by A. Zavarelli
My body relaxed as his fingers glided in and out of me in a slow and calculated pattern. It didn’t take me long at all until I rode the waves of pleasure all the way to the crest. When I burst around his fingers, so did my resolve, and with it came more unexpected tears.
My tormentor showed no surprise as he pulled me into his arms and held me steadfast. We sat in silence for a long time while he massaged whatever part of skin was within his reach. I felt so small and fragile that a part of me enjoyed it. The part of me that had been neglected and starved for human affection my entire life. But on the other hand, he was still the man who was forcing me to do this. I was disgusted with myself for allowing him to comfort me. I needed to get away. I needed some room to breathe, so I said the only thing I could think of at the moment.
“Can I take a shower?” I asked. “Alone?”
He stiffened beneath me, and I was certain that I’d offended or irritated him, but I was long past caring. A moment later, he stood up and helped me to the bathroom.
Before he left, his fingers feathered over the marks on my back, touching each one until he was satisfied.
“You belong to me now, Brighton.”
And with that, he disappeared behind the click of the door, leaving cool air to creep over my body in his absence. When I removed the blindfold and turned to check my wounds in the mirror, I was surprised to see they were just reddish bruises. I was certain he’d broken the skin, but he hadn’t.
What was more surprising was the pattern of the bruises. The longer I looked at them, the clearer they became. The shape of two initials.
JL
He’d marked me as his. Claimed me.
I wracked my brain for what those initials stood for. For anyone I might know that could be a match, but I came up empty. No matter how many possibilities I conjured up, I could never get this scenario to make sense. To understand who this man was. I figured this must have something to do with Brayden, but then again, maybe not. With the exception of a middle-aged father, all the people who could have sought revenge against him were dead. But that last initial haunted me. It was too similar to be coincidence, wasn’t it? Or was I overthinking it? Was it just a stranger I’d never noticed before? Whoever it was, he’d been watching me a long time.
I turned on the shower and tested the water to make sure it was lukewarm before stepping inside. I was careful to avoid my back as I washed and lathered my entire body. The soap was an exotic looking bottle with a French name and a lavender infusion. Expensive from what I gathered. As was the shower, now that I deemed to notice. There were dual showerheads and a sunken floor surrounded by natural stone tiles. It looked as if it belonged in an old castle which made me curious about where I was or whose house I was in.
The wheels turned in my brain, wondering if I’d get a chance to explore more of the place sans blindfold. It wasn’t likely, but I would bide my time if I had to. It was early on in the agreement, so I still had plenty of time to figure this mystery out.
A knock on the door startled me as I was drying off, and I realized I’d been in the bathroom for a long time. Probably pushing the limits, I supposed.
“I have some breakfast for you,” his voice called through the door. “Do you have the blindfold on?”
For a moment, I considered lying and telling him I did. But then I thought of Brayden and what would happen to him if I didn’t play along. I slipped the cloth over my eyes and wrapped the large towel around my body.
“Yes,” I answered solemnly.
The energy in the room changed when he walked into it. There was an aura of power that rolled off of him, even though I couldn’t see it. I could feel it, though, in the way he took up space. The way he handled my body and spoke without apology about his wants or needs.
Perhaps it was that power which attracted me on some small level. It was the same trait that had attracted me to Ryland Bennett when he darkened my porch five years ago. His confidence was unwavering. A man who knew what he wanted with a certainty he would have it too. At the time, I thought that was me. It didn’t make much sense then, and now it made even less.
A warm and solid hand cupped my shoulder as another wrapped around my waist, guiding me back into the other room. This time, he pulled me into his lap in what I presumed to be an oversized chair. The soft velvet rubbed against my thigh, combined with the ever-present heat of my tormentor’s body beneath me.
Something cool brushed against my lips, and instinctively I darted my tongue out to catch the liquid before it dripped down my chin. The sweet taste of melon burst across my taste buds, followed by a soft chuckle beneath me.
“Open your mouth,” he urged.
I parted my lips awkwardly and pulled the melon ball from the fork with my teeth. Nobody had ever fed me before, and it was strange to be allowing it now.
The process continued with forkfuls of eggs, toast, and crispy bacon, which I ate eagerly. I hadn’t known how hungry I was until the food was in front of me.
When I finished, he moved me back to the bed to rest. I insisted I wasn’t tired. But when his mouth found its way between my thighs and gave me a mind blowing orgasm, my body quickly changed its mind.
And so the rest of the day was spent much of the same. My companion fed and caressed me, occasionally stopping to lavish my breasts with his full attention. This almost always led to more of his attention between my legs as well, and by the end of the day, I’d counted five orgasms. I never even thought such a thing was possible, but now I could say definitively it was.
When darkness fell around us, he pulled me into his arms and rested my face in the space between his shoulder and his neck. As sleep pulled me under, I thought I caught the faintest hint of Amber and Cinnamon. I was so certain I was dreaming that I disregarded it completely.
