by Jasmin Quinn
Even through her distress, she knew the truth. Jack was to Michael Black as Isabelle was to her. Her kidnapper and she were grappling with ghosts of the past, a connection between their respective lovers that couldn’t be broken. And that was what her kidnapping had been about, that was the reason for Shonan’s death. The two of them, she and Shonan, nothing but a means to an end. It was all about Isabelle, had always been. Michael Black wanted to punish Jack for his transgressions, for being Isabelle’s ex-husband. Mira was not even in this triangle, an inconvenience for Isabelle, a pawn for Michael, and for Jack? She wasn’t sure. His lawyer, his plaything, his alternative to the perfect woman. Second-best.
Once Jack took her home and she got past the fear of what had happened to her and the sorrow of Shonan’s death, despair over Jack’s betrayal and lies set in, agonizing and twisting. She couldn’t find her way past it in the first week, was glad Jack was distracted, thankful he gave her the space she needed to process everything. In the second week, she started drinking. It helped her dig herself out of the sorrow and pain as long as she stopped at one bottle of wine. Any more, and she sank deeper into self-pity. Last night was bad timing as she was well into bottle number two when Jack walked in on her.
And then berated her.
All hell broke loose, the fight, the struggle, her madness. The evidence of her fury seared through her body, scratched, bruised, stiff, aching. Jack hadn’t been gentle, angry himself, fending her off and finally subduing her. But he never crossed a line – didn’t hit her, didn’t fuck her. He tied her to the bed and left. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or hurt. Their anger often fuelled the fire, but this anger was different, because it wasn’t anger, it was pain.
It was well over an hour before Jack came to her, a quiet click of the door, dim lights edging through the darkness, soft steps as he walked over to the bed. He stood over her, shadowing her, gazing into her face as she looked up at him. Nothing on him but his pajama pants, low on his hips, exposing his lean hard muscles. Mira’s shiver seemed to beckon him as he moved over top of her, laying on her, settling his hips between her thighs.
“Jack –” Mira started.
Jack shook his head. “You said enough last night. Keep your mouth shut.”
She clamped her lips together as a frission of fear overtook her. So much she said in anger at him the night before. What if he believed it, what if he let her go, left her again? Moved on? She tried to hold her tears back, tried not to cry at the possibility. It was crazy that she was in so much pain, with or without him. It didn’t seem to matter.
He brought his hand to her breast and squeezed it, tweaking the nipple through the fabric of her T-shirt until she gasped at his misuse. His black eyes grazed her face as he pulled the T-shirt up over her hips, past her breasts then grappled with his pajama bottoms and pushed her panties to the side as he entered her. Not hard and fast, like he usually did, but no foreplay, no checking if she were ready, no making sure that she was slick. She wasn’t, her fear of losing him tempering her desire. It didn’t stop him as he continued to fuck her, his eyes boring into hers. She pulled a breath into her lungs, wanted to close her eyes and let her desire for him take her over, but when she tried, he slapped her cheek hard enough to make it sting.
“Look at me,” he growled. His eyes told her what he wanted – to fuck her, take his pleasure, punish her. As her desire grew, she became slicker and he moved faster, his breathing deeper, his movements erratic. He was pulling her up with him, but the restraints on her legs prevented her from leveraging herself, thrusting with him. She groaned in frustration at her inability to participate, and he seemed not to notice or maybe not to care as he fucked her, slammed into her until he closed his eyes and came with a hard exhale.
He stilled for just a few seconds, then rolled out of her and off the bed, tucking himself back into his pajamas. He unchained her, removed the restraints.
“It’s almost 9.” His voice sounded hollow as he headed to the door. “Shower and get to the table.
Ten minutes later, Mira settled into her chair at the breakfast table wearing a short skirt and sleeveless top. Jack was not yet there though the table was set and breakfast and coffee had been served. She didn’t touch anything. Instead she waited, hands in her lap, eyes to her hands. He walked into the suite fifteen minutes later, dressed in a suit, a tension in his shoulders, a scowl on his face. He wordlessly seated himself, picked up the silver coffee urn and filled first her cup, then his. He set the pot down, spooned some fruit onto her plate, then spread cream cheese on a whole wheat bagel and set it next to the fruit. He did the same for himself, took a bite of the bagel and a sip of his coffee, then looked across the table into Mira’s eyes.
