Retribution (The Devil's Kiss)

by Gemma James

  Jody stood there, sporting two black eyes and a busted lip.

  “Rick’s been drinking again.” Her mouth trembled, and like a scared child, she folded her arms around herself. “He really had changed, Kayla. He was doing so good.” She dropped her arms to her sides and formed two tight fists. “But you kept him away from Eve, and now he’s going crazy. Why’d you have to be such a bitch?”

  I slammed my door. “Don’t you dare put this on me. He’s dangerous.” I shook my head. “I thought we were friends, Jody. Let me help you.”

  Her bitter laughter bounced off the walls of the garage. “Friends? We haven’t been friends in a long time. Why, Kayla?”

  “I-I don’t know. Eve got sick . . .” And I’d checked out on life for a while. I’d lost touch with everyone. “I’m worried about you.”

  “Well don’t. Just quit provoking him already.” She took off toward a bright red Honda parked nearby. The tires screeched as she slammed on the gas and raced through the exit.

  Her words percolated in my head all evening, an unwanted distraction that intruded on my time with Eve. I tossed and turned next to her for hours after she fell asleep, unable to stop thinking about my encounters with both Gage and Jody.

  It was past midnight when I found myself in his driveway. I needed to figure out why he drew me to him like a magnet, regardless of how much he hurt me . . . would always hurt me. People didn’t change, and I wasn’t about to kid myself otherwise. He’d always be the same sadistic bastard with a taste for my pain. I shut off the ignition, and the utter quiet of the night surrounded me. Haunted me. Ghosts weren’t so easily laid to rest in the still of the night.

  Why am I here?

  I had no answer—none that made any sense. He’d let me go. I was free . . . yet here I was walking into the lion’s den. My limbs quaked as I approached his door, and I almost turned back. I told myself to turn back, even chanted the words in my mind over and over again as if doing so would be enough to convince me. My traitorous fist wasn’t listening; it rose and announced my presence.

  Oh God. Oh my freaking God . . . what the hell am I doing?

  I whirled, intending to sprint to my car, but the door opened.

  “Kayla?”

  Damn. I wished for invisibility as I turned to face him, though I would have settled for the earth fissuring under my feet. The image of him standing there wearing nothing but flannel pajama pants was enough to render me speechless. I’d never seen him in something so casual. I wondered if the fabric was as soft as I imagined. Soft flannel against hard man.

  I shouldn’t have come. I should have stayed far, far away.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know.”

  He quirked a brow. “You don’t know?” I shook my head, and the edge of his mouth turned up. “What do you want, Kayla?”

  You.

  Only I had no idea why. He was like a disease, and the bad cells had multiplied and taken over. He’d infiltrated my system, and now I couldn’t get him out. Even now, standing in the freezing cold, my body flushed with warmth as I liquefied between my legs. Some crazy, destructive instinct rose within me, and I catapulted the last step and launched myself at him. Our mouths crashed together, open and hot and ravenous. We kissed like we were possessed, and maybe we were.

  At least I was. I heard the door slam behind us an instant before he released me.

  “Get on your knees.”

  I fell to them without a second thought and reached for the waistband of all that soft flannel. Trembling with impatient desire—and maybe a little fear—I freed his cock and closed my mouth around him. A groan rumbled from his throat, evidence of his tightly held control. He grabbed my head, his hands shaking, and trapped me between them. No way would he allow me control—he was too close to losing it himself.

  “Hands behind your back,” he ground out between tight lips. I obeyed, and his eyes, so ridiculously blue, never left mine as he fucked my mouth. “Kayla . . .” His composure fell apart, and his hips took on the rhythm of madness.

  I’d never felt so powerful.

  He screwed his eyes shut and pushed to the back of my throat, roaring his release as his essence gushed into my mouth. Despite the fact that my panties were drenched, I gagged. Which only meant he shoved his cock deeper. His pleasure wouldn’t be complete without my pain.

