Having Her: Lies We Tell, Book 2

by Jackie Ashenden

Kara undid her seatbelt. “I wouldn’t be sitting here now if I wasn’t.”

  “I’m not…” He stopped, not wanting to alarm her and yet wanting to give her some kind of warning. “All you need to say is stop, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “Why?”

  He met her gaze so she could see what was in his. “Because I’m not in a gentle mood.”

  A flash of something showed in her face and he didn’t think it was fear. “Who says I need gentle?”

  “You were a virgin, Kara.”

  “So? That doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.”

  “I just don’t want to scare you.”

  “Says the man who put me on my hands and knees and told me he owned me.”

  He scowled. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, baby. I don’t want to end up hurting you.”

  Kara looked down at her hands. “You won’t. But maybe I’d …” She stopped.

  “Maybe you’d what?”

  She turned, put her hand on the door handle. “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit. What were you going to say?”

  “It’s nothing, okay? Come on, you said you only had an hour.” Without waiting for him to reply, Kara opened the door and got out.

  Vin glared at her as she slammed the door. What the hell had she been going to say? It felt important somehow. But no, they never talked. They never needed to so why start now? Besides, he only had an hour before this thing with the bank and he wasn’t going to waste it.

  Getting out of the car, Vin then locked it and followed Kara up to her apartment.

  She held the door open for him, let it shut as he came into her narrow little hallway. And as soon as the heavy sound of it closing echoed, the familiar, biting tension tightened between them. The anticipation of what was to come.

  Kara dropped her bag onto the floor, her lashes lowering, not looking at him. Already going into slave mode. Normally it made him calmer, made him feel more in control. But not today. Rage burned in his blood, frustration eating away at him, and her submission only made him even more aware of just how thin his control was. His mouth had gone dry, his heartbeat loud in his head and something inside him was shaking the bars of its cage, wanting to be free.

  Shit. He’d always been strong. Never let his anger out. He couldn’t afford to, not with Ellie and Lillian to watch out for. And now there was Kara… What the hell was he thinking coming to her like this? This wasn’t the master in control, calmly directing his slave. This was just him, panting like a fucking dog.

  Clearly sensing his hesitation, Kara’s lashes rose, turquoise eyes meeting his. And he had the impression she could see exactly what he was struggling with. A weird vulnerability wound through him, a sensation he hardly ever felt. It only made him angrier.

  “Eyes on the floor, slave,” he ordered roughly. “I didn’t say you could look at me.”

  Instantly her too-sharp gaze fell. But then she said, “Please master, let your slave girl help you.”

  So, it was obvious then. He guessed it was. Christ, he couldn’t do this. Not when he was this close to the edge, this wild. He didn’t trust himself, could feel the violence of all his pent-up emotion like a storm inside him. Waiting to be unleashed. On her. And that wasn’t right.

  “I changed my mind.” His voice was unsteady. “I’ll take you back to the café.”

  Kara had gone very still, her attention on the ground. “Why?” The word sounded like a demand with none of her usual slave-deference, but he didn’t bother to correct her.

  “I’m angry,” he admitted shortly, hating that he had to. “Too angry for this right now.”

  “So?” She still didn’t look at him, her posture all deference and yet her voice nothing but demand. “I don’t care if you’re angry.”

  Vin raised a hand to shove his fingers through his hair. Then realized his hand was shaking. Fuck. What was wrong with him? “You should care,” he snapped. “I could hurt you.”

  For a long moment she just stood there, staring at the floor. Then suddenly she dropped to her knees in front of him. “I’m your slave,” she said in a low voice. “I trust you, master. You wouldn’t hurt me.”

  His breath caught. The material of her stretchy dress had pulled tight over her thighs and he couldn’t take his eyes off the hem. He’d only have to nudge it a little higher and he’d see what color her knickers were. But that was the problem, he didn’t want to nudge. He wanted to rip. Wanted to shove her against the wall. Hold her down while took her. Hard and rough. Let loose the rage, free the frustration. Give in to it and let her take it all.

