by Skylar Kade
He had unfinished business with her. She deserved answers, and to give them, he’d have to explain about his father, which he didn’t often do. He feared people would see him as his father all over again, just with a better guise for his sadistic needs.
He’d need to open up about his fears. Let himself be vulnerable as she had been to him.
Maybe he was searching for absolution, maybe recrimination, but whatever the result, things needed to be said.
Beside his bed, he stopped pacing and a plan coalesced in his mind. He needed to apologize, big time, and show her how much he’d always cared for her. Changing into jeans and sandals—street clothes—would put them on more equal footing than scene clothes, he hoped. He grabbed the box holding her collar and headed for the second floor.
Here goes…something. I hope. For my Hope.
A sharp rap on her door startled Hope out of one of her favorite meditative positions. During her mother’s illness, she’d found meditation to be the only thing, aside from discipline, that could soothe her frazzled nerves. That, and reorganizing, but her siblings hadn’t appreciated her three a.m. Feng Shui efforts. Uncurling from Child’s Pose, she stretched and opened the door.
Gabe. Her heart tripped over itself before resuming a high-tempo beat. “Hi.”
“Can I come in?”
She stood back and gestured inside. Gabe settled onto the couch and awkwardness filtered through the room. He was carrying a book-sized box, but her curiosity was overshadowed by the pain etched on his face. He patted the seat next to him, and though she knew it was a bad idea to sit so close, she obeyed.
“Hope…” He paused and scratched his goatee. A deep breath later, he said, “Hope, I fucked up. I’m so sorry.”
She wanted to forgive him right then, to take away his guilt and pain, but her own pain still lingered. She settled on, “Thank you.”
Shifting in his seat, Gabe placed the box on the coffee table and then grabbed her hands in his own. Hell, she loved the feel of his large, rough hands on hers. They were so…Gabe. Strong yet tender, hardworking yet capable of the most delicate of tasks. “There are things about me you should know.”
“I know,” she answered. At his look of surprise, she said, “Jax and Lara came in after you…left. They comforted me, did the whole aftercare thing. And mentioned you had some difficulties as a child.” Her voice softened. His face was so full of pain, she couldn’t bring herself to coerce the story out of him. “Gabe, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
He sighed and seemed to deflate, his rigidly held posture slumping against the back of the couch. “You deserve to know.” He tugged his earring before retaking her hand. “My father was not a good man. He drank too much and came home more bitter every night. Having kids hadn’t been his idea. My brother and I knew that from the beginning.”
His hands tensed around hers and her thumb drew circles on his palm. In the silence, she stared at their intertwined fingers, her pale skin against his tanned. Scars dotted his skin and she could feel more on his palms. The back of his hands was peppered with crisp black hairs bisected by the occasional scar or five. She’d always thought they were from his leather work, but what if they’d been inflicted by his father? The thought chilled her.
Gabe cleared his throat and Hope surreptitiously looked at his face. His eyes were shiny and wet, but no tears were present. It tore her up to see him like this.
“My mother took the brunt of his anger. He’d stumble in, drunk, and beat her if dinner wasn’t ready, or if it was cold, or if she didn’t obey his every whim. She was like his slave. He beat her a lot, sometimes with his hands, sometimes with a branch, sometimes with rope—whatever he could find. And whenever he could come up with a half-decent reason to.”
He looked away, staring out the balcony doors. Needing to comfort him more than she needed to be angry, Hope cuddled against his side and wrapped her arms around his neck. As she settled under his chin, he finished his story.
“I was twelve when I realized how much my mother was sacrificing. When my brother Thad or I made a mistake, she’d try to take the blame or to distract him from us.” His face soured. “But that didn’t work so well. I got more than my share of abuse, though Thad was spared from much of it.
“Two years later, he lost it and landed my mother in the hospital. She told them she’d fallen down a flight of stairs, but they knew. And they did nothing. My father had pull in our town. No one crossed him. Not even the local police. He’d told us, time and time again, that he’d kill us all if we ever called the cops.”
