Need Me - Being Trevor's Toy (2 page)

I never tried to have sex with him in the limo again. I never sat next to him in there either.

Trevor also never apologized. His black-and-white thinking didn’t allow for it. I was clearly in the wrong by trying to expose our intimacy to the driver or anyone on the street. I had to be corrected. End of story.

Yes, this is the man that dangles me on a string.

He’s arrogant, prideful, and cold. He rarely tells me he loves me. He’s gone more often than not. He always has to be in control. He thrives on it, needing dominance over all things big and small.

Yes, I’m smitten and
should
be ashamed.

We arrive at his building without fanfare. Trevor exits the vehicle and holds out a hand for me. I take it, savoring the feeling of his warm leather glove against my bare skin.

Trevor purchased the penthouse forty floors above us a year and a half ago. No matter how posh, he tired of us having to use hotels every time he visited. I reflexively refused to let him buy me a townhouse and he refused to sleep with me in the same apartment where I, as he put it, “entertained previous lovers.”

It didn’t matter that I offered to buy a new bed and sheets. I even said I’d replace all the furniture. He declined and never step foot in my Garden Hills apartment.

I should’ve been offended. The woman I was before Trevor would’ve been. I would’ve cursed a blue streak and probably broken a dish or two. I also probably would’ve slapped him while hitting him with my purse.

I did none of those things. I understood his objections. Just the idea of sharing the same bed he had shared with other faceless women made me nauseous. I could barely tolerate knowing there were others before me in his life, much less use the same things they did.

Trevor, obviously, excluded.

I’m surprised Trevor didn’t push on the townhouse issue. Sometimes I wonder if I misread the meaning behind his gesture. Was there more to it? Was it his way of making things more permanent?

I’ve never found out.

When my lease ended, I sold or donated all but my most precious belongings and moved to an apartment complex down the street. Trevor visited but still whisked me off to his place.

We enter the enormous lobby, giving our pleasant greetings to the doorman and concierge. I hold my flowers against my chest like a reigning beauty queen. My smile is just as pretty and false. I feel nervous as we enter the empty elevator. Trevor hasn’t said a word to me in fifteen minutes. I have no idea what he’s thinking.

As always I wonder who will I encounter when we exit onto the private top floor? Will it be a satyr intent on hedonistic pleasure or will it be a harsh master bent on keeping me under his polished shoe?

Or rarer yet, will it be the vulnerable little boy hidden beneath a near-impenetrable wall of impeccable manners and tailored clothes? One who will lay naked and rest his head on my lap and let me hold him as he wasn’t held as a child? One who has cried only once in front me but blinked away his tears too many times to count?

I was thoroughly seduced by the uncompromising dominant. I was permanently captured by the tortured man hidden beneath.

Does it make me sick that I yearn for those quiet moments when he is bare and wrecked? I hope not.

Trevor is the great love of my life and I believe I am his.

I have to believe that because otherwise…it just doesn’t bear thinking.

I’d lose my mind if none of this were real. If I was just the pretty ballerina he fucks to pass away the time and too stupid to know any different. If Trevor mind-fucked me for the amusement of seeing how far I would go to win a love that simply wasn’t there…no. It’s not possible.

The elevator opens. He removes his key from the number panel before taking my arm in his. Our steps echo in the cavernous marble foyer as the silver doors closes behind us. As always, my gaze is drawn to the floor-to-ceiling glass. The brilliant skyline sparkles in night shades of blue, yellow, and red. Maybe later we will take to the wraparound balcony, snuggled in our warm robes as we gaze up at the stars.

I hope so.

“There’s a vase in the kitchen.”

It’s my cue to put my flowers away. I smile and leave him without another word. We are a quiet couple, aren’t we? Not much chit-chat I’m afraid. At least not at this juncture. Trevor has to feel his way around me to speech again. I’m nothing but patient and well used to it by now.

Familiar with his sleek, modern kitchen as my own, I open a lower cabinet and find the heavy crystal vase. As I go through the motions of preparing the water, I wonder if I preoccupy his thoughts as much as he does mine.

I know I won’t have the courage to find out anytime soon.