  Still breathing irregularly, he pulled his pants up, and without a word, grabbed my hand. I followed him down to the basement. His fingers tightened around mine, as if he thought I might change my mind and bolt. I was considering it as we reached the last step. He’d had the damage repaired. The room looked as it always had; painful and cold. A dungeon indeed, though in this case I’d given away the key to my own freedom. I took one look at the St. Andrew’s cross and remembered how he’d buried his face between my thighs, and all thoughts of cold evaporated.

  He hoisted me against him, and we fell to the bed where he trapped me between his braced arms. “What’s your safe word?”

  I blinked. I hadn’t expected him to give me one. “I-I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know much tonight, do you?”

  “I know I want you.”

  His eyes widened, but then his face settled into the Gage I knew and loved to hate.

  “I don’t want to give you the option of telling me no, but I will. Last chance before I gag you and make you mine.”

  “I’m already yours.” Anyone who could admit such a thing without breaking down must be insane. Which I was.

  “Are you seriously arguing with me about a safe word?”

  “Master—that’s my safe word.”

  He laughed. “I might have to push you to your hard limits just to hear you say it.”

  “You could ask nicely.”

  He grabbed my left wrist and stretched it over my head. “I’m not nice.”

  “I’m not blind to how cruel you are, Gage.” His name rolled off my tongue, forbidden. He clicked the locks in place and bent down to secure my ankles. I was still fully clothed.

  “Don’t gag me.”

  “I’ll give you one request. Are you sure that’s it?”

  I scrambled to think of all the bad things. The whips, the nipple clamps, the butt plugs . . . actually, those weren’t too horrible. I nodded. “I’m giving myself to you. Give me the right to cry or scream if I need to.” I remembered Vegas and cringed.

  Don’t make me hold it all in again.

  “Okay, no gags, but everything else is fair game.”

  With those words, he wielded a pocketknife and cut the clothes from my body. I’d been naked in front of him too many times to count, had lost all dignity in front of Ian and Katherine, but something about this time, this night, made me feel more vulnerable in my nudity. I was there of my own free will. He hadn’t blackmailed or coaxed me; it was a truth I couldn’t hide from, and being spread out before him brought it to the forefront of my mind.

  He slid the flannel down his legs and stood tall, naked and unashamed. Gage was a lot of things, but ashamed wasn’t one of them. His gaze traveled the length of my body, and his mouth turned up in a smile of conquer. He had me right where he wanted me, and suddenly I wondered if he’d been working toward this all along.

  “If I asked you to let me go, would you?”

  “If you say your safe word. You’re not my slave anymore.”

  But I was, in all the ways that counted.

  He crawled onto the bed and settled between my legs. “If you say it, I’ll send you home.”

  I’d figured as much. It was all or nothing with him. “Sounds to me like establishing a safe word is pointless. If I don’t do what you want, you’ll just punish me for it by denying me.” I yanked at my restraints, but he’d tightened them to the point where my limbs burned from the stretch.

  He dropped his face to my stomach, his hair brushing my skin, lips and tongue teasing my belly button. “I don’t want to deny you anything.” His words vibrated again
st my belly. He lifted his head. “I want to make you come until you’re screaming.”

  I had no doubt he’d succeed.

  “But I like being in control.” He dipped his fingers inside me. “If you can’t live with that, then you need to leave now.”

  “I don’t want to leave.”

  “Good, because I don’t want you to either.”

  I couldn’t think or breathe after that. He buried his head between my thighs and flicked his tongue across my clit, teasing for what seemed like forever until my fingers and toes were in a constant curl. He must have kept me in that state for an hour, lapping and swirling me to the edge while his fingers caressed my breasts. Unable to stand it any longer, I begged him with every moan.

  He finally pulled away.

  “Don’t stop.”

  He ignored me and crossed to the other side of the basement, and when he approached the bed again, I knew the games were about to begin. He held three items in his hand; a butt plug, a nasty-looking set of nipple clamps, and a whip . . . the whip . . . the one he’d used the night he’d fucked me in front of Ian. It was long and thin, and I’d learned from experience how excruciating the strike of that thing was.