Chapter Thirteen
I was a different person when I stepped off of the elevator on Monday morning. I was so sure it was written all over my face that I’d spent the entire weekend having sex and everybody else would be able to see it too. Of course, they didn’t.
The only one who gave me a funny look was Matt. When his eyes drifted to the side of my neck, I quickly pulled my hair over the other place I’d been marked.
“How was your weekend?” he arched a dark brow at me.
“It was fine.” I fumbled to put my belongings away. “And yours?”
He tilted his head and scrutinized me for a beat before he answered. “Pretty lame. The boss had me putting in overtime on a project.”
“She sounds like a real slave driver.” I jerked my chin towards Nicole with a smile. She was bobbing towards us with a strange expression on her face.
“Hey, Brighton,” she greeted me. “Sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Bennett asked to see you in his office.”
“Me?” I blinked in confusion.
I hadn’t been into Ryland’s office since the first day I started there. And it was beyond me why he’d be calling me in now.
“Yep, you.” She gave me a half-hearted smile. “Unless there’s another Brighton Valentine running around here I don’t know about.”
Matt frowned and exchanged a glance with Nicole. “Can I talk to you a minute?”
Nicole stiffened but gestured to her office. They both gave me a tight smile before I disappeared down the hallway.
Ryland’s door was already cracked but still weighed about as much as the nerves that threatened to pull me under. I smoothed out my black A-line dress and finger combed my hair before I stepped inside.
He was leaning against his desk, absorbed by something on his phone before he glanced up at me.
“Miss Valentine.” He smiled and gestured to the chair in front of him. “Just the woman I wanted to see.”
He was in a particularly friendly mood today, which only served to confuse me more.
I took a seat and folded my hands across my lap. “Is everything okay, Mr. Bennett? Did I do something wrong?”
“Why would you think that?”
“I don’t
know,” I replied. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t know why you called me in here.”
“Please call me Ryland. I think we’ve been over this before.”
“Ryland.” I nodded. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” He walked around to the other side of his desk and shuffled through his paperwork, straightening it as he spoke. “And you haven’t done anything wrong, Miss Valentine. In fact, the reason I called you in here was because I had such good reports on your performance. So naturally, when I heard the news this morning, I knew you were the only person for the job.”
“What job?”
“Stacey’s on medical leave,” he replied. “For at least the next few months. So I need someone to replace her. Do you think you’re up for it?”
“Absolutely.” I nodded, realizing belatedly that I’d shown no concern for Stacey at all. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, but really, the woman was a ticking time bomb. I had only wondered when she’d go off, not if.
“But I mean, I hope she’s alright,” I added.
Ryland shook his head in amusement before his phone chimed again, distracting him.
“She’s perfectly fine, Brighton.”
As my name left his mouth, a cold shiver ran down my spine. Because the usual cadence from his voice had disappeared, and I hadn’t imagined what I’d just heard. Ryland had never addressed me as anything other than Miss Valentine at the office, and for good reason. Because when he said my name that same inflection was there. The one that had whispered my name as he fucked me repeatedly over the weekend. The one that said he owned me.
How had he managed to fool me?
My heart exploded against my rib cage as I struggled for breath. My entire body was already shaking from the adrenaline, but I didn’t care. I thrust the chair backwards and tried to bolt towards the door. I vaguely saw Ryland’s gaze snap to my horrified expression before he rounded the corner of his desk. I didn’t know what I was going to do if I made it out of his office. But the only thing I could think of right then was running. I was so close to the door I could almost feel the handle in my hand. My fingers had just wrapped around the metal when his hard body collided with mine from behind.
He spun me around and pinned me against the oak, clasping his hand over my mouth as his eyes narrowed in warning. His breath was ragged, his grip painful.
“Nothing has changed. Remember why you are doing this.”
I blinked back tears and shook my head weakly, not wanting to accept that he had just confirmed what I didn’t want to believe. That my tormentor not only had a face, but he was the same man I’d been so enrapt with over the last five years.
He must have known what I was thinking, because he flashed a smile, baring all of his teeth. The same teeth that had sunk into every part of my body.
“What’s the matter, Brighton?” he mocked. “You said you wanted it to be me, so surely, you can’t be that upset.”
He released his hand from my mouth and pressed his erection into my belly. This was turning him on.
“Why are you doing this?” I rasped. “I would have given myself to you without a fight.”
“Perhaps.” He looked doubtful. “But not in the way I wanted.”
“Let me go,” I pleaded. “Just let me leave. I need time… time to think about all this…”
His lips stole my protests with brute force as he lifted my legs and secured them around his waist. When he unzipped his pants and pushed my thong aside, a mew escaped me before I could stop it. He rubbed the head of his cock against my own demented arousal with a satisfied grunt. And then he was inside me.
I still couldn’t reconcile that this was the same man who had taken my virginity. The only man who had ever been inside of me. But when he started to move, I was certain. Nobody else could ever feel like this. I didn’t care if I had nothing else to compare it to, I knew it in my bones. He had a primitive need to claim me that could never be replicated.
