I wipe away her tears, and she nuzzles into my palm, always seeking comfort from me. Comfort I readily offer and will never deny her. “It’s going to be okay, love. We can overcome anything. Just tell me what it is so I know what I’m up against.”
Seconds tick by, and I wonder if she’s trying to think up another lie. She’s obviously fighting with herself. Part of her wants to open up, and the other part, the part that’s used to protecting itself, wants to keep her feelings locked down tight. One thing she still hasn’t figured out about me is that I can be a very patient man when I need to be. Dominants tend to lean towards delayed gratification. I can and will wait her out. And if she attempts to lie… well, I’ll be hard-pressed to keep myself from throwing her over my lap and spanking her until she opens up.
I can tell the moment she makes her decision because her hands stop twisting the life out of her napkin. I quirk an eyebrow her direction daring her to lie again. The dominant in me has been pushed to the side for too long, and the beast is just waiting for the perfect moment to override my self-control.
“I stopped taking the medication,” she blurts.
Well, that’s not exactly what I expected, but it definitely makes sense. Stopping cold turkey isn’t the best way to stop taking the kinds of medications she was prescribed. It can have serious side effects. No wonder she’s been so off. I hate myself for not noticing sooner. For not realizing that she’d stopped taking her medication.
She huddles in on herself expecting my anger. Not that I’ve ever once raised a hand to her or yelled at her. She’s been programmed to fear negative reactions from men. It’ll take time for her to realize she has nothing to fear from me even when I’m upset with her. For the record, I’m not angry. I’m worried.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Honestly?”
“Always honesty between us, sweetheart.”
She swallows and goes back to torturing her poor napkin. It will never be the same again once she’s done with it. “I thought you wouldn’t let me. You seemed so convinced that I needed the pills. And maybe I do… I probably do,” she admits. “but the ones the doctors gave me make it so I can’t feel anything. Even the new ones. I don’t want to be numb.” She looks at me pleadingly. “I’ve spent so many years a prisoner inside Red House. A prisoner to my anxiety and fear. I don’t want to be a prisoner inside my own mind. I can’t stand it, Matty. Please don’t make me take them.”
“I understand. The doctors said that it could take several tries before we find the right doses and combination of medicine. It’s not a cookie-cutter thing. Everyone is different. We just have to keep trying.”
“No,” Rose says forcefully. “I don’t want that. I don’t want to lose myself again.”
God, how the fuck do I argue with that? I lean back in my seat and consider the options. If she won’t take medicine, there are other ways to deal with things. Unconventional methods, sure, but effective. Rose’s main issue is anxiety and panic attacks. The root of those isn’t something that can be healed without therapy—Dr. Osborne will have to help with that. However, the reactions can be dealt with in other ways.
Many of the women I’ve helped dealt with the same trauma as Rose, and through submission, they found their way back from the darkness. Carefully doled out pain and pleasure can silence a person’s mind.
“Okay, sweetheart. We’ll do it your way. For now,” I add significantly. “If your way doesn’t work and you start to spiral again, we will do it my way. No arguments.”
Rose rewards me with a smile. Not one of her fake ones. A real smile that reaches her sparkling blue eyes. She throws her arms around my neck, kissing me. “Thank you.”
30
Rose
The whole “my way, no arguments” thing seems a little ominous, but I trust Matthew, and I’m getting my way without a fight, so I don’t question it. I feel so much lighter after my confession. It weighed heavily on me, and now I see what an idiot I’ve been. Of course, Matthew would support my decision. All he’s done since we were reunited is support and care for me.
I lean back in the soft leather of the seat. My stomach is pleasantly full, and I’ve got Matthew by my side once again, teasing my thigh with maddening little strokes of his fingertips. His fingers get closer and closer to my core, and I squirm in my seat. I moan when his finger lightly brushes over the gusset of my panties.
I rock my hips trying to entice him to touch me more, but his fingers skate away instead. I let out a little whimper of distress, and he chuckles darkly. “Love, if you keep making those throaty little moans, I’m going to have to pull this car over, and I don’t think you want Slade an audience for what I’m going to do to you.”