I carry my beautiful burden with me to the spacious living area. All done in various shades of crème, brown, and gray, I can’t help but think it doesn’t truly reflect Trevor. While lovely and undoubtedly expensive, the décor gives no impression of the man who occasionally lives here. I would’ve loved to have seen the space decorated with antiques, dark wood, and rich, jewel colored fabrics.

However, he never asked for my opinion. He simply brought me here after it was purchased, painted, and furnished.

I have to admit I did think Trevor would ask me to move in. I also have to admit I was a more than a little hurt when he didn’t. Hence my wondering if I had misread his previous offer of buying me a townhouse. Did Trevor mean to live with me there when in town? Did I inadvertently reject and offend him when I refused?

My Trevor is a funny sort when it comes to his feelings. And yes, he has feelings that don’t center on his glorious cock. He’s tender beneath the severe surface. He has a fondness for children and animals. He’s disgusted by big-game hunts and sees it as a grave and telling moral flaw of those who participate. Fox hunts sicken him especially.

Trevor despises cruelty against those who are weaker and unable to defend themselves. Strange, isn’t it, considering that much of his behavior towards me can and should be construed as cruel?

Does it mean he thinks of me as strong enough to handle his darker needs? I certainly hope so.

I set the vase down on the glass coffee table. My fingers tuck a bloom here and there, intent on arranging the bouquet to its best advantage. Trevor has removed and put away his overcoat, jacket, and gloves. Seated on the low-slung slate couch, he watches me attempt to beautify his home with my presence. Aside from a few personal effects, the flowers are the only part of me to stay permanently when he is in town.

I must make them perfect.

Like always, I find myself observing him in return, trying to decipher his mood and emotions through the subtle. His arms are resting on the couch’s back. Trevor’s in a relaxed, playful mood.

Good. Relief pounds blood-thick. I would’ve hated to know he was disturbed on his trip. He carries too many responsibilities as it is. Although if he was, I’d know how to drain away his frustration. It’s my specialty apparently.

As always, I can’t help but wonder if he has missed me like I’ve missed him. Am I as much home to him as he is to me?

I should be brave enough to ask. But I’m not. Strip me to my core and you’ll find a coward, a woman so afraid she’ll push away the man she loves because she’s obsessed with knowing her place in his life that she’ll also flay him raw as a result. So raw he’ll have no choice but to throw her away.

I’m not that brave.

It’s easier to think of the sex. That’s why I do so much of it when I’m with Trevor. In that violent dance of limbs, we’re open and honest. Outside of our twisted lovemaking, he allows me to pretend I’m not a jumble of nerves. Otherwise, he’s fanatical about me being accessible to him in every way.

He doesn’t allow me to shut myself off, or parcel out myself piece by stingy piece. It’s an ingrained habit now to keep my eyes open when we make love/fuck/have sex. Otherwise, it’s too easy to hide what he makes me feel and Trevor will not tolerate such defiance.

My openness is not kept to the proverbial bedroom. Let’s just say there’s nothing too private that can’t be done in his presence and leave it at that.

See? He’s not such a proper British gentleman, is he?

Trevor has seen me at my best and my worst. I’ve seen only what he’s allowed me to see. It’s not fair.

And yet here I am and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. I did mention I was obsessed and beyond all hope, didn’t I?

“Rebecca.”

I pat one rose a final time and move the vase a fraction of an inch to the right. I turn around and go to him. I know my heart is a bruised Valentine bouncing around in my chest. I smile at his somber beloved face, hoping my visit will bring a little bit of joy to his staid, solemn life.

I never pictured myself a martyr or benign angel of mercy. I was always so selfish and self-absorbed, focused solely on my needs and desires.

I hear love can change a person. I’m living proof it’s possible. I’m tender and understanding of people’s flaws now. I give out hugs whereas before I’d give out the finger. I no longer throw temper tantrums when my dance partner makes a mistake or when anything and everything goes wrong during a performance. I’ve softened so much I don’t even know that spoiled girl anymore.

I’m also every cliché wrapped up in a feminine package of blind need.

I want to save this man. I want to take away his grief. I want him to know my love.

