Rebecca's Awakening Complete Love Story and Book Series

by J. H. York

  And for some reason, the tears began running hotly down her face. Kayla could feel his presence turning away, he was leaving her before he could recover from his orgasm. She could feel it in the air, in the language of his body, some unknowable rhythm.

  Yes master, she thought. Fuck me hard then leave me coldly so you can haunt me forever.

  Part II

  Kiss me and you will see how important I am.

  Sylvia Path

  3 CHAPTER THREE

  Chadwick Wadleigh was a haunted man.

  All those years with Sheila... Her young, willowy body, a body he knew as well as his own, disappearing within soft green seawater. He could see her know… laughing and playing the exotic dancer for him.

  She had finally succumbed to the cancer.

  And his memory of her was also a torture that played on endless rewind...

  The yellow plastic bucket and shovel, her pink toes wiggling in sand.

  How aptly he and his wife had named their first and only child.

  There are times when you look at those you love, and your stomach shrinks into a little ball of fear, because you suddenly realize you might lose them one day... But then you shrug it off, you know when it happens it will be so far into the future it won't matter, it will be when you're old and grey and too tired of and sated with life to notice...

  But you, you son of a bitch, you bastard, you walked away... Scarred, but still.

  You walked away.

  Chadwick – or Chad, as his beloved family had called him – proceeded to pick up a marble figurine from the fireplace ledge and smash it into the opposite wall. Tracing his scars with a long index finger, he silently cursed himself.

  He was indeed a monster.

  When the mask is worn too long, poison blossoms like a porcelain heartache.

  Now he held Kayla… He was driven to do it. He had to from the moment he’d seen the picture of her face… He just knew it…

  The release did him good. There was chemistry between them though he had only just met her. She had given him the mind-blowing experience he craved… Kayla had done this... And somehow he was grateful for it…

  Her body under his, her responsiveness, how very wet her heavenly femininity was, slick and opened for him...

  He had to have her again, and soon.

  * * *

  The following day, Kayla was bewildered to find Sir Wadleigh had left instructions for her to eat her meals in the privacy of her own room.

  That evening, instead of Chona entering her room, a man's face appeared in the doorway when Kayla answered the knock. He introduced himself as Eli.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Kayla,” he spoke evenly, though it seemed entirely untrue. “I am the overseer of the acquisition of your wardrobe during your stay at Wadleigh Castle. Your dresses will be fashioned solely out of lace, silk, and satin, and only dark colors shall be worn. Tonight, your attire will consist of this.”

  He held out an exquisite garment, a mermaid scoop sleeveless crystal burgundy satin dress. Gold cascading earrings and a lush gold-rose bracelet finished type of ensemble.

  “Th-thank you,” Kayla answered nervously, taking the items from Eli's grasp as carefully as she would an infant.

  “You're welcome, miss. And now I shall leave you, and Miss Tilda, Mr. Wadleigh's personal maid of many years, will assist you in your dressing.”

  Kayla felt a pang of insecurity. Had she fumbled so badly in her preparations last night that the man felt it necessary she be assisted in dressing herself?

  At that moment, Kayla was surprised to see not an older woman enter the room, but a girl almost the same age as herself.

  “Hello, miss,” the girl bowed submissively. “The lord wishes your hair to be bound tonight. I will assist in your coiffure.”

  As she worked, the girl hummed a haunting, foreign lullaby-esque tune, sad and wistful. Strangely, Kayla felt soothed.

  When she looked into the mirror after Tilda's work had been finished, she could not believe her eyes. She looked like an exotic princess, so regal, so elegant.

  “And now,” Tilda spoke quietly, “I am to leave you. Good evening to you, Miss Kayla.”

  * * *

  Another literary passage floated through Kayla's head. She remembered her Patrick McGrath.

  A tissue of sounds filled the room... That which we call silence.

  It was true. Silence was deafening. Her master was making her wait this time. Drawing it out, being softly cruel.

  Her body ached and yearned.

  Then, the unmistakable whisper from the shadows. Kayla...

  His breath, hot and fast, at her neck. He was whispering those sexy nothings in her ear again. Raising her arms with black leather gloved hands and crossing them over her head.

  It was then she heard the tiny click.

  Kayla realized she was bound and helpless then, a slave to this man's every whim.

  “I need to be inside you again, sweet, beautiful Kayla. I need to cum with you, to make you mine.”

  His hands were fevered at her flesh. They cupped her aching breasts, squeezing hard. But then he seemed to pause in his own vehemence of passion, his mouth frozen at the back of her neck. He trailed his lips down her spine, working his way to bathe her right hip in a glistening trail of saliva. His hands in their leather gloves came to rest at her hips and he squeezed them tightly at her skin, holding her there as if she would vanish beneath him, fly away unless he pinned her trembling form down to earth.

  A butterfly quivering in the palm of her master's hand...