  I started sobbing at the sight of it. “Don’t.”

  He set the items on the bed, much too calmly, and watched as I pulled at my restraints. He didn’t say anything, just waited until my body went limp and I gave up.

  “Why?” I tasted the salt of my tears.

  “Because I want you to trust me. I screwed up, Kayla.” He picked up the whip. “Let me show you that you don’t have to be scared of me. You have a safe word. Use it if you need to, and I’ll stop.”

  “You don’t need to do this.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Something in the intensity of his expression terrified me, and I suddenly sensed that this was about more than earning my trust. This was the ultimate tipping point. Either I walked . . . or I stayed and gave him my pain. Pleasure for pain—it was the way he’d always operated, only now he was giving me a choice, and if I stayed, he really would own me.

  He released my ankles and wrists. “Stand up.”

  I got up and stood before him, trembling and not knowing what to do or say.

  Stupid! Say the word and go!

  Pressing my lips together, I prepared to form the two syllables that would set me free, but the word lodged in my throat.

  “Present your breasts.”

  “I-I’m not your slave anymore.”

  “I never said you were.” The clamps dangled from his fist, big and clunky and painful-looking.

  I folded my arms across my chest. “Why are you doing this?”

  “This is who I am.” His face hardened. “Hands behind your back now, or I’ll make the whipping a punishment.”

  “There’s a difference?”

  “Yes, and you’re going to learn what it is.”

  Go, go, go!

  I couldn’t budge, couldn’t make my voice work. Slowly, I brought my hands behind me and clasped them together. He bent down and sucked at each nipple until they peaked. He took his time clamping them.

  I gritted my teeth, squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath, but the pain didn’t subside.

  “Bend over the bed.”

  My mind shut down. It seemed like a bad dream, like someone else was obeying his every command. He slipped the plug in, and intense vibrations drowned out the agony of the clamps. And then he was whipping me, blazing caresses against my bottom. It hurt—I couldn’t deny it—but he was holding back, and some of the strikes were so light, they were a tease.

  “Stand up,” he ordered.

  I obeyed, but lost my balance and almost tipped over.

  “Hold onto the footboard for support.” He left a trail of fire down my right butt cheek, and I reached out and gripped the wood, breasts heavy and aching as the chain swung between them.

  “Spread your legs.”

  His commands continued to come in clipped words, and I followed every one. I didn’t allow myself to think beyond the sting of his whip. If I allowed awareness in, I knew I wouldn’t like what I’d find. The strap snaked around my hip and kissed my crotch, eliciting a moan from my throat. He put more strength into it, and the caress became pain. I cried out—a plea for him to stop . . . a plea for him to continue.

  “Master.”

  The whip thumped to the floor. “Is that your safe word?”

  “I don’t know.” I shook my head. “No. Don’t make me leave.”

  He pressed against me, chest to back, groin to buttocks, one hand pulling at the clamps as the other dipped inside wet need. “You’re not going anywhere.” His lips and tongue devoured my neck, and I moaned again, my center clenching as an orgasm built.

  “I’m so close,” I whispered.

  “Not yet.” He turned me around to face him. “Are you scared of me?”

  “Yes.” I said it without hesitation. I was scared of him all right—terrified of what he made me feel.

  “You don’t need to be.” He grabbed the chain linking my breasts and tugged. “I want you in my bed.” He picked me up and stomped up the steps, and as we entered his bedroom, I wondered how many other women he’d brought into this room. I couldn’t stop from voicing the question.

  He went rigid. “Why?”

  “I’m curious.” I sank into his mattress and stared up at him, waiting to see if he’d answer.

  Our eyes connected and held. Long seconds passed, but he didn’t answer until after he’d removed the clamps. “No one else has been in here but you.” He plunged into me, and I was lost.

