The Space Between Things Ch. 02

Regan smiled politely and nodded in response. His attempts were just not enough. The mood remained the same. Everyone sat in their assigned spaces. Audra sat next to the window sulking, looking out into the darkness with her hand pasted to her swollen cheek. Allysia tried hard to suppress her smile as she cradled TJ's head in her lap as he slept. There were times when she had wanted to slap Audra so bad, especially during the first couple of years of her marriage to Troy. She had the funny feeling that the little spoiled brat had never ever been disciplined as a child. That made witnessing what Regan did all the more precious. She really wished Ian was there.

Allysia reached over and took Regan's hand. She knew that the girl was probably asking her self what the hell had she gotten into. There were times when she had to ask herself that too. "I'm so glad that you are here. I hope we can be good friends. Please don't stay mad at Audra. She's glad you're here too. Tomorrow she won't even remember what she's said to you."

Again, Regan tried to smile. That figures, she thought.

"I'm sitting right here," Audra announced, her voice muffled as if there were some actual damage done to her face. "I get tired of people talking about me like I'm not even here."

Where was that woman, the epitome of control that smiled like she did not have a care in the world? What ever was crumpled up against the side of the car was not the Audra Regan thought she knew. If Regan had known the chick was so crazy, she would have stayed her ass in Jersey.

Allysia started laughing; she could not help herself any longer. Troy reached into the mini bar and pulled out two small bottles of Scotch.

"I'm not paying for that," Audra added.

This time Troy's laughter filled the car.

"I'd propose a toast," he teased Regan, "but you're underage." He drank one and slipped the other in his jacket pocket.

The drive was long, but when the house finally came into view, Regan caught her breath. At first everything was an eerie pitch black beyond the car windows. They seemed to be in the middle of nowhere with no street lights or signs for miles. There were not even any other cars for miles. Regan had never experienced that in her whole life. There was only the moon shining off the top of trees and the jagged rock that lined one side of the highway like a wall. Then Troy caught her attention and motioned for her to look out of the window, and that was when she saw it. Suddenly there were lights glowing against the side of what appeared to be the beginning of another jagged outcrop. But the lights were merely illuminating the outside of the house--light dancing off of glass. The word house itself was not even the right descriptive word for it. It was more like a work of art, something fit for the cover of Architectural Digest. It seemed to be completely made of glass, cornered in grey stone, growing out of the mass of rock. Regan had never seen anything quite like it. As the limo edged up the long, winding drive, Regan became more and more awed by the beauty and size of her new home.

"I can't believe this is where you guys live."

"Nope, sweetheart," Troy said, "this is where you live. I've got my own den of iniquity."

As they entered the house, Regan had to remember to close her mouth. She had never seen anything so beautiful. Troy switched on the interior lights and the entryway led into one huge open space. Everything looked so clean...and so beige, even the pale wooden floors.

Audra immediately disappeared after mumbling something to Allysia. So Allysia pointed out a few things about the house to Regan.

"Your father actually designed this house. This is what we call the great room, obviously because it's so big. Rea had this thing about being crowded."

"Rea?" Regan turned to question Allysia.

"Yeah," she answered smiling. "We mostly called him Rea."

Allysia paused.

"Everyone usually hangs out in here." Continuing on with her brief introduction to the house, she motioned to the left. "The kitchen and breakfast room are that way. There are some stairs that go to the second floor off the kitchen. Or, you can use the more formal ones there. The third floor is Ian's."

"He lives here?" Regan interrupted.

"Most of the time," Allysia scoffed.

"You look exhausted," Troy said smiling down at Regan.

The big guy really did have the sweetest blue eyes. "Let's show her the bedroom she'll be sleeping in," he suggested to his wife. "She can check out the house tomorrow." He carried her luggage up the stairs as they followed. He was extremely graceful for such a big guy.

"Now if you don't like the room, we can redecorate it," Allysia was telling her as they mounted the stairs. "Or you can simply move to one of the other two empty rooms. It's up to you. You have your own full bathroom and a beautiful view. That's why I thought you would like it best. Audra is two doors down from you. She has to take sleeping pills at night. So don't be alarmed if you need her and she doesn't respond."

