See Through Me Ch. 13

Notes from the author:

Not much to say this time, except I have been putting more effort into character development. The clock is winding down on the cruise obviously, so the next few chapters will be critical. Thank you to all who are hanging on for the ride! --J

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Chapter 13

I stared down at my feet as Joe scrubbed me, unsure of what to say...what to do...what was happening between us. Our eyes met occasionally, briefly, but apparently neither of us were comfortable with extended eye contact. Joe was clearly deep in thought, which was odd, considering that he always seemed so calm, cool, and collected. Always in full control, and always ready with a witty and infuriating response to anything I would say.

What had him off balance, if indeed he was? I was still trying to process the most thorough punishment Joe had yet inflicted on me. I had both enjoyed it, and been uncertain of whether I would survive it. It was a state of being that I definitely could not handle with any regularity. Even before setting sail on this cruise, I would never have thought myself capable of handling most, if any, of what Joe had dished out. I'd surprised myself with my resilience, and it seemed that I had also surprised Joe. Perhaps that was why he was so quiet? The hovering question of---Where do we go from here?

I was terrified that Joe's silence signified our relationship nearing its end. But why on earth would I feel any disappointment in that? Didn't I want to get away from him? Or had he so thoroughly conquered me that I could not envision myself independent of him? Was this some sort of Stockholm Syndrome situation? It would make sense, but in actuality, Joe had not really hurt me. He had not trapped me. If I absolutely wanted to get away, I could. I could scream, bang on the walls, kick him in the balls and run for help. I could do all of these things, but I had not. I didn't want to escape him badly enough.

Joe stepping into my life was a blessing in a way, because he had given me something I had thought was unattainable. Something I wanted so desperately, deep inside, but would never have been daring or wanton enough to seek out for myself. Joe had hurled me through the looking glass, and regardless of where we ended up, I would be forever grateful for the experience. But I sure as hell was not telling him that.

The water turned off, and Joe helped me step out of the tub, wrapping me once more in towels, and patting me dry. When he was finished, I pulled a towel from the rack and proceeded to dry Joe off, even though he hadn't asked. It was a natural response.

When Joe realized my intention to reciprocate, he stood with his feet spread apart and his arms extended. Bit by bit, I dried him, observing every patch of hair, every sinuous muscle, every pulsing vein. My mouth watered, and I had to keep reminding myself to breathe in and out. Did he experience the same feelings when he dried me? Or when he washed me for that matter? He always seemed so...together. With Joe, I felt I was constantly falling apart at the seams. He undid me.

As I toweled him dry, I recalled those instances when I had clearly undone Joe. Our tryst on the balcony when I forced him to cum down my throat. This morning (God, had it just been this morning?) when I teased him at the dining table by sucking on my sticky, sugary fingers. I knew I had the power to push him over the edge, and perhaps that was why I was not feeling like a victim—not entirely anyway. Because I DID have power.

Watching Joe impose his will upon me was one of the most erotic things I would ever know, but also intensely erotic was the look in his eyes when I pushed him. When I dared him. When I sassed him. When I told him to fuck himself. The fire in his eyes alone was enough to warrant a fresh pair of panties...which unfortunately were not to be found. Joe would not have it. And God help me, I loved it.

The prospect of my newly realized fantasy being stripped away forever was terrifying to me, and depressing as hell. The end was near, and I could hardly keep myself from tears. I couldn't cry in front of Joe. I couldn't express my desire to stay with him. He would be disgusted with me, and only distance himself faster. That was how men like Joe worked right? The woman clings, and the man gets the hell out of Dodge.

God, why the fuck was I clinging to this bastard anyway? He had raped me, degraded me, beat me, and likely impregnated me. Something had to be wrong with me. No good girl fantasizes about being raped and treated so viciously. I was seriously fucked up. Then again, maybe Joe and I were meant to be together. We apparently were both royally fucked in the head.

When I'd finished drying him off, Joe smiled down at me and pulled me into a gentle embrace, kissing my forehead in a gesture that warmed me to my toes. He held me silently for several moments before drawing me into the bedroom, and pulling the remaining terry cloth robe from the closet. I bit my lip to stifle a giggle as I recalled sneaking out of his room in the other robe that was now absent. As Joe wrapped me in the robe, he saw the cocky look on my face and grinned.

Leaning in, Joe whispered, "Naughty girl. You are mine now."

