His fingers closed around my wrist and it wasn’t a playful hold this time. It was hard, his fingertips digging into my skin. ‘They’re not for you.’ His voice had turned flat. ‘If you want to touch me, put your hand on my cock instead.’
Okay, he definitely didn’t want to talk about them. And maybe it wasn’t any wonder since they must have been painful. But those round ones... Had someone ground out a cigarette on his skin?
The chill inside me deepened, horror rising as I stared at the scars. He’d been hurt. No, more than merely hurt. It looked like he’d been...
Tortured.
‘No.’ A low growl of warning cut into my thoughts. ‘This is what you should be paying attention to.’ And he shoved my palm insistently to the hard ridge beneath his fly.
But I couldn’t drag my gaze from those scars—a stark reminder of who he was. What he was...
‘I thought you weren’t afraid of me.’
The sharp note in his voice made me look up and meet the laser-like intensity of his gaze. ‘I—’
‘But you are. I can see it in your eyes. Why? You weren’t before.’ His grip on my wrist tightened, though I’m sure he wasn’t aware of it, not when he was too busy staring at me. ‘What did I do?’
There wasn’t any point denying my unease, not when he’d picked up on it. ‘Nothing,’ I said, being honest because he hadn’t done anything. ‘It’s just...those scars, Leon. They reminded me that I don’t know anything about you. About your past...’ I stopped, my throat dry. ‘I think I need to know. Before this goes any further.’
‘This?’ The question sounded neutral but the grip on my wrist was not.
I gathered my courage. ‘This being us, sleeping together.’
‘I thought it was only sex. That’s what you said.’
‘I know. But—’
‘But you don’t want to sleep with a killer.’
The words were harsh, his voice harsher, but all I had to give him was honesty. ‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t.
His grip loosened and he released me. ‘So principled. I admire that, Vita.’ Letting out a breath, he leaned back against the couch. ‘Even if it pisses me off.’
‘Leon, I—’
‘I’m not a killer,’ he interrupted flatly. ‘Dad had other people who did that for him. But I did hurt people on Dad’s orders. I punished them, made them see things his way.’
Was it relief I felt? I wasn’t sure.
‘Do you still do that? For your brothers?’
‘No. That would make us criminals and we’re not criminals.’ He laughed without amusement. ‘At least, not any more.’
Yet not exactly blameless either.
I should have left it then, taken those answers at face value and been satisfied. But it wasn’t enough. I had questions and the scientist in me couldn’t leave them alone.
‘And those scars?’ I asked. ‘Did you get those making people “see things his way”?’
‘Why do you want to know? What difference does it make?’
‘Why don’t you want to tell me?’
‘Because those scars mean nothing.’ His eyes gleamed in the darkness. ‘Maybe I simply got what I deserved.’
Bitterness laced the words and I studied him, trying to figure out why. ‘Those scars look like you were...tortured.’
He lifted a shoulder as if bored of the conversation. ‘Like I said, they mean nothing.’
But they did and I knew it. That bitterness gave it away.
‘You can tell me,’ I said before I could stop myself, wanting to give him something. ‘You can tell me anything. I won’t judge you. You can trust me.’
His whole body tensed, tight as a coiled spring, and danger thickened in the atmosphere around us. I couldn’t tell his expression in the dim light, but there was no mistaking the menace glowing in his eyes.
He did not want to talk about this.
You need to stop pushing.
My pulse had sped up, my breath coming faster. Yes, I should, but he’d been hurt and I wanted to know why. He knew about my scars, the ones that weren’t physical but were there all the same, the ones that had been inflicted by Simon and that video. He knew and had helped them hurt a little bit less, so why couldn’t I do the same for him? At least I could try.
‘Why should I trust you?’ His tone was silky with menace. ‘You’re only the woman I’m sleeping with at the moment. Nothing else.’
An inexplicable hurt slid under my skin, though there was no reason it should. I was only the woman he was sleeping with and I didn’t want to be anything more. Did I?
