Dark Pleasures

by M. S. Parker

  I couldn't lie to him, but I couldn't tell him the truth either. It would hurt him too much to know that, deep down, I was terrified that he'd reject me because of my past. He'd feel like he had to prove himself, that he'd given me some sort of reason to not trust him. It wasn't him though. It was me.

  “You know that isn't real, right?” His expression was anxious. “No matter what you dreamed, I'd never hurt you.”

  “I don't want to talk about it,” I said softly. And it wasn't only because of him. I didn't want to talk about my nightmare because of me. I didn't want to think about it. I wanted to push it to the back of my mind and never bring it up again.

  “Okay,” he said. I still saw the concern there, but he put it aside. “Is there anything I can do?”

  I didn't even hesitate. I might not have wanted to talk or think about my nightmare, but it still lingered. Teasing, tormenting. I needed something stronger than my fear to chase it away.

  I needed him.

  “Make me forget.” I curled my fingers in his hair. “Love me until I forget everything else.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  I understood his hesitation. He believed my nightmare had something to do with my abuse or perhaps Christophe's attack. After something like that, I probably would've just wanted him to hold me, but this was different. I needed to feel him against me, inside me, reminders that what had happened was just a nightmare. He was still here.

  “Please,” I asked softly. “Make me forget.”

  He kept me waiting just a couple seconds longer and then leaned his head down to take my mouth. It was a gentle kiss, his lips soft against mine. His tongue teased at the seam of my lips and I parted them. He was thorough, but there was no edge to the pressure of his mouth.

  As we kissed, he slowly lowered me onto my bed until I was stretched out, the blankets kicked off to one side. I didn't remember dressing for bed, but I was wearing a t-shirt over my panties so I must have. Unless Rylan had done it for me.

  He stretched out next to me, resting on his side so he could run his hand over me, the heat of his palm burning through the cotton of my t-shirt. He cupped my breast, running his thumb over my nipple until it hardened, visible beneath the shirt. His mouth left mine, working its way down my jaw to kiss that spot just below my ear.

  I shivered as a little tendril of pleasure went through me.

  He sat up and reached for the hem of my shirt. I let him remove it, leaving me naked except for a pair of simple cotton panties.

  “You're beautiful,” he said softly as he leaned down and pressed his lips against the burn scar that ran down the left side of my stomach. The skin there was warped, almost as if the hot grease my mother had poured on me had somehow melted the flesh into something liquid before it solidified again. “Every inch of you.” He covered the scar with kisses even as his free hand rested on the other side of my stomach, thumb tracing patterns on the unmarked skin.

  Most men either ignored the scars or were too interested in them. Rylan was the only one who treated them like they were just another part of me.

  His tongue flicked out, tracing the pattern of the ruined skin even though I couldn't really feel it. The nerves had been too badly damaged to function properly. Then his tongue left the scar and I sucked in a breath as he moved across my stomach and down to tease my belly button. My eyelids fluttered and I felt them wanting to close. I kept them open, not because I was afraid to close them, but because I wanted to watch him. He'd said that I was beautiful, but the reality was, he was the beautiful one. In every way. Physically, intellectually. Who he was, what he did.

  Love swelled up inside of me and pleasure followed as he wrapped his lips around my nipple. I cried out, my back arching, trying to push myself deeper into his mouth. His hand went to my other breast, fingers rolling my nipple until it was stiff. The suction of his mouth was a steady pull rather than the sharp, rough tug I usually received. Normally, tenderness didn't do it for me. I always needed a bit of pain edging my pleasure to get turned on. Or at least I had. There was a new kind of heat spreading through my belly, something quieter, but just as intense.

  He raised his head, the cool air hitting my wet skin and making me shiver again. “Stop thinking. Let yourself feel. Let me take care of you.”

  There was an undercurrent of authority to his words, though his voice was soft. I nodded and tried to do as he'd said.