I blushed, simultaneously proud of my act of rebellion, and happy that he was not still mad at me. He had punished me, and now it was in the past.

"Are you hungry baby?" Joe asked.

"Kinda," I replied softly.

Suddenly my tummy rumbled loud enough for us both to hear, and Joe laughed.

"Okay I guess I am hungry," I admitted. "But mostly thirsty."

"Alright darling, come sit and relax," Joe directed, sitting me down on the sofa.

After bringing me a bottled water, Joe went to the desk to dial room service.

Noticing the remote sitting on the coffee table, I decided to see if there were any movies available for rent. It looked like there were several, mostly new movies, none of which I had any interest in. I did manage to find some classics woven in however, one of which was Sleepless in Seattle. Okay, so it was a chick flick, but after all that I had endured, I figured, what the hell? If Joe didn't like it he could kiss my ass.

The opening credits had just finished when Joe came to sit next to me, gathering me close, and I snuggled against his warm furry chest. What can I say? It felt right.

"What's this?" Joe asked.

"Seriously? It's Sleepless in Seattle silly!" I scolded, shocked that he wouldn't know a classic Tom Hanks-Meg Ryan film.

"Oh yeah, with Tom Hanks, right?" Joe replied, sounding only mildly interested.

"Right," I confirmed, shaking my head.

"Wow, my girl is sensitive about her chick flicks, hmm?" Joe teased.

"Whatever Joe, just shut up and let me watch my movie. If you don't like it, you can go sit in the corner!" I teased, pointing to the far corner of the suite.

"No thanks, I'm good right here," Joe insisted, hugging me tighter.

"Fine. Just be quiet," I ordered, drawing a low chuckle from him.

Tom Hanks and Rob Reiner were discussing modern dating, in which women are supposedly more assertive and independent, when room service knocked at the door.

"Aww, and just when this was getting interesting," Joe teased, nudging me off of him.

I rolled my eyes, and refocused on the movie as Joe went to answer the door.

The same two guys from this morning carted our dinner in, whatever it was. From the looks of it, Joe had ordered a full buffet again. Probably no bearclaws this time though, I sighed inwardly.

Pausing the movie, I got up and perused the dinner selections in the carts. Joe seemed pretty decisive, and immediately claimed chuck roast and potatoes.

"Hey, what the hell Joe?" I snapped. "What if I wanted the roast?"

"Do you want the roast?" Joe asked innocently.

Looking down at my feet, I admitted, "No."

"Well, even if you did, I ordered two of them. Just in case," Joe winked.

I granted him a half-smile, and continued surveying the dishes. I settled on the chicken marsala, which smelled absolutely divine and made my mouth water.

"Red or white?" Joe prompted, pointing to the two bottles on our table.

I frowned in concentration. Red was probably better with beef I think, whereas white was supposed to go with chicken. Right? In any case, I preferred red, so I decided to run with it.

"Red," I replied, satisfied with my decision.

"Red it is!" Joe agreed, popping the cork, and pouring us both a generous glass.

Once seated, I took a moment to observe Joe. He was still in his towel, but apparently had no issue digging into his roast with enthusiasm. He obviously appreciated good food, as did I. And as thrown as I was by this bizarre vortex of a cruise, I couldn't help but be inspired to dig in myself.

"So you seem to appreciate film," Joe commented, mid bite. "Is it only chick flicks, or what? Do you like action, or comedy...or horror?"

"Yes to action and comedy, no to horror," I answered automatically.

"Why's that?" Joe asked.

I sighed, "Well, most horror movies I have seen are very poorly acted, poorly directed, or both. Action flicks and comedies are case by case. I guess I'm just picky."

"You appreciate quality," Joe stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes," I agreed. "I think that applies to all things for me, or most."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I like quality food, quality film, quality relationships..." I trailed off. "I guess I just don't like to waste my time with mediocre things. Life is short. Why waste it on anything less than the best, if it is within one's means?"

"So you like the finer things?"

"No I wouldn't say that, I don't think," I answered mid bite. "I just don't like to do anything unless I'm going to do it right. If I dedicate two hours of my life to watching a movie, it should be a great movie. If I commit time to doing a job, I do it well."

"Which renews a topic we barely broached earlier...what do you do?" Joe asked, obviously pleased to have me cornered into elaborating on something I had been brief about earlier.

