The Devil's Kiss Series Boxed Set

by Gemma James

  “No.”

  His mouth formed a severe line. He wasn’t used to being defied. And he hadn’t punished me out of anger in so long that the determination in his hands as he unbuckled his belt tore through me. I hadn’t stepped out of line since we’d married. Not that he knew of, anyway.

  “You don’t tell me no.” He lunged for me, grabbed a fist full of my hair, and forced me over his desk. My palms slapped the smooth surface. “Fuck, Kayla. Your defiance is only turning me on.” He kicked my legs apart and thrust his fingers into me.

  I pushed to my toes with a startled cry.

  “Who am I?” His grip on my hair tightened.

  “A liar.”

  “Wrong.” Slowly, he inched his thumb into my ass, igniting a ring of fire I couldn’t escape. My stomach roiled from the intrusion.

  “Gage, stop.”

  “You don’t issue the orders. I’m your Master, and if I want to finger your tight little asshole, I will.”

  I struggled for about two seconds before flopping onto the desk, my body a boneless mess of defeat. Fighting him only prolonged the pain. My breaths blasted the mahogany surface of his workspace. I relaxed my muscles and accepted his probing thumb.

  Accepted that I was helpless.

  The hardest part of accepting that I was helpless was accepting that I’d put myself in this position. I’d married him when I should have walked. Loved him when I should have hated him. Bent when I should have stood on my own two feet and not only said no, but meant it.

  Instead, I found myself bent over with my ass bared. Again. And the truly fucked up part was my body’s reaction to everything this man did to me.

  “Your cunt is so damn wet, Kayla. It doesn’t lie. And that low groaning in the back of your throat? That’s you begging me to take you, whether you want to admit it or not.”

  “Fuck you, Gage.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I’m sorry to break it to you, but two of your holes are occupied at the moment, and the only one left is spewing some dirty shit right now.”

  “Oh my God, you’re insufferable.”

  “Say it, Kayla.”

  “I’m not calling you Master.”

  The bastard laughed, and I wondered why until he curled his fingers inside me. His thumb added pressure in my ass that stopped hurting and started feeling good.

  Damn it.

  He was relentless in holding me prisoner on the desk, my hair in his fist and my cheek to the wood. Legs spread wide for his plundering fingers.

  I couldn’t stop from pushing my ass into him, couldn’t hold back a plea for more. Couldn’t deny that I wanted him. I needed him.

  What the fuck was wrong with me?

  I had no backbone. That was my problem. Because he had me anytime he wanted, and he knew it. I let out a breath that ruffled my bangs.

  “You win, Master. Fuck me. Please, for God’s sake, fuck me.”

  He leaned into my back, his cock pushing against my tender ass where his thumb had been two seconds ago. “Do you remember what I said I’d consider if you made it the whole week without coming?”

  My heart skipped a beat. Him, at my mercy. How could I forget? “I remember.”

  He brought his lips to my ear. “If I fuck you right now, I won’t stop until you come. Are you sure you want that?”

  Yes, I wanted it. Wanted him. But the chance to have the upper hand tempted. Taunted.

  “Let me go,” I whispered.

  He released his grip on my hair and stepped back.

  As my blood pumped steady in my veins, I regained my bearings. Regained my damn mind and recalled the reason he’d had me bent over and taking his thumb up my ass.

  The words of the grapevine duo tumbled through my head, end over end, an incessant provocation. I rounded on him, anger rushing through me like a flash flood in the bereft of deserts. But the burn in my ass served as an annoying reminder. Screaming at him would accomplish nothing, except for a return to his desk. So I tried leaving, my mouth a straight line to keep my tongue in check.

  He blocked my attempts, first stepping to the left then the right.

  “Move,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m done here.”

  His answering smirk grated. “How can you be done? I haven’t even started yet.”

  “You can use sex all you want, but this isn’t going away. You have a kid with Katherine. She gave you what I couldn’t.” What I might never be able to give.

