Unforgettable (Black Rose Doms Book 1)

by Rory Reynolds

  He’s offering not only freedom from fear but the chance to reconnect with the only good thing from my past—himself. He’s giving me permission to explore where these tender moments are leading. That’s a terrifying thought in and of itself. In my world, all good things come to an end. Ripped away by cruelty only to be replaced by torment.

  Matthew’s dark eyes are watching me intently as if he can read my every thought as I try to justify putting his life in danger by staying. It feels like an epic battle of wills. The will to flee is at war with the desire to stay. The intensity of his stare has my heart in a vise. That fool emotion that’s kicked me a million times over the years—hope—springs to life.

  I turn away from his gaze, knowing that no rational decision will come while I’m drowning in those inky-blue depths. He gently turns my face so that I’m once again looking at him. “Stay.”

  With that one word, my decision is made. My heart wins the battle, and common sense loses the war. “Okay. I’ll stay if it’ll make you happy. I’m just scared of you getting hurt because of me. I feel like a pariah, bringing bad luck and pain wherever I go.”

  Anger flashes hot through his eyes for a brief moment, then simmers into an emotion I can hardly name. “Amara Rose, don’t you ever think that again. You’ve always been the light of my life. I survived on the hope of one day finding you. It’s what kept me going.” Matthew heaves a sigh, then shakes his head as if he can’t believe that I don’t already know what he’s saying is truth. “You. Are. Mine.” Each word is punctuated with a gentle kiss to my forehead, my cheek, the corner of my lips. It’s so achingly sweet. My heart melts that this fierce man so readily shows me sweet affection.

  “Mine,” he growls, then takes my lips with determination.

  His lips massage mine, his tongue teases across my bottom lip, asking for entrance. I don’t deny him, I don’t think I could if I tried. Our kiss takes on a life of its own until we’re both lost to sensation. He weaves his fingers through my hair, deepening our kiss. He tastes like sweet mint and dark chocolate. I’m brought back to a time when a teenaged Matthew used to hide Junior Mints in his backpack. I can’t help wondering if he still keeps the sweet treat stashed somewhere or if this is just Matthew.

  Either way, his kiss is addicting. I bury my hands in his thick hair and lock myself to him, kissing him with all that I am. I can’t get close enough. Clumsily, I turn on his lap so that I’m straddling him. I moan into his lips as my aching nipples brush against his chest. We drink from each other’s lips like there’s nothing else in the world we need to survive. He’s my very breath, my heartbeat, my entire reason for being. There’s a rightness to us being together that can’t be denied.

  Matthew’s hands run down my back, and the small touch of pain when he rubs along a particularly sore spot only heightens my senses, adding another layer to my pleasure. His hands make their way to my ass, and with one little tug, my core lines up perfectly with his hard cock. I break away from his lips on a moan as he rocks me against his erection. He drags his lips back and forth across my jaw, then down my neck and back again.

  It all becomes too much. Matthew must sense that I’m about to pull away because one of his hands latches onto the back of my neck, holding me in place while the other anchors to my bottom, pulling me in closer to him. He guides my lips back to his, and I lose myself in his kiss, rocking my hips so that the hard ridge of his cock rubs me in all the right places. The silk of my panties does nothing to disguise my wetness.

  He rolls his hips up into me, and I swear my eyes cross from the overwhelming sensation. Matthew makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. Things that I never had a chance to feel. All of my sexual experience prior to him came in the form of prearranged, paid for, and unwanted encounters. I never enjoyed a single pleasure-filled moment until Matthew touched me.

  My clients weren’t there to make things good for me. Quite the opposite. I was a favorite among the most depraved of the Red House’s clientele. Clients that got off on forcing themselves on someone who couldn’t or wouldn’t stop them. Men who fantasized about raping women but had no desire to end up in jail. Why take the risk when you could pay someone and live your fantasy?

  I’ve always wondered if any of the men ever suspected that I was at Red House against my will. Did they assume that I was a whore with an amazing talent for acting? How many of them knew that my panic and fear were real? How many of them relished the opportunity to rape not only my body but my mind and soul? Surely the ones who came back time and time again knew and fed off my fear.

