His Doll: A Dark Bad Boy Romance Page 4

  Her tits are on my chest; her mouth is too close to mine.

  "Please," she begs. "I'll do anything. Let me sleep here, just tonight, I swear, I promise. Just tonight, Mr. Hawke. Just for one night. I can't be alone. I'll... I'll do it again. I'll hurt myself again."

  My fingers tighten on her skin and she yelps with pain. I put her back on the bed and she burrows under the covers. I'm pretty sure I'd have to tear her off the bed if I wanted to get her out of there.

  I'm starting to hate myself.

  But it's not enough to make me stop.

  I get in bed with her. Her breath is hitching in her throat and she's shaking as I lean over her and let my breath brush against her cheeks.

  "You soaked my sheets," I tell her softly. "How the fuck am I supposed to sleep on wet sheets?"

  Her body arches, her tits touching my neck. It's driving me insane. She's not breathing, she's holding it, and I want to feel her throat when she finally exhales.

  "Did you touch yourself, Alice?" I ask her, because I need to know she did, even though I heard her and we both know it.

  She nods, her throat strained and trembling. I wrap my fingers around it and she exhales so suddenly it makes her whole body shake, and then she gasps, gasps and gasps again to get more air down her lungs.

  She's panicking. She wants this so much she can't even fucking breath.

  "Go to sleep, doll," I tell her softly, brushing my fingers gently down her collarbone, my other hand still on her throat.

  "No," she shakes her head.

  "Then tell me what you want."

  Her eyes are dark as fuck in the night. They zero in on mine and she inhales.

  "Tell me," I say again.

  She can't talk. She's paralyzed with fear.

  It makes me chuckle and I move away from her, making her breathe panicked breaths again.

  "Good night, Alice."

  I turn my back to her and close my eyes. The distance between us in the bed feels like a fucking abyss until she puts a hand on my back. Just her fingertips, resting softly on my shoulder blades.

  She falls asleep in moments, and I lie awake all night.

  Six

  Alice

  I wake up in an empty bed, the sheets rustled and still smelling like him. With a groan, I roll out of bed and place my feet on the floor. It's cold, and I shiver as I wrap a blanket around my body and pad downstairs into the kitchen.

  There's no sign of Mr. Hawke, and it makes me sad. It's Saturday, which means our first full weekend together. I get on the couch in the living room and switch on the TV. I start watching a mindless TV show while toying nervously with the hem of the blanket.

  My mind is racing. Where is he? What happened last night?

  I know he saw what I was doing, that much is for sure. He caught me red-handed and he made it clear he knew... But instead of being embarrassed about it, it turns me on even more. God, I want him badly. I've never experienced this, a kind of all-consuming passion that makes me crave him, makes me want to do anything just to get another taste of Mr. Hawke.

  I hear rustling at the front door and sit up right away, the TV blasting with a laugh track I don't find funny. He walks inside, his hands full of grocery bags, and he smirks when he sees me sitting on the couch.

  "Hello, Alice," he says, and my skin erupts in goosebumps from the way my name sounds on his lips.

  "Hi," I manage to say back, paralyzed on the couch. I watch him put the groceries down, and he comes closer to me, carrying a plastic cup.

  "Thought you might want some coffee," he says with a grin.

  "Mom doesn't let me drink it." I smile back and take the cup from his hand.

  "Well, what she doesn't know won't hurt her." He winks and I frown at his words, instinctively thinking about last night. We shouldn't have done that, either. But god, I'm glad we did. And I need so much more.

  I take a sip of the hot drink and lick my lips. "Whipped cream?" I ask him with a big grin.

  "And caramel syrup." He winks at me and I giggle.

  "Thanks, Mr. Hawke."

  "You know you can call me Jacob now, right?" he asks me with his eyebrows raised, and my stomach somersaults. His first name... I knew what it was before, obviously, but it's something special when he lets me use it. "Try it out now."

  "J-Jacob," I stutter, and he smiles again.

  "Good girl."