"Allysia," Troy warned, his masculine base vibrating off the walls.

"Well, she should know just in case there is a fire or something. Someone has to drag her ass outside."

Allysia turned on the bedroom light and Regan almost died. This was her room! She turned to Allysia in disbelief. Troy pushed past them both to sit her suitcase on the bed.

"Looks like she likes it," he grinned.

He put his hand over his wife's shoulder. Allysia was too proud of how she had decorated the room to think about how heavy her husband's arm felt right now. He had been practically all over her all day. It was irritating. But she did love the look on Regan's face: it told her all she needed to know.

"We will see you Sunday over our house for dinner," the couple said closing the door behind them.

"My own room," Regan whispered to herself. And, there was so much space. The room came with its own little sitting area. There was a desk. She looked over at the Queen size, four poster bed and put her hand to her chest. "My own bed."

She ran over to it, climbed on top and jumped up and down until she fell out laughing. Regan had always wanted to do that as a child but never dared. Now, she had her own room and a bed she could do anything she wanted to in. The last year had been great with, Larry and Patricia. She had only been their foster child for a short period of time, but it was the closest she had ever come to having a real home. She had not had to worry about anyone slipping into her room at night, fondling her or even worse; and, she had only had to share it with one other girl, Stacy. Now, she had one all to herself for the very first time in her life. Relief washed over her and brought tears to her eyes. Her life was always so strange, never quite what it should be. Was it possible that things could be different now? Was it possible to somehow find some peace with this strange so called family? Not if tonight was indicative of what she was to expect here. It was going to be just a different kind of weird.

A short while later, after showering and slipping into a pair of boy shorts and a tank top, Regan contemplated her day and her crazy life. Reagan McCrenna, her father, had died four months ago in April. The temperature had taken an unexpected dive, the last remains of a harsh winter. There had been rain. He had been driving at night. The lawyer said that his car hit a patch of black ice and ran off a road winding around a mountain. He had no chance of survival. Regan had never met him, never given him a second thought. She had not even known that her name was his name. As far as she was concerned, her mother had chosen it out of a book or off of some soap opera. She had never given any thought to what having a father would be like, period. Everyone she knew was either missing a father or missing both father and mother. Even foster parents rarely came in couples. She had no reason to think that she was any different then anyone else.

Her mother had died when she was five. Vivien Anne Brown was twenty-five and beautiful. She had not finished college, having gotten pregnant during her sophomore year and returned back home to live with her mother and little brother. Regan knew that she was smart though, because she had managed to do what no one else in her family had--she finished high school without a baby and at least managed to get into college. That much Regan knew for sure. She also knew that her mother must have loved this man Reagan McCrenna very much. She named her only child after him and then she abandoned her to go to him. Her mother came to this town fourteen years ago, the name of which had held no significance for Regan until now. Vivien had left her daughter in her mother's keep. Regan's grandmother had been an overweight, homebound mother of seven. Having practically raised all her children, she was now left with a grandchild she did not want or need.

Regan had always fantasized that her mother had left her to come and start a new life for the both of them. And, if her mother had time she would have come back and collected her. If she had money she would have never left her to begin with. But the last couple of months had revealed something quite different. Regan now knew that her mother left her to come here to him, the newly-widowed, world-renowned writer Reagan McCrenna. Vivien came here and she died, leaving Regan with no one that really cared for her. And now, Regan was trying to fall to asleep in his house.

She turned over and closed her eyes, but not before turning on the small, beside lamp. She had no intentions of being left in total darkness, especially not here.

Regan was ready for sleep but it somehow evaded her. There was so many things running through her head. But, she knew how to solve that. She pulled off her shorts and panties. Her body was calling out for the attention only she could give it. She cupped her breast, spreading her fingers out and began to massage them. They were firm in her hands and it felt so good to be touched there. Her nipples immediately responded like little, dark raisons, a direct nerve to her clit. She moaned, running her thumbs across the sensitive tips. In her mind she imagined that a man was touching her. He was faceless, but wanted her like no other. He was demanding but gentle with her. He appreciated how smooth and silky she felt in his hands. And she surrendered to his demand of her. Her hands slid downward over her smooth skin, across her abdomen. She was so turned on. By the time she slipped her fingers within her nether lips, she was already wet with her own excitement.

