Chapter Forty-Four
JULIE
I slept better than I had in so long. I’d imagined it was because Adam was by my side, but when I woke, and the bed was empty and cold, I realised that maybe it was what he’d done to me before I slept that helped.
I wondered where he was, but he had a habit of being called away, so I shrugged it off, and went for a shower. I felt deliciously sore inside, and it kept my focus from other things as I washed, as did the discovery of a hickey or two, and the memory of how he’d treated me last night.
It wasn’t in his nature to be rough. That much had been obvious, but once he’d given in to it, he’d been everything I’d dreamed of. As I showered, I was fully immersed in the memory of being trapped beneath him, while he ploughed me with his cock, that hand cruelly twisted in my hair.
I felt a wave of such intense desire, that my fingers found their way down to my clit, and I swirled them over it, and around it, as I replayed the memory again and again. The way everything felt. The fact that I could still feel it today. The fact that one of my nipples was more tender than the other, because he’d been torturing it with his teeth. All of these thoughts, and images, combined with the teasing of my fingers, had me gasping out his name as I came, my hand slamming against the tiled shower wall, to stop me from toppling over.
I dressed, and went down for coffee, checking each room for him, in case he’d just got up early. He wasn’t in the house, and a quick check out through the window confirmed that his car was gone too.
I frowned, grabbing my phone, which I’d brought down with me, having charged it overnight.
Me: Everything okay?
He didn’t reply for so long, that I started to wonder if I should try reaching Cassidy, or Cass, as I had to remember she preferred to be called now. Maybe she knew where he was.
I was almost done with my coffee when my phone pinged.
MyBiker: Sorry I’m not there. Something came up, but I’ll be back soon. Hope you’re not too sore this morning.
Me: I feel great. Let me know when you’re heading back, and I’ll sort out some lunch.
How domestic and boring was that? Ugh… I’d turned into one of those lame people whose entire life revolved around a man. But then, what else did I have?
MyBiker: How about I bring lunch with me? Anything you fancy?
After we’d ironed out lunch plans, I decided to do some laundry, and other boring crap like that, while I filled my time until my man came back. I’d skipped breakfast, but that didn’t seem to be a huge issue. I didn’t need to eat as often as most people.
My phone pinged again, and I glanced at the clock. It was after eleven already. I felt a wave of excitement as I reached for the phone, to see the message I’d been waiting for, telling me he was on his way. Then I frowned.
MrClarke: I’ve just found out something terrible. Can we meet to talk?
I frowned. What could he possibly have found out? About the Bennetts? About Adam? Could I really meet up with him again, knowing that I’d have to lie to him too?
MrClarke: You’re in danger, Julie. I wouldn’t bother you otherwise. I can’t let them hurt you too.
I stared at the text, wondering if I could somehow make him see that I was safe, and that nobody was going to hurt any of us. It was probably dumb, but then, Adam was due back very soon, so I wouldn’t have to be alone with him for long.
Me: I’m at home. Can you come to me? I have no car.
As soon as I sent it, I wondered if I’d just made the biggest mistake ever. But then I pictured Mr Clarke, that poor devastated man, who’d lost the only person he had. Maybe he just needed someone to talk to. To listen. To set his fears at ease. Why would he even think I’m in danger, anyway?
MrClarke: Text me your address. I’m already on the road.
I did. And then I sat there, and wondered if I should let Adam know. I picked up the phone again to message him. Then wondered if I should ring him instead. And then I realised that I’d be worrying him for nothing. And maybe distracting him from something that would mean I put him in danger. The men he worked for were scary and dangerous. And it was only Mr Clarke. He wasn’t a threat to my safety.
I spent far too long procrastinating, and the doorbell went before I’d even figured out what to say. In the end, I shrugged, and answered the door to Jeff Clarke. The poor man looked frantic. He rushed inside the house, shutting the door, and turning the latch on it.
“What is it?”
He stared at me. “I thought it was just a mugging, you know? Bad timing. Wrong place, wrong time… that sort of thing.”
I noticed then that he’d clearly been hurt, or beaten, at some point. The poor man. Hadn’t he been through enough?
“My god, what happened to you?”