Unforgettable (Black Rose Doms Book 1)

by Rory Reynolds

  He plunges his tongue between my lips, swallowing up my moans as his tongue strokes mine. I match his ferocity, giving him just as much uncontrolled passion as he’s giving me. This isn’t a sweet, sensual kiss, it’s pure carnal need. He grabs ahold of my ass and anchors me to his body. I moan when the hard length of his erection presses directly against my sensitive core.

  I’m so aroused and needy that I rub myself against him unapologetically. Pleasure spikes and builds until I’m shaking in his arms with how bad I need to come. This is the furthest we’ve been since the day we were interrupted by Damon, and I desperately don’t want Matthew to end things for some misguided reason.

  I crave his touch, and I’ve been withering away inside with every day he denies us this closeness. I don’t realize we’ve moved until my back hits the soft mattress. Matthew crawls up my body, his hands running up my naked torso, followed by his delicious mouth. I arch up into him as he licks my nipple before sucking it into his mouth. I cry out when the gentle sucking stops, and he sinks his teeth into the delicate skin. The sharp pain only adds to my desire. I moan when his harsh bite turns into gentle caresses of his tongue. The juxtaposition of gentle and rough has me careening headfirst toward overwhelming pleasure.

  Over and over, he lavishes my nipples with first sharp pain then loving strokes of his tongue. The pain and pleasure are so entangled that it’s all pleasure. So much pleasure.

  I never knew pain could be so good. Matthew plays my body like a true master eliciting sensation that I have no words to describe. My hands tug at his hair as he eats at my breasts like a starving man. The glorious pressure builds and builds until I know if I can reach that crest and fall into orgasm, it will wreck me, and I’ll never be the same.

  “Matty,” I whimper. “Please!”

  He growls into my breast that is still engulfed in his mouth; the vibrations add yet another layer to the exquisiteness. He pulls away from my nipple with a pop. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Just let go. I’ll be here to catch you when you fall.”

  Matthew continues to tease my breasts, and I rock my hips, rubbing my aching pussy against his cock. I hate the clothing that’s keeping him separated from me. I want skin on skin. I want to feel what it can be like between a man and a woman when love is involved. Matthew senses my desperation and trails a hand down my stomach to the edge of my panties. He lightly teases a finger just above my panty line before pushing the wet fabric aside and stroking his fingers through my slick slit. I arch my back and moan when his fingers circle my clit. It doesn’t take much to thrust me over the edge into mind-blowing oblivion. Just as my pleasure is waning, Matthew bites down on my nipple and thrusts two fingers into my clenching pussy, driving my orgasm higher than before.

  He kisses his way to my lips, kissing me tenderly while my body continues to quiver and shake beneath him. I collapse back into the mattress, panting and still twitching in aftershocks from the best ever orgasm. “You are so fuckin’ beautiful, Rosie. I could watch you come all day.”

  I run my hand down his chest exploring his hard muscle under his button-up shirt. I reach for the button on his pants, before I can undo it and free his cock, Matthew grabs my hand and weaves his fingers through mine. He kisses my knuckles as he settles down beside me on the bed. “That was just for you, love.”

  Being rejected stings a little. Doubts trickle in, and I wonder if he doesn’t want me in that way because of my past. Perceptive as always, he picks up on my train of thought, and his next words leave me speechless. “I told you once that when I sink myself inside that hot little pussy of yours, it’ll be on my terms, and I meant it. It won’t be because you’re feeling vulnerable and in need of comfort. When I take you the first time, it’s going to be about you and me. Nothing else.”

  And just like that, my worries fade to nothing. I snuggle against him, resting my ear over his heart

  It stung a little, being rejected like that. I wondered if he didn’t want me that way because of my past. Apparently, he caught my train of thought by the look in my eyes because his next words left me speechless. “When I finally sink myself into you, it’s going to be on my terms. Not because you are feeling vulnerable and seeking comfort; when I fuck you, it’s going to be about you and me. Nothing else.”

