by Tawny Taylor
“I love you, Shane. I love you so much it hurts.”
He opened his eyes and took one of my hands in his. “I didn’t think I would ever hear those words from you.” His gaze focused on my face, he kissed the tip of my index finger. “I don’t deserve your love.” He kissed the tip of my ring finger.
“Why would you say that?”
“Because I’m screwed up. You deserve someone better than me. A lot better.”
“Maybe I’m happy with you, faults and all. I’m not perfect either.”
“Oh, yes. You are perfect. Everything about you is perfect.” Still holding my hand, he flipped it over and kissed my wrist. “This part is perfect.” Being silly, but adorable, he kissed a path up my arm to the crook of my elbow. “And this.” Continuing north, he kissed my upper arm then over my shoulder. “And this.” He kept going, kissing and nipping along my collarbone. “And this part too.”
I giggled as he nibbled the ticklish spot at the base of my neck. The entire right side of my body tingled. He’d given me goose bumps. Again. He was really, really good at doing that. “You’re so silly.”
“Am I?” Taking my wrists in his hands, he lifted them up and separated them out, pinning them against the boards behind me.
I quivered, before he’d even started to cuff them.
There was nowhere that I felt more alive than in this room with this man. My heart was pounding, my skin tingling, my senses all heightened. I waited, each second absolute agony, to see what he would do next.
He started working on my pants, unbuttoning the fly and revealing an inch of skin at a time. His fingers were nimble, though he seemed to intentionally delay his progress as he pushed them down over my hips. It took a while, but the slow pace and his total focus made me that much warmer.
How he looked at me. How he touched me. It was almost impossible to remain still. I wasn’t breathing normally. Instead of slow, shallow and steady breaths, I was gasping.
When he had my pants off, he stepped back, smiled. “Perfect.”
“I’m so glad you like what you see.”
“I love what I see.”
Love. My heart skipped a beat or two. Maybe even three.
I felt my face heating up, my cheeks turning pink.
“Ah, there’s that pretty flush.” He caught the center of my bra with his index finger and tugged. “Hmmm. I should have taken this off before I cuffed your wrists, I suppose. Oh well.” Moving so close, I felt his body heat radiating over my chest, he focused his gaze on mine. His hands skimmed around my ribcage to my back, found the hooks and, in a snap, had them undone. My breath caught in my throat. “Look. That flush has spread.” His dark gaze wandered lower, to my chest. My nipples pulled into hard, aching points.
I whimpered.
“Sshhh,” he whispered, looking wicked and sexy. He pushed the cups of my bra up, exposing my flesh to his eyes, his mouth, his hands. He took full advantage, as I knew he would. He pinched one nipple between his left thumb and index finger until the pain was as sharp as a blade, piercing my insides. Then he laved the other with his warm, smooth tongue.
Pain. Pleasure. They blended inside me, swirling round and round, stoking fires ignited deep inside.
How I loved his world. Dark. Dangerous. Sensual. In this place I could explore the forbidden. Without shame. Without guilt or doubt.
My fingers curled into tight fists. My knees softened. I was melting. Already. Losing myself in ecstasy.
“There are so many things I want to show you, to teach you. This is only the beginning.” He scraped his teeth across my nipple, and my spine arched. Oh God, it was delicious agony.
“Yes teach me. I want to please you.”
“You do. In every way.” He flicked his tongue down the center of my chest, between my breasts. “The way you breathe pleases me.” His hands brushed down my sides, fingers spanning my ribcage. “The way you smell pleases me.” His tongue dipped into the shallow hollow of my belly button. “The way you tense beneath my touch pleases me.” Lower, he was moving lower, squatting before me. The tissues between my legs started to pulse with heat. “The way you writhe in ecstasy pleases me.” His hands curved over my hips, holding them in place. “Open your legs for me.”
I widened my stance.
“Wider.”
I shuffled my feet farther apart.
“Wider, Bristol. I need you open, wide open.”