"I told you, I handle accounts for a pharmaceuticals company."

"Yes, but which company? And what do you like about your job?" Joe pressed.

Shit. He wanted me to give more intimate details about my life. I was really hoping to keep things generalized, not ready to let my guard down. And despite all that we had done together, I was not ready to share information that exposed my area of residence. Not to mention that the answer to his question delegitimized my whole "life is short" speech.

"Next question," I answered shortly.

Joe held up his hands, "Fair enough." He chuckled, and took a sip of wine.

I took more than a sip. As innocent as our conversation had been, things were starting to get real, and I needed to slow it down. I began to dig into my risotto with urgency, only to find that it was actually good. This cruise-ship-room-service risotto was damn good!

"Wow," I mumbled through a mouthful. "This is some killer risotto!"

"Ooh, can I try some?" Joe asked, moving to steal some off my plate.

"No!" I snapped, batting his fork away and glaring at him before he let out a laugh. His eyes sparkled in amusement.

"Forgive me, darling. Hands off the risotto from now on," Joe assured me.

"Hands off everything," I quipped, taking another sip of my wine.

Joe smirked. I smirked at his smirk. Then his expression morphed into something I couldn't decipher.

"Hey, have you ever tried Tony's, on 5th Street?" Joe asked. "Across from the Paramount Theater? It's the best Italian cuisine in Boston."

Boston? Oh yeah, I had told Joe I lived in Boston. I had to think quickly. To lie.

"Oh yeah, I went there a couple times with some friends," I replied, my attention back on my risotto which was disappearing way too quickly.

"Is that right? Because there is no Tony's on 5th Street. Or 4th Street, or 6th Street. And the Paramount Theater is clear on the other side of town," Joe said calmly.

I felt the blood drain from my face, and suddenly my appetite had abandoned me. Again. I set my fork down on my plate as carefully as I could, so Joe would not observe my shaky hands.

"Kate, do you have anything you want to confess? And do not lie to me again," he warned.

Joe stared me down, his eyes now void of all tenderness and amusement.

"Joe, please," I begged. I couldn't bare everything to him.

"Tell me Kate. Tell me the truth. Do you live in Boston? Have you ever even been to Boston?"

"No! Okay??" I confessed, frustrated that he had won. "I don't live there, and I've never been there, nor can I imagine I'd ever want to go!"

"Then where, Kate? Where do you live?" Joe prodded.

He was not going to let this go, and I knew it was time to cut the bullshit.

"Chicago," I answered under my breath, surprising myself with how annoyed I sounded. Like it was the worst place in the world and I was ashamed of it. When in fact, I loved Chicago. I was just pissed off that I now had to share it with Joe, and that he would likely not leave me alone to move on with my life. I was trapped.

Joe had trapped me into telling him the truth. The manipulative bastard. If he really was an attorney, he was probably a bitch to go against in court.

"Chicago," Joe affirmed. "Why couldn't you have just told me that from the beginning Kate?"

Oddly, Joe did not seem mad as I expected. Rather, he seemed...betrayed. Geez, I barely knew him. It was none of his business where I lived, so what was with the guilt trip?

"Because! I don't know you Joe. And with everything you've thrown at me the past couple days, I was terrified that if you knew I lived in Chicago, you would continue to pursue me."

"I would have pursued you anyway, had you lived in Boston, or L.A., or fucking Indonesia," Joe said seriously. "I would have found you."

The deadly serious look in his eyes had me both terrified and moved. My heart skipped a beat. Why would he go so far out of his way to find me unless...he cared?

"I'm sorry I lied," I whispered. It was a genuine sentiment, and Joe knew it.

"I know pet," Joe smiled. "You are my good girl. Now let's see if they remembered my order of tiramisu."

Apparently he was ready to move on without issue.

"Tiramisu? You are familiar with tiramisu?" I teased, adoring the irony of his selection.

"Oh yeahhh," Joe purred, investigating the food trolleys, searching for what apparently was his favorite dessert.

"Here we go," Joe settled down in his chair with a huge cut of the Italian layer cake.

I couldn't help but lick my lips in envy.

"Careful pet," Joe warned, his eyes heated. "You keep that up, and I will forget all about this dessert, and have you instead."

"Can't we do both?" I replied, surprising him and myself.

Joe laughed. It was both startling and refreshing. A genuine, happy, normal human laugh, coming out of Joe.

