by Tia Lewis
“Yes?”
“Yes.” I took his face in my hands and kissed him, then threw my arms around his neck with a tearful laugh. “Yes, yes, yes.”
“Here. Maybe you should try this on.” He slid the white-gold band over my finger. I admired the big, round center stone surrounded by a halo of tiny stones that sparkled like they were on fire.
“I can’t believe it,” I whispered. My hand shook. “I just can’t believe it.”
“You can’t? Is that a bad thing?”
“No, no.” I stroked his face again as he blurred in front of me thanks to my tears. “No, it’s not bad. And I guess I can believe it—I mean, this is where we always wanted to be. But how often does a dream come true? How many people get this lucky?”
“I don’t know. I just know that I did.” He kissed my forehead, my nose, my cheeks as I cried happy tears.
“This sort of makes my news pale in comparison,” I giggled. Was it really happening? It had to be happening. I was awake. It wasn’t a dream.
“What news?” He smiled as I sat him beside me on the couch. The weight of my new ring was welcome on my hand, and I couldn’t stop looking at it. Every time it caught my eye, I admired it.
“I don’t want you to freak out,” I whispered, taking his hands.
“Uh-oh.”
“It’s not bad news. Well, not objectively bad. But…”
“Just spill, okay? Wow. I feel like the mood took a left turn.”
“I’m sorry.” I drew a deep breath and hoped he would take it well. “I went to the doctor today.”
“Jesus, are you sick?” He took me by the shoulders. “You should’ve told me.”
“I’m not sick. Well, I might be, on and off, but for a good reason.”
Understanding started dawning in his eyes. I waited for him to put it all together. When a slow smile started spreading across his face, the relief I felt was palpable.
“Are you telling me you’re going to have a baby?” He almost didn’t want to believe it, just in case he was wrong. My heart swelled.
“I am.” I bit my lip, waiting.
His face broke out into a huge, bright smile. “You are? Really? I mean, I didn’t think…like, I thought, but…”
I held up a hand. “I know. I’m not as young as I used to be, but women are having babies later all the time. I didn’t think it would be so easy, I admit, but here we are.”
“How far along are you?” He placed a tentative hand against my stomach.
“About ten weeks. I’ve been so busy studying, I didn’t notice my schedule was so far off until yesterday.”
“And you’re okay? Everything’s okay?”
“Everything’s great.”
“Oh, God.” He took me in his arms and held me close. His heart pounded frantically against mine. “What happens when all your dreams come true at once?”
I closed my eyes and thanked whatever unseen force was out there, whatever had brought me home. I might have lost my best friend, but I had gained so much in return. I couldn’t help but think about how smugly satisfied he’d be if he knew he’d been right about us being together.
Thank You
Thank you for reading Only One You! Please enjoy the following free story, Sinful Torment by us!
Thank you again,
Tia & Penelope
Sinful Torment
About This Book
Jessica Harris isn’t looking for love the night her friends take her to a BDSM club in New York. After divorcing her abusive husband, another relationship is the last thing on her mind. But when she meets Ethan McKnight, the club’s owner, the spark between them is immediate.
Ethan can’t get enough of Jessica’s curves and sensual submission. With each encounter, their connection deepens, until they can’t imagine being apart.
But Jessica’s ex is as jealous and possessive as he is corrupt. He’s willing to destroy them both to prevent their happiness. As his tactics escalate and the danger mounts, Jessica and Ethan must work together to defeat him… or lose everything.
Sinful Torment is a steamy standalone romantic suspense novel. It's only recommended for audiences 18+. No cheating. No cliffhangers. HEA.
Author’s Note:
This e-book is intended for mature audiences only. It contains graphic adult language and explicit sexuality. This e-book is not intended for readers under the age of 18. Reader discretion is advised.
Prologue
He was charming, and I was naive. A dangerous combination if you ask me. I guess he had always been that way, but I never saw it until the end. Funny thing—the end. It provides a certain clarity—a perspective one didn't have while in the midst of the storm—a perspective that screams for help while your life slips away before your eyes…
Chapter One
I laid there in the darkness as I listened to the squeaking of the bedding all around me. The sensations both somewhat thrilling, but apprehensive within me as I rolled my hips in quick succession to meet the demand of the thrusting of my ex-husband behind me. The soft, rhythmic slap of his thighs against the firmness of my ass cheeks echoed off of the walls. I continued to keep my legs as far apart from one another as I could, arching my hips upwards as he pushed downward against me, feeling the thick veininess of his throbbing cock squeezing in against the tightening circle of my dripping pussy. My mind alternated between flashes of pleasure, and the stinging of pain as he continued to robotically fuck me like an animal.
I couldn't help it as I moaned what was expected of me. I attempted to bottle up that feeling inside of me, but I released it in a groan of pleasure that both was an exaggeration for his benefit, but still deep inside of me an expression of how close I was coming to the brink.
I bucked up against him harder, pressing my knees down against the shaking mattress in a needy manner, throwing off his rhythm, but not the power behind his thrusts. The bed cocked forward with a rock and knocked up against the roughly plastered wall with a resounding clack of metal and tightening springs.
