His cock stirred as his gaze ran over his title.
Yes, kitten, he typed. It’s me. Did you miss me?
There was no reason to ask that final question, but as usual, Connor couldn’t help himself. He was laughing as he watched her replies stack up on his messenger box.
I…
I didn’t know.
I didn’t realize it was you.
There was a pause, and in that moment, Connor wished he could reach out and touch her physically. Even if it was just to stroke her hair, or hold her hand; all of a sudden, he needed her in a very real way.
Yes, I missed you, she admitted. It’s completely fucked up and wrong, but yes, it’s true.
Connor’s heart skipped a beat as he read and re-read her admission. She did miss him! It was like a ray of light breaking through the very dark world he’d created for himself. Molly was that light. She always had been.
I want you, he told her, the words coming without conscious thought now. I want you here. I want us to be together.
But how? she typed. How can that be, Master? I can’t go back to England; I can’t afford it. I haven’t exactly been earning much of a living in recent months, and anyway, won’t that look suspicious? Won’t the police wonder why I’m traveling there again?
There was his little Molly, always overthinking, always full of questions.
You don’t need to worry about any of that, he assured her. If it’s what you want, then I’ll make it happen. I can get you the money, and I can ensure the police are thrown off the scent. I just want you, Molly. I need you.
It was quite an admission for a man like Connor to make, but he meant every word. If his kitten really did want him, too, then he would move heaven and earth to enable them to be together again.
Like before? Her trepidation was obvious even in two words. You mean you need me like before?
Connor was smiling as he replied. Just like we were when I was busted, kitten. I need the woman, the writer and my pet. I miss you all.
Master, I need you, too. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I can’t go on like this.
She sounded desperate, a fact which would usually have made Connor’s cock thicken, but this was different. He wasn’t the one inflicting misery on his kitten anymore. Now it was just the circumstances they found themselves in—the time and space between them—and it tore him up inside.
It’s alright, kitten. He told her. I’m here now. I’m here with you.
Chapter Eleven
This was all sorts of fucked up and wrong, but as per normal, Molly could already feel herself stumbling through the stop signs. She didn’t care. She never could seem to when it came to Connor. This was the man who made her feel. He brought her to life, even when he was enjoying tearing her apart; what they had was still more real than anything she’d ever known before. There was something else, too; the reason she’d gone looking for him in the first place. Connor was now her muse, the very real inspiration behind her work. Without him, there would be no more books by Molly Clary. Without her words, Molly didn’t even know who she was anymore, and that meant Connor was everything.
Can I call you on the phone, Master? Molly found herself typing. I’d love to hear your voice again.
Her pulse spiked as she concluded, and Molly could feel the adrenaline whipping around her body again. She hadn’t felt this alive for months, not since she was last with him, on the rollercoaster ride which was once her life with Connor.
I’d like that, kitten, he told her at once. Let’s plan it, though. I’ll get my guys to check this account is secure, and to make sure we’re not being tracked by anyone in the authorities. Then, we can speak, and we can decide how to move things forward.
Move things forward… Even reading those words made Molly feel giddy, though she couldn’t shake off the stab of disappointment that came with his decision. They couldn’t speak now, and even though the rational part of her mind understood why, there was still that same old part of her which craved his attention and approval.
Okay then, she replied, trying not to let the stinging feeling show in her words. I’ll wait to hear from you.
You don’t need to worry, pet. Connor’s response was instantaneous. You’ll definitely be hearing from me.
Molly smiled as she read the reply, imagining him sitting at the laptop as he answered her. Was he using the same one he had made her write at, or had he bought something new since then? Whatever the reality, the mental image made her core tighten.
Good night then, Master.
Molly’s breath hitched as she typed the final word, memories of all the times she had been forced to call him by that title flooding into her psyche.
Sweet dreams, my little kitten, he told her. I’ll be thinking of you.
Molly was rejuvenated after that. As soon as their conversation concluded, she went back to her documents and began to type. This time the words came, flowing more freely than they had since she had shared Connor’s bed, and although she wasn’t entirely pleased with the outcome when she reread it later on, the relief that emanated through her was immense. She was writing again—actually writing—and soon the lines became pages, and the pages became chapters. She wrote until she’d wrung all the words from her fingers, and then exhausted, she collapsed into her own bed, satiated for the first time in a long time.
Connor couldn’t sleep. It just wasn’t possible when there was so much adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream. He’d found his kitten, and better still, she’d responded to his advance with positivity. He could barely believe his luck! It was close to three o’clock in the morning when he rolled over to check the time, and even though he knew why he was struggling to doze off, he also knew he needed to get some rest. He had a meeting with Saul again tomorrow, to report on progress, and he wanted to up-sell the idea that his kitten was about to become a permanent fixture. It was true that she hadn’t agreed to anything yet, and in truth, Molly didn’t have a clue what she’d be walking into, even if she did agree to cross the Atlantic to meet him again, but still. Connor had a new confidence that his plan would succeed. He could feel it in his core, in that way he always could when he was onto something good. He was going to see his little kitten again, and once he did, he was going to have a future with her.
