Free The Club by Suzanne Steele

The responsibility weighs heavily on me. If I was to be honest with myself, every case does. I have to know that I have done all I can do on each and every case I work. I can’t get up in the morning and look myself in the face if I haven’t done everything I can do to rescue or vindicate a victim of crime.
     
     

Roxanne
    “Where are you going, Roxanne?” Antonio questions me as he slams the door to the bedroom. The large wooden door looks like it was taken straight from an old, medieval castle and the hasp sliding through the metal sends a chill up my spine. The familiar fear flows through me and I can feel the moisture gathering between my thighs, as I grow wet with arousal. This time, however, it’s an arousal I have no intentions of giving in to.
    I stand and hold my pillow tightly against my chest as I look at Antonio with wide, innocent, doe eyes. “To bed.”
    “Your bed is right there,” he nods towards the bed.
    I pad over to the bed and say, “I want to go to Alexis.”
    He comes over and wrenches my pillow from my grasp. He begins to unbutton my shirt and remove it. I cross my arms in front of me and he uncrosses them.
    “Your place is here with me, Roxanne.” He raises my chin, “Look at me.”
    He lifts my face to view big tears rolling down my cheeks.
    “You hurt me,” I whimper. “I feel like you broke something in me. Is this what you do to your women?”
     
          I can see his heartstrings tugging as he views my childlike behavior.
    “I’m trying to protect you, Roxanne.” He speaks to me softly and slowly as if it will help me understand why he subjected me to a night of interrogation when Juanita and I planned to escape.
    “No, you’re not. You’re trying to break me and you broke the wrong thing. I want to go to Alexis.” I turn and make my way out of the room.
     

     
     
     

Roxanne
    I sleep with Alexis every night since I told my husband that he broke me. On the fourth night, I wake up to Antonio standing over me. “Get up,” he says as he pulls me out of bed and takes me to his bedroom.
    He locks the door and turns to look at me. The pain etched in his face is evident and, once again, my heart betrays me, wrenching for the little boy trapped in this broken man’s body.
    I stand there, looking at him in the pale moonlight. I’m dressed in a button up shirt and underwear and have my arms crossed defensively.
    He approaches me slowly in the dim light and I can see him tremble as he unbuttons my shirt. I can’t ever remember a time that I’ve seen his hands anything but steady.
    He reaches up to cup my breasts, now healed from the abuse they suffered at his sadistic hands. He places one in his mouth and gently sucks, savoring my flesh as if he has missed me beyond measure.
    He takes his hands and runs them along the sides of my panties. Before I can resist or object, he hooks his thumbs and pulls them down swiftly, betraying his evident need of me. It does no good to try and fight what this man does to me. It is futile; my body always responds to him.
    “I love you so much, Roxanne, that it physically hurts. I can feel it in my chest and it aches.” He is on his knees and looking up at me as if he is begging me to believe the words that he speaks. I have never witnessed this strong, independent man in as vulnerable of a state as I’m seeing right now. He’s different with me and I don’t know why. It isn’t anything that I have purposely done to him. I need to remember that though he may be vulnerable, he is not weak. This sadistic monster I have let loose is more dangerous to me now than ever before. He is dangerous because he will stop at nothing to keep me.
    “You’re so intense, Tony,” I say as I run my hand through his thick, black hair.
    He pulls me down to the fur rug and finishes removing my shirt. He stares as if he is transfixed, telling me how beautiful I am. He cups my breast and whispers, “You are so soft,” as he kisses up and down my