The Art of Control

Chapter 20

Dylan

My dear sweet Isa is eager to be with me, but my heart is still on the mend and my mind is still trying to accept the fact that she’s back, so for now, we’ll take this slow. First things first, I want to wash her body and clean the remnants of Chilé off of her. I prepare a hot bath for us with an overabundance of bubbles and we soak in each other’s arms for nearly an hour. After being in the water to the point of pruniness, I finally scrub her down, wash her hair and massage every inch of her wet body. Her once champagne-colored hair is now brassy from over exposure and long, and she looks youthful with her tanned body, sun burnt nose and freckled face.

“You’re so beautiful,” I tell her as I move on top of her and between her legs.

“I thought you wanted to wait,” she smiles.

“I do. I just want to watch you cum.”

Sliding two fingers into her, her body resists me with the tightness of not being with anyone for so long. I gently rub her * with my thumb, feeling it swell to my touch. She begins to writhe in the tub and the water splashes up and over the edges as she grips the sides for leverage.

“I want you to cum slowly for me, p-ssycat. Resist it. I want to enjoy the show,” I command and she nods her understanding.

I find her long neglected rough patch just where I remembered it to be and I lightly circle my index and middle finger around it. Isa thrusts her pelvis up and moans out softly.

“I want to hear your pleasure, love. Sing it louder.”

She swallows hard, licks her lips and voices her enjoyment heartily.

“That’s it, p-ssycat, cum for your Master.”

Tugging at her harder, I move on top of her completely and press my mouth onto hers. She does the thing that drives me insane, biting my bottom lip harshly, and I taste my own blood. When she, too, tastes it, she lets go of the tub and fists her hands in my hair and pulls me into her deep kiss, our tongues dancing a sexy tango in my mouth. When her velvet walls start to tighten around my fingers, I quicken my pace and she releases and screams out and fists her own hair. Without warning, she hides her face in her hands and starts crying, her whole body shaking and shuddering.

“Oh, Dylan… I missed that so much. You have no idea how much. I thought I’d never feel your touch on my body again,” she sobs.

I pull her up and wrap my arms around her wet body, the both of us shivering from the cool air.

“I do know how much you missed it. I do…” I sniff along with her, fighting the tears.

After drying and dressing her, we lie in bed and she tells me of the time she spent in Antofagasta, learning the culture and exploring the city, and according to her, doing anything she could to stay busy and keep her mind off of me. She explains how she swore she would never paint again and my heart aches because I know how much it means to her.

“What if I’m never inspired to paint again, Dylan? Will you still love me?”

“Why would you ask that? I love you regardless of if you paint or not.”

“I don’t for one minute believe that,” she sulks.

“There’s no denying that your paintings were what first interested me in you and that I cherish your talent, but it’s you that I love - you. I love you for who you are, Isa, every part of you. If you never paint again, I’ll be upset only because I know how much you enjoy doing it and I know how much you need it. As for never being inspired, well, I guess I’ll just have to find ways to motivate you to want to paint,” I wink.

She smiles and goes on to tell me the Spanish that she already knew wasn’t enough and that communicating with the locals was frustrating but that they were kind to the mujer de pelo amarillo and she picked up the language quickly. The way her mouth moves seductively when she speaks in Spanish reminds me of Paris and the way she wielded the French language.

“You have quite a talented tongue,” I say to her suggestively.

She moves between my thighs, grinning devilishly at me and slicks her pink tongue over her bottom lip.

“I’d like to show you just how talented it is,” she teases just before she slides my briefs off and runs her tongue up the entire length of my shaft. The first lick is agonizingly slow and normally I would tell her to speed it up, but right this very moment, I want it to last as long as possible. She starts to pick up her pace knowing how I like it, but I instruct her otherwise.

“Slower, p-ssycat, make it last.”

After the most amazing head I’ve ever gotten in my life over the longest period of time imaginable, I climax into Isa’s mouth and she drinks me up like what I’m offering is life sustaining.