  I nod then snuggle closer. “Matty?”

  “What is it, love?”

  I hesitate a second, hating how needy this will sound. “Don’t leave me alone, please?”

  He hugs me even closer and kisses the top of my head. “I’m not going anywhere, my love. I only stepped out for a moment to speak with Slade and Daniels.” His arms tighten again. “I’m right here. You’re safe in my arms.”

  “Thanks,” I whisper.

  “Close your eyes, sweetheart. Get some sleep. I’ll be here to chase the monsters away.”

  His reassurance is exactly what I need to breathe a little easier, and quicker than I thought possible, I drift off to sleep.

  22

  Matthew

  Fuck.

  I hate seeing the fear in her eyes. I’m a real bastard for not hating the way she desperately clings to me when she’s afraid. I’m a warm-blooded man with a bit of a hero complex when it comes to my Rose. She’s mine to protect above all others. It’s impossible to hate the way she seeks me out for comfort because I want to be her everything. What I do hate is that she has a reason to be scared. I won’t stop until all threats against her are taken care of.

  I run my fingers through her hair as she snuggles deeper into my chest as she sleeps. Sleep is the furthest thing from my mind as the conversation I just had with Slade and Daniels runs through my head.

  “How did he get her number?”

  “We are workin’ on it, boss man,” Slade says with an infuriating calmness.

  His ability to be calm at a time like this pisses me the fuck off. I want him to be in just as much of a rage as I am. I want him to feel like disemboweling the prick that thinks he can fuck with Rose. But no, he’s cool as a fucking cucumber while I’m the one coming up with a hundred and one ways to torture Mr. Perfect.

  “You aren’t doing enough!” I rage.

  “Matthew, man, you’ve got to get your head on straight.” Daniels has the quickest temper of the three of us. The fact that he’s the calm one tells me that I really have flown off the deep end. “We are doing everything we can. We’ve talked to everyone who Rose has come in contact with and called in the few people who aren’t on shift tonight. Our people are loyal. All of them adore Rose. I can’t see anyone purposely hurting her like that.”

  Heaving a sigh, I relent. “You’re right. It just feels like he’s one step ahead of us somehow and I don’t like it. That fucker got her number somehow, and if he has that, he knows way more than he should. I’ll be damned if he continues to threaten my girl.”

  “We’ll find him,” Kisten says with fierce determination, that inner beast that craves violence peeking out from behind his cool façade.

  “What are you guys doing here if you don’t have anything new to report?”

  Kisten waves his arms around him at the destruction in the room. “Instead of twiddling our fucking thumbs like a couple idiots, we decided to come clean up the aftermath from Hurricane Rose.”

  “Rose is fragile right now,” Slade says with a sad shake of his head. “More than any other girl you’ve taken in in the past. Her hurt runs deep.” His eyes gloss over, and I’m sure he’s remembering how Hannah was when she first came to him. He shakes off whatever thoughts tried to tug him away from the here and now. “I’m in charge of keeping Rose safe. Not just her body but her mind too. Until I can gut the little weasel—make no mistake, Matthew, when I catch up to Grant, it will be fucking painful—I’m going to do my damnedest to protect her from herself. If she wakes up and sees this mess, it’s going to hurt her all over again. She doesn’t need that added stress. Not now. Not ever.”

  Rose whines in her sleep, drawing me out of my thoughts and back to what’s real
ly important.

  “Shh, shh. It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

  Those words are truer than she knows. I do have her. I will do anything. Be anything for her.

  23

  Rose

  Strangely enough, things quickly get back to normal after my breakdown. When I woke up the next morning, the mess was completely gone. Kisten started calling me Hurricane Rose in an attempt to lighten the mood around the situation. I didn’t mind because it did make things sound way less serious than they were. I’m balancing on some weird line between a deep depression and blind anger. The slightest bump, and I’m ready to fall off into one state of being or the other.