  A little moan escapes me and he doesn't miss it, his watchful eyes on mine as I settle back with my coffee and remove the top, licking the cream from the beverage. Every time he calls me a good girl, it's like something happens inside me, a little flutter of butterflies, a tightening in my chest. It's not unpleasant, but it makes me as uncomfortable as it does wet. And I want him to do it again and again.

  His phone starts ringing and he frowns as he looks at the number. "One second, Alice," he mutters, and I nod as he disappears into the kitchen. I watch the TV show and drink my coffee, and for once in my life, I feel almost happy. It's not like everything's perfect, far from it. But the feeling of being here with him, of feeling... safe, it's almost too much for me to bear.

  I decide to grab a cookie during the commercials and get up from the couch. I grin to myself and unwrap the blanket from my body, sauntering into the kitchen in my thong only.

  I dig in one of the drawers for a stray cookie, because I know he had some snickerdoodles in there yesterday. As I look through the drawer, I overhear him in the hallway. He's on the phone, arguing with someone in a hushed tone. I know I shouldn't, but I try to stay as quiet as possible as I listen in on the conversation. I don't catch every word, and fragments of the conversation float towards me as I sneak a look around the corner.

  Mr. Hawke - no, Jacob, is walking down the hallway with a troubled expression, running his hands through his dark hair. I overhear words and I stay as quiet as a mouse as I listen to find out more.

  "...Not your fucking right. Just sign..."

  "There's a reason you're my fucking ex, Karen."

  "Wife? You never were..."

  "Sign them! Or I'll..."

  I retreat back with my cheeks blushing bright red, and walk quietly to the living room, wrapping up in the blanket as Jacob continues his conversation. I put the puzzle together in my head and my eyes widen.

  I never fooled myself into thinking Mr. - Jacob never fucked anyone, but it is a bit finding out he has an ex-wife. I guess as much as he knows about me, I don't know fuck-all about him.

  He comes back a while later, when the show on TV is just ending. "You okay?" I ask him softly, nibbling on my cookie.

  He doesn't look at me, just nods. "I thought we could find you another therapist today," he tells me, and I furrow my brows.

  "Why?"

  "Well, since you live here now, it would be unethical for me to treat you," he explains. "And you do need to be in therapy, Alice, especially after..."

  He doesn't need to say it, we both know what he means. The pretty bruises on the inside of my thigh burn with appreciation as his sentence hangs in the air.

  "I don't want to see anyone else," I tell him. "You know the most about me. I won't talk to anyone."

  "Alice," he says in a warning voice.

  "No," I shake my head. "I get to decide, not you. And I want to keep seeing you."

  He looks at me for a long time, then finally sighs. "We'll talk about this again. But not now. I thought we could do something fun today."

  "Like what?" I ask him doubtfully. My idea of fun is kissing him again, feeling him admit defeat when my lips are on his, my tongue finding its way into his mouth.

  "Like I don't know, go to the zoo?" he asks.

  I laugh out loud. "I'm not a child!" I point out.

  "What if I want to go?" He grins at me.

  "Sure," I giggle. "Jacob Hawke at the zoo. You gonna wear a suit there, too?"

  "Naturally." He laughs, shaking his head. "Get dressed, we're going. I want to see the penguins."

  "Of course." I get up from the c
ouch, flashing him a view of my tits. I love seeing him gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing as he watches me. "I knew you would. They're the one animal wearing a tux all the time."

  His laugh follows me all the way to my room, and I find myself smiling, too.

  The weekend passes too quickly for my liking, and before I know it, it's Monday again. Jacob takes me to the zoo, to the cinema, and even to the theater. It's amazing. It's more attention than I've ever gotten from my mother.

  I know what he's trying to do, though. He's trying to play the father figure in my life, because he's convinced I have Daddy issues.

  I guess I do - it's hard to avoid it when your father left your family and started another one without looking back. But I'll never see Jacob as my dad. He'll always be something more.

  And I know he's struggling with this role as well, from watching him closely over the weekend we spend together. He's nervous, though he hides it well. I catch him looking at me, in ways he shouldn't. He never touches me, but I do. I let my fingers linger of his hand, I tug on his jacket to make him follow me to the next exhibit, I pass him our tickets with our hands brushing slightly. I know it's his job to be the therapist, but I'm desperate to know more about him, too.