  I brush the thought away. That was another time another place. I’m no longer Mr. Perfects to use. With Matthew, I’m a whole new person. The girl who was forced into becoming a whore disappears being replaced by a woman who is capable of desire and lust. Someone who can take pleasure in the simple touch of a man. It’s a revelation.

  He lifts my dress over my head, leaving me in only my drenched panties. I moan when he latches onto one of my nipples with his hot mouth. He licks and sucks first one then the other, lavishing my sensitive peaks until my breasts feel heavy and full. I groan when he latches onto the pale curve of my breast and sucks deeply, leaving a purplish mark.

  Without any conscious permission from my brain, I find myself grinding myself down on his hard length creating the most delicious friction. That same sweet heat from this morning is building in my core. Growing and stretching until my skin feels too taut for my body. Before it reaches the breaking point, someone bursts through the penthouse door, jerking me out of my pleasure haze and shoving me straight into panic mode.

  “Daniels, what the fuck?” Matthew roars. Distantly, I find it funny how when he’s in boss mode, he calls him Daniels, and other times he’s Kisten. Almost like Matthew sees him as two separate people.

  Matthew pulls my body tight against his, shielding my nakedness from Kisten. It’s almost comical seeing as how just last night he stripped me bare in front of both Kisten and Slade. I have to admit I’m glad that he is shielding me at the moment. I feel more exposed than ever as my body slowly descends from the peak it was building towards.

  Kisten grimaces as he takes in the scene in front of him. I wish I knew what he thought of when he saw me naked on Matthew’s lap. Does he think I’m taking advantage of him? “Sorry, boss. There’s trouble. Damon’s downstairs demanding to speak with Rose.”

  “No,” Matthew says with a fierce calm that is scarier than any shout.

  “That’s what I said…” Kisten hesitates, looking at me with some look I don’t recognize. “But then he gave me these and told me to rethink my stance on the situation.”

  Matthew reaches out to the envelope that Kisten is holding out to him, and I instinctively know that whatever is inside is going to change things forever. I’m tempted to snatch it away and refuse to let him see, but I’m frozen with fear of the unknown.

  I let out a pained sound when I see what’s in the envelope. Dozens of pictures of me. The world spins and bile forces its way up my throat and I have to choke it down.

  “Where the fuck did he get these?” Matthew asks, his voice low and dangerous as he looks at the pictures.

  I sit frozen on Matthew’s lap, watching the last ten years of my life play out in still motion. Me naked on my knees, scrubbing the floors of Red House with a toothbrush, my ass bright red with visible handprints… I was sixteen. Me in the shower, trying to wash not only the blood from my skin but the shame from my soul. The pictures reveal to Matthew all the things I wanted to hide from. Pictures of men twice my age or more forcing themselves on me. Close-ups of my face twisted in pain, my mouth open on a silent scream. Me cuffed to my bed naked… In some, I’m waiting for one horror or another. In others, my face is lax with sleep, my body covered in bruises and worse.

  I feel Matthew tense beneath me, and I know what’s coming next. Hot tears track down my cheeks as I wait for him to tell me how disgusting I am. I can’t stand it. I won’t survive his rejection. He do
esn’t try to stop me when I stand. I don’t know why I thought he would, but it hurts that he didn’t. I cover my breasts with one arm feeling more exposed than I ever have before.

  “I’ll see him,” I say, pulling on my abandoned dress.

  Matthew still hasn’t said anything, and Kisten is looking between the two of us like there’s some kind of mystery to be solved. No mystery here, Matthew knows the truth of what I am and no longer wants me.

  “Am I doing this alone?” I ask. My question is meant for Matthew, but it’s Kisten who responds by silently stalking ahead of me to the elevator. He pushes the button, and my stomach lurches.

  “Kisten?”

  “What is it, sweetness?” If Matthew didn’t own my heart, I would’ve fallen a little in love with him for trying to pretend things are normal.