She curls up into my arms and sleep finds us at once. I wake up cold and alone several hours later and panic sets in. I jump up from bed and flip the light on, scanning the room frantically.

“I’m here, my sweet lover,” Isa calls out from near the window.

I move behind her and envelope her, pushing my face into her hair.

“I thought you were gone again.” My voice isn’t my own and I sound desperate.

“No, I won’t ever do that to you again. I promise.”

“You promised before,” I choke out.

She turns to face me and holds my face steadily, staring straight into my eyes and seeing directly into my soul. “I’m promising you now, again. All I can ask is that you forgive me and believe in me the way you did before.”

“I want to, Isa, but you wounded me so deeply. I was so furious with you. I wanted you to feel the same anguish I did when you walked out that door. I don’t ever want to feel that kind of abandonment and anger in my heart again. Not ever. If you ever leave me again, p-ssycat, it’ll be the death of me.”

“Don’t talk like that. I won’t, Dylan. What I did was horrible, but I just wanted you to be safe.”

“You may have thought I was safe without you, but the truth is, I was reckless and in serious danger of self-destruction.”

“Regardless, you’re still alive.”

I can see this is going nowhere. She has her mind made up that what she did kept me safe and maybe to a certain degree she’s right, but I know deep down, I wouldn’t have been alive for much longer without her.

We eventually fall back to sleep and the rest I get is the best I’ve had since Isa left me in that hospital room. I wake late in the morning and Isa is still sleeping as well. Things are as they should be as she lies completely naked next to me, half covered up and her plump ass peeking out at me. I lean down and bite it for good measure and old times’ sake, but mostly to reassure myself that I’m not dreaming. She wakes with a start, rubbing her bottom and looking around bewildered.

“What the hell was that?” she asks.

“I wanted a nibble,” I laugh.

“Well have all you want,” she flirts, pushing her bottom up to me.

“Yes, I think I will.”

I plunge between her legs and ravenously sink my tongue into her ass, biting her cheeks in between licks. Isa howls out and giggles infectiously, making me chuckle along with her. I gnaw up her spine and into her soft shoulder. Remembering the gifts that I bought for Isa in Paris, I jump off the bed and dig them out of my dresser.

“Why did you stop?” Isa whines.

“I have a gift for you. I never had a chance to give it to you in Paris.”

I hand her two boxes, one medium sized and one small. She shakes them and eyes me inquisitively when she hears the sound of metal clinking around. She opens the first one and pulls out the pair of solid gold nipple clamps connected by a chain and her eyes get big and luminous. She runs her fingers over them and squeezes the clamps open and closed.

“They’re beautiful.”

She lays them aside and hastily opens the bigger box and pulls out the gold ball-gag and squeals with delight.

“Oh, Dylan, it’s so pretty. Can we?” she asks, holding it out to me.

I place the small ball in her mouth and she turns away from me, allowing me to latch the rigid metal fastener around the back of her neck. When she turns to face me, she looks absolutely divine. Her highlighted hair, her amber eyes and the gold ball-gag all complement each other in the most magnificent way. Christ, she’s a vision of perfection.

She lays back on the bed, a small amount of drool running down her chin, and she raises her hands above her head, clasping them together. Reaching for the clamps, I prime her nipples by sucking them and rolling them between my teeth. When they’re completely erect, I place them on her and gently increase the tension. Isa moans out softly and sways her hips on the bed, the rustling sounds of the sheets setting my nerves on edge. I lean down on top of her and place the chain between my teeth and jerk my head back, pulling her nipples to a point. Isa writhes uncontrollably on the bed and grunts in the most alluring voice ever to fill my ears. More saliva pools out of her mouth and down her chin and I wipe a bit of it onto my fingers and lube my hardened cock with it. Hot damn, I’ve missed being inside of her.