  He shifted until he was straddling my waist and then slowly made his way down my body, taking my panties with him. His fingers skimmed down my legs, leaving a fiery trail that didn't dissipate, but rather grew. He parted my legs and settled between them, hooking my knees over his shoulders.

  He planted light kisses across my inner thighs, making the sensitive skin tingle. I wanted to urge him forward, beg him to do it now, but I'd agreed to let him take care of me, and I trusted that he'd give me what I needed.

  When his lips pressed against my pussy, I whimpered. The touch was so gentle, almost a caress. Then his tongue was slowly parting my folds, dipping inside, then tracing along each side. The pressure inside me was building, but oh so slowly. I felt like a fire being relentlessly stoked until I exploded. At the rate he was going, spontaneous combustion seemed like a very real possibility.

  His tongue found my clit and began to move back and forth over it, a rapid movement that sent stronger waves of pleasure through me. When he took the little bundle of nerves into his mouth, I came, the wet heat too much. I closed my eyes and let the pleasure take me. His mouth kept working, wringing the last exquisite drop out of me. Only when I'd finally started to come down did he sit up. He pulled his shirt over his head, then quickly shed his pants and underwear as well.

  A moment later, he was moving up my body, kissing a line up from my bellybutton to the valley between my breasts. When he claimed my mouth again, his body pressed against mine. My nipples were hard against his chest, his cock pushing against my entrance. The tip of it slid inside as he rocked his hips and I moaned into his mouth.

  I hooked my legs around his waist, putting my heels against the backs of his knees. He cupped the back of my neck, tilting my head back as he broke the kiss. His lips moved down my throat even as he eased himself deeper. I waited for him to slide all the way inside, but he didn't. His thrusts were shallow, the lower half of his cock rubbing against my clit.

  I whimpered as he sucked skin into his mouth, pulling at it until I knew he was leaving a mark. I ran my hands down his back, fingers tracing over the tattoo I knew but couldn't see. His muscles were tense beneath the hot skin and I knew he was holding back for me.

  “Please,” I whispered.

  He pulled back until he was almost completely out, then surged forward, filling me with a deep thrust that made me cry out. He slid his arms under my knees, raising my legs and changing the angle of penetration so that he was hitting me in new places. When he pulled them up even further, putting my ankles on his shoulders, my body began to shake. He leaned forward slightly, wrapping his arms around my legs and began to thrust with deep, steady strokes.

  My fingers clawed at my sheets, unable to dig into his skin. I'd never let anyone take me from this position – too vulnerable – and the sensations were completely new. I felt every inch of him inside me, pressing against all the right places even as my own body put pressure on my clit. It felt amazing. And even more than the physical pleasure, the look on Rylan's face made my body heat up. His eyes were dark, his expression determined. That sexy hyper-focus was directed at me and I knew he wasn't going to rest until he'd reached his goal.

  I lost all sense of time and place, only aware of the way his body moved inside of mine, how his skin felt against mine. The rhythmic in and out. His arm around my legs. The only sound was of our mingled breathing, our flesh coming together.

  The motion kept me slowly building towards a climax, each stroke sending another wave of pleasure through me, but never enough to push me over the edge. The tension inside Rylan was growing too
, I could see it, feel it, and I knew he'd be ready soon. When he released my legs, I knew it was time.

  He leaned down, propping himself up on his elbows as his pace increased. He wrapped his lips around my nipple, each pull of his mouth in time with his thrusts. Every cell was on fire and then he bit down, not hard enough to truly hurt, but to give me that last little bit that I needed.

  I opened my mouth to scream as I exploded, but no sound came out. My back arched, muscles tensing. I was dimly aware of Rylan swearing and calling my name, of his cock pulsing inside me, but all of that was secondary to the overwhelming pleasure carrying me away. My vision grayed, and just before the darkness took me, I heard Rylan whisper in my ear, as if he knew what my nightmare had been about.

  “I love you, and I'll never leave you.”

