The House Always Wins - 35. Chapter 35

CHAPTER 35

The next few days were hard, very hard, and when Olivia finally returned from her trip, I was at the end of my ‘rope' and almost cheerful to see her again.

Okay, that's not fair; the time with Michael was quality time, but his behavior, at times, was such that he almost never left me alone, mentally or physically. Not like it was or felt clingy, not like that, but he definitely wanted to know everything there was to know about me, my life, my education, and my friends (which was a very short list, these days). His dominant personality really showed now, like he thought it was somehow his right to comment on some of my choices in the past, plans for the future, like my college major, and even going so far as to try and make me call home and talk to my parents.

I couldn't help but feel some bit of sympathy for his previous lovers, even Simon, who hadn't been able to deal with his strong will. On the other hand, it was all too easy to let him make any decisions because he did make me feel safe and wanted. Especially the latter, and that's what made it hard. If the lines had been blurred before, they were downright invisible now because we were actually being a couple with fights, and the physical aspect too; one night he demanded sex, when I clearly wasn't in the mood. It was his way of making up, I think.

We'd been having a fight about him pressuring me into a direction I really didn't want to go; he tried to make me call my parents again. This time, though, I made very clear that he shouldn't try that again, or I would walk.

It was 12:08am when he got into bed, flicking on the TV and turning down the sound. I was still awake, reading a book. Every so often he glanced sideways, and a few times he seemed to want to say something.

After a while, he used the remote to turn it off, and sat up against the headboard. Then he turned towards me, stretching out his hand and touched me to get my attention.

"Jason... I..."
I moved back and turned, facing away from him. He sighed and cursed softly.
"Right. I'm being ignored in my own bed. If I didn't know any better, I'd say we were married."
I put the book on the nightstand and flipped off the lamp, pulling up the covers.
"Alright. I'm sorry. Is that what you want to hear? There, I said it. I'm sorry. You were right, I was a cock."

I turned halfway onto my back, and looked at him. I nodded once, accepting the apology, but when he leaned over I turned back into my original position. That was not gonna happen.

He uttered a soft ‘brilliant’ and switched off the lamp on his side, lying down and moved around for a bit, turning this way and that, finally settling on a position. After a few minutes he moved again, and from the sound of it, he had turned toward me. When he tentatively put his arm on my side, he held his breath. I waited until he seemed to think I was fine with it; then I picked it up and let it fall behind me. It returned a few seconds later and I repeated it, several times until I tired of it.

I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed and got up, grabbing my pillow. Then I left the bedroom; fine, I'd sleep on the sofa.

I had hardly laid down on it when he appeared above me, resting his arms on the back of the sofa.

"Comfortable?" he asked, sounding amused. "Get up. You're not sleeping here."
I turned and took the pillow, putting it over my head, but he yanked it off, throwing it on the floor behind him.
"I'm asking one more time; after that I'll help you. You get three seconds. Get up."
What was he gonna do; drag me back there?
"Fine. Have it your way."
He came around the sofa, stood right beside it, and then bent down. He shoved one arm under my knees and the other under my arm and upper back, lifting me up like I weighed absolutely nothing. Not even a grunt.

"Wha...are you nuts?" I growled angrily. "Put me down!"
When he didn't, I hit his shoulder and not all that softly. He hissed but kept walking, snickering.

"This is kind of romantic, actually; me wanting to apologize, make love and make up; you playing hard to get. Had I known that it turns you on, I'd have played along much sooner," he said, dumping me unceremoniously onto the bed, and crawling on top of me.

A little ‘fight’ ensued, but he was far superior, and worked himself up and sat on my lap. He worked my arms up to either side of me, keeping them pinned down beside my head and grinned, his eyes glistening in the dark.

"Very medieval. Is that what you like? To be conquered? Time and time again, Mmm?"
He brought his face down and I turned my head sideways, bucking up to get him off of me.
"It definitely turns me on. See?"
He made his point by rubbing his erection against me.
"And what do we have here... tsk, tsk... it seems we have our answer."
Okay, so I wasn't totally unaffected. That didn't mean he could treat me like this.

He brought my wrists together above my head and lifted himself up from my lap, then used his free hand to pull down my boxers. I started to work against him, but he slipped his hand between us and I froze.

"No... Michael! Stop it...I don’t want to…" I begged, unable to bite down the whimper when he began to stroke me.

"Bollocks. Your body says ‘please go on, Michael'," he grinned. "I think I believe your body."

