Someone Taught Aimee Ch. 2

He picked up the phone to call the hospital, but dropped it on the cradle. She wouldn't talk to him on the phone anyway. Instead, he told his secretary that something had come up and to cancel everything for the day. He grabbed his jacket and brief case and headed straight for Bellevue.

It took the better part of the day and several thousand dollars worth of palm grease to find her. He didn't stop to wonder why he'd even bothered. She was registered as Sheila Jackson and had a private room near the maternity ward. He found the room with no trouble and went inside. The lights were off, the TV was playing quietly, and the figure on the bed was covered with a sheet. No one else was in there.

"Aimee?" He stepped closer, putting his hand on her hip. "Aimee?"

She flinched and curled on herself. "I told you not to look for me. There's nothing you can do."

"I was worried."

"About me?" Her voice sounded funny. It was hoarse and slurred. "I'm the bitch. The sister you hate. Remember?"

"I don't hate you."

"I don't need your pity."

"You think I'm here because I feel sorry for you?"

"Why are you here, Joe?"

He really didn't know. He had developed a soft spot for her, or in his head. "I care about you."

"After what I did? Go away."

"I don't know. I haven't been mad at you since..." He rubbed her hip and she jerked away.

"Since I told you and you pitied me."

"No, since I gave you the spanking the first time."

"The spanking?"

"I liked the way you came for me." He shifted his weight, uncomfortable. "I think about it a lot."

"But–"

"I wanted to see you again. You probably think I'm crazy, but I can't stop thinking about you."

"I think you should leave."

"Why?"

She sighed, a shallow one that sounded full of pain. "I don't want you."

"Liar."

"Look, it's not good for you–"

"It's him. You're still afraid of him."

The sigh was punctuated by a sob this time. "You don't understand. He's so powerful. He'll hurt you and you've been hurt enough."

"I'm not afraid of him, Aimee. He isn't God and he can't hurt me unless I let him. And I don't intend to let him. I promise you that. He can try to take my job, but the people I work for aren't intimidated by anyone. Neither am I. You're going to have to stop being afraid of him."

"It's not that easy."

"Sure it is. You just realize that he's only a man."

She rolled onto her back and ripped the sheet back. A small cry of pain came with the violent motion. "Only a man? It only takes a man to do this!"

"Fuck!"

She was covered in fading bruises. Even in the low light from window he could see the garish green and yellow coloring. Fresh bruises were on top of the older ones. Her arm was in a cast and so was her nose. "Can't you see? You have to go. Just go and leave me alone. It's better this way."

There was no way in hell he was going to leave her. "No. You're coming with me. I'm going to kill that bastard."

"No!" She jerked, trying to sit up.

"Easy, lay down. I won't kill him. But I won't let him do this again. Who is your doctor? I'm going to take you home now. I'll get a private nurse–"

"I'm not going with you."

"You can't want to stay with him!"

"I don't have a choice."

"Oh my God, Aimee, your inheritance isn't worth the price."

"It's not the money. It's Chrissy. I'm the only thing keeping him away from her. You have to go. Now."

"How long has this been going on?"

"If I tell you, will you leave?"

"Yes."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Do you promise?"

"I promise, sweetheart."

She looked vaguely mollified. "Mother, well, she's never really been around. They're still married, but they don't live together unless they need to. When I was old enough to, we started messing around and having sex. That was okay until he decided he wanted Chrissy, too. I made him stay away from her. If he touched her then I'd run straight to Mother and the cops and tell on him. He threatened to kill me if I ever told, but I couldn't let him touch Chrissy. He made a deal. If I became his slut, then he'd leave her alone. Since I was already anyway, I agreed. She doesn't know any of this. She can't."

"And this whole thing last month was staged for her benefit?"

"You weren't good enough for the Princess. He wanted someone with the right connections, not some heathen from no where. He found out that you'd been having sex with her and then you got engaged. He always sends her to Europe when he wants something to happen. I don't know what he would have done if that girl hadn't come for a visit. Your sister, right?"

"Right. And he beat you because?"

"I wasn't supposed to let you fuck me. Just get naked. Maybe oral sex if I had to wait too long for her to get there."

"Both beatings?"

"Both?"

"Nice try. I've seen enough bruises in my life. He beat you a while ago and then he beat you recently. What set him off?"

"Please, Joe, just go. Now."