I moved them even farther apart. My inner thigh muscles burned. My arms—still fastened at the wrists in the cuffs—stretched.
“Yes. Better.” His lips caressed my shaven mound. “Delicious.”
I quivered. His voice was low and husky. It vibrated through me like an electrical current. My insides clenched as he fastened one ankle then the other.
Bound. Both wrists. Both ankles. I was completely at his mercy now.
What would he do? What delightful pleasures would he introduce to me now?
One of his hands inched around to my wet center. The tip of one finger slipped between my nether lips to tease my clit. I would have crumpled to the ground if I hadn’t been shackled. My knees buckled, leaving all my weight to be supported by my cuffed arms. I straightened my legs right away.
“Ah, you’re going to have to stay strong, minx.” He flicked that wicked finger over my clit again, and I locked my knees to avoid falling again. “That’s better. Now, let’s take it to the next step.”
The next step. What might that be? The muscles in my thighs were twitching. My bones felt like mush already. And my insides…they were simmering. I was a mass of writhing desperation. I couldn’t be still, despite the chains.
He stood, his big, hard body mere inches from me but beyond my reach. I could smell him. I could see him. I could practically taste him. But I could not touch him. It was so cruel. And thrilling.
He stripped off his shirt. My gaze slithered down his flexing, muscular torso, bumped over his abs and stopped at the waist of his pants.
“Are you ready to see more?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ll have to earn it.”
I whimpered. “How?”
“Answer one question. Answer it truthfully. What are you most afraid of?”
I didn’t know how to answer that question. I’d never had to verbalize any fear. And talking about fear now--when I was so aroused--was an added challenge. My head was foggy from the need pulsing through my veins. “I…don’t understand.”
“What are you most afraid of?” he repeated.
“Death, I suppose.”
“Death? Or dying?”
“Both?” Why was he asking this now? Thinking about something so terrible was dragging me down, pulling me out of the moment.
He unzipped his pants. “Why?”
My gaze locked on the tiny vee of flesh his open fly exposed, and my heart started pounding again. “I don’t know. I guess I’m afraid it will be terrifying. Or painful. Everyone dies alone. Nobody can help me. Nobody can take the pain away or ease the process.”
“If I could, I would. I would die for you.”
My heart jerked at his words. The look on his face was sincere. He would die for me. He would take away my pain if it was possible.
How many other people could say that to me? Would I believe them like I did him?
No.
“Shane, I know.”
He pushed his pants down and stepped out of them, revealing his beautiful body to me, every inch of it. “I won’t let you die alone. I will be there.” He gripped my hair in his fist. “I’ll take every breath with you until you’ve taken your last. I’ll hold you until you’re not afraid anymore.”
“Yes. I believe you.”
“You’ll let me, won’t you?”
“Yes, Shane. Yes.”
He grasped my hips, stepped between my spread legs, and thrust his rod inside me.
Oh, God. It was intense.
Instinctively, I closed my eyes, allowing myself to focus on my other senses.
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“I promise,” he said as he slowly pulled out, “I won’t let you be afraid. Not ever. As long as I am alive, I will be at your side. Watching you. Protecting you. Providing for you.”
If I could have, I would have wrapped my arms around him. The words he was saying were melting me. In a very different way than his deep strokes were. His smooth, sure thrusts were stirring the fires burning deep inside me, stoking them, making them burn brighter, hotter. But his words. Those beautiful, heartfelt words, were touching my soul.
As I stood in place, unable to move, he kissed me, claimed my body and my spirit. He possessed me--body, mind and soul.
There was no doubt in my mind. We belonged together. We belonged to each other.
I surrendered.
There was no reason to fight it. I wanted it all, the pain, the pleasure, the sadness and the joy. And for that I received a wonderful reward. I felt his climax deep inside. His rod widened. His thrusts became swift and rough. I tumbled over the crest with him. Our bodies worked as one, his pushing deep into mine, and mine pulling him deeper yet.
I wasn’t afraid anymore.