"Yes slut, we can. Now come sit with me, and we'll share."

----

I felt we had reached a new level of understanding. Kate seemed more at ease with me, and for some reason, I felt more comfortable just being myself. I think she knew now that even when she angered me, I would not hurt her beyond what she could handle. I would not injure her.

It was crystal clear now that Kate DID enjoy pain. To an extent that had me down on my knees, mentally, thanking God. She was my match.

I needed to show her that when she accepted me, and particularly when she pleased me, I would give her the world.

I wouldn't go so far as to claim that Kate had accepted me, so much as she no longer feared me. If tonight had proven anything, it was that even when she did something that had me incensed, I would not push her beyond her outermost limits. Granted, she was probably altogether unaware of her true limits, so I was operating on instinct. Thank Christ my instincts had not failed me. I was human, after all. And as I sat there with Kate on my lap, feeding her bites of tiramisu, I felt more human than ever. Like the end was far too near. In spite of all my efforts to claim her, I knew that our time could draw to a close if she decided she truly wanted out.

We had but two days left on this cruise, and I needed to up the ante, if that was possible. How could I claim her, own her, possess her in the way I wanted, and still come out smelling like a rose? I hadn't the foggiest idea. All I could do was follow my instinct. She needed comfort. Tender-loving, vanilla comfort. And for some reason, I wanted to give that to her. To share it with her.

It was not strategic. It was a natural reaction to Kate's sweetness. Despite her sass and occasional rebellion, Kate was blindingly sweet. Sweet and trusting, even with all that had transpired. She had an innocent quality that I felt could never be removed. I would never want to. It was part of the energy that had drawn me to her.

Admittedly, my behavior had been terribly contradictory. I knew that beneath her angelic disposition, she craved the darkness. I couldn't explain how. It was pure gut instinct. She wanted it, and I would kill to be the one who gave it to her. For all her naivety, I could see the strength in her. Her ability to endure. And it undid me.

"Come darling, let's go finish the movie," I smiled down at Kate as she rubbed her tummy, clearly regretting the last couple bites.

"Sounds good," she replied softly, a ladylike burp escaping her, leaving her flushed with embarrassment.

"Hmm, excuse you," I teased, before emitting my own burp.

Kate snorted in amusement, and then groaned as she slipped off my lap and toddled over to the sofa to resume the movie.

I had to pee, so I warned her, "Don't run away pet."

"No promises," Kate replied with a wink.

Her sarcasm, or what I seriously hoped was sarcasm, was not something I was prepared to ignore. Not this soon.

I strode over to the sofa, caging her in with my arms so she couldn't move away, and growled, "You WILL stay put cunt. Don't make me strap you again. It'll hurt like a bitch now that I've marked you."

Seeing the mixed look of trepidation and excitement on her face, I conquered her mouth in a savage kiss laced with threat. Kate moaned immediately, seemingly on fire from my sudden change in demeanor. God I wanted so much to bend her over the arm of the sofa and fuck her until all the neighbors complained, but I settled for trapping her lower lip in my teeth and fisting my hand in her hair.

I broke the kiss, forcing her eyes to mine, and said with conviction, "You will not run away. I won't let you, and I will kill anyone who gets in my way. Do not test me."

Kate was panting, her eyes glazed over, as I released her hair, and went to the bathroom. We would see if she dared try anything.

Forcing myself not to rush, I relieved myself and threw on a pair of boxers. When I returned, Kate was still there, curled up and enjoying her chick flick like nothing had happened.

"More wine? Or does my girl want cocoa?"

I knew what she wanted. It was instinct. Kate was a sweet girl with a sweet tooth.

"Oooh, definitely cocoa!" Kate said, excitedly.

"I'll call for some now then," I said warmly.

"Geez, all this room service must be racking up your tab," Kate commented smugly.

"It's fine," I replied shortly. It really was. Not only could I afford it, but also it was totally worth it to keep her tightly in my grasp.

I called room service again to come and remove the carts and bring in some cocoa and snacks. We were both experiencing mild food coma, but if I had my way with her again, we would undoubtedly require sustenance later.

"Got room for popcorn?" I called from the bar.

"There's always room for popcorn silly! Everyone knows that!" she admonished, making me chuckle.

God what was with me? Was I her girlfriend now, giggling over chick flicks, popcorn, and pedicures? I shook my head. Fuck it.