and telling the truth.

'You weren't here.' My voice is small, but still big enough to house all my sadness, and every single one of my abandonment issues.

You crouch down between my knees. Touch my pinky finger with yours and say, 'I couldn't get here. I'm sorry. I was thinking about you all the time. I hope you felt that.'

A tear escapes and tracks down my cheek. 'I thought you'd gone. Thought I'd said the wrong thing.'

'Never,' you say as you wipe the tear away.

'You didn't call.'

'I wasn't able to. If I could have I would.'

I resist the temptation to ask why. If I'd really wanted answers to all the whys, I would have asked them at least three weeks ago. Getting the answers now might mean killing this beautiful thing. And I don't want to do that. Not when there's a chance that maybe all the why's might get dealt with. If I just wait it out.

So instead, I fall forward into your arms and we both collapse onto the floor, while you rock me. I breathe in your scent, press my face into your t-shirt, and try to hold myself together. To not be a lunatic at the first sign of trouble.

'I've got you. It's ok. Just let go. You don't have to hold it all inside, not with me.'

The tears come then. All the ones I've held back, bitten back, swallowed back down for the last few years. Every time a nasty man would say something obnoxious or belittling while I was working with Jameson.

Every job I ever worked, there was at least one guy who'd make me feel smaller than a grain of salt. I never told Daddy, because I wanted to work those jobs. Wanted to pay him back for everything he'd done for me.

But each time I swallowed down my humiliation, my heart got a little harder, a little heavier, a little more difficult to contain inside my ribs. But underneath my hair and my lashes, and my fake smile, I was becoming invisible. A parody of a woman. Not a real person.

And now, here with you, I feel soft. Not small. Not stupid. Valued. Seen. It makes me want to throw myself on your mercy. Take everything you've got to give me. Every piece of punishment and every piece of praise. So that I can stop thinking about who I am, and what I'm worth, and what the next job with Jameson will be, and how it's only a matter of time before one of us ends up behind bars.

Here in this room, inside the cage I feel safe. And though you may lock me inside it, it also keeps all the bad stuff out.

'I need you to punish me now please Sir.'

You kiss my forehead and say, 'I know.'

'I need the cage please.'

'Oh, little pet. It's so sweet that you think you have a choice. My silly, sweet, girl.'