She plunged her finger in her opening, first one and then two, pumping. She then brought them to her mouth. She was sweet. She wondered if every woman tasted as sweet as she did. Spreading the lips of her pussy wide with the fingers of one hand, she began to explore herself with the other. First she did it lightly, spreading her sweet juices over and around her clit. Her clit was firm to her touch, a knot of sensitivity, and begging for attention. She applied more pressure, drawing a line from the extremely sensitive tip of her clit downward to her moist opening. Then as her body grew more responsive she drew circles around it, teasing herself. She flicked it. "Shit," she thought it felt so good. Slowing herself down was impossible now. She applied more pleasure to her clit, rubbing the sensitive knob. Her breathing changed, becoming shallow and short. This was her favorite part because she could feel the energy gathering, collecting in her clit, like a warning. She mentally tried to fight it, refusing her imaginary lovers progress. But the wondrous work of her own hand was relentless. When she climaxed her whole body shook. Her thighs vibrated. Her clit became so sensitive that she could not bear to continue touching herself there.

Masturbating always soothed her, it took the edge off. She felt replete. But it always followed with a strong sense of guilt. She balled into a fetal position, hugging herself. In her mind what she felt and what she did to get that feeling was wrong. Her imagined lover was never going to come for her. No man could give her that feeling; no man would rap his body around hers with appreciation and care. She would never feel that kind of passion. No, a man like him would not want someone tainted and rigid. She would never have regular sex with a man that loved her, not just her body.

She started to cry.

"Everything is going to be okay," she whispered to herself wanting to believe that more than anything as she fell to sleep.

But with sleep came memories mixed with anger and fear.

**********************

Troy had not bothered to put anything on after showering. He did some quick push ups on the bathroom floor, so that his tanned skin strained across the ripples of his well defined pecks. He checked himself in the mirror one last time. His blue eyes searched his body for some imperfection that might interfere with what he had planned tonight. He had even shaved so she could not complain about his stubble irritating the sensitive skin between her thighs. And, he did plan on licking in between those wonderful thighs of hers. It had been far too long. His body was more than ready to stimulate and be stimulated. Tonight was the night. "Her ass is mine to night," he whispered confidently over and over, like a mantra. He continued to say it until he entered the bed room. Allysia was already in bed. She had her back to him and the covers pulled up to her neck. She clung to her side of the bed as if there were this imaginary line he dare not cross.

"Oh, hell no!" Troy's voice rumbled loudly through the room. He grabbed the covers and pulled them from the bed. That's it, he thought. I'm not taking any more of this shit.

"What?...Troy!" Allysia stared at him like he had lost his mind.

"Damn it Allysia, this has gone on far too long," he bellowed angrily. "It's been over a month. I'm a man...a real man. How long do you think I'm going to continue to put up with this Allysia! My patience is really thin right now!"

Allysia continued to watch him as he ran his hand over his short blond hair in frustration. He was attempting to calm down, but she did not care. She was not in the mood for this tonight. She was too tired and just wanted to sleep. She had sacrificed her entire day to his crazy family. Who did he think he was talking to like that? She grabbed his pillow and threw it at him. When the pillow hit him in the face, she cut into him like a knife.

"You can carry your ass to the couch. You selfish mother fucker. I'm trying to go to sleep and you come in here naked acting like the king of the damned jungle. What are you going to do Troy! Hit me on the head with your big-ass dick and make me fuck you. No! You need to get out of my face with that. Tonight you can jack off on the couch for all I care."

Troy stood there with his hands on his hips. He looked down at the pillow for a moment and then looked back at his wife. His eyes were cold; his face was tight and drained of all color.