"Lemme go," I begged again, swallowing another whimper.
This was degrading. My body was definitely betraying me.

"Not a chance," he whispered, "you need a lesson; that you can't run away from me. But you can make it as easy or hard on yourself as you want; your choice."
He pulled the hand between us away and lifted up a little, working my shorts down further. Then he forced his knee between my legs and pushed his own shorts down. He had relaxed his grip on my wrists and I finally got one of my hands free and pushed against his chest, almost succeeding in toppling him over. He laughed softly and came forward, using his weight against me and grabbing my freed hand.
"Give it up...you're not going to win."

I let out a harsh curse from sheer frustration and looked up at his face. He lowered it, pressing his mouth onto mine. His teeth softly bit my lips and I parted them, allowing his tongue inside, giving up. He lifted his head slightly, looking down.

"Give up?"
I nodded, barely.

"Pity, I was just starting to enjoy this."

**********

The following day, Olivia returned, to spend her final week with us. She had loads of stories to tell about her friend Madeline, and blabbed my ear off the whole morning, after Michael had gone back to work.

"But enough about me," she said, at long last, the time approaching lunch. "How are you?"

"Great," I replied, belying the word with the tone in which I spoke it.

"Didn't Michael take time off?"

"Yeah, he did. And we had a lot of fun. It's just..."
I was so glad that she was back, and on the other hand that also meant that my time here was nearing its end. It tore me in two emotionally, and I almost spilled the beans right then and there. I tried to hide my rapidly moistening eyes when I didn't know what to tell her. God, tears? The last time I cried was... in Michael’s office, on the first day of this whole fiasco.

"Dear, are you crying?"
She put a hand on my arm, nodding to the bar, her eyes filling with concern when I couldn't stop the tears from forming.

"Sit down. Tell me what happened. What did he do?"
I wiped my eyes with the palm of my hand.

"It's nothing... I'm okay."

"Pardon me but it doesn't look that way," she replied, clearly not buying it.
My mind was racing to come up with something, and then I decided to tell her at least half of the truth.

"We had a fight."

"Ah...of course," she said, sighing. "What was the fight about?"

"I...said I was leaving."
Her eyes saddened.

"Oh honey, no. What happened?"

"He went ballistic."

"I'm sure he did. He's in love with you; what did you expect, that he'd let you leave without a fight? You don't know my son, then." She smiled. "He's a thickheaded, strong willed, dominant man. His father was the same," she said. "Always wanted to tell me what to do, know what I did. I loved him dearly, mind you, but we've had more than our fair share of...discussions."

"Well, we had one just before you came back," I said, drying my eyes, "and a big one at that."
Olivia gave me a thoughtful look.

"Alright, let me impart some wisdom on you about the Black men; the arguments will always be big. But I've found that ignoring them for a day or two does miracles for their attitude; they don't like to be ignored and will try to apologize. Give him a chance to do that. But whatever the problem is, give him a chance. You have to work out the problem that's causing this. A relationship is giving and taking; my son takes a lot. But I know he has a lot to give as well, he just doesn't do it easily. Will you do that; give him that chance, as a favor to an old woman who just wants her son to be happy?"
Wow...our act had really been sold on her...

"Alright," I said, eventually, "and thanks for the tip. I wish I'd known sooner."
She tilted her head a bit, putting her hand on my arm and squeezed.

"There's hope for him, yet."
I gave her a smile and sighed deeply, thanking her for her friendship.

**********

That evening I took Olivia's advice; I ignored him when he tried pushing me towards calling my parents again. She noticed me ignoring him, and said nothing. Michael tried to strike up a conversation several times during dinner, finally giving up when I didn't react, throwing his hands in the air.

"Someone is being cold-shouldered. What did you do, dear?" she asked, addressing him with a hint of a smile.

"We had a little argument," he huffed, "hardly enough reason to ignore me like this."
Olivia shrugged.

"Well, that's what you get when you go too far. Obviously you went too far. You think about that, dear," she replied.
She left the table and walked past me to go to her room, patting my shoulder on the way.

Michael saw it and planted his elbows on the table, waiting until she had gotten out of earshot.

"What was that all about?" He demanded. "What did you tell her?"
I continued eating, ignoring him. He repeated the question about five times; then he also left the table throwing his napkin angrily on his plate.

"You're behaving like a child, you know that?" he said.
Then he stalked out.

I kept it up the silent treatment until the next day, the day before Olivia left.