Yet...he sounded so bitter. Did he have anyone in his life he could trust? There were his brothers and I didn’t know what kind of relationships he had with them, but he must trust them. He didn’t need me poking at things that weren’t my business.
‘What?’ he demanded. ‘You want to say something?’
‘Is there anyone you do trust?’ The question was out before I could think better of it.
Instantly, his expression became shuttered and that was when I knew.
No. He didn’t.
Determination shifted and turned inside me. When my video had hit, when everyone I’d trusted had betrayed me, the only person I’d had was my aunt. She hadn’t been a warm person but she’d taught me to bake, and it had been in the moments when we were in the kitchen, just the two of us, measuring and weighing the ingredients, that I’d talked to her about my experience. She’d never said much in response, but she didn’t judge, didn’t blame. Simply let me talk.
Did Leon need someone to talk to? Did he have anyone he could talk to?
It hit me then—the reasons I was asking myself all these questions. I wanted him to talk to me. I wanted him to trust me.
But simply telling him he should wasn’t going to work, and why should it? Given his past, he wouldn’t be a man who trusted easily.
Which meant that if I wanted this I had to give him a reason.
I went with my instinct. Bending to pick up his laptop, I opened up the video programme that operated the camera. Then I put the computer down on the coffee table, angling it so the camera was directed at him and his whole body was in the shot.
Ignoring the frantic beat of my heart, I hit Record then turned back, moving to straddle his legs where they rested on the table in front of him.
A ripple of emotion crossed his face. He glanced at the computer, where the pair of us were on the screen, then back at me, surprised.
‘What are you doing?’
I lifted my hands to the buttons of the shirt and slowly began to undo them. ‘Giving you a reason to trust me.’
He glanced at the computer again and I saw realisation hit. Abruptly, he tried to grab my wrists. ‘You don’t need to—’
I shook his fingers off, letting the shirt slip from my shoulders.
A week ago, baring my body for a man like this, let alone to yet another camera, would have filled me with dread. But I couldn’t think of any other way to show him how serious I was. If I wanted his trust, I had to show him he had mine.
‘Don’t turn it off,’ I said fiercely. ‘I want it to record us. I want to give you something I wouldn’t ever give anyone else. Because I trust you.’
Shock left his face momentarily blank and a small spark of triumph went through me, pleased that I’d surprised him so completely. But I didn’t let myself dwell on it. Instead, I took his hands and guided them to my breasts, shivering at the contact of his warm skin on mine.
‘Why?’ His voice was hoarse and he stared at me like I was a stranger. ‘I haven’t done a single fucking thing to deserve this.’
‘You have.’ I pressed his palms against my flesh, letting him feel how my nipples hardened in response. ‘You made me feel beautiful. You made me feel wanted. You made me feel special.’
‘Vita—’
‘You need someone to talk to, Leon. You need someone to trust. And you can trust me.’ Then I leaned forward, crushing his hands between our bodies as I brushed my mouth over his.
He was still for a second. Then he jerked his hands from between us, the fingers of one hand burying themselves in my hair while he wound his arm around my waist, pulling me tight against him.
And he took control of the kiss.
His tongue swept into my mouth, the heat and taste of him flooding my senses, so demanding that my fingers curled into his chest, trying to hold on to something—anything.
He was hard and hot beneath me, the wool of his suit trousers rubbing against the sensitive flesh of my bare sex and inner thighs. The feel of his chest against my nipples, smooth skin, firm muscle and the slight prickle of hair, was glorious.
I dug my nails into him, kissing him as desperately as he was kissing me, shivering as his teeth closed on my bottom lip in a short, hard nip.
Then I found myself flipped over onto my back on the couch, with him lying half on his side, half over me, golden eyes hot and possessive as he looked down at me.
‘I’ll tell you where my scars came from,’ he said. ‘On one condition. I want something pretty to look at and beautiful to touch when I do.’
