by Gemma James
The door opened, and Ian appeared in the entrance with Eve. Gage stood, his gaze dark and dangerous. He was still full of rage—toward me, toward his brother. “They tell me you’re being released tomorrow,” he said. “Call me. I’ll come get you.” He stepped around Ian, glaring at him the whole time, and closed the door upon his exit.
“You okay?” Ian asked.
“Yeah,” I lied. I held my breath as Eve dawdled to my bedside, her head down, and told myself to get a grip. I wasn’t about to fall apart in front of my daughter. “I’m sorry I scared you, baby.” I scooted over and patted the space next to me, and she hopped up. “Mommy’s okay.” I tilted her chin up. “Okay?”
She nodded. “Are we going home with Gage?”
I blinked, my lids becoming heavy from the pain meds they’d given me. Instead of answering her, I glanced at Ian. “Thanks for watching her.”
“No problem.”
Eve cuddled into my side, and almost instantly, she fell asleep. “She must have been so scared,” I said.
“She’s a trooper like her mom.” He wandered around the small room, and silence fell on us for a while. “I don’t understand why you put yourself through this.”
“It’s…complicated.”
“Don’t give me that,” he said quietly, though the vehemence in his tone hinted at frustration.
“You won’t like the truth.”
He let out a bitter laugh. “I’m sure I won’t, but I think I deserve it.”
“I love him.”
“You loved Rick at one time too.”
“It’s different. Gage and I have our issues, but he’s not Rick.”
“No, he is exactly like Rick. Abuse is abuse. You’re smart enough to know this, but you’re letting sex get in the way of your thinking.”
“I’m not talking about this with you. It’s not fair to you, and I just don’t have the energy.” I brushed my hair from my eyes, and his gaze lingered on my hand.
Shit. I’d forgotten about the ring.
He strode to my side, snatched my hand between his, and glared at the diamond, as if he could make it disappear. “I should have been the one to put this on your finger. I can’t believe you’re actually going to marry him. Are you insane?”
“Please, don’t do this.”
“He has no remorse, Kayla, and he knows nothing about loving someone.”
I pulled my hand from his. “That’s not true. I’ve seen sides of him I would have sworn didn’t exist a year ago. I can’t help the way I feel, Ian.”
“Me neither, so where does that leave us?”
“Nowhere.”
He nodded, his mouth forming a tight line. “Okay. I get it.” He opened the door, and his face and movements spoke of resignation as he exited the room. I’d gotten my wish—he’d given up. I’d just destroyed my first love, a decade long friendship, and I couldn’t even muster a tear. I didn’t have any left.
20. Finding Home
Two weeks.
That was how long Gage shut me out after he brought me home. That word bothered me. This was no longer home, and Gage was no longer the man who lit my world on fire. I didn’t know who this stranger was—this cold and detached man who couldn’t bring himself to touch me.
At least where Eve was concerned, he hadn’t changed. Clearly, he’d won her over again in the hospital, because she’d resumed shadowing him. They got closer every day, while he and I grew further apart.
He was in the wrong, and I should be furious at the things he’d said and done, at his refusal to believe the baby was his, but I experienced nothing but despair. I preferred him yelling or screaming; wished he’d bend me over his knee and beat me if it meant he’d feel something. As the days wore on and I slowly recovered, his indifference squeezed the last bit of warmth from my soul. I might as well have been back in that basement, my heart bleeding as his hatred lanced me.
The nights were the worst—the darkest hours being the darkest in my mind. He slept beside me, but we never touched. Never kissed. Never talked. I lay next to him for hours, inches from his heat but unable to take comfort in it, and I tortured myself with memories of the night he’d beat me with the bullwhip…and the fact that I’d lost another baby.
Being shut out like this…it sucked the life from me, and I’d done nothing to deserve it.
I couldn’t take it anymore. The first time I waited on my knees for him, I’d hoped for even a marginal reaction; a stiffening of his muscles, a clenched jaw—anything—but he barely gave me a second glance as he ordered me into bed. Ignoring his command, I waited on the hardwood long after he shut off the light and slid between the sheets, and eventually I crawled in beside him, holding my breath to stanch the flow of sorrow. My tears drenched my pillow that night.
The following evening I did the same—waited on my knees and prepared to go to battle. I’d rather him furious than indifferent. He made me wait a long time, which I guessed was his way of avoiding my display of submission.
“What are you doing?” he demanded as he came into our bedroom and closed the door. “I thought I made myself clear last night.” Like he did every night, he shed his clothes and headed for the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind him. I glanced at my ring, wondering why it still decorated my finger, wondering why I was still here if he no longer wanted me.
He opened the door a few minutes later, and I still hadn’t moved. “Get up, Kayla.” He strode to where I knelt, his cock standing proud, though apparently he had no intention of using it. I fisted his shaft, earning a low growl from him.
“Please,” I said, raising my eyes to his, “Master.” I paused, waiting for a reaction to that word. He gave none. “Let me suck you off.” I closed my mouth around him, and he immediately shoved me back. I lost my balance and fell on my butt.