"Aimee–"

"I can't, please." Her hoarse, broken voice ripped at him.

"All right."

"Goodbye, Joe." Her voice held a note of finality, as if she expected to never see him again.

"Take care, sweetheart."

He didn't want to go back to the office, so he went home. He needed to think. He needed to go kill that bastard. Mostly, he needed to think. Back home he would have gone to a sweat lodge, usually he went to a steam bath here, but he didn't want to be around other people. Instead, he sipped a cup of coffee, leaned his back against the kitchen counter, and stared at the table.

She was protecting Christine, there was no doubt about that. He had a feeling that she was trying to protect him, too. She'd made herself responsible for caging the monster. It was time for that to stop. And he knew just how to do it. Daddy didn't like heathen savages. It was time for Daddy to meet a real one.

The mansion on Carnegie Hill was quiet at night. Rutledge didn't like the help to stick around, he'd found out. Probably so there'd be no interference when he diddled with his daughter. Joe had been watching the house for a while now. It had taken a few months for the information he required to come back from the investigator. During that time he'd done his own homework on the mansion.

Even though the urge had almost overpowered him, he'd skipped on the war paint and breechclout. Instead he wore jeans and a black t-shirt. He'd waited around until the last of the help had gone on home, then slipped inside. High tech security was no match for a guy with the money to learn how to bypass it. He crept through the house, climbing up the stairs to the floor that held the bedrooms. He identified Christine's by the faint scent of Chanel and Aimee's by the smell of gardenia. Crouching on the other side of a set of double doors, he listened intently. Nothing more than MacNeil and Lehrer quietly discussing something. Then a male cough.

He went inside as casually as if he owned the place. "Nice digs, Rutledge."

"You!" The man was older, but he was still a formidable presence. He may have a full head of gray hair, but his frame was as powerful as his standing in the financial community.

"I'm only going to say this once, so pay attention."

"Get out before I call the police."

"I already cut the phone line." Joe drew his knife, a big Bowie that his father had given him for his twelfth birthday. "With this."

"You don't scare me, boy."

"This is the way it's going to work. You're going to leave Aimee alone. No more hanky panky. No more beatings. No more abuse. You're going to leave Christine alone, too."

"I don't know what you're talking about, if Aimee said any–"

"Shut up. I want to kill you. Don't give me a reason to do it." He must have sounded menacing enough because Rutledge shut up. "Just in case you think you can ignore me, think about a few names. Global Energy Dynamics. Synergistics. Evan Glass."

The old man paled. "I don't know what you're–"

"Then you won't mind if I drop some files on the SEC's desk in the morning. You like jail? I'm sure they'd love you in there." Joe crossed the room like a wolf after a rabbit and stuck the knife under the man's chin. "And just in case you think that you can get rid of me, those files are in the hands of a third party who sends them to the SEC if I lose my job or disappear. And if you think you can go back on Aimee for this, then I'll cut your throat myself."

"You don't scare me. I've eaten upstarts like you for breakfast."

"Then try it. I wish you would. I really hope you grow a pair and do it."

"Don't try me–"

"Daddy?" Aimee, naked with a towel in her hair, stepped through a door leading to the bathroom. He was glad to see the bruises had all disappeared. "Joe?"

"Your Indian thinks he can rescue you." Rutledge smiled at Joe, cold as winter. "But I'm going to squash him like a–"

"No!" Aimee screamed and ran toward the bed. The towel hit the floor with a loud thump. "You leave him alone! We had a deal!"

"He threatened me, girl. I can't allow that."

"Daddy, please–"

"I won't let him hurt you, sweetheart. He can't touch me and he knows it."

"Aimee? I heard you screa– Oh my God!"

Joe knew without looking that Christine was standing at the door with a shocked expression on her face, probably her hand over her mouth. The best laid plans.

"Christine, go back to your room," her father ordered.

"I'm calling the police!"

"No!" That came from Aimee.

"Maybe we should let Princess Chrissy in on the family secret," Joe suggested. Rutledge looked horrified for a moment. So.

"No, Joe. We can work this out. You can leave and I'll take care–"

"Not any more Aimee. You've taken care of everything long enough." Joe sheathed the knife and backed up. He crossed his arms over his chest, but never took his eyes from Rutledge. "How old was she the first time?"

"Joe? What is going on?" Christine had regained some wit, but Joe didn't spare her a glance.