I didn’t understand what he meant at first. Then he cupped my breast in one large, warm palm and dragged his thumb with aching slowness over my nipple, making me gasp.
Pretty to look at and beautiful to touch...
He was talking about me.
My chest tightened and my eyes prickled. A ridiculously emotional reaction that I was powerless to stop. So, not only had he accepted my offer of trust, he was still making me feel beautiful with it.
I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve it but this time I stayed quiet, not risking speaking in case he changed his mind.
‘When I was fifteen,’ Leon began, ‘I was taken by some enemies of my father. They targeted me because my older brother Ajax was too dangerous and my younger brother was too well protected. But I wasn’t. I was the middle child and pretty, a bookworm, easy prey.’ He looked down to his hand on my breast, watching his thumb circle my nipple once more. ‘They held me for a couple of days, trying to get money out of my father, but he wouldn’t pay the ransom.’
His touch sent a lightning strike of pleasure from my breast straight to my sex, but through it I felt a deep foreboding settling down in my bones.
‘They were...unhappy with my father’s response,’ he went on, his voice expressionless, his nail scraping gently against my sensitive nipple, making me tremble. ‘So they took it out on me. With knives, cigarettes. One of them had a baseball bat and I got a few broken ribs from that.’
Despite the heat of pleasure, I felt cold. Oh, God, they had tortured him.
‘Leon...’ I began.
But he shook his head. ‘No. Stay quiet.’ His nail scraped over me again, making the pulse of pleasure between my thighs more intense. ‘They would have killed me if I hadn’t escaped. But I did.’ His hand slid from my breast down my body, his gaze following it as his fingers grazed the curls between my thighs. ‘They thought I was asleep, but I wasn’t. I got out, got myself back home and demanded Dad tell me why he hadn’t rescued me; why he wouldn’t pay the ransom.’ His fingers delicately parted my sensitive flesh and I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped me as he found my clit, circling it gently. ‘Do you know why he wouldn’t? Because I was expendable. Because Ajax was the oldest and Xander was the clever one. But I was the pretty one, the useless one. I wasn’t worth the time it would have taken for a rescue or the money for the ransom.’
He wasn’t looking at me, watching his finger stroking my sex instead, which somehow made it that much hotter. So much so that it was difficult to focus on what he was saying and not get lost in the tide of pleasure slowly rising inside me. ‘Dad only surrounded himself with people who were useful to him and apparently being his son wasn’t enough. So I decided to make myself useful. I became his weapon, dangerous enough that no one would ever target me again.’ He glanced at me at the same time as he eased one finger into me, going slow and deep, tearing a moan from my throat. His eyes were molten, glittering. ‘And no one did, Vita. You know why? Because I made sure they were all too afraid of me.’
The pleasure was intense and I could barely hear him over the frantic beat of my heart and the overwhelming urge to lift my hips, ride that finger. But the hard note in his voice and the anger in his eyes stopped me from losing myself entirely.
So, he’d been tortured because his father hadn’t thought he was worth rescuing. At fifteen.
Behind my ribs, my heart clenched tight.
That was so wrong. So awful. It had upset me that, after my video had hit, all my own father had thought about was the effect it was having on his business and the family’s reputation rather than me. But at least he hadn’t left me in the hands of people who’d hurt me, who’d possibly even kill me, just because I wasn’t useful to him.
‘Leon, stop.’ I reached to pull his hand away because it felt wrong to be receiving such pleasure while he relived something so awful.
But he simply held my wrist down by my side and slid another finger into me, stretching me. ‘I told you,’ he said, rough and fierce. ‘I want something beautiful to touch.’
I panted, unable to stop my back from arching or from lifting my hips in time with the movements of his fingers. ‘But... I... I can’t feel this while you...talk about t-torture.’