  Right now, we're sitting at the kitchen table, drinking our morning cup of coffee. We've both realized we're just not breakfast people - we prefer our coffee and then an early lunch. I keep sneaking glances at him over the last-minute homework on the table in front of me. He's reading the paper.

  "Stop staring, Alice." He looks at me over the paper and I blush.

  "I'm not," I protest. "I was reading the back of your paper."

  He raises an eyebrow at me and folds it down. "What's it say, then?"

  "Oh, you know," I shrug. "Crisis, war, death. The usual."

  He gives me a doubtful look and motions for me to follow him to the car. I pull my tiny skirt down a little and tie a bow on my blouse, then follow him outside. He shakes his head at my ridiculous heels and opens the door from me.

  For the first time in ages, I'm not dreading going to school. I think it might actually be a good day.

  It doesn't take long for me to change my mind, just until third period when we get our test results back from Mrs. Arnold, the English teacher.

  She gives me a triumphant look as I walk into the classroom, and I sink into my chair, knowing something bad is coming. And indeed, when she's done announcing the test results, I realize mine is the only one missing.

  "You might have noticed there's one grade I missed," she says with a pleasant smile. "That's Alice Leroux. Alice, you've truly outdone yourself on this assignment."

  She gives me this look, like she's already won, and I let out a soft moan. Please, don't make her do this.

  "I'd like you to read your essay out loud," she smiles.

  "Please don't," I whisper.

  "What was that, Alice?" she repeats innocently. "Come up here, please."

  She waves my paper in front of her. I get up, and my legs buckle underneath me. I nearly topple over, and I feel all of my classmates' eyes on me as I walk to the center of the room. I take my essay from her hands and she nudges me forward.

  I'm standing in front of the whole class, my whole body shaking. She can't expect me to read this out loud. I'll... I'll pass out if I have to.

  I start reading with a shaky voice, my words jumbled, stuttering over the start of every sentence. My cheeks burn up with embarrassment and I can feel every single pair of eyes on me as I make a fool of myself.

  My bruises burn and beg for me to make them bigger. My scars remind me of the reason I put them there in the first place. I want to hurt myself.

  The essay flutters from my arms and I just stare at the floor.

  "Pick it up, Alice," Mrs. Arnold tells me calmly.

  "N-no," I whisper.

  "No?"

  I lean down and pick up the essay. I hand it back to her. "I'm done."

  "You've not finished," she gives me a fake confused look. "I'll have to give you a lower grade if you don't. You know class participation is a big part of school, Alice."

  I nod. I keep nodding. She sighs, crosses out the A+ on my paper, and replaces it with a big fat C.

  I walk back to my desk and spend the rest of the class scratching a hole into my skin, right through my tights.

  Once the bell finally rings, I run out of the classroom. I don't stop, not until I'm out of the school, off the lawn, off the school grounds. I don't stop until I'm out of breath and standing in front of Jacob's office building a few blocks away.

  I ignore the looks I get as I walk in there. I get to his office and I knock, knock, knock, loud as I can, until I finally realize there's no one in there.

  "Please," I whisper. "Please help me."

  I crumple to the floor, and sob softly. I hear footsteps approaching, and I look to the left to see Jacob approaching. It makes me feel better, until I see a stunning woman next to him. She's tall, curvy, blonde. She’s also pregnant, heavily.

  Jacob's eyes zero in on me and I sniffle. He turns to the woman and tells her something, she nods and leaves. He approaches me in several long, determined steps, and I close my eyes and pray, pray pray.

  Help me.

  Seven

  Jacob

  I can almost feel her coming before she even knocks on the door. That feeling of absolute dread before her fist hits the door, making me shake and lose focus. My pen rattles to the floor and I bend to pick it up just as she knocks.

  "Come in," I say. I don't have a patient scheduled for a few hours, and I don't know who my visitor might be. I'm still confused because of what happened with Alice, but in the end, we spent a nice weekend together. She really is a sweet girl, and I find my mind wandering back to her too often for my liking.