“How far away is home?” I ask impatiently.
Matthew’s fingers make their way back up to my panties in a gentle tease. “Close.”
We stop at a light, and I do something utterly brazen. I lean across the console and nibble at his ear. “Hurry, Matty. I need you.”
He growls in frustration. I hope he’s feeling the same need that’s burning through my body. I want him just as lustful. I need his calm control to fracture and break. I won’t settle for kisses and touches tonight. I want everything with him.
The car is barely in park when Matthew has our seatbelts undone and is pulling me across the center console and into his lap. With a harsh grip on the back of my neck, he tugs my lips to his. There is none of his normal finesse in this kiss. He’s ravenous, and I love it. Unable to stay still with his hardness beneath me, I rub myself on him until we are both panting.
“Enough,” Matthew growls, ripping his lips from mine.
We stumble from the car. I expect him to haul me to the elevator and up to his room, but instead, he pushes me against the car and kisses me again. I don’t know how we manage to get to the elevator, but we do. The ride to the penthouse feels like a million years. The doors have barely opened when he’s tugging me behind him. I stumble on my heels, and with a snarl, he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder.
The breath is stolen from my lungs when he tosses me onto the bed. A second later, he follows me down. I lose track of all time as he devours me. I groan when his mouth descends on my nipple.
When did he remove my dress?
He sucks me in, and I decide I don’t care. The only thing that matters is I’m naked, and Matthew is lavishing me with pleasure. He teases every inch of my breasts until I’m begging him for more. I cry out when he thrusts a finger into my core. My fingers grip his hair holding him to me. He latches on to the side of my breast and sucks so hard it aches. It’s such exquisite torture. When he pulls away, there is a dark mark left behind.
Fierce possession flashes in his eyes, and he marks the other in the same way. My body has been marked in so many ways through cruelty, I never knew it could be like this. My pussy clenches around his fingers, and I swear I could come from him marking me as his.
“Matty, please.”
“Mmm. Please what, love?” He thrusts his fingers deep then does something that makes my eyes cross. Over and over, he hits that same spot inside me until I’m shaking with the need for release.
“I need you. Please!” I cry out, losing complete control as he works my body into a fever pitch.
He pulls his fingers from me, and I whine at the loss. I’m not empty for long because he’s lining up his thick cock with my entrance and slowly pressing inside me. He moves in controlled measures, filling me inch by inch. I don’t want slow and controlled. I want him to lose his mind and take my body exactly how he wants.
I need him to fuck me. I tell him as much, and he closes his eyes on a groan warring with himself. I clench around him, and that’s all it takes for him to lose the grip on his self-control. I cry out as he thrusts the rest of the way in, burying himself to the hilt.
“Fuck, Rosie, you shatter all of my control. Are you okay?”
“Yes! Oh, God, yes. Please, Matty, move. You won’t hurt me. Tak
e me however you want. Unleash that inner dominant that you’ve kept on such a tight leash. Give me all of you.”
He makes a noise like a wounded animal. I could weep from happiness when he pulls out and thrusts back in hard. He ruts into me like a beast uncaged, and I love it. Without any warning, my orgasm crashes over me, and I come on a scream so loud it rings in the room. He doesn’t stop pounding into me. He fucks me right through my orgasm until I’m boneless.
I whimper when he pulls all the way out, instantly missing the feel of him. He flips me to my stomach then pulls me up on my knees. I hardly have time to catch my breath before he’s plunging back inside me. He feels fucking huge in this position, and with every stroke, he hits that delicious spot inside me that makes me see stars.
Another orgasm is building, and I instinctively know this one is going to wreck me in the best way. Matthew fists my hair and pulls my head around for a kiss. It’s messy and rough and utterly perfect. He releases my hair, then with a hand on my back, he pushes me chest down against the bed.
“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous. Love how your pretty little pussy takes my cock.” He pushes deep then swivels his hips grinding into me. “Your sexy ass in the air just begging to be spanked. Would you like that?”