"Selfish," he said with a misleading calmness, raising one eye brow. He seethed with a rage he was barely able to control. His jaw was set, teeth tightly clenched. Every muscle in his body was on alert. This was not something brought on just by this moment but was a culmination of moments, this being the last he would stomach. "Selfish?" His repetition of the word was not from a lack of understanding but full realization. That word, like no other, brought clarity. "I'm not sleeping any-damn-where but in my own fucking bed. You can sleep on your own overpriced piece-of-shit couch if you want to." His voice was low and threatening. "Tonight, I'm not leaving this damn room."

"Over priced! Is that all you think about--money and sex! You ass hole! Don't bother, I'll go," Allysia spit out, grabbing her pillow and marching off.

Troy had never laid his hands on Allysia in an act of anger. He knew that he was too big even to play too roughly with her. Allysia had never had any reason to think he would ever hurt her. When she felt him grab her arm and forcefully swing her back into the bed, she actually felt an instance of fear. My God, she thought. She had never seen him so...angry. The scary part was that he was not complaining or muttering to himself, which was the norm when she lost her temper or he lost his. He usually chose to exit on his own, choosing the couch over confrontation. Tonight, he had an alarming stillness about him.

However, Allysia was not one to be easily intimidated. She was a Brooklyn girl at heart. No one was going to push her around, not even Troy's big ass.

She looked him directly in his eyes. "If you ever do that again...I'll....I'll..."

"You'll what Allysia," he growled, stepping forward closing what little space there was between them. "What will you do?"

He had thrown her off balance mentally with the way he was reacting. Allysia could not think with him so close. His heavily muscled chest was in her face blocking out every thing else. His blue eyes were cold and dangerous, foreign. For the first time in the six years that they had been married, it occurred to her that he might just hurt her. It made her heart begin to pound violently.

She began to stutter. "Troy...I...I'm...not pla...playing with you."

His strong arm snaked around her back and jerked her up into him, lifting her off her feet. Allysia immediately started hitting his chest. When he ignored her attempts to struggle against him, she started slapping him hard across the face and frantically kicking her legs. It only made him press his powerful nakedness against her tighter. With his other hand, he grabbed her by the hair forcing her head back.

"What are you going to do to me Allysia," he whispered gruffly into her lips before forcing her to kiss him.

Allysia tried moving her head side to side but she was only causing herself pain. He had such a tight grip on her hair. He had never pulled on her hair before. When he kissed her, forcing her lips apart, she bit his tongue.

"Damn," Troy spit out, throwing her across the bed.

Allysia landed on her back. On her elbows she began to crawl backwards, moving away from him. Troy latched on to one of her ankles and dragged her back toward him as if she were a mere sack of potatoes. She wore an old college t-shirt of Troy's. Troy hated it because it fit her beautiful body like an old lady's house-dress, hiding everything. But when he dragged her across the bed, the tee was pulled up and he could see the smooth skin of her torso and the tiny cotton panties she wore. Allysia was far from petite, but nothing when compared to Troy's six foot six brawniness. At five eleven with four years of strength training under her belt, she was a pretty strong girl. Troy had always admired and loved her strong long legs. She was now using them to assault him, kicking and cursing. He did not have to expend much effort to get what he wanted. It was as if he could calculate her every move. He grabbed both her ankles and spread those long legs apart. Then he jerked her body closer to him and swiftly snatched her panties. Of course she attempted to get away from him once he released her ankles, which worked to his advantage. As she pulled herself away, her panties were easily slid down her legs. Angry and unable to get the upper hand, Allysia turned over and began to crawl away.

To Troy, it was the perfect move. Her round ass was now bare and up in the air. For a large man he moved quickly. With one knee on the bed, purposefully placed between her legs, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her hard against his groin. His cock was rock hard and the feel of her ass against it made even more blood rush to its already sensitive head. Allysia could feel it too. With his size and girth, it was not an easy thing to ignore. Her husband was hung like a horse. She was sweaty and her pussy was pulsating. Fighting him was exhausting, but blood was pumping through her veins like never before. She was so turned on.