Eleanor’s eyes widened in shock.
“That night at Kingsley’s …?”
Søren nodded.
“That woman you saw me with is a friend of Kingsley’s. She’s a trained masochist who enjoys receiving pain as much as I enjoy inflicting it. Bondage is part of the sessions. A person tied up is defenseless. I’m less likely to overstep my bounds with a defenseless person. Question three—you asked why my friend would help you. That is a question only Kingsley can answer, and that is all I will say. The answer to your second question—what’s the third reason being with you is problematic—is what I told you. I am a sadist and I can’t get aroused unless I hurt you in some way first. I wish it could be otherwise, of course.”
“Of course,” she repeated, not even hearing herself. “So you … you can’t—”
“Eleanor, you joked about us breaking the table during sex. I don’t break furniture during sex. I break people.”
“I see.”
“As for question number one—what’s the other reason I helped you the night you were arrested? The answer to question one is the same as the answer to question twelve. Because I’m in love with you and always will be. So there you have it. The whole sordid truth of me.”
Søren fell silent and Eleanor let his words settle into the room. She knew he waited for her to speak, to pass some judgment, to make some declaration. He’d bared his very soul to her, laid out the humiliations and horrors of his past and confessed how they tormented him even to this day. She had no idea what to say to comfort him, or if she even could. But first she had one question.
“Is that all?”
He narrowed his eyes at her.
“Is what I told you not enough for you?”
“No, the sadism thing is plenty. I was worried it was something really serious.”
“You have a different definition of serious than the rest of the English-speaking world.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Like serious serious. Like if you were a criminal on the run or you had terminal cancer. Or worse, you could be impotent. I mean actually impotent. Sounds like you just have a different definition of foreplay.”
“My definition of foreplay is usually classified as assault.”
“Obviously you and I are reading different dictionaries.”
“You don’t seem to understand the gravity of this situation. I am a sadist. I cannot escape that. I’m like my father.”
“How badly do you hurt the people you play with? Like do they have to go to the hospital after or anything?”
“As a teenager I lost control once. It was consensual, but I crossed a line. Since then, no. I had a teacher in Rome who taught me ways of inflicting enormous amounts of pain without causing harm. At worst the person will have bruises for a few weeks. Bruises and welts. The masochists I play with are as well trained as I am. They trust me and do as I tell them to do. They put their lives in my hands, and I honor that trust.”
“Your father hurt people against their will. You don’t do that, right?”
“Never. I only hurt those who wish to be hurt, who enjoy it.”
“So you’re the opposite of your father, then. Right?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“If you stick your dick in a woman who wants it, it’s sex. If you stick your dick in a woman who doesn’t, it’s rape. It’s the same act but totally different, right? If this is why you’re holding back from me, you can stop that right now.”
“Something broke in me a long time ago, Eleanor. Or perhaps I was born broken. But yes, when the time comes for us to make love, I will have to hurt you.”
Eleanor’s hands shook as the words make love escaped Søren’s lips again. She tucked her toes under her and rolled back. She rose up in front of him.
“Eleanor?”
She pushed her shorts down and pulled off her T-shirt. Naked and unashamed, she stood before him in the moonlight.
“Then hurt me.”
22
Eleanor
SØREN GAZED UPON HER NAKED BODY WITH REVERENT eyes. Still, he made no move to touch her. She took his right wrist in her hand and pressed his palm flat against her bare stomach. His hand slid to her back and he pulled her into his lap.
She straddled his thighs in the chair as he scored her back with his fingers. Her head fell back as he kissed her neck, her throat. His teeth found the tendon where her shoulder met her neck. He bit down hard, hard enough she gasped, and he shuddered in her arms.
“More,” she whispered.
The world around her drained of color. Flesh and fire turned to black-and-white. Music thrummed in the back of her mind. For no reason and every reason, she felt like laughing.