The question confuses me. Would I like it? After everything, I never thought I could, but the small bits of pain he’s combined with pleasure have just enhanced everything. Adding a forbidden edge to what he does to me. A memory of a submissive tied to a spanking bench while her master spanked her ass while fucking her comes to mind. I remember getting wet imagining Matthew doing that to me…
“Yes… do it. Spank me while you fuck me. Please, sir,” I beg.
“As you wish.”
His hand comes down on my ass, and the sting is instant. He spanks me again, switching to the other side. He doesn’t stop fucking me as he rains spanks down on my vulnerable bottom. It hurts, but it also feels good.
“I love seeing my marks on you.” Matthew grips my hips in both hands, using his hold to pull me back against him. With every thrust, his pelvis hits my throbbing backside, adding yet another layer to my pleasure.
“Matty, sir!” I cry out, dangling on the edge of release. “I’m going to come.”
“Come all over my cock, sweet girl. Fucking come.”
It’s almost as if my body was waiting for permission, because with that growled command, I’m tossed over the edge into sweet, sweet oblivion. Distantly I hear Matthew groan and feel his cock jerk inside me as he fills me with his hot release.
I’m floating apart from my body. For the first time, my mind is totally and completely blank. Not a single thought other than how amazing Matthew is and how much I love him.
I must lose track of time for a moment because I’m no longer on my knees with Matthew kneeling behind me. He’s arranged us to that he’s spooning me to his chest. I wriggle against his still hard cock, in awe that he’s hard again so quickly. He grips my hip, stopping me from my teasing movements.
“Behave.”
“What if I don’t want to behave?” I ask sleepily.
He chuckles. “Sleep, love. There will be plenty of time to misbehave tomorrow.”
I want to protest, but the cheater starts petting my hair, and I drift off to sleep.
31
Rose
I come awake on a moan with Matthew between my legs, licking my clit. I have no idea how long he’s been licking me, but my orgasm rushes through me before I can fully make sense of what’s happening.
With a pleased devil-may-care smile, he crawls up my body dropping kisses along the way. “Morning, beautiful.”
“Mm. Morning, Matty.”
His lips find mine in a tender kiss at the same moment he slides his cock inside my still clenching sheathe. His lips never leave mine as he rolls his hips, making sweet love to me. Tears slip from my eyes as we both find our releases. I’ve never experienced anything like this before.
Last night was passionate and perfect. I didn’t think it could get any better but this… this was more. So much more.
“Don’t cry, my love.” Matthew kisses away my tears. “Please, don’t be sad.”
I wrap my arms and legs around him, holding him tight until it feels like he’s crushing me, and I hold him tighter still. “Happy tears. I promise. That was…” I trail off, unable to find the words to describe what we just shared.
“Everything,” he says simply.
I nod, burying my face in his neck. “Exactly.”
“Are you sure you won’t go with me?” Matthew asks for the dozenth time. He has to go into the club for a little while and meet with someone named Gunner. Apparently, he works at one of the other clubs and is in town for some mysterious business that Matthew doesn’t seem to want to explain since he keeps evading my questions.
“I’m sure.”
Matthew crosses the small space to me. We just got out of the shower, where he washed every inch of my body, then brought me to orgasm with his very talented tongue.
“I don’t like leaving you alone.” I smile when he pulls me into his arms.
“I’m never alone. Hannah and Slade are here. Besides… I think I’m going to take a nap. Someone wore me out.” I yawn as if to punctuate the fact that I am still tired.
He looks at me with concern as if he’s trying to gauge if I’m truly tired or if this is another symptom of my depression.
“I’m fine, Matty. Seriously, I feel fantastic.”
Thankfully, he takes me at my word, and a few minutes later, he’s tucking me into bed and leaving with a promise to hurry back.