  Pain flickered in his eyes, matching the ping in my heart, and I took the opportunity to force my way past, scooping up my shoes on the way to the door. As I reached for the handle, I glanced over my shoulder.

  He leaned against the desk’s edge, in the place where he’d had me sprawled and vulnerable. “If you walk out, prepare for the consequences when I get home.”

  I paused, surprised by the way he held on to his executive desk with whitened knuckles. He thrived on control, and right now, he straddled the ledge.

  We’d battled, and though he’d won, I wasn’t down yet. I threw one last glare in his direction. “Don’t hold your breath, Gage. I might not even come home tonight.”

  7. Cryptic

  Insufferable didn’t come close. Insufferable was the pebble digging into your heel, the itch you couldn’t reach to scratch. Insufferable was getting stuck in rush hour traffic with a full bladder and no exit in sight.

  Gage’s behavior transcended insufferable.

  Entering the hospital’s lobby, I willed my anger to subside, my pulse to slow. If one good thing had come from our argument, it happened to be that I wasn’t sitting at home waiting for him to snap his fingers so I could drop to my knees.

  I’d walked out of his office of my own free will, and though part of me dreaded the eventual price I’d pay—taken from my flesh with each agonizing strike of whatever implement he chose—mouthing off to him had been…liberating.

  I punched the button for the tenth floor and waited for the arrival of the elevator. Standing up to him had sparked something alive inside me. The woman I used to be, if only for a blip in the grand scheme of things. Being bad hadn’t felt this good in such a long time.

  I stepped into the elevator and found myself alone until the seventh floor. As the doors slid open, a chill traveled down my spine. I almost expected to find Ian waiting on the other side, just like the other day.

  But Ian wasn’t there. Two doctors entered, mid-conversation. I tuned out their talk of cancer stages and grades, research, and cutting-edge treatments. Each time I entered this wing, the past threatened to punch through the walls I’d built to protect myself. The memories were never far, and sometimes they crept up on me to bind around my chest until I could hardly breathe.

  And that’s why coming back to this place was good for me, no matter how difficult. No matter how the antiseptic smell took me back each and every time to the utter despair of Eve’s illness. To the hopelessness of watching her become sicker and sicker. To the desperation that had spurred me on to embezzle thousands of dollars from Gage.

  If I hadn’t stolen the money, he would have never caught me in the act, would have never blackmailed me into loving his sadistic ass. But the most important takeaway from that tumultuous decision was Eve; without my thievery, he would have never moved obstacles to get the care she needed.

  The elevator arrived on the children’s floor. I stepped out and made my way toward the circular nurse station that served as a hub for activity. A rainbow mural decorated the walls, and the counters of the center island were a mix of complimentary sky blue and shades of gold. The nurses had proudly displayed artwork from some of the children above and below the rainbow. Compared to the rest of the hospital, this floor had the vibe of warmth and innocence.

  I spotted Simone immediately. She glanced up from a chart, her reading glasses perched on her dainty nose.

  “Emma’s been asking for you,” she said, tucking a stray blond hair behind her ear.

  “Is she awake?”

&nb
sp; “Yeah, but she started another round of chemo yesterday, so her spirits are a little low. I’m sure a visit from you will cheer her up.”

  As I wrung my hands, Simone marked something on a chart, shelved it, then studied me with an assessing eye. “Is everything okay? You seem upset.”

  “It’s nothing. I don’t want to get into it right now.”

  She crossed her arms. “What’d he do this time?”

  I blinked, despising the sting in my eyes. My problems were a speck compared the issues these kids faced every day on this floor.

  “Hey,” Simone said, her voice softening. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “It’s not you.” I avoided her gaze and forced myself to pull it together. “Gage and I had an argument. I don’t have the energy to talk about it right now, so I’m gonna see if Emma’s up for a story.”

  “That girl is always up for your stories.” She squeezed my shoulder. “Let’s meet for lunch sometime this week, okay?”