Just when things are getting really good and I’m about to push my way into her, my God damned phone rings. I completely ignore it and thrust into her, but when it rings again and yet another time, I get aggravated enough to pull out of her and stop worshipping my beautifully sun-baked wife to answer it.

“What?” I snap.

“Mr. Young? I’m so sorry for calling you. This is Sonya.”

What the hell? Isa climbs out from under me, removes the gag and starts sucking and licking every inch of my body, making it hard for me to concentrate. When I don’t respond, Sonya continues.

“Have you heard from Sawyer? He left shortly after you all arrived and promised he would call me back, but that was almost 12 hours ago.”

“What time did he leave?” I ask her, pushing Isa off of me.

“About 10:00 last night,” she answers.

Her voice is anxious and stressed which in turn, worries me.

“What exactly did he tell you?”

“Just that he had something to take care of. He said it was urgent and not to worry, he would call as soon as he was done dealing with it.”

F*cking hell, Sawyer. I know exactly what he went to deal with. I told him to wait. Trying my best not to reveal my extent of agitation and concern, I assure Sonya that everything will be fine and that he’s probably just getting caught up on paperwork.

After I hang up, Isa removes the nipple clamps and starts to question me.

“What is it?”

“That was Sonya, she was worried about Sawyer. He left last night to deal with Simons and he’s not back yet.”

Isa climbs to the edge of the bed and sits, chewing her bottom lip fretfully.

After dressing quickly, I call Murphy, only to get his voicemail. Knowing Sawyer’s usual protocol, I’m hopeful that Murphy is with him and he’s not alone.

I pull out a summer dress and hand it to Isa along with some panties and a bra. She’s deep in thought and looks like she’s ready to go into anxiety overload.

“Isabel Young, stop your worrying and get dressed quickly. I want to go into the office and you’re coming with me.”

I really meant it when I told her I’m not letting her out of my sight until the situation with her father has been taken care of. She remains seated, scanning the room and chewing on a thumb nail.

“Isabel!” I snap and she finally comes around and dresses herself.

When we get into the main level of our place, I’m told by security that several more reporters have caught wind of Isabel’s return and are waiting out front so we decide to leave through the rear-entrance. They also inform me that we’ve made the society pages again. It’s nice to see things are getting back to normal.

We’re on our way to the office when my phone rings. Pulling off to the side of the road, I answer it.

“Young, this is Murphy. We have a dire situation here. Sawyer is in critical care. We just arrived via Life Flight only a few minutes ago.”

“What the f*ck happened?” I yell.

“I’ll tell you about it when you get here. We’re at Cascade Memorial,” he says gruffly just before hanging up.

Isa is watching me, waiting for an explanation, but I have to call Sonya first. I dial her number and relay the information while watching Isabel’s reaction. Her eyebrows furrow, her bottom lips quivers, and she clenches her jaw. She promptly looks out the window and shakes her head. After I hang up, I reach out to her and she squeezes my hand, but then pulls away and folds her arms.

“Isabel…” I try to think of something comforting to say, but I’m unable to come up with anything. My heart is pounding rapidly and there’s a knot in the pit of my stomach thinking about my friend. He’s like a brother to me, sometimes like a father. Christ, what if we lose him?

I turn the Benz around and head in the other direction towards the hospital, my mind racing. The afternoon traffic makes for a slow trip, making my nerves all the more raw. I can’t lose Sawyer, too.

***

Isabel

As if having Dylan almost killed wasn’t enough… now Sawyer? Sickened beyond words at the thought of Dylan losing someone so close and important to him, I shut down. I can’t speak. Dylan is trying to act calm and collected, but he can’t hide the frantic look in his eyes. He, too, knows the pain of losing someone near and dear and my heart aches for him. Oh, God – Sonya.

We pull into the hospital parking lot and Dylan bolts ahead of me and into the ER. They direct us where to go and I hang back while he talks worriedly to Murphy. He keeps looking over at me and trying to smile, but I can feel his terror and agitation from across the room.