  Chapter 24

  Rylan stayed all night, holding me as I slept. Occasionally I woke up, but there weren't any additional nightmares. Each time I felt one coming on, I remembered what he'd told me. He was my anchor, the one who kept me grounded. Aside from the short time after I'd passed out, my sleep was light, but still more restful than what I'd had recently.

  I didn't think Rylan slept much at all. Every time I stirred, his arms tightened around me and he murmured something soothing. Still, he didn't seem tired when my work alarm went off the next morning.

  “You don't have to go in,” he said, releasing me so I could hit the off button. “We could both play hooky.” He gave me a grin. “I can put in a good word with the boss.”

  I eyed his bare chest and broad shoulders. It was so tempting to fall back into his arms. To burrow into the warmth of him, bask in the safety I found there. I could see it, spending the entire day here, letting Rylan take care of me. The independent streak that had come out of my mistrust and sheer stubbornness reared its head. It was one thing to let him take care of me after something like yesterday. It was something else entirely to take advantage of his kindness to get out of work. Besides, it wasn't like I'd get any rest if we stayed here. As appealing as that idea was, I couldn't do it.

  I sighed. “We shouldn't. It'll look bad if we're both out again today. Considering how smart the people at Archer Enterprises are supposed to be, I can't believe no one's put two and two together with us yet.” I thought about it a moment, and then added, “Or at least that they aren't talking about it yet.”

  “With all of the gossip about Christophe, no one's really been paying attention to anything like that.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “If we were talking about some inter-office romance between two people in the mail room, no one would care. But this is you we're talking about.”

  He looked startled and the expression almost made me laugh. “Excuse me?”

  “Seriously?” I chuckled as I climbed out of bed. Having a normal conversation seemed like a good way to keep my mind off of things while I got ready for work. “Do you have any idea how many women at work want to get into your pants?” I paused, and then added, “And some guys too.”

  He rolled his eyes good-naturedly and swung his legs over the side of the bed. I let my gaze linger on his firm ass for a moment before walking towards the bathroom.

  “I'm serious,” I said as I stopped in the doorway. “People aren't going to like this.” I gestured between us. “And I don't just mean your family.”

  Rylan shook his head and I could tell he still didn't believe me. I couldn't believe he was that clueless. Or maybe he'd just gotten so used to the admiring looks that he didn't notice them. Actually, I wondered as I walked into the bathroom, maybe it was because of work. When he was there, he was so thoroughly focused on the job at hand that there were times I wondered if he even noticed me. And, of course, he always assumed that everyone was as driven as he was.

  I showered quickly, half-hoping Rylan would join me. When I stepped out of the bathroom, I knew why he hadn't. I could smell waffles cooking.

  I tucked the towel more tightly around me and walked into the kitchen, my stomach growling as I went. I hadn't eaten much of anything yesterday, or the entire weekend for that matter. The fact that I was hungry made me feel better.

  When I walked into the kitchen, Rylan was at the toaster, frowning at it. I couldn't help but smile. He was so cute, standing there in his jeans, the top unbuttoned. Chest bare, hair still mussed from bed.

  “Problem?” I asked.

  “How old is this thing?” he asked as he turned. His mouth was open, as if he meant to say something else, but whatever it was died as soon as he saw me. Lust flashed across his face. “Damn, Jenna. We'll never make it in to work with you looking like that.”

  “Well,” I said, a teasing note in my voice. “I guess I'd better go get dressed then. Bathroom's free.”

  I waited until I was almost at the hallway before dropping the towel. I laughed as I heard him swear. I was still laughing when he caught me around the waist and spun us until my back was against the wall. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he grabbed my wrists. His eyes were burning, but I could read the question in them. Even in a moment of passion, he was still thinking of me.

  I nodded, my mouth dry. He'd been gentle last night, even at the end, but I knew this wasn't going to be like that at all.