  It was then he moved around to face Kayla. In one terrifying yet raw sexual movement, he tore at her dress and it separated and left her body in one clean slash.

  Her current physical state offered him her breasts in a prime position, raised by the position of her arms in their bind. Relief and anguished pleasure coursed through her as his mouth tore softly across each nipple. He squeezed her breasts tightly together and swiped both nipples with his hot, slick tongue simultaneously. Unbuckling his pants and releasing himself with smooth if not fevered alacrity, he lifted Kayla's right leg and bent it at her knee. In one fell swoop, he let himself slip inside her moist femininity.

  They both moaned softly together, in a sweet juxtaposition of mutual relief and newly inflamed hunger. He seemed to test her body, moving inside her tentatively. “Do you like me moving inside you this way, Kayla?" he spoke as he began to thrust high and deep inside her.

  “Yes, master,” she managed to choke out. His scent filled her nostrils, sandalwood and something painfully, deliciously male.

  “Oh, so good. I definitely approve,” he seemed to be teasing, but his lips were grim and set with determination. As he pummeled her softly, he whispered, “Kayla, look into my eyes. See how much I want you.”

  She stared within the hypnotic orbs that peeked through the holes of the midnight colored mask. Her soul was suddenly washed in waves of crystalline blue. Shades of passion danced across his jawline.

  And Kayla knew at that point she loved him. She didn't care what lay underneath his mask, she wanted to heal his past and love his pain away, as he loved her with his thick, stiff manhood, up and down, side to side in now slow, deliberate agony.

  He cried out suddenly, bursting inside her as she felt herself contract in hot, undulating waves of pleasure.

  They panted together, their eyes still locked. She reached towards his mask. “Please, master, show yourself to me,” she whispered. “I will not judge.”

  What could only be a sense of hope flickered briefly within his eyes. But he flung himself away from her. The sudden absence of his body inside hers felt piquantly, heartbreakingly empty.

  “Kayla...” he grit out, turning away from her. A tempest of emotion roiled inside his quaking body, and she was truly afraid. In barely contained fury, he said, “Don't ever, ever try that again.”

  And with another click, she felt her hands release.

  And whirling away
from her on his heel like a thief in the night, he vanished.

  And those tiny fibers that indeed wove together to form the blanket of silence that filled the room did not provide warmth. In fact, she felt cold, so very cold.

  And like a bird cocking its head to one side, Kayla listened for any sounds that could comfort within the falling of her tears.

  If you expect nothing from anybody, you’re never disappointed

  Sylvia Plath

  4 CHAPTER FOUR

  Kayla knew she had to escape.

  How could she have thought she could ever love such a man?

  Whatever haunted him had eaten away at him a long time ago, and he was indeed a monster of his own making. His was a hopeless case, there was no way he could be saved. His soul was rotting from the inside with fear and self hatred.

  Kayla felt stupid for even thinking she could try to heal him.

  She climbed into bed, exhausted. Instead of the feeling of slipping into a clean envelope, she could not shake the feeling of having climbed into a blue satin-lined coffin.

  * * *

  The days passed. Still Sir Chadwick Wadleigh refused her presence to dine with him. But each night he stole into her bedroom by way of which she did not know, taking her body as his own and ravishing every bit of her physical being and soul.

  One day as Tilda was serving Kayla a steaming hot cup of fragrant and luxurious Darjeeling tea, Kayla could not help but strike up a conversation with the young girl. “Do you know anything about the man you serve?” she asked.

  The young girl's pure, unlined face went pale. “Um, not much, miss. Yes, not much at all. I have served him for many years, but he has never bothered to talk to me much. He is a most introverted soul who keeps to himself.”

  Kayla could feel the falseness in Tilda's speech; her nervous evasiveness was palpable.

  “You know something. Tilda, please, tell me what you know. I am afraid for my life.”

  The young girl stared at her with mournful eyes. “You may think me mad, Miss Kayla, but I care deeply for my master. He is not only scarred physically, but his soul bears the most terrible wounds as well. They run deep, you see, they are indelible.”

  Kayla paused. The gravity of what she would hear she knew of beforehand. She took a deep breath. “Tell me about him, Tilda. Please. From one young woman to another.”

  The young girl sighed. “My family was very poor. But the master saved me from poverty and took me to live with him and his family. He had a beautiful family, a wife named Sheila and a precious daughter named Memory. I was happy in his home, I felt part of a loving family for the first time in my life, as if I were truly wanted and not an accident and another mouth to feed.

  “But Sir Wadleigh's wife became very ill. She had esophageal cancer. It seemed she was always choking to death, especially on her food. The coughing persisted like a death rattle throughout the days and nights. My master's face was drawn all the time, ashen and dead, and it only grew worse as the time passed. And I believe his lack of faith and belief in himself, as he questioned himself eternally as to why he could not save her, eventually caused my beautiful sister Memory's death.”

  Kayla was shocked. “You mean, the child died as well?”