A knock at the door made his heart race for a very different reason. Connor blinked into the darkness for a second. Who the hell would be visiting his room at this hour?
“Connor! Let me in, Stalker!” There was a hiss from the other side of the door, and all at once Connor had the answer to his query. Only one person had the balls to call him by his old nickname, Stalker, though what his brother was doing here at this time was anyone’s guess.
Flying from his covers, Connor was moving toward the door before he had a chance to reply.
“Dalton?” he quizzed, staring wildly into the corridor as he pulled the door open. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
He gazed at his older brother, heart pounding in his chest as he tried to figure out what could possibly have caused him to be here in the middle of the night. Dalton looked wired, wrung out and heavily intoxicated. Great, thought Connor as he gestured for him to come inside, Dalton’s off his face and thought he’d pay me a visit. Perfect.
“I’m just on my way back from the club,” purred Dalton in that inebriated tone which slurred every word into the next. “And I thought I’d come and see my little brother; see how you got on with your girl.”
Connor rolled his eyes as his brother stumbled through the door. “How touching,” he replied. “And how much whiskey did you down before you decided to pay me this impromptu visit, brother dearest?”
Dalton flashed him a grin. “Just a few—”
“Bottles?” offered Connor, flicking on the side light as Dalton crashed onto one of the long cream couches at the far end of the room.
“Ha ha!” Dalton replied with a laugh. “Almost, but no. I only had a few, just enough to wet my whistle while Amy
did her thing.”
Connor sighed. Suddenly, it all made sense. Amy was one of Dalton’s favorites, a cute little red-head he liked to suspend and play with, but it was unlike his brother to do anything kinky when he was plastered.
“I think you’re a little pissed to play?” he asked, as he crossed the room, and took a seat next to Dalton.
“You’d be right,” concluded Dalton with a nod. “I only had her dance for me today, and then polish my cock for me, of course.”
“Oh, of course,” chortled Connor, throwing his brother an amused wink. “So long as my brother is satisfied?”
“He is,” smirked Dalton, shifting his arms to rest behind his head. “And that made me think about my poor little brother, here all alone, with no hot woman to please him.”
Connor shook his head, chuckling at his brother’s inebriated performance. Dalton was always a fun drunk, unless something he loved was under threat, of course. “I’m fine,” he assured him. “Actually, I contacted her tonight, and”—he paused, trying to find the right words—“things seem good.”
Dalton’s eyes flashed at him. “Excellent,” he drawled. “She’ll be back with you in no time, then?”
Connor rolled his eyes again. “Somehow, I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.”
Unfortunately.
His brother shifted in his seat. “Not easy,” Dalton agreed, “but you wait, this is just the start, Connor.”
Connor eyed his brother’s excited face thoughtfully. Fuck, he hoped Dalton was right.
Chapter Twelve
It was two painful days before Molly could speak to him. Two, long, agonizing days where the minutes bled into hours, and all Molly could do was wait. Wait to hear from Connor, and wait for some sign that she hadn’t imagined their interaction that evening. Of course, Molly had the message in her Facebook account, proof that she hadn’t completely lost it, and created the whole damn conversation in her head, but still, when no new communication came the next day, she’d started to worry.
Perhaps he had changed his mind? Maybe, he didn’t want her, after all? Perhaps he had only wanted to get in touch to torture her a little bit more. Molly wouldn’t put it past him. It was exactly the sort of thing the old Connor would have done, just for fun.
Restless, Molly found she wasn’t capable of putting her mind to anything. The words, which had flown so easily after their exchange, had now dried up, and anyway, every time she went to the laptop, Molly found herself drawn back to the earlier exchange, re-reading Connor’s lines over and over again. She didn’t want to eat, she couldn’t sleep; frankly, Molly was a mess. She considered phoning Suzy, or her mom, but then, what would she tell them? She was pacing the floor, lovesick over a man on the other side of the ocean who’d already used and abused her once?
Yeah, her mind goaded her wryly. Except you fucking loved him by the end, didn’t you, Molly?
She sighed, knowing she couldn’t tell them that, either. She couldn’t tell anyone. No one would ever understand. All of a sudden, her little apartment had become the loneliest place in the world, and Molly felt trapped as she sat there, staring vacantly at the laptop’s screen. It was like the four walls around her were closing in, and as she dragged her fingers through her hair, she really started to wonder if she didn’t need some serious psychiatric help. Or something. The therapy in Louisiana hadn’t achieved much, but maybe it just wasn’t enough.
How could she go on like this, with no sleep, no livelihood and no way of getting herself together? Molly kicked the edge of her coffee table in frustrated anger, sending a jolt of pain through her foot. She blinked at the hurt, inhaling as it ricocheted around her brain. Somehow, the pain helped. It broke through the bleak tedium of her consciousness. It gave her something to think about again, something to focus on. It gave her meaning.
