The Love She Craves: Selling Her Soul to Declan

by Gemma Jenkins

  Declan frowned at the worn out gray shirt. He went to the closet and pushed aside two pink uniforms identical to the one she’d been wearing and rifled through the remaining clothes. With a grin, he pulled out a white ribbed tank top and a crop top that looked like it belonged to Mary Ann from Gilligan’s Island. He held them up to her.

  “Cody’s and Lotus’s,” she said pointing. “I already have mine.”

  “Pick one; I want you to wear one with those jeans.”

  “No. I bought those at a garage sale. They looked like they would fit, but when I got them home and tried them on, I realized they were low-rise—I mean, really low-rise—the kind that barely covers my crack and bush. I need to wear a long shirt with them.”

  “Don’t talk back to me. I said pick one.”

  In a flash, Declan was gone replaced by her Dom. As her brown eyes met his gray-green eyes, she realized there was no point in arguing. She looked between the two shirts and picked the one that covered more of her. “Cody’s tank.”

  Declan pulled it off the hanger and put the other top and the empty hanger back in the closet.

  “Strip.”

  15

  “Here? In front of you?”

  He sat down on the edge of the bed next to her jeans. The worn-out mattress sagged under his weight as if he weighed twice as much. “Yeah, consider it a little thank you for all the things that are not included in our agreement, like the phones.”

  The small smile she wore fell and was replaced by little lines between her eyes. “I would have done it without you cheapening it to sexual favors for gifts.”

  Nyxie stepped on the heel of her sneakers one by one to step out of them. Her face remained expressionless as she untied the wraparound tunic. It still covered her small breasts untied and hanging open but she made no move to slip it from her shoulders. One tug was all it took to untie the bottoms. She pulled at the waist and they slid unencumbered to the ground. She stepped out, then shrugged out of the shirt.

  “Body of a twelve-year-old,” she said sarcastically with a wan smile. “Socks and panties, too?”

  “I wasn’t going to make you, but you’re giving me so much fucking snotty attitude right now, I do want you to take them off. Not one more word, Nyxie.”

  She kept her eyes defiantly on his as she stripped naked, but his attention wasn’t on her face to see her rebellious expression. His gaze was on her body, taking in every one of her delicate curves. She expected to see repulsion but she didn’t. His expression gave nothing away.

  “Lace your hands behind your neck and come stand in front of me.”

  He saw her shift her weight away from him ever so slightly, making him acutely aware of her reluctance. “Now.”

  It only took another second before she had complied with his wishes. Her face was now as emotionless as his. If not for his shallow breathing, she would not have known he was at all affected by her body.

  “Move your legs apart.” He lightly tapped the inside of her foot with his.

  “Are we celebrating Tuesday?” she asked as she sidestepped a few inches.

  He reached around her and gave her a slap on the ass making her jump. “I told you to be quiet. I just want to touch it. I want to feel your hymen.”

  His hand started at her mons, his middle finger breaching the folds as he reached further, sliding over her slick clit to her the opening of her vagina. With a slight pressure, his finger slowly eased forward until he touched the thin membrane. His smile started small, but grew across his handsome face. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

  “Hurting me? No. Embarrassing the hell out of me? Yes.” She dropped her hands letting them slap against her thighs.

  Declan removed his finger and put it in his mouth, eyeing her silently until he removed it.

  “If I weren’t in such good mood, you’d be over my knee right now feeling my displeasure. When I tell you to hold a position, I expect you to hold it until I tell you to move. If it happens again, I’ll tie you in place.”

  “May I get dressed now?” she asked flatly as if bored by the whole thing.

  He flew to his feet in an instant grabbing her braid and forcing her head back. “I was going to give you a little stress relief the way you like it, but now I’m thinking I’m going to give it to you my way to see if it helps you not be so disrespectful.”

  He held her head at an awkward angle, but she managed to meet his gaze. “If crying is part of it, you might as well save your energy. Whatever you do to me, no matter how much it hurts, I’m not going to cry.”