"I don't know what you're–"

"Christine is a grown woman, Aimee. Or do you think she can't figure out why you're bare assed in your father's room?"

"Please, Joe, leave her out of this."

"Leave me out of what?" Christine sounded like she was on the verge of one of her famous tantrums.

"Aimee doesn't want you to know that your father has been fucking her for the last ten or so years. How long has it been?"

Aimee dropped her eyes to her feet and refused to speak.

"She doesn't want you to know that she kept him out of your bed by selling herself to him. Be his little slut forever."

"Daddy–?"

"He's lying, baby. He can't have you and he's out for revenge." The old man sneered at him. "I never touched your sister that way."

"Aimee?" Christine stepped farther into the room.

Aimee wrapped her arms around her belly and didn't say anything.

"He beat you because you were pregnant, didn't he."

Aimee's head jerked upwards.

"And he beat you so bad you miscarried our baby."

She shook her head, green eyes wide.

"That's a filthy lie. I never hit my daughter in my life!"

"Come home with me, sweetheart. I won't let him hurt you again." He could see the tears forming and wished that he could wipe them away. He didn't know if she'd let him.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" She swiped at her eyes with one hand and gestured toward the knife at his belt with the other.

"I want to spank you again."

She giggled in spite of herself.

"Being inside of you was the best thing that I've ever done in my life," he said. "I'm going to do it again. And again."

"You'll keep your hands off of her," Daddy growled, coming out of the bed. "She's mine."

"Not anymore." Joe's hand went to the hilt of his knife and Rutledge stopped.

"Oh my God, Daddy, put some pants on!" Joe had forgotten about Christine.

Aimee lifted her chin and straightened her spine. "I'll go with you, but I'm not leaving Chrissy here with him. Not by herself."

"Wait, Aimee–"

"She can stay with us for a day or two. But no more. You're not responsible for her."

"She can go stay with Mother."

"I'm not going anywhere!"

Rutledge took a step. Joe grinned at him. "Go ahead, say something."

"Chrissy, you can't stay here alone with him. He'll–"

"He'll what, rape me? I don't believe a word of that! You're making it up because you hate me."

"I don't hate you!"

"He's gotten to her, Princess," Rutledge said softly.

"Get out!" Christine yelled at Aimee. "How dare you talk about my Daddy that way?"

Aimee looked as if she'd be slapped. Joe took her hand and tugged her toward the door. "C'mon, sweetheart, let's get out of here."

"You haven't heard the last of me, boy. I'm going to ruin you."

"That's what you think, old man. Go get your things, Aimee, we're leaving."

She nodded and slipped from the room. She was fast, she came back wearing a dress that she'd just pulled over her head without looking and a barely zipped gym bag. "I'm ready."

"Aimee," Rutledge said before they could leave.

"What, Daddy?"

"You're no longer my daughter."

Joe grabbed her hand and squeezed. He couldn't read anything in her face, but he didn't miss the flash of pain in her eyes. Finally, she lifted her chin and said, "Good."

Once he'd gotten her back to his apartment, he didn't know quite what to do with her. What to say. She seemed to be in the same boat. She curled up on his couch and picked at her toenails. He sat in the armchair he'd never sat in before and tried to think of something to say.

"I'm worried about Chrissy."

"Why don't you call her tomorrow morning after he's gone to work?"

"I'll do that."

End of conversation. He had no idea what to talk about now. "I can't believe I ever thought you were a bitch," he blurted.

She smiled at him. "I wasn't very nice to you." Her smile fell. "I've never been nice to people. It was easier."

"I'll bet."

"Why did you do this for me? Honestly? Not that I'm not grateful, but..." She trailed off, uncertain.

That was the one question he'd been avoiding in the past few months while he'd waited for the reports from his detectives. One he'd studiously ignored while conducting less than completely legal surveillance on the Rutledge household during those past few months. "You know how something is just the right thing to do? I had to do it."

"Just the right thing?"

"I've always wanted to be someone's knight in shining armor."

"Oh." She looked small and girlish in the gray dress that was more appropriate for a business luncheon.

The silence stretched. He fiddled with his thumbs, getting nervous without really knowing why. "Do you, um, do you want to be here? I'm glad you're here." He hadn't meant to say that. He'd wanted to ask her if she wanted to watch TV. Not that.