That didn't seem to stop him though as I heard him growl in exasperation for me ruining the pace of our rutting.
"Jesus Christ, Jessica. Would you sit still..." he growled once more as his thighs bucked back, and then forward against me once more in a rough little fuck that nearly drove me downward. My knees buckled beneath me, and I could feel my thighs numb from the power of his wide girth violating my inner walls, but I continued to hold up still, shaking my hips from side to side for him to continue. The primal, carnal part of my mind needing that orgasm. Wanting that release as I mewled like a pet beneath him.
He didn't take the signs I was giving him, and I felt the rough, calloused palm of his hand press down against the small of my back as he pushed me down, pinning me further down among the tossed aside bed sheets, my legs further spreading apart.
"Oh god... Nick...!" I gasped in the way of an apology. I didn't want to anger him more than he already was on a normal basis, but at the same time, I didn't want to have him relent. "God Nick yes!" I groaned.
I could feel myself cumming, so close already. The deep well of heat inside of my belly growing as each slam of his thighs buckled my mind underneath his vicious fucking onslaught. Slivers of pain and pleasure washed over me like a wave, crashing in against my body as I alternated between sensitivity and numbness. My mind was entirely focused on the release. God, I was so close to cumming just from the roughness of his plowing my tingling pussy and the sound of the bedding slamming against the walls in an announcement to the neighbors of what we were doing. My inner walls squeezed and pulled on him each time he pulled back, signaling to him what I wanted.
I just wanted to cum.
I bit my bottom lip, completely content to hit my peak and just collapse for the night if I needed to before I felt Nick give one last thrust into my body till he writhed within, and I felt the muscle of his pelvis right above his cock press against me. Slamming into me hard enough that I saw stars in my vision even when I
closed my eyes, and then I felt the familiar heat of his own orgasm exploding in tight ropes of cum within me, filling me up.
Quickly I scattered my hands to try and get up on my hands and knees again. Latching onto anything that I could as I gasped out once more in surprise, feeling that I was on the verge of finishing myself before I felt Nick's hands buried in my hair to keep me down.
"That's it... That's it... Not yet..." He hissed through clenched teeth before he relaxed, and pulled back right before I finally came myself.
I was so close. So close and he didn't bring me to that edge. The pleasure, the excitement, the desire and primal lust I was all feeling that desensitized me to the world all went away at the moment he wetly pulled his cock out of me and just shrank back. And what was the last bit of comfort he decided to give? A sharp spank across my curvaceous ass with the side of his palm, before falling to his side of the bed.
No cuddles, no attention, and no orgasm.
He came, I didn't. A familiar story that's only been on repeat since our marriage and subsequent divorce from one another nearly five years ago. I hissed in a painful moan as my body seized up in a cramp of sorts. My thighs continued to quiver in anticipation as my calves locked up still, and the tingling sensation of the lips of my pussy continued to vibrate with desperation to be touched and sedated further. My brain wired to the pleasure I craved but was denied and never received.
In a huff, I fell onto my large breasts and stretched my legs out beneath me, just lying there till the tightness and soreness of my denied release left me fully. My body and soul simply tensing up for a moment as I wrapped my arms beneath my bust and waited for the sensation to finally leave me, and the soreness of my calves to calm down. Listening to the sounds behind me of my ex-husband Nick shifting where he had laid, followed by the sudden illumination of his bedroom in the soft glow of the yellowed lights. Shortly after that, the repugnant scent of his cigarettes as he lit one. The final signal of his satisfaction while I laid there.
"Ahhh, baby girl," he cooed while I continued to just lay there motionless on the bed. "You certainly know how to give your man a ride. Hope you enjoyed it."
Nick reached over to bring his large, calloused palm upon the side of my thigh while I regained all fully functional conscious thoughts.
"Ex-husband, Nick," I said, rolling my eyes as I slowly moved to stand up. “It's ex-husband."
I made my way toward the tall mirror at the back of the bedroom, shaking my head with regret for agreeing to come over because Nick wanted to “talk" tonight. I reached for the clothing I wore before he talked me into having sex: gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt. Not sexy, but comfortable enough. After all, I didn't even intend to sleep with him when I came over.
Taking stock of myself, I looked at the mirror as I reached back with my hands to pull back my hair into a ponytail. Long, wavy, interlocking curls of long black hair centered all around me before I pulled my hair back. Taking a moment to do my hair allowed me to focus my thoughts on myself just a little bit more. Driving away some of the disappointment I felt giving into my ex-husband.
But, at least, I realized, despite being 28-years-old and divorced to more or less a criminal, I was still a fairly good looking woman.
When loose, long, shining black hair fell in a dark woven wave all around me, falling back to about the middle of my waistline. My hair has become more or less a pride for me in the last decade. Something I liked to keep dolled up. It wasn't just my long wavy hair that I thought was so attractive of myself physically, though. I also possessed soft, smooth pale skin that created a nice contrast to my hair. The paleness I had was somewhat darkened, though, thankfully despite living in New York City and its overcast, rainy skies. It was just a hallmark of how I spent my days, rather than a desire.