She squeezed him and laid a gentle kiss on neck. “I take it you didn’t listen.”
A rumble of assent rolled through his chest. “Yeah. I knew it was only a matter of time before he got violent enough to actually kill Mama, and then he’d be coming after us for real. So I called the county police and they arrested him, luckily. He served a nice, long sentence for abuse and child endangerment. When he got out, we all got restraining orders against him, just in case. I haven’t seen him since.”
“See, you saved her. Few children would have been brave enough to do that.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, and left her helpless. She’d never held a job, had no idea how to exist outside of our house. She was bitterly angry with me for years. And I was left to feed, clothe and raise Thad. But we made it. Our grandmother, the Italian one, helped when she could, but it was mostly the three of us figuring it out as we went along.”
She could feel the tension still in him and her heart sank. “There’s more, isn’t there.”
“Yeah. As they dragged my father away, he shouted and cursed, but one thing he said was pure truth, as far as he knew it. He stopped in front of me as the cops were bringing him to the squad car and said, ‘Just wait until you’re older. You’ll understand. You’re a Cassidy, and we keep our women in line.’
“I spent the years after that honing my control, keeping a tight rein on my emotions, my actions. And no one makes me lose my head like you do. Then hearing about Master Joseph was just a vivid reminder about how easily I could hurt you. All the implements of pain within reach, a sub unable to move…”
She captured his jaw between her hands. “And you think you’re like them, or could be.”
He nodded and Hope smiled, yearning to forgive him, but not fully ready.
“Oh Gabe, I love you, but you’re crazy. You’re caring and loving and insightful. You give pain for discipline and healing and pleasure. Your father? The pain was to make him feel better. It had nothing to do with anyone else. Master Joseph was the same.”
His brown eyes were haunted. “But I love it. I get off on it. How fucked up is that?”
Hope bit her lip and smiled, pulling him closer. “Wanna know a secret? So do I.”
He reeled back. “But I made you cry today. Just like he made my mother cry, like you cried for Joseph to stop. Hell, part of me earlier felt pride in bringing you to tears.”
Hope crawled into his lap and wrapped her arms around him. “Those were happy, relieved, purging tears. Not pained tears.” She kissed his jaw, tight with frustration. “What part gave you pride—that I was crying because you were stronger than me, or that I was crying and you’d helped me?”
Gabe rested his head against her shoulder and said nothing for long minutes. Finally, his voice raspy, he said, “I’m not sure. I know it wasn’t about you being weak, but I don’t know beyond that.”
“Is that why you left?”
He grunted, hating this touchy-feely sharing yet craving her understanding. In for a penny…
“I had this nightmare last night that I was my father and Master Joseph all at once. And then the tears…it was just too much. I’ve never been so twisted in knots about a woman before. I’ve always been able to keep my distance, and if they cried, it didn’t bother me because I knew they had a safe word.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “In my nightmare, I didn’t stop when you safe worded.”
She
leaned in to kiss him on the jaw. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Of course you would have stopped.”
“You don’t know that.”
Her poor Sir, to live with such guilt and fear. “Oh Gabe, I know you. You’re a good man. And you’re an even better Dom.” She straddled his lap and kissed him full on the lips. “After all, you did tame me.”
“Not very well, as I recall.”
She sucked his bottom lip and rubbed herself against his growing erection. “I was broken when we first started dating, and I ran because I didn’t want you to deal with my baggage. But you didn’t give up on me. And this weekend? You,” she gave him a tongue-tangling kiss, “you saved me.”
He groaned and held her hips firmly against him. “Woman, you’re driving me crazy. But shouldn’t we—”
She put a finger over his lips. “There’s nothing more to say. I forgive you, you’re not your father, and with you, I don’t have to fear Master Joseph.”
He leaned away from her hand. “Yeah, about that last one…”
Her breath caught. She so wanted things to be over and done with that bastard. She had a bright, shiny future ahead of her, and she’d be damned if he messed it up.