  “You won’t leave me alone with Damon, will you?” My voice is small and weak. I sound like prey, and that will never do. I need to find my courage before I come face to face with the devil.

  “Never,” Kisten says fiercely. “You’re not alone anymore, Rose. Don’t you ever forget that.”

  Tears prick at my eyes again because I know that despite the things he saw in those pictures, he’s still willing to protect me. I hate that I’m gaining a friend just in time to lose him. When Matthew sends me away, Kisten won’t be around anymore. Hannah and Slade too. I’m going to be all alone again.

  I nearly choke on the sob as I try to force it back down.

  17

  Rose

  Damon is lounging on one of the plush couches outside a door marked ‘private.’ I assume the door leads to Matthew’s office. “Where’s Bennett?” he sneers.

  “You didn’t ask for him. You asked to speak with me,” I throw my arms out to my sides. “Here I am.” I pat myself on the back for sounding a lot more self-assured than I feel. So long as I can keep the façade in place, he won’t know I’m about two seconds from falling apart at the seams.

  I will myself to show no fear. Showing fear is a weakness. It’s how predator becomes prey. I’m so sick of being the prey. A little burst of anger flits through me, and I latch onto it. Encouraging it to grow by siphoning off all of my self-hatred, turning that hate outward where it’s deserved.

  “What the fuck do you want?” I’m shocked by the vehemence in my tone. The hurt of being rejected by Matthew and seeing those pictures of me fuels the impotent rage I’ve felt for years. That rage now has a target, and it’s Damon.

  He lets out a burst of laughter. “My, oh my, you have changed my pet.”

  “Listen, asshole, tell our girl why you’re here, then get the fuck out of our club,” Kisten barks. My heart swells when he refers to me as ‘our girl’ only to pop like a balloon when I remember the look on Matthew’s handsome face just before I came down here.

  Damon has a huge shit-eating grin spread across his face. He thinks he has the upper hand. He’s so obvious in his over-confidence. He thinks the results of his little visit are predetermined, so there’s no reason for doubt.

  “It’s rather unfortunate, really,” Damon says with fake sincerity. “You see, it turns out that our dear little Rose isn’t in a position to give herself over to me. She has a master already.” His words turn my blood cold in my veins. He’s talking about Mr. Perfect. “Don’t you, pet?”

  Kisten steps up close to Damon, getting in his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?” His body is tightly coiled violence just waiting to be unleashed at the slightest provocation.

  I put a calming hand on his arm, drawing his attention. “He means that someone already thinks they own me and that they want me back.”

  A look of confusion flashes through his brown eyes as he studies my face seeking answers. “Who?”

  “Nelson Grant,” Matthew answers shortly as he walks into the room, his face a mask of hatred and disgust. “Our foster father. Otherwise known as Mr. Perfect.”

  “Fuck me.” Is Kisten’s only response. He obviously knows about Mr. Perfect, at least what Matthew knows of him.

  Damon gets a satisfied evil villain type look on his face. “How interesting. I’m sure Mr. Perfect, as you call him, will be thrilled to know that two of his wayward children are right here in New York City.”

  “We are not his children,” Matthew says with so much vehemence I flinch. “He was a real bastard of a man back when he took us in and based on those photographs, he was even more of a monster than I ever gave him credit for being.” Contempt drips from every word as Matthew paces the room.

  “Well, I know he’s going to be more than interested in knowing how successful you turned out. It seems he’s run into a bit of bad luck these days. Apparently, his best girl ran out on him just before one of her most important clients were scheduled, and these clients don’t take kindly to being refused something they want.”

  With every word from Damon’s mouth, a little of the bravado I carry diminishes. I know what clients he’s talking about. They’re one of the reasons I ran when I did. My sanity wouldn’t survive another session with them. I shove the thoughts back into the deepest recesses of my mind. Refusing to let myself fall into those memories. They are done and over with. Even if Matthew doesn’t want me anymore, I’m not going back no matter what it takes.