  “You don’t know that,” he said hoarsely. “I’m too out of control.”

  “I’m yours. I’m an insignificant slave, it doesn’t matter what you do to me.”

  “Fuck that. It does matter. You’re not—”

  “I am insignificant,” she cut him off fiercely. “I’m a slave. I’m your property. Your possession. You own me.” She looked up at him then, her gaze sharp as cut glass, confronting him. “A possession doesn’t need your control.”

  Something in her eyes reached inside him and clenched hard. “I take care of my possessions,” he said. “I don’t break them needlessly.”

  “That’s why I trust you. That’s why you won’t break me.” Her gaze held his, demand glowing in the depths of her eyes. A demand he felt himself respond to whether he wanted to or not. “Let me take your anger, master,” she said, her voice soft and fierce. “That’s what you want from me. That’s why I’m here.”

  He wasn’t the only one who needed this. Who wanted it. This was important to her too. And, Christ, wouldn’t it be so good to let go? To let her take his anger. Push the boundaries, see where it took them. Because he hadn’t, not with anyone. But he could with her.

  She’d trusted him with this fantasy from the moment she’d walked with him out of the pool hall. Now it was time to repay that trust. Give her his in return.

  “Stand up,” he ordered, his voice gone hoarse. “Go and get your collar.”

  She rose, graceful with it, and disappeared off the down the hallway. A second later she was back, the collar in her hands, holding it out to him in the little ritual they’d developed over the past week. He took it and she turned around, holding her hair out of the way so he could put it on her. His fingers shook as he buckled it, brushing against the soft, vulnerable skin of her nape. Madness. This was fucking madness. And yet…

  Trust her to handle you. Either that or you walk out of here and never come back.

  Yeah, that was his alternative. And he couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t.

  “Turn around,” he said. “Keep your eyes on the floor.”

  She did what she was told. “Master, my clothes…? Did you want me…?”

  Vin stepped close, looking down at her. They were inches apart, her head slightly bent. Submissive. And yet she wasn’t. This slave had as much power over her master as he had over her. But now it was time to reclaim a little of that power back.

  “I’ll take your clothes off.” He lifted his hands to the neckline of her dress, his breathing accelerating. “Do you like this dress?”

  Her slight hesitation betrayed her surprise. “What? I suppose…”

  “I’ll get you a new one.” He was hard, so hard right now. And he wanted to do something violent. Savage. Let out that anger. He took a breath. “If I frighten you, say stop and I’ll stop.” He hoped to fucking Christ he could stop.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice breathless.

  He didn’t wait. With a sharp, vicious movement, Vin pulled, ripping apart the fabric of her dress. She gave a soft gasp, shivering as he pulled the material free of from her shoulders.

  Vin paused, looking at her. There was a flush to her cheekbones and under the black lace her nipples had hardened. She wasn’t afraid and she hadn’t said stop.

  Adrenaline coursed through him. He reached out again, gripping the bit of lace that held the cups of her bra to
gether then jerked them apart, tearing the lace. The ruined bra fell away, freeing her breasts. She wasn’t wearing tights today so now she stood there only wearing a black lace thong and her platform boots. Another jerk on the waistband of the thong, and that tore and fell apart too, leaving her only wearing the boots.

  Fuck, she was sexy. The vulnerability of her white skin and curves a delicious contrast to the aggressive black leather and buckles of her boots. Arousal built inside him, mixing with the burning anger and frustration, turning into something so intense he shook.

  Trust her.

  Vin gripped her shoulders, spun her round so her back was to him. Then he pushed her up against the wall, trapping her there with his body. She inhaled sharply, turning her head to the side, her cheek against the cracked paintwork of the wall. Then she pushed back against him, the softness of her ass pressing against his cock, driving him crazy.

  “Are you wet for me yet, slave?” he growled in her ear, the scent of her bare skin filling his head. The scent of musk and flowers and sex. The scent of his slave. His.

  “Y-yes,” she said breathlessly.