I force myself to go into Sawyer’s room and Sonya is standing over him, holding on to his hand and kissing it. When I hear her sad cries, I run from the room and into the restroom nearby. This is all my fault. Why the hell did I turn on my phone? I promised Dylan I wouldn’t leave him again, but… I don’t know what to do. I know what I should do – I should leave here and never look back, but I promised I would stay. Damn me for making a promise that I’m not sure I can keep.

I wipe my tears and remind myself that this isn’t about me, despite how I feel. This is about Sawyer, Sonya and Dylan. They need me. I think they need me. They should hate me for having put Sawyer in this situation and maybe they do. I coax myself to go back out and face them. Dylan is waiting anxiously outside the restroom door and when I come out, he pulls me over to a secluded area.

“I know what you’re thinking and this isn’t your fault. Sawyer is an adult and he made the conscious decision to do what he did on his own. You’re not f*cking leaving me again, Isabel.”

I can’t listen to this. Dylan knows me too well for me to try and lie to him and deny that I’m not thinking about it. Pulling away from him, I go into Sawyer’s room. I approach Sonya warily, not sure if she’ll rip me a new a*shole or beat the living shit out of me for what’s been done to the man she loves. When she sees me, she lunges towards me and I ready myself to tear ass out of the room, but instead she wraps her arms around me, leaning down and crying into my neck. God, help me, this is my fault.

Hugging her back, I try to comfort her. I glance over at Sawyer and he’s sleeping, but his color is pale and he looks fragile. It’s heartbreaking to see this normally strong and dominant man lying here so helpless. He has a bandaged wound over his ribs and just under his heart.

I want to ask what happened, but I’m still unable to speak.

Simons. That albino a*shole did this, I just know it. He tried to kill Dylan and now this? Why isn’t that man in jail? Dylan’s hands are felt on my shoulder and he speaks softly to Sonya, consoling her. He leans in and hugs her and tries to give her surety that Sawyer is a strong man and he’ll pull through, but her sad eyes echo doubt.

“Do you know what happened?” Dylan asks Sonya.

“Murphy said he was shot and that they barely got him here in time. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

I sink onto the couch nearby and close my eyes. Why did I have to turn that damned phone on? Everyone would be safe if I hadn’t been so selfish to want to see Dylan’s photos.

Sonya slides in next to me and sits quietly. On occasion she breaks into tears and then sits silently again. I let her deal with the situation the way she knows how and try my best to be a fly on the wall and out of everyone’s way. Dylan is in and out of the room and on his phone incessantly as is Murphy.

Several hours later the police show up to question Murphy. Deciding that my presence isn’t needed, I put myself to good use by going to the cafeteria and buying everyone a late lunch. When I go to pay for the food, several people are looking at me and whispering. That’s the woman from the sex videos I hear from behind me. My stomach churns. I had forgotten all about that. No one in Chilé knew who I was and my anonymity was a welcome solace. My face heats from humiliation and I avoid eye contact with the cashier. More degrading comments can be heard about me being leashed and treated like a sex toy, and I almost leave the food behind in an effort to get the hell out of dodge when suddenly Dylan’s deep and irritated voice booms from nearby.

“Don’t you two have anything better to talk about than someone’s private sex life?”

I peek up and the offending women wear a look that is a combination of being smitten and mortified. I know the feeling.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t be so quick to judge things you know nothing about,” he adds before grabbing my hand and assisting me with the tray of food.

As we walk away, the females are left with their mouths wide open and their panties soaked, too, no doubt. It takes everything I have not to turn around and stick my tongue out at them like a child and yell he’s mine all mine! They could only wish to be his sex toy, stupid jealous beeotches.

Damn, I love and envy Dylan’s confidence. I need to try and be more like him. Proud to be his wife, I stare up at him as we walk hand-in-hand. He looks down and raises his eyebrows at me in surprise.