  She didn’t know how she ended up across his lap. One second she stood on her feet, the next he was back on the edge of the bed with Nyxie on her stomach across his legs and her ass up in the air.

  “Lace your fingers behind your neck.” He leaned down and spoke directly in her ear. “And. Leave. Them. There.”

  “Maybe you should go ahead and fuck me. It hardly seems fair that I’m going to get licks when the clock isn’t running.”

  Declan raised his hand to deliver the first blow when he looked down and saw faint bruises from the punishment he gave her in Emily’s exam room. His lips tugged down as he realized he had marked her unintentionally. Christ, she hadn’t even flinched. As he stared at the blue crisscross lines, he felt his annoyance build. He reached down and lightly caressed her small bottom. Those injuries had to hurt and she withheld her pain from him. How would he know if he pushed her too hard if she hid her pain?

  God, the way she had him on an emotional rollercoaster was completely foreign to him. He was the cool, emotionally detached Dom in all his relationships and that was the way he wanted it. But Nyxie drove him nuts. He attributed much of it to her inexperience as a sub. She hadn’t gone in search of a BDSM relationship and with her natural tendency to veil her pain; she would not be easy to train. It still pissed him off that she withheld it from him. Not just because he could hurt her, but because she would deny him the emotional connection he felt when a woman was at that raw sensitive state afterwards. It had never been about hurting women to Declan, but punishing them was a means to an end. He needed to feel that connection when a woman was at her most vulnerable and he could be her strength, her world; when her trust was a living, palpable thing.

  His hand came down with a resounding slap of flesh on flesh. She’d never been spanked hand on bare ass before and it surprised her to find how much protection a thin layer of fabric afforded. The sting of the hard slap made her skin explode with fire. It wasn’t the kind of pain she felt if the muscle was bruised but it smarted nevertheless. Her hands fell away as she instinctually wanted to cover her bottom.

  “Put your fucking hands behind your neck. You agreed to this. Are you going to live up to your part or not?”

  Her hands reached behind her neck and locked in place. “One, sir.” Her voice called out in a clear strong tone and she vowed she’d not let her tone waiver. She waited and waited for the next blow. Suddenly, it landed. He held nothing back as his blow landed on the same cheek, but higher up.

  “Two, sir. Uh, if you go any higher up, I’ll have to wear the T-shirt I picked out; otherwise everyone will see the welts. Perfect large handprints to show what Dr. Declan likes to do to his new girlfriend.”

  “You are my submissive not my girlfriend. The quicker you figured that out, the better.”

  He landed two more in quick succession. “Three, four, shut the door, sir,” she said in a singsong voice.

  “Shut the fuck up, Onyx. I don’t know why you’re intentionally provoking me, but you are only making this harder on yourself.”

  The hand rained down on her other side for the first time, landing a bright pink handprint over the light purple bruises from the previous punishment. She didn’t a make sound.

  “The count, Nyxie.”

  “You told me to shut-the-fuck-up. Five, sir,” she said. “Have you ever thought that rhyme might be about this? Three, four, shut the door. Five, six, pick-up sticks. Seven, eight, lay them
straight. Do you think they’re talking about the marks you’re leaving with the sticks?”

  Smack.

  “Was that six, sir, or was that seven? I guess I lost count. You can start over again if you want. It makes no difference to me.”

  “I’m seriously rethinking my opinion of ball gags.”

  He brought his hand down on her again.

  “One, sir.”

  “Get up. I swear to God, I never wanted to hurt someone, the way I want to hurt you right now.”

  She scrambled to her feet quickly before he could change his mind.

  “May I go to the bathroom, sir?” He pierced her with a hard stare wondering if she intended to go cry but quickly realized she would never, as she saw it, give him the satisfaction of crying.

  “Get out of my sight,” he said.