Gabe pulled at his ear. “I kinda decked him on the balcony upstairs. In case you hear something about him, I don’t know, tripping and breaking his nose.”
She leaned back in disbelief, only staying balanced on his lap because his arms curled around her waist. “Are you shitting me? You punched him?”
His lip quirked. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
Hope dived for his lips and lost herself in his kiss. She could feel the hardness beneath his jeans as it rubbed across her yoga-pants-covered pussy. Thin though they were, far too much fabric remained between them.
“If you want to reward my heroism…” An evil glint entered his eyes, right before he lifted her from his lap and deposited her on the other seat of the couch.
He grabbed the box from the table and opened it to withdraw a stunning necklace, all green and gold and shaped like a flowering vine.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.
“It’s yours, if you’ll have me. Wear this, and we’ll be even.” He looked down at her wrist. “I’ll even skip your punishment for removing those cuffs.” His lips edged up into a smile and she beamed back.
“Yes, oh yes.” She turned her back to him and lifted her hair. When the necklace clicked into place, a sense of peace drifted over her, as if this was the way things were meant to be.
“You do know what this means, don’t you?” he rumbled in her ear.
“What?” She turned back to him, breathless.
He seized her in his arms and pulled her against his hard body. “You’re mine.”
“Yes,” she said. Hope took a deep breath for bravery and finished. “But only because I love you.”
His grip tightened on her arms. “You better, cara. You’re not the only one with a heart at stake here.”
“Prove it,” she taunted, knowing he loved her but wanting to feel it all the same.
Gabe spirited her off to the bedroom, eyes eager and hot. He settled her onto the mattress and stripped off his T-shirt. She almost lost her mind seeing his torso exposed in all its golden, ripped glory.
Had it just been last night they’d done this? “It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?” she mumbled, still distracted by the view. He looked even better by daylight, which she hadn’t thought possible.
“Hell, baby, that’s an understatement.”
He unzipped his jeans and slid them off, revealing the tattoos that wrapped around his calves. She wanted to trace each one with her finger, explore every inch of him. This time was special, different.
This time was for love.
A nearly naked Gabe leaned over the bed and pulled the tie of her pants. Inch by inch he dragged them down her hips, bringing her thong with them. Her top followed, and his eyes warmed as a little growl escaped his throat.
“So beautiful, naked except for my collar.” He traced her curves with his hands, shoulders to feet. “Mine,” he rasped.
“You know it.” She needed to feel him inside her, stretching and claiming every inch. Her pussy throbbed in need and she moaned.
“That’s my girl.” He pulled up the desk chair and sat at the edge of the bed before pulling her hips to dangle in front of his mouth. “Oh yeah. Look at that beautiful pussy. Mine,” he proclaimed, staking his territory with a gentle kiss against her clit.
Which turned into one long lick of his tongue between her legs. Hope’s mind fell to pieces. Her fingers ran across the barely there hair on his scalp and loved how the sparks across her hands throbbed in time with the tingles from her core.
Gabe spread her pussy lips with his thumbs and growled. “You’re so wet. Is there something you’d like to tell me?”
“Take me! Please, Sir, please, I need to feel you—” Her words ended in a gasp as he did exactly as she asked.
Tongue and lips and teeth grazed across her clit, sending her into a tailspin of desire. Each second edged her closer to orgasm, and oh hell did she need that. He pulled back, laughing at her desperate whine.
“Lick these for me,” he said, fingers at her lips, “and I’ll let you come.”
She sucked his long, strong digits into her mouth, fluttering her tongue up and down their length, wishing she had his cock instead of his fingers.
Reading her thoughts, he said, “That’ll come later, baby, don’t you worry.”
He took back his hand and she bemoaned its absence until his fingers found a new home caressing her G-spot. Her moans jumped an octave as fingers and mouth teamed up against her. Chills zoomed up and down her spine like sea birds diving over the water.