“Get up,” he said through clenched teeth. Our breaths came fast and heavy, and I thought he was about to say something more, but he stepped away and headed for the bed, leaving me on my ass in the middle of the room. I wiped my eyes and got to my feet.
“Maybe I should fuck him, since you believe I did. I might as well do the deed and deserve the bastard way you’ve been treating me.”
He whirled, grabbed me, and slammed me to the mattress. “You don’t see him, you don’t talk to him”—his fingers clamped around my wrists, and he wrenched them above my head—“you don’t fucking think about him.”
“I don’t, Gage. I don’t think about him at all. All I can think about is you and the way you’ve shut me out. It’s killing me. Please. I’ll call you Master again, I’ll let you beat me with the bullwhip. I’ll do whatever you want, just stop hurting me like this.”
He blinked several times. “I…can’t.”
“Why can’t you trust me?”
Loosening his grip, he turned his back and mumbled, “Go to sleep.”
Tears silently streamed down my face, and I held my breath to keep quiet as we settled under the covers. I didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to get beyond the wall he’d constructed. How could we work through this if he wouldn’t talk to me?
Desperation took over, and I spread my thighs, slid my fingers between them, and rubbed my clit. I almost came on the spot—that’s how sexually frustrated he’d left me. A cry escaped, but I focused on drawing out the pleasure. He’d taught me a lot about control. I opened wider and hooked a foot over his calf, and I blatantly worked myself toward orgasm.
Blatantly disobeyed him.
He kicked my foot off and turned to face me. His eyes darkened, narrowed.
I didn’t stop. Let him be pissed. Let him punish me for masturbating. I didn’t care. My eyes fluttered shut, and I moaned again.
“Look at me while you disobey me. I want to see your shame when you come.”
Cheeks flooding with embarrassment, I arched my spine as my climax pulsed around my fingers. The blanket fell below my breasts, and my nipples puckered in the chilly room, begging for his hot mouth. I crashed from the high, m
y gaze connected to his, and the awkwardness of the moment wasn’t lost on me. I withdrew my hand, but he pushed my fingers back into silky, wet heat.
“Come for me again, until it’s painful, until you think you can’t stand it anymore. Work your wet cunt, Kayla. Dip your fingers in and see what you’ve done to yourself.”
“I…I don’t think I can…”
“Oh yes, you can.”
“Please, Gage…”
“Do it now.”
I worked myself toward another orgasm and held my breath as the pressure built. My whole body shuddered and pulsed, and his groan only added to the intensity. Finally, a reaction.
“Again,” he said, his voice hoarse.
He made me rub myself into multiple orgasms, and I didn’t think I had it in me to come again until he sucked a nipple into his mouth. He covered my fingers with his, pressing hard on my clit, and literally forced my hand. An overpowering wave of pain seized my body.
“Stop, it hurts!” I cried.
“Keep going.”
He pressed harder, keeping my hand in place. I writhed, squirmed…pleaded as moisture trickled down my cheeks. “I…I…please…can’t.”
“You can and you will.”
I vocalized the pain in strangled grunts, openly sobbing as I came again. “Stop hating me.”
“I don’t hate you.” He scooted away so we didn’t touch at all. “Now stop pushing me and go to sleep.”
“I didn’t sleep with him,” I choked. “It was your baby. Stop hating me for losing it.”
“God, Kayla,” he said, abruptly crushing me in his arms. “I don’t hate you—I fucking hate myself!” He buried his face in my shoulder, and his body trembled as he held me. We stayed like that for a long time, his body wrapped around mine, shuddering with the emotion he’d bottled up since I’d come home from the hospital.
“I can’t face what I said to you. I told you I hated it, told you I hated you.”
“Gage…”
“I’m so fucked up.” Something wet trickled down the side of my neck, and I was stunned to realize it was his tears. “I know it was mine. I didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to face the monster I’d become. I’m sorry, baby. I don’t deserve you.”
“Deserve me then,” I whispered. “Love me again. I’m dying without you.”
His lips found mine, and he rolled me to my back, wedged my legs apart, and slipped inside where he belonged.
And it was like coming home.
He trapped my hands above my head and nipped at my neck, brushed his lips across my breasts, opened his mouth over first one nipple then the other, and like always, his body owned me. His thighs nestled between mine, rubbing my skin as he pushed into me with patience, though I knew he needed to come. It had been long for him too, these past two weeks.
“Fuck, Kayla,” he said, voice ragged as he spilled into me with a violent thrust. His deep groan filled the air, and afterward, for the first time in what seemed like forever, he cocooned me in his embrace.
Definitely like coming home.
We lay in quiet harmony for a while, though neither of us slept. I played with the diamond on my finger, sliding it to the knuckle then down again. “You put your ring back on my finger, so I’m assuming you still expect me to marry you?”
“Damn right, I do. I made a mistake, and now it’s rectified.”
“This is what you call fixing things? Keeping your distance for two weeks, refusing to talk to me, and then pretending nothing’s wrong?”
“I didn’t trust myself with you.”
“How will you ever trust me if you can’t trust yourself?”
“Good question.” He sighed. “Tell me what to do, Kayla, and I’ll do it. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
“Go to counseling.”