  He reached one hand down, pushing between her thighs, wanting to feel for himself and yes, she was. He slid one finger effortlessly inside her, the slickness of her sex closing around him. Wet and hot and tight. She gave a little moan, her lashes falling closed.

  “Oh no, don’t come yet, baby. Not until I say.” He gripped the trailing slave chain, coiled it around his other wrist, pulling so her head bent back, her neck curving, the arch of her throat exposed. Her breathing came harsher now, her hips moving against his hand.

  He took his hand away. “Legs apart, slave.” He undid his pants and protected himself with a condom from his wallet. Then, gripping the chain tight in one hand and pushing on her hip with the other, he thrust hard inside her. Then he thrust again, even harder. She gasped and he waited for her to say the word but she didn’t. There was nothing but heat and softness and silence from her. Like he could pour out the rage that lived in his heart and she would take it. Take it all away.

  Vin closed his eyes. Began to move. Harder, rougher.

  Fuck his life. His mad mother. His useless prick of a father. Fuck them for leaving him to carry this by himself. Because he was tired, so tired of having to do this alone. Tired of having no one to turn to. No one who would take it away from him.

  No one except his slave.

  So he gave it to her. Sunk his rage and his frustration into her, letting the pounding rhythm of it echo in his head, in the beat of his pulse, in his heart. Pushing them both to the limit as he drove into her, as the pressure grew, as the arousal pulled tight. He could hear her saying something over and over again, like a prayer, but he couldn’t concentrate on it, not with pleasure pouring through his veins like liquid fire.

  He gripped her hip tighter, thrust harder, shoving her against the wall, aware of nothing but the heat of her sex around him and the pleasure that blinded him. That pulled him apart.

  And the sheer fucking relief of letting the anger test the boundaries of his control, just for a couple of minutes.

  Kara couldn’t stop shaking. Every nerve ending screamed for release but she held on through sheer force of will. “I promise. I promise. I promise,” she whispered, ragged and broken, over and over again to remind herself.

  Because there was a sharp bit in the wall that pressed against her stomach, maybe the point of a nail or pin, and with each of Vin’s thrusts the point dug into her, an exquisite counterpoint of pain.

  Agony. It had been years since she’d used pain as a kind of emotional release and now it was so inextricably woven with the pleasure she had difficulty untangling the separate threads. No, pain wasn’t allowed, like crying wasn’t allowed. But, God, it was so hard to hold out against. When every part of her wanted the release, the combination of pleasure and pain almost impossible to resist.

  So she had to keep saying the words. Keep reminding herself that she didn’t need pain anymore. That she was beyond it. That she wouldn’t use it to come.

  You don’t deserve it anyway…

  Kara shut her eyes, almost sagging against the wall as Vin’s hoarse cry sounded in her ear and his body stiffened against her back, his hold on the chain loosening. She couldn’t stop the trembling, part of her wanting to scream at him to keep going, do her harder, use her, make it hurt. But she kept silent.

  He didn’t move for a long moment, his weight forcing her hard against the wall, the sharp point of whatever-it-was digging into her, and she had to hold herself exquisitely still to stop from tumbling over the edge of the climax that was just within reach.

  Vin’s weight eased, his arm circling her waist, tugging her back against him. “Did I hurt you?” he murmured in her ear, the rough edge in his voice making her want to tremble all over again.

  “No,” she managed to croak out. And it was the truth, he hadn’t.

  “What did you mean, ‘I promise’?”

  Oh crap, he’d heard her. “I…I was promising you that I wouldn’t come.” And that was the truth too. Kind of.

  “You didn’t either, did you?” There was nothing but lazy, satisfied heat in his voice now, the suppressed violence of earlier gone. “Good girl. That’s very good. I might reward you for that.” His hand brushed over her stomach and she glanced down. Jesus, she was bleeding and then he’d know. Know that he’d hurt her despite her promise to him.

  “Master, please,” she said quickly. “Let me clean myself up for you.”