  “Yep, a bit of back luck,” Damon says conversationally. “Seems he came here to look for a new set of girls and guess what he finds?” He turns his gleeful gaze to me. “His favorite girl. Right here, hiding out in the easiest place to disappear. Of course, it didn’t take him long to realize you’d be looking for a new identity, especially after he almost caught up to you in Kansas City. All it took was that pretty little thing he has with him going to a few of the shelters to come across my name.”

  The smile on his face makes my stomach turn. I’m not sure how I missed the evil that radiates off him in waves. When I first met him, he seemed like any other businessman. Powerful, wealthy, and charming. What a damn lie that is. He’s the kind of evil that would sell his own child if it would get him ahead.

  “I do have to say I was pretty shocked when I saw those pictures of you. You seem so uptight and prude. If I had known how you really liked it, I would’ve skipped easing you into things. My new friend has promised me a night I’ll never forget as soon as he has you back home.” Damon licks his lips, looking me up and down. “I can’t wait to fuck you better than you’ve ever been fucked before. I’m going to make you scream.”

  Matthew growls and lunges at Damon. Thankfully, Kisten is quicker, and in a move so fast I don’t see, he has Matthew pinned to the wall. He talks to him quietly for a moment, and the fire starts dimming from Matthew’s eyes. He nods at whatever Kisten is saying, then pushes away from him heading straight for me.

  I stare at him like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. Frozen. Unable to move to save my life, or in this case, my heart. I’m jarred from my frozen state when Matthew pulls me roughly into his arms holding me tight. So much is communicated in this silent moment between us. His breath hitches and if I didn’t know any better, I would swear he’s crying, but when he pulls away his eyes are dry.

  “I’m so sorry, love,” he says, shaking his head. “I didn’t know.”

  I wrap my arms around his waist, wanting to rewind time. Wishing I could go back and snatch that envelope from Kisten’s hands before Matthew could see. I never wanted him to know about that part of my past. It’s one thing to know that I was forced to be a whore; it’s another thing altogether to see exactly what that entailed. More than anything right now, I want to crawl inside a dark hole and disappear.

  Kisten lets us have our moment, stepping in to get to the bottom of why exactly Damon is here. “Cut to the chase, Damon. What the fuck do you want?”

  “Ah, I do love a good negotiation. You see, Mr. Grant has offered me any woman at his disposal for the duration of her contract. Plus, after, I get a real taste of your girl… I’m not really good at waiting for what I want. I’ll politely decline Mr
. Grant’s offer in exchange for a night with Rose.”

  Matthew’s entire body becomes a mass of tightly coiled rage. I snuggle myself closer to him, unsure if I’m trying to comfort him or myself… maybe both. “Never.”

  “One night is a single blip on the radar. One night and you’ll never hear from me again.” He shrugs dismissively. “Or I can tell daddy dearest where is favorite girl is hiding and let him come for you. Your choice.”

  Matthew laughs darkly. “You act like you have the upper hand here. You dare to come into my house making demands and threats? Why the fuck would I ever make a bargain with you when my connections run as deep as yours? Deeper even.”

  “So cocky. Do you really think you and your rag-tag team can keep her safe? I didn’t take you for a fool, Bennett.”

  “Fuck you,” Matthew growls. The ferocity in his tone sends a shiver down my spine. If it were anyone else, I would be afraid, but this is Matthew and he’d never hurt me.

  “Suit yourself,” Damon says with a smug smile as he meanders out of the room.

  Matthew turns to me and cups my cheek. I close my eyes and rest my face against his comforting touch. “You okay, love?” All the anger and threat are gone from his voice. He’s once again my hero. Sweet and gentle.

  I nod. “I’m okay, but, Matty, I should leave,” my voice cracks as I choke out the words. “You shouldn’t have to deal with all of this. You deserve better than a used up broken whore.”

  Hot tears course down my face. He swipes them away with his thumbs, not letting go of his gentle hold. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. I told you, you’re mine, and I protect what is mine. There’s no cost too great and no length I won’t go to to keep you protected.”