“I’m so close, Sir, so…”
He hit something good and she was a goner, flying off from reality in her orgasm. Shudders racked her body only to be replaced by warm waves, flashes of color strobing behind her eyes the whole time.
As she came to, Sir was cuddled up beside her, stroking the hair off her forehead. “That was beautiful.”
Blushing, she started running her fingers up and down his arms, tracing his tattoos. Some were new, some old, but all were stunning works of art. Bursts of color leaped from his tanned skin that was, in many places, simply outlined in black.
“Did you design your new tattoos?”
“Of course.” He pulled her closer, one arm around her waist and one tangling in her hair.
Her hand trailed down lower, along his side, until she reached his thigh. A red bird flew from an iron cage, teardrops falling from its beak into a river that wound around his thigh to fade into the tattoos on his calf. “And this?” His breath caught and she tilted her head up to look at him.
He sat up against the headboard, pulling her with him until she straddled his lap. “I got that after you left.”
Guilt speared her and she threw her arms around him and held tight. “I’m so sorry. I should have opened up to you, let you help.”
A raw chuckle escaped from his lips. “Like I’m a saint when it comes to sharing. We’ve both screwed up.” He took her arms from around his neck and yanked them behind her back. The pull of her muscles, the command in his eyes, had her shivering with desire again.
“But right now, baby, I’d like both of us to be screwed again.” His eyes were heavy with lust.
A nod—words escaped her at the moment—and he had her pinned to the bed under his deliciously heavy weight. She ran her hands across his back, feeling the delineation of every muscle. How sexy was that?
Sexy enough to make her wet all over again. Or maybe that was due to him nibbling her neck. Whatever. All that mattered was that he continue to touch her.
She bit his ear and said, “Sir, I want you in my mouth.”
He groaned above her and for a moment she thought she’d get her way. Her mouth started watering and her tongue craved his flavor. He’d always tasted so good, a lot salty
, a little sweet and all man.
“Cara, I’d love nothing more, but my control right now is hanging by a thread. I need to be inside you—now.”
His kiss made all her muscles go limp. Her nipples hardened and her cunt throbbed its agreement. “I’m not going to complain about that.” She grinned and through half-shuttered eyes saw him jump off the bed and fumble in the bedside drawer. He returned sheathed and ready to go.
Strong hands pushed her thighs apart and he settled between them, his cock teasing her entrance. He grabbed her hands and pulled them above her head, which pressed him into her pussy a little farther. She squirmed, trying to take him deeper, and he pulled back.
“Keep your hands above your head, baby, and I’ll fuck you silly. Move them, and I’ll stop.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Nothing existed beyond Gabe and this moment. Too slowly, he pushed against her, parting her folds and stretching her to fit snugly around his thickness.
“That’s my girl, take it.”
Another inch and he hit all the good nerves. His cock curved just enough that it fondled her G-spot with every stroke, not that he was stroking just yet. Right now, he was being an insufferable tease.
Her arm twitched to grab his head and kiss him until he was crazy with lust and shoved his way into her. She needed that stretch and burn. “More please, Sir. I need you deeper, harder, faster. I want all of you.” She grabbed for the edge of the mattress, needing something to keep her from grabbing him and speeding things up.
“Really, is that what you want?”
His eyes were serious. He’d hurt her, once, at the beginning of their first relationship, by going too fast. She’d not been ready for his size, nor had foreplay been involved. This was completely different, and he knew it.
She dignified his concern with a snort. Keeping eye contact as a blatant challenge, she said, “Try me. I’m wet and ready and begging to be—”
He shoved his entire length into her, burning every inch of her pussy. It hurt, hell yeah, but it was a delicious pain.
“Oh, don’t stop!”
He grabbed her hips and tilted them. The new angle had pleasure-pain sparks running up and down her spine as his cock brushed her G-spot and bottomed out on every thrust. Her eyes closed to fall into the sensation and his strokes slowed.