  Hannah barely leaves my side. The last three days, she’s watched me like a hawk. I have no doubt that Matthew is behind that. He probably gets hourly reports on how I’m doing. I hate that he’s so worried about me. I hate being a bother. Every morning I don a mask of calm. I smile when appropriate and respond anytime someone speaks. My insides are a churning mess, but outwardly, I’m good.

  Matthew brought me back to the club today for the first time since my little meltdown. It isn’t until Dr. Martinez drops in to check on me that I realize he didn’t bring me with him just to keep me close. I slip a little on that fine line I’m walking letting a little anger filter through.

  Of course, the doctor tries to pretend that it’s just a coincidence that she’s here in the middle of the afternoon when she should be at the office. The fact that she’s dressed in scrubs doesn’t do a thing to dissuade me from thinking this is a setup.

  “Since I’m here, why don’t I check over your back? See how you’re healing up.”

  She’s so nice and sincere that I don’t argue. Matthew leaves us so we have his office to ourselves. She asks me to strip, and I do without hesitation. Cool fingers touch my back and a jolt away.

  “Sorry,” Dr. Martinez says quickly.

  I shake my head and tell her it’s fine. It’s not her fault that unexpected touches still make me jump.

  “You can put your clothes back on. You’ve healed up nicely. Even better than I thought. Are you still using the salve?”

  “Yeah. Matthew puts it on me after every bath or shower.”

  Once I’m dressed, I face her again, glad to not have her at my back anymore. Paranoia has become an unwelcome friend.

  She smiles kindly. “That’s great. Keep doing that, and the scars could completely fade.”

  If only the scars on the inside could be treated so easily.

  “How is the anti-depressant working for you?” Dr. Martinez asks, finally revealing why she’s really here.

  I expected this. She asks me a dozen questions about my moods, not giving her thoughts away as I answer. When I try to evade a particularly uncomfortable question, she gives me a no-nonsense look and assures me she’s only here to help. I tell her more than I probably should about how scared I feel all the time. How the anxiety never full retreats and the anger that is a constant bubble inside my gut waiting for the right moment to explode.

  “I think we need to bring in a specialist,” she says. “I’m concerned because the medication should be helping, and it doesn’t seem like it is. Especially considering what happened the other day.”

  I flush with embarrassment. Of course, Matthew told her about what happened. He’s worried about me. They all are.

  “Dr. Klein has agreed to come tomorrow and chat with you. I’m sure he will be able to help find a medication that will help.” She pats my arm. I’m able to keep myself from flinching away from her touch, but only just. It’s been harder to allow casual physical contact.

  Hannah and Matthew are the only two that don’t make my skin crawl. It makes me feel guilty that Slade and Kisten can no longer touch me without me jumping. I hate it. The easiness between us has been erased somehow. I still trust them both implicitly, but something in my mind refuses to settle around them.

  “Take care of yourself, Rose. And please be honest with Dr. Klein. He only wants to help.”

  I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding in. Dr. Martinez didn’t say it, but it’s obvious Dr. Klein is a psychiatrist. The thought makes me nauseous. I have no desire to bare my soul to a stranger. After she leaves, I wander around the club, sulking. I know both Doc and Matthew are only looking out for me, but I can’t help feeling a bit betrayed. Feeling I’m crazy myself is one thing, having the people I care about point out my craziness is different.

  I can admit to myself that my moods have been shifting all over the place. I really thought I was doing a good job of hiding the instability. I spent years hiding behind masks, and something about being here with Matthew makes my masks weaker. The truth shows through the cracks, and it scares me. I don’t want anyone seeing the ugliness that lingers in the dark parts of me.

  I’ve spent years keeping it buried, hidden deep inside. I’m constantly aware of it. The darkness feeds off of me. Sucking down everything good until I’m a dry husk of a person. It has been with me so long that I don’t recall a time when the darkness didn’t exist. It’s been my constant companion since long before Red House.