* * * * *
“You did what?” Jill Staton, my best friend said, her mouth agape, her eyes bulging.
“I told him I love him,” I repeated. We were in public, in our favorite coffee shop. It was a good thing there were a lot of people around.
She had set down her hazelnut macchiato. She’d plunked it down hard. Her lips had thinned. “But you don’t love him. You don’t. You’re just having fun, enjoying his…” She glanced left, right. “…freaky games,” she whispered. “Sooner or later you’ll get tired of it all, and then what? Then you’ll be committed to something you can’t walk away from.”
“I’m already committed,” I confessed over the rim of my cup. I was enjoying my skinny mocha, despite the hostility I was catching from my bestie. I knew she was thinking about my well-being.
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Committed? How? What do you mean by that? Are you…? Please tell me you aren’t marrying him.”
“I’m not engaged to him yet. But I think he’s going to ask—“
“Oh God.” Her face turned the shade of the foam on top of my mug. Now she didn’t look angry or worried. She looked…afraid. “I should’ve stepped in and told you everything sooner.”
Everything? “Told me what?”
“About his wife. The one who died.” She lifted her cup but set it back down without taking a drink. “I know this is none of my business, but I was worried. So I did a little checking. It was his fault, his wife’s death.”
A chill burned up my spine. “How was it his fault? What are you suggesting? That he killed her?”
“Not exactly. Well, sort of indirectly.”
“What does that mean, indirectly?”
“Dammit, I shouldn’t be telling you this. He should.” This time, when she lifted her cup she did take a sip. She stared into it. “Has he ever talked about her?”
“Not really, and I haven’t asked.”
“You should. That’s all I’m going to say.” She took another sip. “Tell him you want to hear the truth. All of it. The rest should come from him. I know you won’t believe it if it doesn’t. He should be telling you this stuff himself. I’ve been keeping quiet about it for a while now. I was willing to wait, to give him the chance. But it’s getting serious between you two now. If he doesn’t want to tell you what happened, then you should break it off. Trust me.”
Little hard lumps were gathering in my throat. I had to chug down half my mocha to clear them out. “You’ve got to be blowing this thing out of proportion.”
“That’s what you say now. We’ll see what you think when you hear everything—if you hear everything. I suspect he’ll gloss over the uglier details.”
What the hell was she trying to tell me? What the hell? I couldn’t help it. I was scared. And that made me feel guilty.
After all, I’d just spent the night with Shane, telling him how much I trusted him. And showing him. In more ways than one. And here I was now, less than twenty-four hours later, questioning that trust already.
But Jill believed I had a good reason to distrust him.
Could I believe her?
She was my best friend. She’d never lied to me about anything. She’d never stepped between me and a boyfriend before either.
But, she also had major trust issues. She’d been abused as a kid. Sometimes I felt she didn’t even trust me.
Then again, never before had she been as outspoken as she’d been with Shane. Lately I had wondered if there was a reason why she had been so opinionated about him, perhaps something she had known but hadn’t told me.
Maybe it was this thing about his wife.
“Promise me you’ll sit down and talk to him about her,” Jill repeated, giving me a please-listen-to-me look. “Don’t let him get away with a vague non-explanation, either. You need to know everything, before you make any drastic changes to your life. You deserve to know what kind of man Shane really is.”
“Okay, I’ll do it,” I said before emptying the rest of my cup.
“Promise?”
“Yes, I promise.”
“Good.” Jill took one last swallow of her coffee then set her empty cup on the table. She grabbed her purse and scraped back her chair. “Now, I’m going to take you out and have some fun.”
Like I was in the frame of mind for fun? I followed her to the coffee shop’s door. “Out? You didn’t mention going out tonight.”
She pushed through the door and clicked-clacked out to the parking lot. “Yes, well, I decided we need a ladies night out. We haven’t done anything together since you started dating Whips and Chains.” At her car, she pulled a big, exaggerated pout. “I’m feeling a little neglected.”