Our bodies slammed against the door as he pushed deeper. I had no choice but to wrap my arms around his neck and hold on as he fucked me savagely. His hands and lips and mouth and teeth were everywhere. Devouring me. He showed no concern about anyone hearing us. When I started to moan around him, he bit my shoulder, leaving another mark for the world to see.
On instinct, I buried my own teeth in his neck, biting until I tasted the metallic tang of his blood against my tongue. It satisfied me in a way I didn’t expect, but it satisfied him too.
He carried me to the sofa and bent me over it. His hand gripped my hip as the other pulled down the zipper of my dress, revealing the lines he’d left on my back from this weekend.
His fingers traced over them again and again as his hips crashed into me.
His breaths were coming even harsher than before. The room was completely quiet, save for the slapping of his skin against mine. I felt the sheer power of his thighs as they flexed behind me, the strain of his bicep as he held me in place. He was so strong, I would never escape his grasp, even if I wanted to.
His darkness bled into me, inch by torturous inch, consuming me from the inside out. It made me feel powerful. It made me feel free. It made the next words that flew from my mouth a plea that he never stopped.
He was dark and twisted, but maybe I was too. Maybe that’s why we found each other. It was the addiction I was drunk on, and the same addiction that drove me over the edge.
I combusted around him, milking him for all it was worth with every wave of release that rolled through me. And when it was all over, he exploded inside of me, filling me so completely I never wanted to move again.
For a long time, we didn’t. He held onto me as though I still might bolt at any moment. I was too weak to even consider it. When he finally pulled out, my body felt his absence immediately.
The cool air danced along my exposed skin until he zipped my dress up and put me back together. Then he spun me around and brushed his thumb over the fresh bite mark on my shoulder. My eyes drifted to the angry red marks I’d left on his neck, but instead of regret, there was a deep sense of pride. Because I’d claimed him too.
Who was this woman, and what had become of me? I didn’t bite men or have rough, angry sex. I didn’t fall for the man who was hurting my family. My brother.
My eyes snapped to the blue irises of the creature before me, and I couldn’t make him out. Was he a monster, or was he a man? When I looked at him, I could only see a man. One who’d been hurt somehow and deep-down was vulnerable. But when I thought about what he was doing to Brayden, I knew he couldn’t do those things unless he was a monster.
“Brighton.” He gripped me around the waist and pulled me close. “This changes nothing.”
His tone was firm and confident, but his eyes betrayed him. In the depths of those eyes, I could see the question he was asking. For my reassurance. That our agreement was still on and that he still had claim over my body and life.
A smart woman would have walked away then. She would have lit a match and set fire to the entire clusterfuck that was this situation. But I was never a smart woman, and if you didn’t believe me, all you had to do was ask my mother.
Chapter Fourteen
When I got home that night, I found Nicole sitting at the breakfast bar. She was staring at a bouquet of Morning Glories and an expensive bottle of red wine that sat untouched in front of her. A quick glance at the label revealed it was a 2009 blend from the south of France.
“What’s this?” I teased. “Do you have another secret admirer I don’t know about?”
She glanced up at me, and I immediately regretted my lighthearted joke. Her eyes were red and puffy.
“Nicole, are you okay?”
I moved around the breakfast bar to hug her, but she retreated backwards, holding her hands up in a placating gesture.
“I’m fine,” she croaked. “Sorry, but it’s been a long day. Would you mind… getting rid of that stuff while I take a shower?”
“Sure.” I nodded in confusion. “D
o you want me to put it somewhere?”
“Just get it out of the apartment,” she whispered. “So I don’t have to look at it again.”
I picked up the flowers while Nicole padded to her room. The blooms were already drooping in the evening light of the apartment, and I found it a strange selection for someone to send Nicole. I wasn’t a flower connoisseur, but I thought I once read that these were a symbol of mortality or something along those lines.
When I stepped into the elevator, I bumped right into Ryland and nearly dropped everything in my arms. His lips tilted up at the corners as he helped me to regain my balance.
“Are you going to be popping up like this all the time now?”
The irritation in my voice was clear, but I couldn’t control it. I was still in shock from the big reveal, and the more I thought about it, the more questions I had.
He didn’t seem fazed though because he was too busy staring at the flowers in my arms.
“What are you doing with those?”
“I’m taking them to the trash. I think some creep sent them to Nicole, and she doesn’t want them.”
His gaze narrowed, and I wondered if he thought I was lying to him. Or perhaps he was upset someone had sent Nicole flowers. I still couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on between them, and it irritated me further to even think about it.
“What’s the deal with you two?” I questioned.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean is there something going on between you and Nicole? Or anyone else for that matter?”
His expression softened as he took a step closer and tilted my chin up to meet his gaze.
“Would it bother you if there were?”
“Of course it would bother me,” I snapped. “I don’t know who else you’re playing these sick games with, and I think it’s only fair I know if I need to protect myself. You haven’t used a condom once since we’ve been together, and…”
“Brighton.” He smiled, completely derailing my train of thought. “Do you really think I’ve waited this long for you only to have someone else come along and distract me?”