Despite all of that, I didn't really have to lower my standards when I met Nick. I knew I was fairly good looking, even now, as I gazed at my large blue eyes down all along my body, over the swell of my ample sized breasts, down to a curvaceous shape. Curvy, and despite my physical assets, I was short enough to be considered a lot of things in the "cute" category as well as being short enough to be easily mistaken for a woman five years younger. Hell, I'm still carded at any liquor store or bar that I go to.
Sighing, though, I finished putting on my T-shirt, neglecting my bra and panties for now as I turned back to look at Nick as he maneuvered to sit up on the bed a little more. My mind moving to contemplate my divorce to him.
Nickolas "Nick" Notaro, also known as "Little Nicky" to his friends downtown was my ex-husband, and there wasn't anything that was little about him despite the nickname. He was broadly built with a strong hard body, which was part of the reason that drew me in closer to him when he started to give me attention. Broad shoulders, broad chest, and thickly muscled arms. He looked every part the bodybuilder that I liked at the time with thick brown hair that he kept cut short and a simple grizzled goatee to complete his appearance. A symbol of hardness he kept on his face as his piercing blue eyes were the first thing I noticed when he gazed at me like some sort of prey so many years ago.
Those icy blues eyes of his were my one weakness back then, and in times of weakness for physical connection, even now. He was older, wiser, and claimed to be someone important within the underbelly of New York, and that was what I craved. A real bad boy to show me excitement. And in those early days, there was a lot of excitement. So much so.
It wasn't until later on, I realized exactly what he meant entirely, and the truth of his involvement in the world of being a “bad boy", and the people he ran with, and those that hired him out for work. Even now, I don't even fully question what Nick does for a living as I fear the consequences of that knowledge. But from what I do know he always seems to have access to money when he's gone, as well as having many connections with a lot of different people all throughout the city.
A woman like me, fresh from the suburbs, trying to be professional, it all seemed like something out of a story. One of those old gangster and mafia movies you would read about―a handsome, well-dressed man having a woman fall for his strong-armed ways. It was cheesy, but it was me.
But then the honeymoon ended, and I found out what sort of man Nick truly was beneath the veneer of civility. He grew distant, cold, and often angry and I started to feel less like a partner and a wife, and more like an asset, or a prize that he only wanted so he could have his way with at home.
I suppose though I kept always asking myself "why?" Why do I stay with a man who clearly only values me as a personal object rather than as a partner in marriage? I know that the friends that I do still have in my life have wondered the same. Even the family that I remain in communication with have asked on several occasions why I stayed married and kept the Notaro surname.
I suppose there were a lot of reasons why I did so, and none of them were good. I remembered, thinking back to my early childhood, the days of my parents. Their fights and their marriage falling apart all around me, catching me in the middle of it. My parents being decent people, but to each other, they lost their love and became twisted. The pain of divorce, the separation, the constant sniping of one another, trying to hurt each other emotionally, and financially. And as a result I was caught in the middle.
My parents in the end did make up enough to become amicable to one another, even finding common ground in my late teenage years to be civil to one another, but I also knew that Nick held all the power of our relationship. He made the money; he owned the home, and he had the power. That, and he could be vindictive and cruel, and I felt I didn't want to struggle for years rebuilding myself when it was just easier to cope and settle.
Not only that, but I still felt a sense of longing for the man that I fell in love with. Nick, when he was courting me was so sweet, and romantic. Taking me all over New York, experiencing the sights, sounds, smells, and experiences that could only come with living in the city itself. He was chivalrous but commanded respect and a woman like me swo
oned at his swaggering posturing. His smile, the twinkle in his blue eyes. The promises, the sweet nothings. I had many boyfriends before Nick, but at that point in life, I had never met anyone like him before. So powerful and attentive, someone who knew exactly what he wanted.
He was still like that now, but with none of the positive qualities. I suppose that influence over the early years of us dating kept me around. I would wake up every day hoping that the Nick I feel in love with would return and replace the Nick that he is now. That his attention would be focused on my happiness and smiles, rather than as a slave to his ego.
But there were more reasons that kept me tied to him by marriage. I also knew the sort of man that Nick was, his line of work, and I feared it would come back to haunt me in some way. I've seen how he could become angry, and violent at the drop of a hat, and the situations that he could conjure up and I'd rather not have as a part of a struggle.
It wasn't that I feared him, or what he could do, though that was a part of it. I suppose, in a lot of ways, I cared deeply for the sort of man he used to be, and I simply stayed around to see if he'd return to that state.
Despite being in an unhappy marriage, I indulged in my own hobbies, my own friends, and my own affairs as long as I kept his belly full, and his balls empty. He allowed me access to our bank account, let me go and drink and meet other people on occasion when he wanted me out of the house. Let me have my own fun. I wasn't his prisoner or the like. Just the woman who looked after him when he wanted attention.
I sighed a bit as I pulled up my sweatpants thinking about our marriage that once was, and all of those years of decline in love and affection and how it just drove a wedge between us. Nick, in all his brutish mannerism, kept me on that leash, and that yoke, and I couldn't take any more of it after a while. My thoughts often drifted to my parents, and how I wanted it to work.