“So you think a shrink is the answer?”
I practically heard the scowl in his tone. “I don’t know what the answer is, but I can’t do this anymore. I can handle…tolerate…your rules and your need to hurt me physically, but I can’t handle you not trusting me. I can’t handle you shutting me out—not when I’ve given you everything.” I grasped his arms and forced my next words out. “Either get help, or let me go for good.”
Please, don’t let me go.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” I raised a brow.
“I’ll get…help.” He tightened his hold on me. “As soon as you marry me.”
“I’ll marry you as soon as you trust me.”
“I do trust you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Then prove it.”
“And how do you suggest I do that?”
He had a point. Trust was something not only earned but shown through action, and he had a long way to go. What was the one thing he trusted no one with? My heart skipped a beat.
Control.
That was his Achilles heel—the single thing he never gave up because it left him too vulnerable. If he had to choose between his millions and control, I suspected he’d choose the latter.
“Submit to me for one night.”
He laughed. “That will never happen, Kayla. I submit to no one.”
“Then I can’t marry you.”
“Of course you can.”
“Do you love me, Gage?”
“That’s a stupid question.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s not. Ian wanted one night, and I tried, but in the end I didn’t love him enough. Do you love me enough? You’re asking for everything. You expect me to hand over my entire life to you—my free will, my decisions, my body. Give me yours for one night,” I said, my voice going soft. “All I’m asking for is one night. Prove you can give me your trust, and I’ll marry you.”
“One night?”
I nodded.
“And what do you plan to do on this one night?”
My pulse sped up as all kinds of wicked things went through my head, though there was only one thing I really wanted from him, and if I could pull this off, he’d give it to me. He’d hate me for it, probably make my ass black and blue afterward, but it would be worth it.
“Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”
21. Mistress
This felt wrong, but God if I wasn’t tingling at the thought of making him submit. The idea was exhilarating, arousing…absolutely terrifying. We stood in the middle of the basement, three feet apart from each other, yet the aura of his presence wrapped around me as tangibly as his arms. I was a moment away from sinking to my knees and saying I’d changed my mind.
His lips quirked. “You can’t do it, can you?”
I balled my hands. “Strip.”
His smile never wavered from amused as he unbuttoned his shirt. “You’re nervous. I can read you well. Having second thoughts?”
“I always have second thoughts when it comes to you, so obviously you don’t read me well enough.”
He let his shirt fall to the floor and then reached for his belt. “What are you going to do with me, now that you have me here under your control?”
We both knew it was a lie. I didn’t have control. Not yet. “Give me your belt.”
He pulled it from his pant loops and tossed it to me. My mouth parted, breath moistening my lips as he lowered his slacks. Did anything fail to turn him on? His cock stood tall and proud. Suddenly, I lost my inhibitions.
Payback was a bitch.
“Lie on the bed.”
“There are many ways to lie on a bed, Kayla.”
Didn’t I know it. “On your back.”
He did so without a word, without shame, and his gaze followed me across the room. I found his leather cuffs and returned to him. I wasn’t nearly as capable as he in restraining someone, but I managed to bind his hands to the headboard. I stood back and eyed him.
“Is this all you got?” he asked.
Dropping the belt, I laughed to cover my nervousness and retreated another step, far enough so he could see me from
head to toe. I unzipped my dress and let it pool around my feet, revealing nothing underneath except for a pair of thigh highs and a garter belt. No panties. I still obeyed that rule, mainly because it would drive him wild.
His gaze lowered to the lace tops of my stockings, and his appreciation heated my skin. “God, you’re sexy.”
Fingers trembling, I lightly pinched my nipples, watching him the whole time. Truth was, I had no idea what to do, and I was scared of going to him. He still owned me, even though he was the one cuffed to the damn headboard this time.
Stop being a coward.
I sauntered to the bed and climbed up, my thighs sliding along his as I straddled him. “I’m going to tease you until you beg.” I brought my hands to my breasts again, thumbs brushing the peaks until they pebbled into aching buds. His lips parted, as if he were about to speak, but he mashed them together instead. I stared at him, amazed at the sight of him restrained and helpless underneath me.
I dipped my fingers between folds already slick with need and stroked myself while he watched. His chest rose and fell more rapidly as my breathing escalated, and when I came, throwing my head back and arching my spine, I heard him groan.
“You want to come, don’t you?” I said, moving down his body and lowering my head, my lips an inch from his wet tip. I raised my eyes to his.
“What do you think, Kayla?”
“I think you’re about to beg.” I darted my tongue out and lapped up his moisture.
He sucked in a breath. “You know what your mouth does to me.”
“You’re not coming tonight.”
He flexed his hands in the restraints, his eyes deepening to indigo, and my heart pounded. I was going to pay for this, had known it all along, but that hadn’t stopped me from strong-arming him into those leather cuffs. The fact that he was playing along with my pathetic attempt at making him submit said a lot.
But he’d still make me pay, especially after what I was about to do. I didn’t have the sadist gene, and he had it in spades. I would hurt him though—I’d force his secrets from him and deal with the consequences later.
“You’re not coming,” I repeated, “unless you give me what I want.”