  “Yes. The roads they were driving on were icy. But I believe he was not truly there that day, if you know what I mean. It was the day of Sheila's funeral, on the drive back home. I had remained behind because I was very ill myself with pneumonia. I suppose I was lucky I did not attend. For the car accident instantly killed the young girl.”

  Kayla felt tears brim behind her eyes. How could she have been so unforgiving? A man who had suffered such unfortunate circumstances in his life... She could see easily how some people gave up when pummeled with too many ill fated occurrences.

  But she knew she could not give way to her sympathy for her master. Though she loved him, and realized she loved him deeply and passionately, she knew her determination to live and be free had to take precedence.

  “Is there a way to escape?” she demanded softly of Tilda, who was then weeping quietly.

  The young woman's face grew firm, even though sadness still danced its melancholy waltz across it. “That is one bit of information I am not at liberty to share with you, Miss. Sometimes you must tell yourself a simple sentence, and that is, 'It is what it is.' We have no control over our fate, and choice is illusory. This is your home now. You must learn to find happiness within its walls.”

  And the young girl rose from her seat, and without a backwards glance, left the room, shutting the door behind her.

  Find the continuation of Wounded Heart…

  on Amazon by Jessica Hart. If you’re reading a digital file, like Kindle or an epub file, just click here …

  Did you love Finding You Beneath?

  Then you should read:

  Chamberlain Affair

  by J.H. York and Jessica Hart

  Chamberlain Affair

  Complete Love Story

  and

  Book Series

  by J.H. York and Jessica Hart

  Is now a compilation volume of Part One – Part Four

  Part One sample to follow

  0 ABOUT chamberlain affair, part one – new bride

  Dirty hidden secrets of love...

  Evan is a bad boy. In fact, he’s always been. But he’s the kind of bad that you always root for because he’s learned a thing or two in all the right ways. He sets his sights on the one woman he shouldn’t have, who stirs a desirous, possessiveness in him that makes his insides churn and twist.

  Evan’s not just bad; he’s also very, very rich. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth yet he learns well from dear ole dad and he makes a fortune, in his own right.

  Lindsey’s very young, blonde, fabulously beautiful, and married to the bad boy’s stepfather. She is his freaking stepmother! Lindsey knows that everyone thinks she’s a gold digger. Even the dazzlingly, beautiful Evan, whom she can't stop thinking about. He hides it well but when he looks at her, but he also has distrust and suspicion in his eyes.

  The bad boy may not trust her but he doesn’t want to bury her like his stepbrother and stepsister does…six feet deep and under, in fact…

  Lindsey also has a secret she doesn’t ever want anyone to discover. Right now she is completely unavailable until she’s not… So what’s a bad boy to do but come to the rescue…?

  The content is recommended for 18+ due to mature themes and sexual content.

  Chamberlain Affair

  Part One - New Bride

  J.H. YORK

  JESSICA HART

  Copyright © 2016 Jessica Hart

  All rights reserved.

  CHAMBERLAIN AFFAIR

  PART ONE – NEW BRIDE

  1 CHAPTER ONE

  Roger Chamberlain, a billionaire tycoon, stood in his expansive office after hanging up the phone. He had just made the last, and most difficult of the calls, to his stepdaughter Bethany. It wasn't bad news that he was relaying; it was just Bethany's nature to be difficult. Her mother had said that the twenty-three hour delivery had been a “heads up” for her. Roger, now 62, had made three phone calls. They had been to his two sons, Evan and Trevor, and of course Bethany. The first two calls had been predictably easy as he had simply told the boys that he was holding a family meeting tomorrow at 2 pm, and would they be able to make it? They could. They committed without questioning. Bethany was full of questions, and obstacles.

  “Well father,” she had started, “ I was supposed to play tennis at that time. Is it really important? Couldn't we make it 5 pm instead?”

  Shaking his head Roger had remained stern. “No... We cannot Beth. Are you coming, then?” Then the questions had started. “What is this about? You just got back from your trip out West...did something happen? Have you talked to Evan and Trev? Are they coming? Just tell me what this is about!”

  He could just imagine her bottom lip poking out as she pouted...much as she had done in the past wh
en she was a little girl. “I'll see you at 2 pm tomorrow Beth. Please think of the rest of us and respect our time...be prompt please.” He had hung up as she was starting to protest again.

  If she wasn't such a deceitful angry woman he might find the constant questioning endearing. The truth is Bethany had always been one to use whatever tactic she could to get her way. When Roger had married Bethany's Mother, Lily, Bethany had been 14. Even at that early age she had been on the path of petulance. She protested the marriage. She scorned her new brothers, Evan and Trevor. She would soon warm up to Trevor, but it was to be able to attain things that she wanted. She was sugar sweet to him, he was 12, and soon had him in the palm of her hand. Even to this day there was a special closeness between the two, even bordering a love affair one might think.