  My masks kept me safe from people seeing too much. Knowing that Matthew has seen through the cracks to the darkness within terrifies me. What happens when he realizes just how broken I am? Will he finally realize how unworthy of his love I am? Worst of all, without him, the darkness will consume me. I’ve never depended on a person to hold it at bay before, but that’s exactly what Matthew does.

  Selfishly, I want to keep leaning on him. I want him to sit in the darkness with me when it becomes too much to bear. I hate myself for that. He deserves so much better than my madness. No matter what happens, he’s right there taking care of me. All my days at Black Rose have shown me that it’s a dominant thing.

  Matthew and I haven’t had any sort of official conversation about it, but we’ve slowly shifted into a relationship where he’s the dominant, and I’m submissive. Not in a sexual way, and he doesn’t spank me or anything, but he does take care of me in all the ways a good dom takes care of his sub. At first, I questioned if I was even a real submissive. I balked at the very idea of me wanting to give up control to anyone after what I’ve been through. Still, I’ve found a certain level of security in giving Matthew control.

  Things that should be simple, everyday decisions stress me out. Picking restaurants, shopping—even though I’m restricted to online shopping at the moment for security purposes—and sometimes what clothes to wear. All the choices overwhelm me. Part of that is I lived so many years without any choice, but another part is that I like when Matthew swoops in and takes care of it.

  What people don’t realize about healthy BDSM relationships is that they are a partnership. Yes, one person has the illusion of control, but they only have as much control as the submissive is willing to surrender. There’s freedom in surrender, and I’m only just starting to understand it.

  I spent years at the mercy of others. Having my every choice stripped from me. Debased and treated worse than an animal. I hated it. I couldn’t wait until the day I would be free. With that freedom came a world of possibilities and decisions. So many that it overwhelmed me. As much as I wanted to be free, I almost hated the freedom. When Matthew took charge, I could breathe again.

  “There you are, sweetheart. I’ve been looking all over for you.” Matthew’s relieved voice startles me out of my inner turmoil. “What are you doing in here?”

  Without a conscious thought, I wandered into the recovery suite I used after Damon beat me. I suck my bottom lip into my mouth and worry it with my teeth. Concern flashes through Matthew’s eyes. He closes the short distance between us and wraps me in his big strong arms.

  I pull away, giving him a smile, hoping it passes for a genuine one. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. Dr. Martinez seems happy with how I’ve healed up, and If I keep using the salve, the scars should almost fade away completely.” I avoid mentioning the other stuff we talked a
bout.

  “You talked about Dr. Klein, right?” Matthew asks.

  I have to battle down the prickle of anger that wants to escape. I remind myself that he only wants what’s best for me. He tells me as much. I just nod because I don’t trust myself to not take my frustration out on him.

  He pulls me back into his arms, gently massaging my back. I swear the man has a sixth sense when it comes to my moods. The anger leaks out, and contentment comes to the forefront. His perceptiveness is one of the things I love about him. He doesn’t need me to hash out every little thing with him because he just knows.

  He’s fierce in his protectiveness of me. He won’t let anyone hurt me, including me. “Are you mad?”

  I shake my head and sigh. “Not mad. Frustrated. More with myself than you. I hate that I can’t just be normal. I hate feeling defective… weak.”

  He kisses my lips fiercely. “You are not defective. I don’t ever want to hear you say that again. You’ve been traumatized. Anyone would struggle in your shoes. And you are not weak. You’re the strongest person I know. It takes balls of steel to agree to recognize that you need help.”

  The rational part of my brain hears the truth of his words. It even makes sense on some level, but I can’t reconcile it in my head. The irrational part of my brain works hard to stir up anger at Matthew for overstepping and arranging for a psychiatrist to come speak with me without talking to me about it first.

  No one should be forced into therapy. My mind picks that to focus on, and the anger rages back to the surface. I pull completely out of his arms and pace the length of the room. I have too much built-up nervous energy, every second that I spend thinking about the shrink and Matthew going behind my back to set it up, the more my anger grows.