Grounded (Up in the Air #3)(79)
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Mr. Distraught
James stayed glued to my side almost constantly for an entire week. If I wasn’t working a flight, he was there, and I couldn’t say I minded it a bit, though I began to suspect the reason.
He was terrified that I would watch the video of him and Jolene. He hadn’t asked me not to watch the thing, but he knew me well enough to suspect that I would want to view what was out there for the world to see.
And so I didn’t find myself alone for nearly a week after the sex tape’s release. James had worked plenty in that week, but only when I was working, or when I had someone keeping me company. Lana took me shopping; Stephan sat with me while I painted. Marnie and Judith flew to New York to spend the afternoon with me. Danika dropped in for an afternoon to observe my current projects. I had a constant barrage of friends to keep me company if James had to work and I didn’t, and I didn’t think for a second that any of it was a coincidence.
I was in the New York apartment, painting, when it dawned on me that I was actually alone.
I glanced at the computer in my studio but just continued to paint. But once the thought occurred, I found it difficult to focus on anything else. I knew I’d have to watch it eventually, and it seemed for the best to just get it over with. It seemed like the whole world must have watched that video by now, and he was my devoted lover, so why shouldn’t I get to see it?
I was sitting at the computer and searching for it online before I could give it much more thought. I typed ‘James Cavendish sex tape’ into the search engine. It was that easy.
My gut knotted painfully from the moment I dragged the mouse over the play button. Every instinct I had told me to just turn it off. Some things you couldn’t take back, and watching James have sex with another woman, a woman I’d met, one who I openly disliked, couldn’t be a healthy thing for our relationship. Still, I watched.
It hadn’t been taped in any place that I recognized. I’d expected that. It was a small room with a big bed, and the camera must have been hidden somewhere high in the room, aimed down, and in the corner.
The small room was empty for long moments before Jolene walked in and knelt on the floor in front of the bed.
She was wearing a tiny black see-through slip that hung at her hips and didn’t cover a thing. I recognized that slip, or at least the style of it. It felt like a slap in the face to see that he’d had me wear something so similar to what she had worn for him. It wasn’t a good start, not that there was any way the horrid video could have had a good start.
She knelt there, all of her glorious assets displayed, her pierced ni**les jutting out for drawn-out moments before James joined her in the room. Someone, either the person who had released the video or the person whose site I was watching it on, had added snarky little comments to the video. Directly beneath Jolene, ‘HOTTEST FUCKING BITCH EVER!’ was scrawled in hot pink.
James was shirtless, wearing just unbuttoned slacks. His body was ripped up and spectacular, though he was slightly thinner back then, his hair a little longer, the dirty blond strands tied back from his face.
His face was a mask of cold indifference, only his dominant persona present that I could see. He said something to her and she bowed lower. There was no audio, aside from a particularly graphic rap song about being a pimp playing in the background, courtesy of the video’s editor.
He pulled her up by the hair and led her the short distance to the bed. She kept her eyes downcast the entire time.
The bed was designed vaguely like a smaller version of the beds that James had in his homes, with a sturdy frame and a top designed for bondage. This bed had bars lining the top. James tied her arms above her head with swift motions. I couldn’t make out his words, and he didn’t speak much, but when he did, Jolene shuddered in pleasure. She reminded me of a cat in heat, with her back arched and her wiggling body responding to his every movement. I hated to watch it, but I didn’t stop. I felt compelled to finish it, some part of me having to see if he showed her even a glimmer of the tenderness he showed me in our passionate moments.
He stood behind her once she was secured. He pressed against her, and had to bend down far to say something into her ear. I thought pettily to myself that she was too short for him. The height difference looked ridiculous. She barely came to his chest.
She shuddered and he moved away. He walked out of the room without looking back, returning after a brief time with an object clutched in one hand.
It was a cat o’ nine, with long tails that were tipped with small silver balls. It looked brutal, and it wasn’t anything he’d ever used on me. He said something to her just before he began to work her over.
From the first strike, the music in the video changed to ‘Smack My Bitch Up’. Whoever had edited the video seemed to have enjoyed themselves.
He worked her over thoroughly, showing no mercy. She kept her head bent forward, her eyes downcast the entire time. She seemed like a different person than the Jolene that I’d been subjected to.
Her body writhed, her big br**sts quivering with every hard strike. The flesh of her butt and thighs was crisscrossed with pink welts by the time he let up.
I felt like I was watching in slow motion as he dropped the whip and began to unbutton his pants. My hands fisted, my nails digging hard into my palms. This was going to hurt me to watch. Still, I couldn’t look away.
He pulled his thick erection free.