  10. CONFESSIONS

  Warm fingers feathered down my spine. I was sprawled on my stomach, sinking into the softness of the mattress and the allure of sleep. I hadn’t slept late in a long time, but judging from the brightness behind my eyelids, I guessed it was at least nine. I snuggled closer to the warm body pressed against my side, glad that it was Saturday and I didn’t have to get out of bed at the crack of dawn. He draped a leg over mine and splayed his fingers across my ass.

  “Why did you cry last night?”

  My eyes popped open, and I met Gage’s questioning stare. “I don’t know.”

  He swept my hair aside and kissed my shoulder. “Yes you do. I won’t allow you to keep secrets from me. That hasn’t changed.”

  I shrugged him off and scooted to the edge of the bed. “Last night was a mistake.”

  “You came to me, remember?”

  I did remember, which made the light of day more difficult to face. Every time I was near him, I lost another piece of myself. “I shouldn’t have come.”

  “But you did, and you screamed while doing it.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

  The bed dipped, and his fingers curled around my side. “Then why did you come back?”

  “Because you live inside of me!” I jumped up and whirled around to face him. “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t get you out of my head. And this is so wrong. You’re a fucking monster, Gage, and you keep pulling me in. Are you happy now?”

  “I’m happy you’re in my bed. I’m not happy that you’re still fighting it.”

  “Fighting what?”

  “You and me.”

  “There is no you and me!” I searched the floor for my clothes until I remembered that he’d cut them from my body. “I need something to wear. I have to be at the hospital soon.” Eve was coming home today, and I didn’t have the time or energy to argue with him. Her discharge changed everything. This had to end.

  He slid out of bed and opened the door to a walk-in closet bigger than my bathroom. “Not the most fashionable, but they should fit.” He handed me a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring waist and a large T-shirt. “You look sexy in anything you wear.”

  I clutched them to my bare chest and inhaled a whiff of the detergent he used. Damn him. That scent would always remind me of him. Avoiding his gaze, I dressed quickly and left his b
edroom. Taking a detour to the basement, I wedged my feet into my shoes and headed toward the front door. He followed, completely naked, his towering form on my heels the whole way. I reached for the handle, but he pulled me against him.

  “Stop fighting it, Kayla.”

  “It’s just sex.”

  “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”

  I glared at him. “Apparently you need to hear it again. I’m not in love with you.”

  “I never said you were. This isn’t about love. It’s about connecting, and you damn well know we connect.”

  “Again . . . just sex.” I pushed against him, but he refused to let go. “You’re the last person I want around my daughter. She deserves better.” I deserved better. “I’m done here.” I untangled myself from his arms.

  He smirked and leaned in until our noses almost touched. “You’ll be back.”

  “I won’t.” I left the house, slid into the driver’s seat of my car, and met his steady gaze from across the driveway. God, the man stood buck-naked in his doorway. He truly had no shame. A knowing glint lingered in the depths of his sapphire eyes. Smug bastard. He was one hundred percent certain I’d be back, begging him to take me.

  At that precise moment, I knew he was right. I’d come back again and again, a glutton for his sadism. I’d lie down and let him do whatever he wanted—I was that addicted to him. I could think of no other way out, other than going cold turkey. I’d have to leave town—that seemed the best way to wash him from my life. Leaving wasn’t going to be easy. I’d need to make preparations, get clearance from Eve’s doctor, and find a place with an excellent children's cancer treatment center.

  It was going to take some time and a lot of creative penny pinching, but I could do this . . . I only hoped he didn’t ruin me in the meantime.

  I backed down his driveway, and on my way to the hospital, I stopped by my apartment to shower and change. Eve was already picking at her lunch tray when I entered her room. Ian sat next to her, his bagged lunch open in his lap. They were watching Dora, and something about seeing a grown man watch a cartoon with a three-year-old floored me. This wasn’t the first time I’d found him in her room, sharing lunch or playing a game with her.