Generational Sins (29 page)

I went to a cafe that was two blocks from work for dinner that Thursday. I didn't feel up to cooking for myself, and David was at school. It was a little over a week since the incident. I was grading papers and sipping a cup of tea, when a familiar shape slid into my booth, across from me. I looked up into the eyes of detective Reed, the detective assigned to Richard's case. My stomach turned to ice.

He considered me across the table for a moment. He was probably in his mid fifties, dark hair and eyes, excellent physical shape. He was the picture of calm. In so many ways, he reminded me of my own father.

"Hello, Kat," he said.

"Detective," I replied, as calmly as I could. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything. I wanted to speak to you, off the record, so to speak."

I felt like I couldn't breathe. Why was he here? This was out of his jurisdiction. He knew something. He had to.

I nodded my head. I couldn't speak.

His voice was low and soft. He was speaking so that only I could hear him. "My mother," he started, "was thirty-six years old when my father kicked her down the stairs for the last time. I was nine. I watched her bleed to death."

He paused as if expecting me to respond. What was he trying to tell me? Was he lying to me in the hopes that I would confess to something?

"I'm sorry," I said, "for your loss."

He laughed bitterly. "I bet you heard that phrase a lot this week."

"Yeah, I did."

"Was it a loss?"

I looked up, startled. "He was my fiancé’s father..."

"Did he hit you too, or just Ellen?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do. It takes one to know one, Kat. I spotted Ellen's bruises from more than ten feet away. Either your husband hit her, or his father did. You weren't exactly stable on your feet that night either. Do you want to tell me what really happened?"

Oh God.

"David and I aren't..."

"I have your marriage license. The lack of a wedding ring doesn't make you any less married."

I toyed nervously with my pen. This was it. He knew. There was nothing that I could do about it.

"Who hides their marriage from their parents? Was it your idea or David's?"

"I was pregnant," I lied. "We didn't want to tell them, but then I miscarried."

"Bullshit."

"What are you accusing me of?"

He considered me for a moment. He saw everything.

When he spoke again, his voice was less harsh. "Ellen looks good. I think she's going to move on with her life. I saw a for sale sign in the yard already. She must really hate that house, huh?"

I didn't respond, so he continued. "David gave her back a lot of Richard's money. I guess I'm not the only one who thought that his will was fucked up..."

I was angry and scared. Why was he toying with me this way? I tried to be strong.

"I was not aware that providing for David's mother was a crime," I said coldly. "If you are charging me with something, I would like to call my husband..."

"I knew your father," he interrupted. I stopped stunned. I knew that he looked familiar to me. Had he been at my own father’s funeral?

"We went through the academy together before you were born. I came to his funeral, but I doubt that you remember. You didn't seem to recognize me. There were a lot of people there. He was a wonderful man, your dad."

"Yes, he was."

"What would he think of David?"

"I think he would have loved David," I answered honestly.

"Kat, I'm only going to say this one time. I want you to listen to me. A mean temper is usually hereditary. I don't know what happened last Tuesday night, and I'm not sure that I want to know. Everyone else is content to let this case close, but I'm here for one reason and one reason only. I want to know if David is abusing you."

I started to interrupt him, but he silenced me and continued. "If he hits you, you need to tell me now, or you will wind up just like Ellen. Do you understand that? These men do not stop."

"David would never hit me," I said softly.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me that."

I looked up. His dark eyes searched mine for an answer.

"Detective," I swallowed thickly. "I love my husband. He would never hurt me." I took a shallow breath; it was the best I could manage. "He is not his father. He is more like mine."

He stared into my eyes a moment longer and then stood to leave. "Thank you, Kat. That is all I needed to know." He dropped his business card on the table. "If you ever need anything, you call me."

"I will, sir."

And with that he left.

David was waiting for me when I came home.

"Kat, you're really late getting home, are you okay?"

"Yeah, um, I want to talk to you about something," I answered.

We sat down on the couch together, and I relayed the strange meeting. David masked his emotions well. I don't know what he thought. In the end he just kind of nodded his head. We both realized that there was nothing to be done about any of it.

"David?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that I love you. Right?"

He gave me a sad smile. "Come here, baby," he said, holding his arms out for me.

I crawled into his lap and enjoyed the warm, safe feel of him around me. I was scared and confused, but for the first time in a week, I felt like we just might make it through this.

She crawled into my lap, and I held her. It sounded like the detective was going to leave us the hell alone. Maybe he was doing it as a favor to her father, even if he had been gone for almost five years. I was still terrified, but it looked like we might get away with this after all. Dare I hope that someday this might be behind us?

I admired my mother. She seemed to be moving on quite well. I wished many times during that week that I had her strength.

I hadn't really touched Kat since the night of my father's death. I knew that she was anxious to get back to our physical relationship. She wanted to get back into the playroom in particular, but after so much violence, I wasn't sure that I could do it. Every time I even thought about getting rough with her, or even having normal sex with her, my head filled with visions of him thrusting up into her as she screamed. When I closed my eyes I still saw that knife pressed to her throat. I knew that she needed for me to be strong. I knew that she needed her Dom, but how could I even think of giving her pain after what she had experienced?