  He used his body as leverage and pinned my arms above my head with one hand. The other went between us and I felt the fabric of his jeans move against my bare thighs, then his cock was free. He entered me with one thrust and I cried out as he stretched me too far, too fast. He didn't stop, trusting me to use our safe words if I needed to. Each thrust was harder than the last, driving me into the wall, pushing the air from my lungs. Spots danced in front of my eyes and every nerve screamed. I came on the fourth or fifth stroke and continued coming even as he pressed his face against the side of my neck, teeth nipping at the skin. Just before it turned into pain, he buried himself deep and came with a groan.

  His breath was hot on my neck and I felt his heart pounding in his chest, a rapid counter-beat to my own.

  “Fuck, Jenna.” He kissed the underside of my jaw. “I can't get enough of you.”

  My heart squeezed almost painfully in my chest. “I love you.”

  We ended up sharing the shower in an attempt to hurry so we could get in early enough that Rylan could change into the extra clothes he kept in his office. It didn't exactly work as well as we'd intended. Well, as I'd intended. The gleam in Rylan's eyes hinted that his intentions weren't entirely noble, and he'd proven that shortly after we got into the shower.

  Needless to say, we both showed up late. I was pretty sure some people noticed, but at least no one said anything. If they wanted to talk behind my back, I really didn't care. I knew how I'd gotten my job and I'd more than proved that I was better at it than anyone else in the building, including Rylan, and he'd be the first one to admit it. My mouth tightened as I walked into my office. As long as they didn't say anything about Rylan. That, I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep my mouth shut about. I doubted Rylan would look highly on having to fire me for punching someone.

  Despite all of that, I was surprised at how good it felt to get back to work. The familiarity of numbers and coding, working through the complexities of a security problem, finding backdoors and solutions. I welcomed the chance to fall back into the rhythm and let it carry me to that place where nothing else existed.

  I would've worked through lunch if Rylan hadn't called down to see how I was doing. We didn't meet for it, hoping to preserve some sense of professional distance after our morning arrival. It helped, actually, feeling like things were returning to normal. In the back of my head, I knew that I wouldn't really think of life as anything close to normal until after this whole Christophe mess was taken care of, but it was close enough.

  I went home alone – though not without arguing with Rylan about it – and managed to eat real food and fall asleep without too much difficulty. Thinking about Rylan made it easier, and I wasn't too surprised when I woke up the next morning without having dreamed at all. He
really was my anchor.

  Wednesday passed with as much uneventfulness, and I was almost daring to hope that things would be quiet for a while. After the incident with Christophe, the insanity of the holidays and the grand jury, I would be grateful for a little boredom.

  Thursday afternoon after lunch, however, I got the call that told me boredom wasn't going to happen.

  “Miss Lang?”

  “Agent Matthews.” My stomach clenched. “What happened?”

  “Mr. Constantine agreed to a plea.” He got right to the point and I appreciated that. “The specifics are still being hammered out, but we have your restraining orders, and he will be undergoing mandatory therapy, be registered as a sex offender and be on probation. We're working on how long.”

  “That's good, Agent Matthews.” I couldn't manage anything more enthusiastic. While I appreciated the importance of what a deal like this could mean for hundreds of kids, I wasn't happy about Christophe not paying for what he'd done. “I appreciate you calling to let me know.”

  “That's not the only reason I called.”

  Shit. That didn't sound good.

  “One of the things we had to give in on for him to take the deal was bail.”

  I started shaking my head before he even finished what he was saying.

  “He wanted to be out on bail until we got things solidified. The judge granted it. Half a million. He got it bonded within a couple hours.”

  “Are you telling me that bastard's out?” I spoke through gritted teeth.

  “I'm sorry, Miss Lang. We didn't have much choice.”

  I wanted to tell him that they did. That the FBI could do whatever the hell they wanted to do. The US Attorney could've demanded Christophe be kept in solitary until he cracked. Or, better yet, for someone with an arrest for child pornography, general population would have been a better idea.

  “We have the restraining orders in place, Miss Lang. If Mr. Constantine comes anywhere within a thousand feet of either you or Mr. Archer, call me and I'll have him arrested again.”