Fuck, she was losing it
It was then, as her mind began to crumble; in her very darkest moment, that it happened. There was a small ping from her laptop, and Molly’s heart stopped in panic. Reaching for the device, she grabbed it at once, aware now that her heart was thundering away inside her chest.
Stop it, her brain warned her. Stop this at once. It might not even be him. It could be anyone.
And yet somehow, Molly knew it wasn’t just anyone. She knew it was him, and as her eyes flew excitedly over the screen, a sense of joy and relief filled her as she saw the name Dalton Reilly flashing on her browser. Clicking into the box, she read the message hurriedly. A part of her brain—whatever remained of her logical thought processes—told her to slow down, to relax and enjoy the correspondence. She had waited this long for a reply after all, why rush and read it in less than ten seconds? But that part of her head was easily subdued these days, and she ignored its warnings, burning through his words as though her life depended on consuming them.
Hi, kitten, he wrote. I’m sorry it’s taken me a day or two to get this checked out, but I have it sorted now. Are you there?
Molly’s heart leapt again. He was asking if she was there, so that must mean he was. He was online right now. They could actually talk!
Her fingers were replying before her brain had even had time to process the words properly.
Master, she replied. Thank God! I’ve been so worried.
She cringed after she’d hit the send button, but the sensation washed over quickly. What did it matter anymore that she embarrassed herself for him? Who cared if she sounded desperate? She was desperate. Fucking desperate actually, and as for shame, there was none left to give. Connor had extracted every last moment of embarrassment from her already. Molly wasn’t even sure there was any more left in her body.
Her gaze flew to the messaging box, holding her breath as she watched the small dots indicate Connor was replying.
I’m sorry, kitten, he repeated. I’ve wanted to contact you, believe me, but I was told to wait until the line could be verified. I have a secure line now, but I’d like to go one better now. I’d like to call you.
He was told to wait? The idea amused her as she read the line. Molly couldn’t imagine anyone telling Connor to do anything. She knew she was smiling as she typed her reply. On the phone, Master? she asked.
Or, we can Skype? he suggested. I want to see you.
She swallowed, aware of the bedraggled state she was in for the first time in days. She couldn’t let him see her like this.
But, I look awful, Master, she replied, watching the message box intently as she sucked her lower lip between her teeth. She hadn’t done that for many months, and as the realization washed over her, Molly knew it was an unconscious response that Connor seemed to provoke in her.
Kitten.
That was all for a moment, and something about the solitary word made her muscles clench. Molly could imagine Connor saying it, she could hear the tone of his voice.
You never look awful. Not to me. Remember, I have seen you at your very lowest depths, and I’ve never stopped wanting you. Not for a single moment.
Molly’s breath caught as she read his words. Connor was right. He had seen her that way. He was the genesis of those moments. The creator of her highest highs, and her very worst lows.
I’m going to call you, he went on. Be a good girl, and answer. Okay?
She gulped at that, her heart threatening to burst into her throat as his words resounded around her body. He was going to call her right now. Holy fuck.
At that moment the Skype box burst open on her screen, and the laptop prompted her with its familiar question: Do you want to begin call with Dalton Reilly?
Do you? her mind goaded. It’s your choice, Molly. All yours.
Molly had hit yes before her stupid rational mind had made the wrong decision, and in a heartbeat, Connor’s face appeared on her screen. He smiled at her, the corners of his lips curling as he presumably took in the sight of Molly.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he purred, and as if it was acting on some instinct, her pussy clenched at the sound of his voice.
“Master,” she breathed, practically dumbstruck at the stark reality before her.
Connor was there alright, but more than that, he looked absolutely freaking amazing, and she was sitting there in her old, cotton pajamas. The thought was mortifying, or at least, it should have been, but then Molly knew what real mortification felt like. And it wasn’t like this.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you, kitten,” he replied, his tone barely a growl as he made the admission.
Molly wasn’t sure if she could even take another breath. He’d missed her. “Me too,” she conceded. “So much.”
Chapter Thirteen
His kitten looked tired and withdrawn, and the sight of her made Connor ache. Not just in the usual way he expected, although of course, his cock did awaken the instant her wide eyes appeared on the screen, but more than that. More fundamentally. It was obvious she needed him in some real, tangible way. She needed looking after, and there was no doubt in his mind as his face broke into a broad smile, he needed to be the one to step up. He needed to take care of her.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he began, watching her responses carefully.
Molly’s face lit up at the sound of his voice, and the fact made him almost gleeful.
“Master,” she replied in a small husky voice which made his erection swell even further.
He’d missed that voice, and that face so much, that seeing her was almost painful. Yes, they had made contact, but still, she was fucking miles away, and all he wanted to do was to reach out and hold her.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you, kitten,” he told her.
For a moment, she seemed to hesitate, her eyes widening at the admission. “Me too,” she murmured at last. “So much.”
In that moment, Connor’s mind was made up. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t know when, but he knew he had to be with her again, and soon.
Entwined: (A Dark Romance Kidnap Thriller) (The Dark Necessities Trilogy Book 3) Page 6