She couldn’t hold his gaze and dropped her eyes to her plate. Today was going to be a hard day. She wasn’t wrong.
“Do you hate me, Mira?” Jack asked coolly.
“No,” she whispered.
Jack pursed his lips. “You will never say those words to me again. Understood?”
Mira nodded, “Yes.”
“Eat.”
She picked up her bagel and took a nervous bite. It tasted like cardboard and stuck in her throat. As she washed it down with a swallow of coffee, he said, “If you don’t hate me, then what?”
Mira set the coffee cup down in the saucer and stared at her plate. She fingered the bagel. “I don’t know.”
“Do you love me?”
Mira’s mouth went dry, her throat constricting. He was forcing her past a point she couldn’t come back from. If she said no, she’d be lying, and he’d know. Her anger last night betrayed her feelings for him. She couldn’t be this hurt, this devastated, this heart-broken if she didn’t love him. But if she said yes, she wasn’t just saying yes to her feelings, she was saying yes to everything Jack was about. She was saying yes to his world, his expectations, his domination of her.
“Answer me, Mira,” he demanded softly.
She drew in a breath. “Yes.”
“Say it.”
She looked into his intense face, his granite gaze focused on her. “I love you, Jack.” Quick, soft.
“Say it again.”
A sob caught in her throat. “I love you.”
He sat back. Satisfied, but not smiling as he took a drink of his coffee. Mira took a quick sip of her coffee, then set the cup down, rattling it in the saucer. She didn’t trust herself to stay steady.
“I’m going to tell you this once, and never again. After this morning, Isabelle no longer exists in our home.”
He paused, waiting for Mira to acknowledge his words. “Okay,” she said, biting at the side of her lower lip, dreading what he might tell her.
“Michael Black took you because he’s obsessed with my ex-wife. Most men would be, she’s beautiful.”
Mira sucked in her breath as tears pooled in her eyes.
“I wasn’t. I’ve never been. I made a choice five years ago, not because of her beauty, but because of yours. She had something I needed at the time and I wasn’t going to soil you by marrying her and keeping you as my mistress.”
A tear escaped, then another, falling onto her hands. She slid a finger under her eyes. How could she believe him? After everything he’d done, how could she find her way to trust his silky words?
Jack reached over and took her hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “Why can’t you see yourself for who you are? Intelligent, clever, brilliant, beautiful.”
“Maybe because you made me this way, Jack. You utterly ruined me five years ago.” The words came out soft, not challenging, but Mira thought they needed to be said.
Jack thought otherwise. “No, you don’t get to talk today. You said enough of that shit last night.”
Mira bit her bottom lip.
“Get down on your knees, by my feet.”
She slipped out of her chair, lowering herself to the floor, wet eyes staring up at him. He reached down and stroked her hair. “It’s bullshit, Mira. I did not make you thi
s way. You’re not the first woman to get her heart broken by an unfeeling asshole. I gave you your life back and you took it and ran with it. You moved on, did great things. Didn’t pine for me, obsess over me.”
“I did –”
He brought his index finger to her lips and pressed. “You tried to contact me a couple of times. Then you let go. Not the actions of an obsessed woman. Maybe I broke your heart, but you were 23 and pretty fucking resilient.”
He slid off the chair onto his knees, holding her head between his hands, stroking her hair, gazing at her as he talked. “Michael Black and Isabelle have things they have to work out and it has nothing to do with us. She doesn’t live here, not in my heart or in my head. There’s never been room for her because you’ve always been there.”
Mira ignored his order not to talk, “I don’t know if I can let go, Jack.”
He snorted, then slapped her on her ass through her skirt. “Get up and finish eating.”