  Nyxie closed and locked the bathroom door then strained to see her ass in the bathroom mirror. The pink raised handprints laying over the faint blue bruises from his other punishment, fascinated her. It had been years since she stood in this mirror looking at her bruises. These were not the same. The color in her cheeks darkened as she thought about how amazing it felt to have his finger there. God, she’d almost moaned out loud when his finger slid along her sex. How embarrassing would that have been if she had let the sound slip? And then he used that same large hand on her bare naked ass. It was so confusing and yet the most erotic thing she’d ever experience.

  She stood up straight and looked at her naked body in the mirror. Too thin, too pale. Her nipples and areolas looked too large for her small breasts.

  She licked the tips of her thumbs and first fingers and teased both nipples into arousal. Her sex clenched in silent longing. Knowing he was only feet away, she eyed the locked door. Fuck him. She wanted to touch herself knowing he’d forbidden it and he was in the next room.

  Nyxie moved to lean against the door. She pressed her stinging rump against the cool wood and closed her eyes. As she pinched one nipple, she eased her other hand between her legs and began rubbing the slippery wet nub – feeling the sweet throb as it began building.

  She reached deeper trying to recreate the sensation she had experienced when he touched her but quickly returned her fingers to her clit. To touch herself near her opening seemed taboo. Her thoughts centered on the memory of how it felt when he fondled her. Did it make sense for her to be torn between wanting him to do it again and wanting to run away?

  Living in such tight quarters, Nyxie was queen of the silent orgasm, but when her mouth opened for the soundless moan to escape, she tilted her head back and bumped the door. She froze for a few seconds, then slowly began the build-up again. Her heels lifted off the ground.

  Suddenly, the doorknob rattled. “Goddammit, Nyxie. You better not be doing what I think you’re doing. Open this door.”

  “Fuck,” she said under her breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She reached over and flushed the commode then flipped on the water and began washing her hands.

  “Open the door or I’m going to break it down.”

  With wet hands, she reached over and turned the knob, releasing the lock. She stepped to the side as the door swung open, knowing in the confined space, it would hit her if she didn’t get out of the way, even as she continued to casually wash her hands.

  She kept her eyes on her task, a small smile on her face.

  Declan stepped in, towering over her and inhaled deeply. His eyes met hers in the mirror and narrowed at her. Her slight smile irritated him to no end.

  “Did you come?” he demanded.

  She shut off the water and turned, pressing her lower back to the sink. Her hips rotated forward and she slowly stretched her hand toward the apex of her legs. Her grin lifted on one side as she stared boldly at him. “Not yet.”

  “At least you’re not lying to me about it,” he said clamping his hand around her wrist before her fingers reached the hidden folds again. He pulled her out of the bathroom. “Get dressed.”

  Nyxie found a clean pair of underwear in one of the bags she’d already packed and stepped into them. She was thankful she bought new ones recently since the old ones were threadbare. She pulled on the low-rise jeans and squatted down with her back to him so he could see if his handprints showed. “Which shirt?”

  “The tank.”

  Stretchy by nature, the ribbed tank clung to her every curve and bump. The way the ribs widened across her chest gave the illusion she had larger breasts than she really possessed. She looked sexy with her flat stomach exposed in the two inch gap between the shirt and the low-rise jeans.

  “You’re definitely not a twelve-year-old. You look hot like that. Any chance you own a pair of four-inch spiked heels?”

  “Not appropriate, sir. My brother’s fighting for his life and you want me to slut-it-up. It would look like I’m more interested in my new relationship than I am about Cody.”

  Declan nodded, a boyish smile of embarrassment flashing across his face. “You’re right, Onyx. And you’re allowed to call me out on things like that if you do it respectfully.”

  Nyxie froze when she saw his smile. There was something in the expression that made him seem more approachable, less formidable. Or maybe she just felt less nervous because she was dressed again.

  He reached out and took her hand and led her to the bed. “I want to try something. I want us to get into the position we slept in last night.” His shoulders dropped when it looked like she would fight him on it.