I wish I could’ve forced his parents to give him the affection and approval he so desperately needed. I wish I could’ve taken away the razor from his little sister’s wrists. I wish I could’ve applied it to the man who left her pregnant so he could marry one rung up the social ladder.

I wish I could forever and always take away Trevor’s pain but I can’t.

So instead I let Trevor make me his perfect fuck doll. I take his cock like a good girl, let him put it wherever he wants, and I love it. I swallow his come, making sure not to waste one delicious drop. I let him tie me up. I let him blindfold me. I let him spank me until I’m a sobbing, mucus mess.

I obey him, never questioning his orders when we’re in bed, and am happy for it. I am his completely and I will never, ever abandon him.

I tried once.

I could justify that incident by saying I was having a bad night. I had faltered during a performance, taken a misstep when there should’ve been only flawless grace. Unsurprisingly, Trevor pointed it out and proceeded to grill me as to why I had made such a gross error in judgment.

I snapped. Shaking his hand off me, I grabbed my coat and stomped off before turning back around. I laid into him like I never had on another human being.

Now I know the reason for my rage. I’d tired of Trevor’s inability to love me on my terms. I was so exhausted of being on edge, deathly afraid of making any mistake that would cause him to turn me out in favor for another girl who’d agree to let him ply his rough sex.

So I screamed at Trevor, accusing him of having a silly, incompetent Rebecca in every major city. I still vividly remember the hardness of his expression. The face looking back at me was one of a stranger. Trevor stared at me as if I were a raving lunatic. He refused to say one word in his defense as I flung my vile charges.

Eventually I stormed out of the living room. I wouldn’t be able to use the elevator so I headed for the main, rarely-used entrance. He caught me just as my hand gripped the weighty door knob.

Trevor yanked me away, lifting me off my feet before subduing my flailing arms. He wrapped his arms around me and sank to the cold floor. His violent trembling punched through my rage.

“Trevor—”

“Rebecca, please…not yet…”

I must’ve quietly sat there with him for hours, body stiff and mind racing for what all this meant. In the aftermath of my explosion, silence was all we could trust. Eventually, Trevor picked me up and carried me outside to the balcony. I had the brief thought that he was going to toss me over the edge.

Instead, Trevor continued to hold me tight in his arms as we lied on the outdoor chaise. Quietly, he pointed out the constellations, filling my mind with tons of astronomy facts and interesting tidbits while not telling me anything of what really happened in the foyer.

Finally, once I almost drifted off in exhaustion he whispered, “No matter how far apart we are, we will always see the same sky together, Rebecca.”

I never tried to leave him again. He never critiqued any of performances either.

Trevor reached out for me. He takes me in his arms and I’m so happy I could explode. I’ll do my best to leach away the ugliness in his past and I won’t judge him for it.

I love him that much, you see?

Trevor unbuttons my coat with his long elegant fingers. My breath quickens. I never take off my clothes because he enjoys the unwrapping. Trevor once admitted every time he undresses me it’s like getting a new toy.

Which would be insulting if I didn’t know that he never got any as a child past the age of four for fear it would make him “soft.” It was bad enough he was a pretty as a girl—couldn’t add being a sissy on top of it.

I mourn for that little boy, deprived of tenderness and given the world as a consolation prize. Growing up poor wasn’t always easy for me, but at least I knew I was loved. I got to play outside with my Barbies, running through the neighborhood in games of tag, and dreading the streetlights turning on to end our raucous play.

Tag was and still is my all-time favorite game. I loved introducing it to Trevor. Thinking about how we ran throughout the penthouse, dodging the other in pursuit of base and safety, brings another smile to my lips.

There’s so much more I’d like to introduce to him. More happiness, more freedom, more everything. I want it all for Trevor.

But I can’t force it. I must be patient and let him come to me when he’s ready. I also have to accept that day may never come.

Loving Trevor is not easy.

He slips my coat off and tosses it onto the other end of the couch. It’s a red smear in the corner of my eye. I lay there passive while he undoes my dress. It too ends up thrown onto the couch. Trevor finally smiles when he sees my black lacy undergarments.