She slipped back onto her chair and took a forkful of the fruit. They ate in silence, but the air was charged. Mira was nervous, not knowing what to expect. When she pushed her plate away, Jack reached across the table and took her hand. “Mira, here are the rules. You must always answer when I ask you a question. You must not talk when I ask you not to. You may not swear. You may not ever be drunk. You will always treat me, Rob and all the staff with respect. Unless I say otherwise, you will sleep in my bed, our bed, always. You will sleep naked unless I expressly ask you to wear something.” He rubbed her fingers as he paused. “You will look after yourself at all times, eating regularly, getting enough exercise, balancing your workload appropriately.”
He paused. Waited.
Mira trembled. “Okay.”
“If you break the rules, you will be punished. No more time off because you’re hurt, heartbroken, or afraid. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“You will get over what happened five years ago. You will never use that against me again.”
Mira hesitated, bit her lip. “Okay.”
“You will never cheat on me.”
Mira looked up in surprise and furrowed her brow. “I wouldn’t.”
“And I wouldn’t either. There has never been another woman for me in my heart. I promise you. And there will never be another woman besides you in my bed.”
Mira bit her lower lip. “I believe you.”
“Good,” Jack said. “Because I’ve never lied to you, Mira. You are mine for as long as we’re both breathing.”
Forty-Seven
They spent the day together in Jack’s office. Mira was not allowed to speak. She either sat on a chair or at Jack’s feet. Jack took her panties from her so she that when he wanted to, all he needed to do was bend her over his desk or the arm of a chair and fuck her. She was not allowed an orgasm. Was not allowed to touch herself.
He chained her to the mattress in the playroom that night, forced her to sleep by herself, her desire heightened. The next morning, when he unchained her, he kept her on her knees and had her blow him. His words were not kind, his handling of her not gentle. She’d broken so many rules, she couldn’t get off with just a slap.
He tied her by a chain to the ceiling, her hands forced overhead, the restraints on her ankles chained to the floor, her thighs pulled open, her pussy exposed. And he used a crop, methodically across her ass, her thighs, her breasts, her stomach. The pain forcing cries from her lips, the pleasure forcing whimpers. After, he laid her on the four-poster bed and rubbed her body with a soothing, scented oil before fucking her again. From behind, so that she couldn’t fall off the edge. It was madness. She thought she might die.
He made her ready herself for anal sex. This time he did nothing to help her, just watched as she did what she needed to do to endure it. He told her that it shouldn’t be a punishment, that she should find it exciting. Hoped she would one day, but in the meantime, until then, it worked as a punishment. He fucked her, hurt her, and wouldn’t let her use the vibrator to help her through it.
She’d slept in the playroom for three nights, tethered to the mattress on the floor. She was forced to be at his beck and call when he was home, his fucktoy as he called her. When he had to go out, she was stretched spread-eagled against an x-frame and restrained by the hands, the ankles and the waist. Blindfolded and gagged. Sensory deprivation that starved her mind; she thought she was losing herself.
Jack was heartless.
After three days, she felt used up, broken. She missed the strength and warmth of his body at night, wanted to curl into his arms, have him hold her, tell her he loved her. She sat at the breakfast table, freshly showered but not dressed, a small satin kimono covering her nakedness as he had instructed. She wanted to ask him when the punishment would be over, but she didn’t dare. She didn’t want to add another punishment to the list.
He slid into his seat and smiled across at her. The angles of his face were hard, but his dark eyes were gentle, full of passion and need. “How are you doing this morning?”
A simple question that seared through to Mira’s core. She wasn’t sure what to say to him. She’d begged him before, when he told her she could. Begged him to stop, begged him to fuck her, begged him to make her come. But in the cold hard light of day, with the sun filtering in through the window casting halos around them, she couldn’t do it.
“I’m okay.”
“Do you want to come, Mira?”
She looked at him sharply. Was he playing with her? But she had to answer. “Yes.”