Instead of derision or shock, she smiled at him. It softened her entire face and brought a glow to her eyes that captivated him. "Yeah. I am, too." She stood up and slipped out of the dress.

"Hey, you don't have to do that."

"I want to."

"You're welcome to stay here without that kind of payment."

She knelt between his legs, and pressed her cheek to his thigh. Tangling his finger in her hair, he sighed in pleasure. "I want you to spank me again."

"I love your ass, sweetheart."

"I know. I want to please you."

He smiled at her. "Oh, you do. Just by being here."

"You're wearing too many clothes."

"So I am." He stood up and reached for his zipper. His eyes caught the shining blonde hair a few inches from his crotch. "Take my clothes off for me."

"Am I still your bitch?"

"You'll always be my bitch."

She grinned up at him. "Good." Her fingers undid his belt buckle and then the button and zipper. She tugged his jeans down and buried her face in his crotch. "You smell so good."

"Thanks."

She opened her mouth and took him inside. It was like before, only better. The heat, the suction, and the perfect technique combined with a glowing feeling of warmth somewhere in his heart. It wasn't just her skill, it was the fact that she was doing it. He sat down on the couch, leaning back, and just watched her loving on his cock.

Her eyes were closed and her lips moved up and down the length of his shaft. He could watch her do that forever. He pulled his shirt off, throwing it aside, then ran his fingers through her hair while she worked on his dick.

"That's so good, sweetheart," he crooned.

The up and down was replaced by a long, slow suction from the head to the base and then back up again. Her fingers combed over his balls, then held them gently. At the tip, her tongue swirled over the head, licking at the slit and then moving down to rub the sweet spot along the underside, right below the head. He groaned, lifting his hips and pushing himself a little more into her mouth.

She took that for encouragement and did it again. Her fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and moved in time with her lips. Up and down with a little twist that drove him insane. Her tongue was everywhere, over the head, along the underside, wrapping around the sides. She moved faster on him, her head bobbing while she sucked. He closed his eyes and the only thing he knew was the few inches of cock she worked on.

He held her head with both hands, fucking her mouth as much as he could in his position. She didn't miss a beat, just kept up that incredible suction and with that wonderful tongue. He felt his balls drawing up against him and knew she had to feel it with her petting fingers. A few moments later his cock jerked, spitting a full load into her mouth. He body strained to push his dick all the way into her while she swallowed jet after jet of cum.

Gathering his wits, he tugged her off of his cock by the hair. She licked her lips and looked up at him with a satisfied smile.

"Your turn." Before she could protest, he pushed her onto the carpet and forced her thighs apart. She put up just enough struggle to make it interesting, her eyes glinting.

He pushed his face between her legs and licked the length of her slit. She gasped out loud, her fingers curling into his hair. "No, don't!"

"Yes." He pulled her open with a finger and slipped his tongue inside. She squirmed, trying to wriggle out from beneath him. He caught her hips and held her steady while his mouth went on a reconnaissance mission for her clitoris.

She yanked on his hair, nearly ripping some of it out.

"Ow! What'd you do that for!"

"Don't dothat. I don't like it."

"I do."

"I don't care what you like, Sitting Bull." She shot to her feet and stared at him as haughtily as Custer had ever stared at a Souix. "You're not doing that to me."

Joe stood up and glared at her. "Why not?"

"Because I said no, Geronimo." She crossed her arms over her chest and refused to look at him. "If you're going to do anything to that pussy, you're going to fuck it."

"Bullshit."

She frowned, her eyes clashing with his. He dropped onto the couch, upending her as he went. She came down across his lap with a squeal and struggled a little until he planted his hand on the small of her back. She took a deep breath and looked up over her shoulder. Smirking, he slid his fingers into her wet pussy just to watch her eyes widen. The liquid heat and the clasp of her inner muscles told him just how much she liked it.

He jerked his hand back and smacked her right where the thigh met the ass, hard. She yelped and jerked in his lap. Running his fingers over the dripping lips between her legs, he found her clit and made her wiggle. She moaned and lifted her hips up to his hand. He did it again, aiming for the other side of her butt this time. Dipping his fingers back into her pussy, he took the wetness and spread it over one of her cheeks.

"Joe . . . ."

"What, Aimee?" He painted her other buttcheek with pussy juice.

"I've been a bad girl."

He grinned and slid his finger along her lips, looking for her clit. "I'll say. Are you going to tell me no when I want to lick your pussy?"