“Okay, I admit, I’ve been a little busy lately. But we went out for dinner that one time--”
“One time.” Jill lifted her right index finger. “Once. In how many weeks? You see my point? He’s taking over your life.” She opened her door and plopped into her seat.
“He is not taking over my life,” I grumbled as I snapped myself into the seatbelt.
“Good. I’m glad to hear you say that. I hope you mean it.” She shifted her car into gear and hit the gas. “I’ll take you home so you can put on something cute. We’ll hit the clubs.”
“The clubs?” It had been a long time since I’d gone out with Jill, and it had been an even longer time since we’d gone to a bar. Because I had been neglecting Jill a little in recent weeks, I was glad to spend some time with her. But the thought of dealing with the crowd at her favorite haunts—particularly the leering guys—made me feel a little sick to my stomach. Maybe I could convince her to head somewhere a little tamer. Somewhere like…a nice restaurant.
At home, I changed into an outfit that wouldn’t get me sexually molested if we did go to her fave club, switched my keys, phone and one debit card into my one and only designer handbag, a vintage Chanel bag my mother had kept wrapped in paper in her dresser, slipped my feet into my most comfortable nighttime shoes and teetered out to the living room.
Jill took one look at me and twisted her face into an ugly scowl. “Are you kidding me?”
“What’s the matter?” I checked my reflection in the mirror hanging next to my door. Okay, I wasn’t going to be winning any beauty pageants tonight, but I wasn’t interested in impressing anyone anyway. I was presentable.
“What’s the matter? You look like you’re going to a funeral.”
“What? I do not.” I checked my reflection again. Sure, I was wearing black. But a lot of women wore black at night. Black was always a safe choice. And my makeup and hair were both on the boring side. But, again, I didn’t care.
Jill tossed an arm over my shoulder and not so gently steered me toward my bedroom. In there, she positioned me in front of the full length mirror in the corner of my room, the one I hadn’t checked before coming out.
She was r
ight. I did kind of look like I was going to a funeral. My black pants were more corporate daytime than let’s-party nighttime wear. And the jacket…yeah, it fit me great and was well made, but it was also outdated and a bit dowdy. The outfit even made my cool little purse look tired and old.
“Okay,” I admitted, “this probably wasn’t the best choice in outfits.”
“I think you’ve forgotten how to dress sexy. Let me help you.” Jill pushed open my closet doors, crossed her arms and tapped her chin. “Wow, you’ve bought a lot of new stuff, I see. It’s all really nice. Too nice for where we’re going tonight.” She pulled out one of the gowns Shane had given me. “Is this Marchesa? I know where to come when I have a formal event to dress for. But where are all your sexy clothes?”
“Yes, it’s a Marchesa. Shane bought me all that stuff,” I informed her, hoping the fact that he’d spent a great deal of money on me might make her see he wasn’t all bad. “My old clothes are in the back.”
“Yes, well, this new stuff is nice.” She pushed them to the left, out of her way. “Really, really nice. Wow. I see he even bought you a Valentino.” She held the precious little dress with lacy layered tulle over silk up to her body. “That’s some serious cash there.”
“He likes to buy me nice things.”
“That’s wonderful. But I still don’t trust him.” She returned the Valentino to its place in the closet.
“Are you going to tell me what you found out about his wife?” I asked as I watched her root through the darkest corner of my closet for my old slutty bar wear.
“No.” With her body halfway concealed behind clothes, she thrust one arm out, a tiny black, clingy dress draped over it. “Here, wear this. You always looked hot in this one.”
I held it up to my body and nearly had a heart attack. I couldn’t wear it in public. It was absolutely indecent. “I’ve gained a few pounds. It isn’t going to fit.”
“Gained? Where?” Stepping out of the closet, my friend gave me an up and down. “You haven’t gained any weight. Try it on.”
I wadded up the garment she’d called a dress into a ball and shoved it into her hands. “I don’t want to wear this. I’ll find something else.” I pushed my way toward the back of my closet.