Page 76 of Bound To Me

I began to run back up the hill toward the edge of the yard, but I lost my footing through the short bushes that invaded the ground, and I landed on my knees, sliding down. Suddenly, I felt his strong hands grasp my ankles and pull me down toward him. I screamed again, my heart racing with giddiness, as he grabbed my hips and swiftly pulled down my underwear.

“Nice try, baby. Now you’re mine,” he gruffed, then he thrust his hard cock into my needy pussy. I let out a scream as he dug his fingers into my hips, fucking me hard and rough.

“Please, Daddy,” I moaned, close to coming but playing my part and trying to crawl up and away.

He pulled my hips closer, and my knees skidded down the hill toward his body. He pushed my head down, lifting my hips high in the air, and pressed my face against the wet dirt beneath me.

He continued to pound into me again, harder. “You’re not getting away now, little one. Daddy is going to ravage your pussy,” he said with his gravelly, breathless voice.

I continued to try to climb up and away and Elliott chuckled as he pulled out of me, then roughly turned me onto my back. His blue eyes were lit up with desire and excitement as he stared into mine, and a slow smile crept up my lips.

“Please,” I begged again, almost unable to keep up with our game; I was too excited for him to continue.

He took my wrists and pressed them onto the soft ground, his weight holding me down. He easily slid his hard cock back into me, and I screamed as he began to pump his hips hard against me.

“Come for me, baby,” he urged, knowing he was hitting my g-spot just right. “Come for Daddy, and I’ll let you free.”

On command, I relaxed my body and gave in, lifting my hips, my pussy seizing hard over his cock. At the same time,he grunted loudly in the crisp morning air, his primal moans intensifying my orgasm.

He hovered close to my body as we caught our breath, his lips moving from my shoulder to my neck in slow, deliberate kisses.

“Jacqueline,” he breathed into my ear. “Marry me.”

I had never felt so safe, so free, so loved and wanted and needed in my entire life. There was no doubt in my mind about marrying him. He knew my answer. He understood me so well now.

“Yes, Daddy.”

* * *

Since that smoky night in December, it felt as though my life had finally broken free from its chains. Elliott orchestrated Michael’s death to appear as a suicide. After Hana and I had departed, he released Michael from the chair and ignited the fire by setting a candle against the window curtain. Before that, as we debated what to do with Michael, Elliott meticulously crafted a suicide note on Michael’s laptop. Just moments before his death, Elliott sent the note to both me and Hana.

Hana and I stood steadfast as each other’s alibis, a story corroborated by Elliott. According to our account to the police, Hana had visited town to offer me support during a tumultuous time in my life—Michael had re-entered my life, bringing with him the dark specter of abuse. We presented tangible evidence of his cruelty: scars from the past, the recent cuts inflicted upon me, and a relentless barrage of threatening messages through calls and texts. My boss, Lauren, co-worker Meg, and Zee provided corroborating statements about his history of abuse. It seemed Michael couldn’t bear the thought of losing me again and ultimately decided to take his own life.

Memories of Michael often brought a stinging pain to my chest, a visceral ache that recalled the tumultuous moments we shared. How could I have been so naive? How did I repeatedly fall under his spell? Through therapy, I came to understand that my years of trauma, beginning with the loss of my mother and exacerbated by growing up in foster care, had deeply eroded my self-esteem. Desperate for love and acceptance after feeling unwanted for so long, Michael’s occasional shows of affection became a lifeline. In those moments, his abuse didn’t seem to matter.

But now…now I was learning to love myself, though it was still a work in progress. I vowed never to lose myself in someone else’s affection just to feel loved and wanted. Loving myself, even if no one else did, would always be enough.

Epilogue

I sat nestled in the corner of our lush white couch, reading in my favorite spot. It was a Wednesday afternoon, and I was in a good mood; I had the day off, and Elliott had an early day with his clients. I was all caught up on my Netflix and Hulu shows and was considering a nap. Then, out of nowhere, there was a knock at the door. I quickly scurried over to the window and peeked out. An older man in a suit with a briefcase was looking from the door to the open window where I stood. He smiled and waved.Fuck, I guess I have to answer now.

I unlocked the door and peeked at the mystery man through the crack, which I had opened only a few inches.

“Miss Olsen? Jacqueline Olsen?” he asked, his tone warm and friendly.

I eyed him warily. “Yes.”

“I’m Ken Ferguson, an estate attorney. I’ve tried to reach you by phone but haven’t been able to get through,” he explained, shifting from one foot to the other.

I eyed him up and down. “What’s this about?”

“The late Mr. Barnes appointed me as the executor of his will. There are some things he left for you, and I’d like to handle them as soon as possible. His family has been contacting me incessantly.”

My face grew hot. What the fuck would Michael have left me?Probably a box with a fucking lump of coal in it.

“Uh…yeah, okay. Come in,” I finally said, opening the door wider and gesturing him in. “We can sit here.” I stopped at the dining table and pulled out a chair for him.

I sat across from him as he set his briefcase on the table and opened it. He shuffled around some papers before piling several in a stack, then looked up at me.

---