  “Not yet.” His arm tightened, his hand stroking down through the curls between her thighs. “You need a reward.”

  She shuddered as he touched her. Perhaps it would be okay if he did it while she was facing away. So he wouldn’t see the blood. So she wouldn’t have to explain why she hadn’t told him to stop.

  “Wait there,” he ordered. “Don’t move.”

  Kara waited as he released her and she heard him step away. But there was no time to do anything about the bleeding because he was back seconds later, turning her then easing her back against the wall before she could protest. He dropped to his knees in front of her.

  Saw the blood.

  “Fuck.” He tipped back his head and looked at her, banked rage creeping slowly back into his eyes. “You told me I didn’t hurt you.”

  “You didn’t. It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

  His fingers brushed her stomach. “Jesus Christ, Kara—”

  “Don’t call me that. Not here. Not now.”

  Vin surged to his feet, the look on his face thunderous. “You lied to me, slave.”

  “No, I didn’t.” She leaned against the wall, struggling to get herself together. “There was a pin in the wall. It wasn’t you. And it didn’t hurt anyway.”

  “You’re fucking bleeding.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “It is my fault! If I hadn’t—”

  “Master, please.” She said it softly, trying to bring him back to the fantasy. She didn’t want him to regret this or doubt her. Because she’d loved the fact she’d got him to stay, to give her his anger. She had the feeling that Vincent Fox always kept a tight grip on it and the fact that he’d trusted her enough to use it to push them both had made her feel…well, she still needed to sort through it but she’d felt thankful. Needed. More his than ever.

  “It’s just a scratch,” she went on when he didn’t speak. “It’s nothing.”

  A second passed, then a minute. Vin just looked down at her, the expression on his beautiful face utterly unreadable. Then he said, “What do you want?”

  She stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  “You gave yourself to me. So now I’m going to give something to you. What do you want from me? Anything. You can ask for anything.”

  “Anything?” she repeated blankly. He’d never asked her what she wanted before and she’d been more than okay with it because whatever he wanted usually seemed to suit her. And besides, she liked she didn�
�t have to make any decisions. But somehow, now that he’d said it and given her this chance, she knew exactly what she wanted.

  “Naked,” she said. “I want you naked.”

  He turned without a word and stepped into the lounge, and as she followed, she saw him beginning to shrug off his suit jacket. And yet another need rose up inside her.

  “I want to do it.”

  He paused, his hand on his tie, flashing her an enigmatic glance.

  “Please, master.” Hell, she’d beg for this if she had to because he never undressed with her. Always, she was the one who was naked. She’d never minded because it felt right since she was the slave but the hunger had always been there. He was a work of art underneath his clothes and she wanted to see him bare. Touch him.

  Her mouth had gone dry, the small pain of the scratch forgotten, unassuaged desire beginning to build again. Yes, she’d beg. A slave had no shame. “Let me undress you. Please.”

  He hesitated for a moment then slowly turned to her, lifting his arms from his sides and holding them out. Waiting.

  She walked forward, coming right up to him, her hands pulling on the knot of his tie. God, he smelled good. That spicy aftershave he used and freshly laundered clothes. Sun-warmed skin and a hint of musk from the sex they’d just had. Her fingers shook.

  Slow down.

  She made herself breathe, made her fingers slow as she managed to get off his tie, folding it neatly over the back of the chair before coming back to him to start on the buttons of his shirt. Undoing them one by one, revealing bare, tanned skin beneath the white cotton.

  He was looking at her, watching her as she did it, she knew because she could almost feel his gaze pressing down on her. But she didn’t look up, didn’t want to meet his eyes. Her hunger for him was obvious, she couldn’t hide it, but still. He hadn’t said she could look at him anyway.

  She finished unbuttoning his shirt, remembered to undo the cuffs around his wrists, then drew it off him, hanging it over the chair so it wouldn’t crease too badly. The intimacy of the gesture wasn’t lost on her and yet she didn’t mind when it was him on the receiving end. When it was her, it was different.