Unlike when I was wrapped up in Matthew’s arms, my sleep isn’t peaceful. I dream of Nelson Grant, only this dream isn’t a memory like the others, though no less horrifying. Matthew is there, beaten and gagged, tied to a chair. He’s forced to watch as I’m raped by Mr. Brown. The whole time Grant stands to the side cackling in glee as he watches my ruination.
I’m listless when I wake up. Wishing that I would’ve gone with Matthew instead of insisting on staying home. The happiness I’ve felt since last night has been completely smothered by hopelessness. I do my best to smile and talk with Hannah as I watch her bake brownies for Slade. She smiles slyly as she gives up his version of kryptonite—baked goods. Any kind of dessert, really.
“Just wait. He won’t be able to resist coming to get one. He might be a big tough guy, but he’s got a wicked sweet tooth.”
Hannah isn’t wrong. A minute before the timer goes off, Slade wanders into the kitchen from the office where he spends most of his time while we are home. The timer buzzes, and Hannah dances over to the oven. She bends over way more than necessary as she retrieves the brownies.
Slade’s eyes are glued to her butt. He has the same smoldering look in his eyes that Matthew gets when he’s looking at me. I wish I knew why he keeps her at a distance. He obviously cares for her a great deal, and by the way he looks at her, I know he’s attracted to her. Hannah is so in love with him that it’s painful to watch her heartbreak with every rejection.
“I baked your favorite,” Hannah says cheerfully as she puts a perfect square of piping hot brownie on a plate.
Slade grunts in response.
She hands the plate to Slade, and there is so much hopefulness in her eyes that he will giveaway how he feels. He takes the plate and grunts a thanks then leaves, escaping back to the office.
Hannah’s face falls, and her eyes swim with tears and rejection. “I’m going to… uh… laundry. Yeah, I think I’ll do some laundry.”
I let her leave without a word. I’ve tried to talk to her about it in the past, but she’s made it clear she doesn’t want to discuss it. I know what it’s like not wanting to talk about painful things, so I don’t push.
I clean up the brownie mess and decide to make dinner. Matthew should be home soon and keeping busy is a good idea right now. I’m mixing pancake batter when he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me. I don’t think I
react. The bowlful of batter crashes to the ground, and I scream, struggling against the suffocatingly tight grip.
My mind breaks from reality, and I’m shoved headlong into another time and place.
I’m stirring eggs. It’s three in the morning. I had just gotten to sleep when Mr. Perfect pulled me from my bed by my hair and demanded I make him eggs and bacon. I limped behind him to the kitchen, my whole body aching from tonight’s client.
Heat trickles down my thighs, and I gag. Usually, after I instantly shower, scrubbing myself clean until my skin is raw. Not tonight. Tonight was Mr. Brown’s night, and he uses me like he wants to kill me. Part of me thinks he does, that same part of me wishes he would. At least then this would all be over.
Arms wrap around me from behind, and Mr. Perfect’s alcohol-laced breath surrounds me. “Such a dirty fucking tease. You’ll fuck anyone and everyone, but I never get my piece.”
He grinds against my aching backside. I cry out as his zipper digs into my skin. I want to scream at him that I don’t have a choice. It’s his fault that I’m forced to endure the life of a whore. He stole me away, and there’s no escaping.
I whimper when he bends me over the counter, the egg mixture falls to the floor in a crash of broken glass and egg. Mr. Perfect jumps back and curses. His hand whips out and backhands me so hard my vision blurs. “Stupid fucking bitch. Look what you did!”
He grabs my hair and yanks me down to my hands and knees. Glass digs into my palms, ripping open the skin. “Clean it up.” With a booted foot, he shoves against my backside, sending me crashing to the floor, unable to keep my balance on the slippery eggs.
“Rose!” A panicked voice breaks into the memory. “Stop, sweetheart. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
I blink and realize I’m on the floor on my hands and knees in front of the spilled pancake mixture. Matthew crouches in front of me a horrified look on his face. I look down at my hands and see the tiny cuts from the broken glass. A broken sob is ripped from my very soul.
Unforgettable (Black Rose Doms Book 1) Page 19