He grinned as he dropped to his knees in front of her, shoved her legs open, grabbed her hips and pulled her ass forward on the chair so she was teetering on the edge. He pressed his nose into her pussy, inhaling her, then he licked it aggressively, his tongue hard on her clit and she jolted from the pure carnality of it. Then he did it again. That was all it took. A half dozen hard strokes of his tongue and she came, her orgasm ripping through her, she, crying out, her hands in his hair, his name on her lips. Then she folded in on herself as the tremors ebbed, as he let go and slipped back on his chair. As he took a sip of his coffee.
She sat there, her chest heaving, devastated at what he’d done, what he’d taken from her so casually. Days of pent-up passion, of exquisite torture and he thought to release her with a few flicks of his tongue. It angered her, and he saw it in her eyes, amusement playing at his glistening lips. “Was it good enough, Mira?”
“No,” she said, daring a hard tone.
He smiled broadly. “What would make it better?”
Sonofabitch! He was going to make her tell him exactly what she wanted. “I… it…”
He leaned towards her across the table, “C’mon baby, what else do you need?”
She licked her lips. “I need you to caress me, please. My breasts, suck my nipples.”
He didn’t move.
“Jack, please, you know what I need.”
“My cock inside of you? My hand on your ass, slapping you? Your legs bent over on yourself, my hands wrapped around your ankles? Or you tethered to the bench? Blindfolded, paddled. Then fucking you from behind while I hold a vibrator to your pussy?”
Mira’s breath hitched as desire leaked from her pussy. “Yes, please, Jack.”
“Which do you want, Mira?”
“All of it,” she whispered.
Epilogue
Two Years Later
It was over. The jury found Rob not guilty of the first-degree murder charge. He was free. He hugged her to him, told her he loved her. Thanked her for his freedom. In that moment, it was worth it, all of it was worth it. They separated as Jack joined them, hugging Rob first, then pulling Mira to him in an embrace and a kiss that left no doubt to onlookers of the status of their relationship.
Mira was exhausted. Aaron was a worthy adversary and the trial had taken a toll. As Jack and Rob left her to pack up, he approached her, offered his hand. She shook it. “I expect I’ll you see you again. The Creeds and their boys can’t stay out of
trouble.”
“Maybe,” Mira said. “Maybe not.” It quickly became awkward and Aaron returned to his table, packed up his papers and left. Mira stood alone in the courtroom, a changed woman. This trial took all of her, she was so tired of being in charge, of leading. She wanted to go home to Jack. She wanted to drop the weight, the responsibility. She wanted to focus on one single thing. Pleasing Jack, giving him pleasure, giving him whatever he demanded of her. She didn’t want to make decisions, she didn’t want to think. She wanted to do what she was told, what he expected of her. It was that simple and that easy. Except it wouldn’t be. She knew that. These last few weeks had been tension-filled, everyone on edge. She’d broken too many rules and Jack was so wound up – they both needed release.
They’d celebrate Rob’s freedom at the club, then Jack would take her home. Without saying a single word, he’d demand her acquiesce, her obedience, her submission and she’d give it to him, she’d give everything of herself to him. She was owned by him and she felt loved, valued, and safe. He didn’t like her perfect, that would never satisfy him, but in all her imperfections, she knew she was perfect for him. That’s all that mattered.
The End
Excerpt
Untitled - Running with the Devil Book 6
Chapter One
Hugo Marsden was a beast. He knew it and he embraced it. He loved everything about his life: his money, his freedom, the respect he garnered. And he was feeling fine tonight, at the Mirage, at a bar, not drunk. He didn’t do drunk, but smug, definitely smug, with a cold beer in his hand and another quarter-mil in his bank account thanks to his favourite mobster, Jack Creed. Yup, he lived a charmed life.
Hugo was sitting on a bar stool, back to the bar counter, leaning on it as he scanned the tables, thinking about getting laid and wondering who the lucky girl would be tonight. The bar was a little quiet, but it was a Monday after all and a bit early for the hostiles to be out. Problem was that pickings were slim – a lot of couples, none looking interesting enough for Hugo to try to charm into a three-way. Besides he preferred two women fighting over him rather than fucking around with another guy in the room.