‘Yes, you can. I’d rather you felt pleasure than pain. Or anything else for that matter.’ He bent his head, his tongue finding my nipple and circling it as his fingers slid deep inside me. I groaned, the feel of his mouth incandescent. ‘So don’t feel sorry for me, vixen,’ he murmured against my skin. ‘Just scream my name when you come.’
But I didn’t feel sorry for him. I felt nothing but a terrible sympathy while at the same time I was furious at the people who’d done this to him. His father, who hadn’t even bothered looking for him, let alone rescuing him. While he’d had knives, cigarettes pressed against his skin, a baseball bat...
‘Leon,’ I whispered. ‘You shouldn’t...’
‘Give me this, Vita.’ A raw note had entered his voice. ‘This is what I want to think about. The way you feel and the way you taste. Give me your pleasure. Give me something good that I can do for you. Please.’
He’d never said that word to me before. He’d never begged. And I couldn’t deny him. I didn’t have any advice or any words of wisdom. Nothing else to give him, apart from myself. My trust and my body.
So I gave him both.
‘Okay,’ I murmured.
He shifted, gripping my thigh and pushing it out, pressing it against the back of the couch, holding me open as he stared down at my exposed sex. Then he touched me with his free hand, stroking me, spreading my wet flesh, burying the terrible thing he’d told me under the delicate stroke of pleasure.
Holding me open, he bent his head and covered my sex with his mouth. I jerked in his grip, the slide of his tongue against my clit electric, lighting up every nerve ending I had.
I groaned, arching up into him as he licked and explored my slick flesh, as the hand on my thigh firmed, keeping me spread so he could sink his tongue deep inside me.
‘Leon!’ My hands groped for him, finding the softness of his hair. I wound my fingers in the thick silk of it, holding on tight as he brought his free hand into play, touching and stroking me as he licked me.
‘Yes,’ he murmured against me, his voice thick with satisfaction. ‘Tell me who’s making you come. Tell me who’s making you scream. Say my name, vixen.’
And I did, helplessly screaming it again as he pushed me off the edge of the world.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Leon
SHE WAS LAID out beneath me,
naked and trembling, the sound of my name echoing in the room around us. Her eyes were fixed to mine, sweat beading her forehead and gathering in the hollow of her throat.
I was so hard I ached.
The salty sweet taste of her was in my mouth and I wanted to stay with my head buried between her legs, eating her out all night.
Forgetting everything I’d told her. Forgetting all about that fucking bastard Thompson and what he and his henchmen had done to me.
Forgetting about the note of desperation in my voice, the raw sound of pain. Of weakness.
I thought I’d put those memories behind me, thought they didn’t matter any more, but telling her about Thompson had brought them all flooding back in vivid fucking Technicolor.
But I wasn’t that sobbing, pathetic fifteen-year-old any more. I was someone much deadlier. Ajax had helped me craft myself into a weapon and, even though I no longer used violence, I was still lethal.
I was still fucking dangerous.
Fury burned in my veins and I wanted to punish her for making me tell her about my scars. For the mistake of giving me her trust.
I wanted to remind her who she was dealing with.
The angle of the laptop wouldn’t have captured her face as I’d eaten her out, but I knew what to do so it would.
I leaned down and gathered her up in my arms, bringing her into my lap so she was facing me, straddling my thighs. She was panting, the heat of her pussy soaking through the wool of my trousers, making my cock ache. It would be so easy to unzip myself, slide into her welcoming heat, but that camera would only capture her back and I didn’t want that.
I looked into her eyes, glazed and black with pleasure. ‘Time to return the favour, sweetheart. Get on your knees.’
I should have known that Vita wouldn’t do the expected thing and she didn’t now. Instead of instantly obeying, she leaned forward and kissed me, her mouth hot and demanding, her tongue seeking, as if she wanted to taste herself on me.
I lifted my hand to her hair, intending to drag her mouth away and push her down to kneel in front of me, but I couldn’t. Her kiss was such a sweet mix of inexperience and demand that I wound my fingers into her hair and held her there instead.
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