Rob tried to process that, feeling sick in the depths of his gut.
Tom didn’t seem to know where to go from there. He just patted Rob on the shoulder again and retreated toward his door.
He turned before going in. “Please let us know if there’s anything we can do. Or when we can come visit her.”
“Thanks. I will.”
Rob turned back to the doorway as Tom Edwards’ door gently shut.
Damn.
They’d thought the walls were thick enough the neighbors couldn’t hear them playing. They did most of their heavier play at the club or during private parties, or at his house, where it was completely private. But sometimes he tossed her over his knee and spanked her with his bare hand.
The thought that it could have contributed to her dying had the neighbors ignored the noises and chalked it up to kinky sex nearly made him sick.
He closed his eyes as he stood there, hoping for some sort of impossible, psychic glimpse into the events. Laura wasn’t an overly trusting woman. But the safety chain still hung by the door, unbroken, so she apparently hadn’t hooked it when she answered. She would have looked through the peephole, first, too. She always did that.
Who was it?
It took a monumental effort for Rob to force his legs to carry him inside. He found himself unable to ignore the large ruddy stain on the carpet runner near the front door. Streaks of dried blood also smeared the entryway wall where Laura had fought back against her attacker.
They’d removed traces of blood and tissue from under her nails, so she’d gotten her licks in. The attacker didn’t go away unscathed, something Rob felt more than a little bit of pride over. She was a fighter. The samples were being processed in hopes of a DNA match from a past crime giving them a suspect’s name.
Thomas had told him they had word out with all local doctors and hospitals to keep an eye out for anyone looking for treatment for deep scratches or bite marks.
So far, nothing.
He closed his eyes yet again and tried to put his rage and guilt aside, picturing instead how terrified she must have been. If he hadn’t been working, he would have been there with her. She likely would have spent the evening naked, collared, and kneeling on the floor next to him by the couch, if she wasn’t curled up in his lap.
He walked over to the couch and sat in his usual spot, closing his eyes again.
In his mind’s eye, he envisioned himself stroking her hair, a blissful peace enveloping both of them as they each unwound from their day and let the stress of work evaporate.
Alone together, the outside world always disappeared. He felt like he could spend forever just like that with her, his hand cupping her chin and staring into her eyes. Eyes a beautiful shade of blue-grey, like the Gulf under an overcast sky.
How, without a word, he could sit back and smile at her and she’d dive for his zipper, finally getting the silent permission she’d longed for to go down on him.
Despite the circumstances, his cock hardened as he mentally relived one of the countless times spent with her like that. The warm press of her cheek against his thigh as she sucked his cock between her lips and slowly laved her tongue over it.
The way it felt twining his fingers in her hair before wrapping it around his fist and gently holding her in place. Not that she needed holding. He suspected if he’d let her, she’d spend hours going down on him.
And she was good at it, too. Not that he’d had a ton of other partners, but none had ever been as good in that way. None had ever felt as compatible as she did.
She knew when and where to lick, loved to run her tongue up and down his shaft and over his balls. Loved to deep throat him, and always made a delicious, purring moan that vibrated all the way through his dick when she sensed him close to coming.
The way she always let out a happy chuckle as she swallowed every drop of cum he pumped out of his balls…
His eyes snapped open, his aching cock going from hard to wilted when his gaze landed on the bloodstains again.
Shoving himself up and off the couch, he got to work. He spent the morning there, gathering photo albums and some of Laura’s favorite loafing clothes, as she called them.
He also cleared out their stash of sex toys, including leather cuffs, a flogger, and other things. He didn’t know if the cops had found them or not. But when he brought Laura home, they’d also have vanilla friends helping out and he didn’t want to risk them stumbling over the items, either. It might give someone the wrong idea about their relationship.
Well, the right idea, but he’d found that a lot of people who didn’t understand the BDSM lifestyle were frequently judgmental about it.
Packing up those items proved to be almost more than he could take. He quickly finished what he needed to do and left, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it. He’d fully intended to clean up the bloodstains and other damage, but even he had his limits.
There’s no way I can bring her back to that. I’m going to need help cleaning the place up.
Rob stopped by his house long enough to walk Doogie and gather more items he hoped would trigger something, anything. All morning he’d fought back tears while sorting through both her things and their life together, pictures of trips and reminders of better times.
He pulled her leather play collar from his pocket and rubbed his fingers over it, hooked a finger through the D-ring on the front, the way he would if she was wearing it. To pull her in and give her a kiss, or to lead her to bed.
He angrily brushed the back of his hand across his eyes to wipe away his tears. It was bad enough that he could do little to help her, and worse that she couldn’t remember him.
Wrapping his head around that still proved impossible.
At the end of the driveway Rob threw his Explorer into park and checked the mail.
The mailman had left a package for him in one of the lockable boxes he shared with his neighbors.
Their wedding invitations had arrived from the printer.
His knees buckled. The day they picked them out was still firmly fixed in his mind. How they’d joked maybe they should add “collaring” to the announcement as well, since she wanted him to formally collar her as his slave in front of their friends.
While he stared at the box of announcements, his cell rang. He answered it without looking at the screen. “Carlton.”
“Hey, Rob. It’s Tony.”
He closed his eyes. Tony Daniels had been his first call after trying to reach Laura’s brother following the attack. Tony and another friend, Seth Erikkson, had shown up at the hospital in those initial darkest hours to wait with him, when they weren’t even sure if Laura would pull through or not.
“Hey.”
“How you holding up?”
“Not good, man.” Rob filled his friend in. Tony was one of the first people he’d met when he’d entered the lifestyle, and had been the one to introduce him and Laura. They had a close-knit group of friends who’d met through the lifestyle, but had become like adopted family outside of it.
Tony and Seth had helped with getting information out about Laura’s condition to their lifestyle friends, including spreading the word to stay away from the hospital until Rob gave the okay to visit.
In retrospect, he was even more glad he’d done that. Laura would be too overwhelmed by all the people, now strangers to her, who wanted to visit.
There was a moment of silence. “She doesn’t remember anything?” Tony asked. “Or do you mean about the attack?”
Rob sucked in a ragged breath. “Anything. They said it’s too soon to tell if it’s temporary or permanent.”