  “Okay. I usually sleep on the edge.”

  “Not today. I want you all the way over by the wall, Nyxie.”

  She glanced at him then crawled across the bed and stretched out facing the wall, the air conditioner blowing across her feet. He worked his way over and they resumed the position they had slept in.

  “Do you feel safe?”

  “I never feel particularly safe between these four walls.”

  He hadn’t considered she wouldn’t feel safe in her own home, but how could she when it was a home of unpredictable mayhem and violence and most likely the murder of her mother. He wondered how she could continue to live there but realized with no transportation, it would be extremely difficult to move.

  “Tell me what that was all about earlier.”

  Her shoulder lifted slightly. “My way of stress relief works better than yours.”

  He tightened his grip on her wrists. “That’s not what I’m talking about. Why were you baiting me? Was that your way of fighting back when your father hit you?”

  She exhaled slowly as if she was reluctant to discuss the abuse at her father’s hands. “No, if I talked back to him like that—well, let’s say you showed more restraint than he would have.”

  He placed his chin on top of her head. “Tell me, we’re not in a scene right now. Tell me, tell Declan, what’s wrong.”

  She stayed quiet, her lungs filling and emptying her only movement.

  “Take your time,” he said.

  “Let me ask you a question first. What do you want most in this relationship?”

  He thought about it for a minute before answering, trying to figure out how much to tell her. He didn’t want to scare her away or lie, but he doubted she was ready to hear how obsessed with her he was in high school. Nor did he want to tell her he had only had short term Dom/sub relationships—mostly when he was on vacation.

  “I want a monogamous long-term relationship with someone who can fulfill my sexual needs and desires without making demands on my time. If I don’t call for a week, I don’t want a girlfriend who is texting me every five minutes asking me if I’m mad or if she did something wrong. I’m not looking for a wife and a picket fence either. Considering our relationship is contractual, I see no reason to expect any sort of deep feelings from you.”

  “Yes, yes,” she said impatiently then she chuckled slightly. “Wow, that was clinical. But that’s not what I’m referring to. You told me you want trust and control. That’s the problem. One I don’t have to give and the other
I don’t want to give.

  “My whole childhood,” she continued. “I had no power, no control over anything that happened to me. When I was sixteen and got a job, for the first time in my life, I had some semblance of control. If I paid the water bill, we had water. If I paid the rent, no one threatened to evict us. If I was hungry, I had money to buy food. Now, suddenly, I find my control, my power was an illusion. One careless driver has taken my kids from me. You want to control my job, my home, my food, my clothing and my reproductive organs. I understand and accept much of it. I would like to get a GED and my driver’s license and I would like to eat enough food so people don’t make rude comments about my weight. I think by fighting you, I was trying to control a situation where I felt powerless.”

  “You’ve got to trust me, Nyxie,” he said after a moment’s contemplation. He tightened his vice-like grip and pulled her more firmly against his body. “That’s a huge part of Domination/submission. I don’t expect you to trust me to the nth degree just yet, but before our relationship is over, I would hope you would trust me enough that if I put my hands on your throat, you would know, I wasn’t going to harm you.”

  “That’s never going to happen.”

  “Maybe not—and I’m not going to touch your throat either—I just want you to learn to trust me that much.”

  She shook her head. “You might as well be asking me to speak Chinese without lessons. I can’t do it. I don’t know how.”

  He sighed and kissed the back of her head. “I’m going to teach you. It’s a Catch-22. You have to trust me enough to submit and you have to submit to truly learn to trust me.” When she didn’t say anything, he knew she was struggling internally. “You’re going to have to take a leap of faith.”

  Suddenly, her phone began to ring inside his pants pocket. He pulled it out and slid his finger across the display and turned on the speaker so he could hear the conversation.

  “Hello?” Nyxie said struggling to sit up.

  “Nyxie!” the girl’s voice squealed excitedly.