I couldn't cope, so I made excuses. I was working extra hours at school and spending a lot of time trying to get my father's affairs in order. These things needed to be dealt with, but the truth was, it was comforting to throw myself into a project that didn't require emotions. I needed time to recover, and I wasn't sure that I would get it.

Kat shifted in my arms and yawned. She’d been doing that a lot this week. The nightmares were disrupting her sleep schedule. I would give her a few more days to recover naturally, and if the nightmares didn't stop I would start drugging her nighttime tea with a mild sedative. She didn't function well without sleep, and I would do what was necessary to see that she remained healthy. I may not be ready to go back to the playroom, but I would still see that her needs were met. One way or another, I would be sure that she recovered and remained healthy.

"Time for bed, love," I said.

"David?"

"What, Kat?"

"Could we um... I mean..."

I sighed. She was being mature about it this time. She wasn't using shoes, but it was the same question. She wanted a session. I couldn't give her what she wanted. Not tonight.

"Not now, Kat," I answered. "You're tired. I'm tired. Later."

She didn't answer, but she nodded weakly against my shoulder. I lifted her off of the couch and carried her back to the bedroom. I undressed her and tucked her under the covers. I went back through the house turning off the lights and then crawled in beside her.

I stayed awake until her breathing evened out, and I knew that she was asleep. I woke less than forty-five minutes later when she started screaming. I held her to my chest and tried to ease her fear. She was shaking and sweating but there were no tears.

She twisted her body around mine and clung to me like a life preserver. My heart broke. I couldn't save her. I couldn't even save myself.

"Please, Sir," she said softly. I almost didn't hear it. Almost.

I tugged at my own hair. Could I really handle this? Could I give her what she needed?

I remembered the first time that she had pleaded with me in the same way. I remembered how she looked that night, topless on my parents’ patio, her skin pale in the moonlight. God, she was so beautiful. With those two little words she had so much power over me. She knew that I could not deny her then, and I could not deny her now. I loved her. I loved her enough to sacrifice my own sanity for her.

"Go to the playroom, Katlyn," I said softly. "Pull the whipping bench out of the closet and drape yourself over it."

She didn't move.

"Now," I commanded.

She got up immediately and left the room. I closed my eyes and tried to force myself to follow her. My legs felt like stone. Surely I could manage a simple spanking. I needed to get her to cry so that she could find some relief, and then we would go back to bed. I could do this.

I forced myself up and walked across the hall. I looked though the doorframe at the scene in front of me and almost vomited on the floor.

I turned back into the hallway and sunk to the carpet with my head in my hands. Oh God. She was bent over the bench, her ass facing me, and all I could see was the ghost of my father behind my beautiful wife. I had made a mistake, telling her to bend over the bench like that. That position was far too familiar.

I saw his hands on her hips. I saw her head thrown back as she fought. I saw the snarl on his face, the knife in his hand, and the pain in her eyes.

The silent tears fell down my cheeks.

I couldn't do this. I would never be able to do this.

I don't know how long I sat there in the hallway, with her still leaning on that bench waiting for me, before I found my voice. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and made sure that my voice was strong.

"Change of plans," I called, "put the bench away. I want you in your pose on the floor. Face the door."

I heard movement in the room as she followed my commands.

I took a couple of deep breaths and forced myself to stand.

I looked into the playroom for the second time. This was better. This held memories of better times.

I walked to her and knelt down. I put my hands in her hair and gently lifted her chin.

"I'm so sorry, Kat," I admitted. "I can't. I'm not ready." I pulled her into my arms. Her naked body felt incredible against me. I breathed her in and kissed her hair. "I can't hit you, not after what he did to you. What if I hurt you?"

She didn't answer me, but I knew that she was disappointed. I could feel the tension in her body. She kissed me, which I didn't expect. She would never, under ordinary circumstances, make such an aggressive move in the playroom. It became clear that regardless of the location, she was not my sub at the moment and I was not her Dom. She straddled me and pushed me back onto my heels, never breaking our kiss.

Her kiss was desperate, begging. I concentrated on the feel of her warm skin against my own. I blocked out everything but the way that she felt in my arms. I pushed every thought from my mind and let her lead me.

I could feel my erection growing hard against her soft belly. I shifted to be more comfortable, pulling her on top of me. She wrapped her tiny hand around my shaft and began to stroke me. I let her have her way with me as I kissed her and moaned helplessly into her mouth.

Yes, beautiful. Use me. Take what you need.

When I was hard and ready for her, she sunk down on me, taking me into her tight wet heat. She tugged hard on my hair as she rode me and added her soft moans to mine. I touched her like a porcelain doll, reverently. She threw herself at me, demanding more. I eventually found the nerve to pinch her nipples as they bounced delectably in front of my eyes. Apparently, it was enough. She threw her head back and screamed her release. I watched her come and then followed her.

A moment later she crawled off of me, her body still shaking from the force of her orgasm.

"Go back to bed," I said. "I'll be in soon."

She nodded and returned to the bedroom.

I went out to the kitchen and pulled a beer from the fridge. I chugged half of it in one go and then pulled my cell phone from the charger. We had gone to bed early. It was not yet 11:00 in Montana.

I took another long pull from the bottle while the call connected. It rang twice before he answered.

"Cody," I said. "I need you. Can I book you a flight?"