“What’s that look for?” he asks.

I shrug, still unable to bring myself to speak, but I’m thinking to myself it’s because I love him so damned much and because, Holy throbbing vag, he’s hot when he gets all Dom. Dylan stops for a moment and watches me, his mouth opening as if he’s going to ask something, but Murphy and Sonya meet up with us and we carry on back to the private meeting room that Dylan has insisted on us having.

Everyone seats themselves close together but I move to the other end of the room, not wanting to hear the gory details of Sawyer’s injuries. I eat in silence and try to push everyone’s voices out of my head. Maybe I could just slip out of here and no one would even notice. Then life for everyone could go on like normal. I could go back to Chilé, but to a different town. Perhaps if I just…

“Why are you eating over here, alone?” Dylan asks, startling me.

I shrug and pick at my food.

“Isabel, why aren’t you speaking?”

Continuing to pick at my food some more, I shrug again.

He cups my chin and forces me to look into his poignant eyes.

“Please talk to me,” he pleads.

What does he want me to say? There’s nothing I can do or say that will change this situation. Nothing. Sawyer is dying, Sonya is dying inside, and Dylan is losing his best friend and it’s all. My. Fault. What the hell does he want from me? I promised I wouldn’t leave and now I’m stuck here putting everyone in danger. I pull away from him and turn my face, sickened with myself for not having the will power to have kept my damn phone turned off.

“Please, love. Is this how you were when I was sick, too? Is this your way of dealing with things?”

“I’m fine,” I force myself to say so he’ll get off my back and let me be.

***

The last two days have gone by quickly. Dylan has kept busy with Murphy and I stay stuck to Sonya’s side. Sawyer has started to rouse and after several blood transfusions, his color is back. He has a fierce lumberjack’s beard and when his soft brown eyes open, I haven’t felt so relieved since when Dylan came out of his coma. Sonya gasps and cries out and latches onto him, and Sawyer looks embarrassed at all the attention being lavished on him. I step away to give everyone their chance at him and to avoid his gentle gaze. After what I’ve put him and Dylan through, I don’t deserve his kindness.

Dylan has stopped bothering me incessantly to speak to him and seems to be off in his own world trying to get things at work under control and figure out what to do about Simons. I overheard a conversation between Murphy and Dylan last night about what really happened and about their plans to get revenge for Sawyer and me.

Simons was apparently prepared for Murphy and Sawyer’s visit and they were ambushed. Sawyer took the bullet for Murphy, pushing him out of the way. That’s Sawyer – loyal to a fault. I can’t understand why Dylan just doesn’t tell the police everything that has happened so that man can be dealt with by the law. My heart is torn about what I must do and I’m fearful of what Dylan has planned.

Dylan reaches over and pulls me close to Sawyer’s bedside trying to compel me to speak to him. Sawyer smiles when he sees me and nausea sweeps over me. I don’t deserve his smile. I go through the motions and smile back, but all the while knowing what must be done. I’ve been avoiding thinking about it, but now that I know Sawyer is going to be okay, I must deal with the situation on my own. I’m not going to be a chicken shit like my father and make someone else do my dirty work, and I’m not going to allow Dylan and Sawyer to be put in harms’ way ever again.

I pull Sonya aside and tell her that I have some business to take care of back home and I should be gone the rest of the day and into the evening. I beg her to keep Dylan busy and to not tell him I’m gone until absolutely necessary. She begs and pleads with me not to leave, but I swear to her that everything will be fine, even though, deep down, I’m scared shitless and know what I have planned won’t end well. I inform her that I booked a flight to Atlanta after breakfast and should be there in a few hours tops and back in Denver by nightfall.

It’s time to make Simons pay for hurting the ones I care about and to make my father answer for killing my mother. It’s time for me to take control of my life, once and for all, regardless of the personal cost.