  "I like you on your knees for a change." Her voice is mocking me as per usual, and I get up from the floor, not bothering to give her a look as I motion towards the seat in front of me.

  "Take a seat, Karen."

  My ex-wife walks into my peripheral vision and sits down on the chair I'm more used seeing Alice on. I finally give her a fleeting look, but my eyes widen when I see her fully. Her belly is huge, and she has a smug look on her stunning face as she crosses her arms on top of it.

  "See something you like?" she asks me cruelly, and I clear my throat, trying to distract myself. The truth is, my heart is fucking pounding. She's pregnant. And I know for a fact it's not mine.

  "Why are you here?" I ask her, focusing on anything and everything but the venomous bitch in front of me. I don't care if she's pregnant, it doesn't make her less of a pain in the ass. "I don't have time to deal with your shit, Karen. Have you signed the divorce papers?"

  "Have you stopped playing your sadistic games?" she bites back, and I finally look up at her. She's beautiful, there is no doubt about that. Her hair cut in a pretty blonde bob, her lips stained pink, and her eyes glossy and dark. Pregnancy has given her some curves, and it suits her.

  "Clearly not," I reply calmly. "Or I would've thrown you out the moment you walked into my office. Now, what is this about?"

  She laughs, a pretty sound that's in sharp contrast with her devious mind. There's nothing pretty about Karen, at least not when you get to know her. It's all just a fucking facade, because that's all she cares about in life - appearances.

  "I see you got knocked up," I say when she doesn't reply, looking into her cold eyes. "I assume that's my former best friend's work as well?"

  Painful memories flash in my mind. Finding her fucking Jeremy, his cock balls deep inside her. Submitting to him the way she never wanted to for me, just because she wanted to fucking spite me. Crazy bitch.

  "It is indeed," she replies, stroking her swollen belly. "Jeremy and I are no longer, though, I would've assumed he'd told you that."

  My eyes are blank but I feel shaken as I stare at her. She broke up our marriage, ten years of it, so she could be with my best friend. Now he's knocked her up and they're n
ot even together anymore? What a fuckfest.

  "Do you have the papers?" I repeat one more time, but she doesn't reply. Instead, she fishes in her purse for something and hands it to me over the table.

  "The baby's sonogram pictures," she says coolly. "It's a girl."

  I don't want to look at them. It's the last fucking thing I want, seeing the kid my best friend pumped into my wife's belly, probably while we were still fucking married. But I can't stop myself. My shaky hands reach for the photographs on the table and I look at the bean-shaped thing in Karen's belly, growing from picture to picture until it finally looks like a proper baby.

  "You and I both know it's not mine," I tell Karen. "We barely slept together, Karen. It had been months before you..."

  "I know," she interrupts me sharply. "I just... I wanted you to know." Her hands shake as she puts the pictures back into her purse, and for once, she shows me a more vulnerable side of herself. She shakes, she sniffles softly. I can tell what's going on, she doesn't need to explain it to me. But she still tells me, like I haven't spent the last fucking ten years of my life with her, like I don't know her at all.

  "I can't do this alone, Jacob," she sobs. "I can't have a fucking baby by myself. I just can't... You know I wasn't so crazy about having children anyway."

  Her words bring up more bad memories and I feel physically hurt from the speech she's giving me.

  "I want to get back together," she mutters. "The kid needs a dad, Jacob, and we both know you'd be the perfect fucking one."

  "What about his actual dad?" I interrupt her. "What about Jeremy?" Last I'd heard, they'd been happy and shacked up in his city apartment.

  "He's out of the picture," Karen says softly. "He... he went back to Lisa."

  "Of course he fucking did," I sigh, rubbing my temples wearily. "Why don't you calm down a little, Karen. Do you want me to get you a glass of water?"

  "Don't leave me alone," she begs. "Let's just talk, go for a cup of coffee... Anything, please."

  I get up from my chair. "We can grab a cup from the machine in the hallway," I tell her stiffly. I want to talk to her, God I do. But I know this is fucking dangerous territory. She's pulling me back in like I'm on a damn hook and I'm just letting her do it.