  I nodded then headed down the hall, making a stop at the hand-washing station before stepping into Emma’s room. Flowers and stuffed animals covered most of the surfaces, and her mother had brought photos of her siblings from home. I tiptoed to the side of her bed and sank into a chair.

  Her lashes fluttered and opened, revealing two brown eyes. A weak smile painted her lips—the only feature brightening her face because she was pale otherwise. But nowhere near lifeless. Not yet. This little girl was a fighter, and she reminded me so much of Eve that coming here was more difficult each time I walked through the door.

  Yet I also found it therapeutic in some ways. Bringing a smile to her precious face was my biggest reward.

  I picked up the Cat in the Hat from her bedside table. “You wanted me to read this one to you next, right?”

  She nodded and settled against her pillow. I turned the first page and started reading the story of odd cats and rhymes. After a while, my voice blended with the din of the hospital; the continuous beeping, intercoms, and feet padding down the halls. It was all so achingly familiar.

  After a while, Emma’s eyelids drooped, but I sensed she was still listening. I read page after page, each word an octave above a whisper. I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, content to give her comfort through mere words. Probably no more than twenty minutes, but it felt like an hour. I closed the book and carefully placed it back on the table. Emma’s chest rose and fell in steady cycles, her breathing deep and even, indicating she’d succumbed to sleep.

  A tingle traveled through my extremities, and that’s when I noticed Ian standing in the doorway. My heart skipped, jumpstarted by the sensation of deja vu.

  “You’re a natural,” he said.

  “I wish I could do more for her.”

  “You’re here. That’s all you can do, Kayla, and it’s enough. More than enough.”

  I rose and tiptoed across the room, careful not to rouse Emma from her slumber. “What are you doing here?”

  “Can we talk for a second?” He nodded toward the hall, and I vacillated between returning to Emma’s side, and allowing him to usher me from the room.

  The latter prevailed.

  I followed him down the hall a few feet, out of earshot of little ears.

  “You didn’t meet me for lunch,” he said.

  “I wasn’t planning to meet you. I’m just as married today as I was Saturday.”

  “Normally, that would matter to me.”

  A doctor approached, and I stepped toward Ian, lowering my voice. “Well, it matters to me.”

  He brushed his fingers against my cheek. “Do you really want to do this here?”

  His touch careened through my system, forbidden and unwanted, but I couldn’t displace the familiar longing he’d sparked in me for years. That ember was a shameful entity flaring inside me.

  “Why are you doing this?” As I stumbled back, my sneakers squeaked on the linoleum.

  He folded my hand in his and refused to let go. “Come with me?” he asked, though he didn’t leave me much choice unless I wanted to risk causing a scene, which I didn’t. He pulled me down the hall toward the elevator. I swallowed with a hard gulp, my protests catching in the vise of my constricting throat.

  The silence between us grew heavy as we traveled the distance of ten floors. The elevator halted at the bottom, and the doors slid open to reveal the busy lobby. Ian led me past the receptionist and through a double door. We journeyed through a maze of corridors before coming to a halt. He’d switched offices since the last time we’d spoken within the privacy of his workspace.

  As he shuffled through his keys, I questioned how I’d ended up here. Entering that room was a bad idea, yet my feet had no intention of doing the sensible thing by turning around and navigating the labyrinth of the hospital. My stubborn feet suddenly had a mind of their own, planting me in a precarious situation I didn’t want to be in.

  He reached for the knob, key shaking in his hand, and missed the keyhole three times before managing to unlock the door. He motioned for me to enter. A small window allowed dreary light in, obscured by the shitty weather. A mixture of paperwork, folders, cups, and office supplies cluttered his desk, which was at odds with his tidy personality.

  Ian not only closed the door, but he locked it, and he didn’t bother turning on a light. I backed up a step, hating how he stood between me and the exit.

  “What do you want?” I asked, folding my arms. Maybe it was true—curiosity did kill the cat.

  I was fucking roadkill then.

  “What do you think I want?”

  I had no answer. None that I liked, anyway.

  “Sit down. I just want to talk.” He took me by the elbow and ushered me to the small sofa tucked against one wall. Taken completely off guard, I plopped onto it as he claimed the cushion next to me.

  “How is Eve?”

  “She’s great.”

  “How are you?” He devoured me with eager, hungry eyes. Despite the low light casting us in shadow, I still clearly saw that he didn’t just want to talk. He wanted something he couldn’t have.

  “I’m great. Everything’s great.”

  “One big happy family, huh? He hasn’t started abusing Eve yet?”

  Blistering anger roared through my veins. I moved to stand, but his forearm blocked me.

  “It’s a valid question, Kayla.”

  I slapped his arm away. “No, it’s not. Do you think I’d allow anyone to hurt my daughter?”

  “No, but I never saw you for a doormat either. I never thought you’d go through with the wedding.”

  I gritted my teeth. “You’re about a year too late to question my decisions.”

  “Better late than never.” He leaned in, caging me between his body and the sofa. “You fucked up, Kayla. You let that fucking bastard abuse you. But the real kicker is how you let him near Eve. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  I wanted to throw the question back at him, but I couldn’t find my voice. His confrontational tone stunned me.

  “You sold yourself to save her, but when it comes to him, you put her last.” His upper lip curled in a sneer that was foreign to his features. “Fantastic parenting skills there.”

  My palm sent a sound slap across his cheek. “You don’t know shit about my life.”

  He rubbed his cheek, though he appeared unfazed by my loss of control. “Explain it to me then.” He brought his face forward until we were nose to nose.

  I placed a hand on his chest, my fingers brushing his stethoscope. I despised the way he had me trapped. Gage had me in this position often—cornered and helpless—but I was used to his overbearing nature, was drawn to his dominance in a way that sickened me if I let myself dwell on it too long.

  Ian’s behavior unsettled me beyond words, and it wasn’t because I didn’t like the feel of him being close. With much shame, I realized that I did. No, what sent off my internal alarm was the feeling that something was wrong.

  I inched back and met his h
azel gaze. “Why are you mad at me?”

  The festering anger seemed to flee from his bones. He let out a breath. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself. I should have stopped your wedding, even if it meant crashing it.”

  “Thank you for not doing that,” I said quietly. “I’ve built a good life with Gage, and Eve is happier than I’ve ever seen her. She has a father. A real father this time. She loves him.”

  “Do you?” His heartbeat thumped under my palm.

  “What type of question is that?”

  “One you obviously don’t want to answer.”

  “Because it’s none of your damn business.” When I got down to the grit of what Gage and I were, love just didn’t cover it. What we had was unhealthy and wrong, yet we both thrived on it, craved it, needed it.

  “Let me go,” I told him. “Being here with you is just…torture. It accomplishes nothing. All we’re doing is dredging up the past and hurting each other.”

  “We don’t have to dredge up anything. I’m content to sit here and not talk.”

  I pushed him back an inch. “Ian, stop.”

  He nuzzled my neck. “Am I making you nervous? Are you feeling things you’re not supposed to feel?”

  I bit my lip, denying with a quick shake of my head.

  “What if you could go back and do it differently?” he asked. “Would you?”

  I flipped through the days and weeks and months of the past year, the scenes going off in my mind like flashcards.

  My wedding night, when Gage had taken me with the tender patience he rarely allowed me to see.

  Our first argument as a married couple. I’d made the mistake of saying hello to the neighbor while checking the mail—the very attractive and very male neighbor. Gage and I had gotten into a shouting match over his ridiculous control issues, and that had resulted in him gagging me until Eve came home hours later. Needless to say, I now steered clear of the neighbor, and I’d been careful to obey since that day.

  Until recently, when I’d risked it all to volunteer, knowing full well that Ian worked here. What did that mean? Not for the first time, I wondered what my actions were trying to tell me.