The Love She Craves: Selling Her Soul to Declan

by Gemma Jenkins

“Four, sir.”

  “And for scaring the shit out of me.”

  It landed in the same spot but received no response from her other than the count.

  “Five, sir.”

  “And this is for putting yourself in a position to have your kids taken from you.” The belt lashed across her already abused ass with stinging accuracy.

  “Six, sir,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Get up,” he ordered sliding the belt through the loops of his khaki pants. “I bet that put your blood pressure back into a normal range.”

  Her dress fell back into place as she clambered to her feet and crossed her arms over her chest. “My mother hit harder,” she said with a defiant jut of her chin.

  His hand snaked out and grasped her thin arm painfully tight.

  “Watch it, Nyxie or you’ll be in for twice what you just got. Get your eyes on the floor or I’m not going to give a fuck that Emily will be back here any second.”

  Nyxie glared at him for two more seconds before she slowly dragged them down the length of his body, pausing at the bulge behind his zipper. Her eyes shot back to his face for only a second before hitting the floor.

  “If we had the time, I’d have my cock in your mouth right now. Don’t play games with me, Nyxie, because I’m not playing.”

  “Y-yes, sir,” she said in a trembling voice.

  “Get up on the table. I want to check your blood pressure.”

  As he waited for her to get on the table, he softened his tone. “I’m proud of you. You took your punishment well.” He gave her a quick peck on the lips and smiled at her look of confusion.

  The light sound of tapping filtered into the exam room. “Damn, she’s back. Are you going to behave?”

  “Do you mean am I going to tell her you gave me six licks with your belt and my ass is now on fire?”

  “Is it? Good,” he said with a satisfied air. “Yes, that’s what I mean.”

  She bit her lip and kept her eyes lowered.

  “I signed on for this to get my kids back. It would only make things worse to have anyone know what I agreed to.”

  9

  “Keep your pants on,” he said under his breath as he crossed to unlock the door and let Emily in.

  “You locked me out,” she said. “Just for that, I’m keeping your change.”

  “I thought you had your keys,” he said, playing innocent.

  She looked at him and the ring of keys still in the lock. “You used my keys to lock me out, dumbass.”

  He forced a chuckle. “So I did. I guess that’s why physicians aren’t supposed to treat people they’re close to.”

  She eyed him suspiciously as she turned the key in the deadbolt. “What were you doing in here with the door locked?”

  “I was mostly trying to forget the vision of Nyxie wearing your panties. Christ-almighty I never wanted to know what’s under your clothing and to have it shoved down my throat like that….”

  “Why are you looking under her dress in my exam room?” she asked heading back to her patient.

  “Hers were in the chair. I asked her if she was going commando and when she said she wasn’t, I took a peek.”

  He took the juice from her as he entered the exam room. With a snap of the seal, he twisted off the cap and handed Onyx the bottle.

  “What was her blood sugar?”

  “Seventy-one. It's low, possibly low enough to cause her to faint. Mind if I look at her chart?”

  Emily slammed her hand down on it. “Patient files are confidential. You’re not her doctor.”

  “Nyxie, tell her I can look at your file.”

  “It’s okay. I really have no secrets—just things he doesn’t know yet.”

  Declan smiled sweetly at her and began scanning the pages. “I’m glad you ordered the nutritional screening as well as the CBC.”

  “If you could have known when her period would start back up, you might’ve been able to skip birth control. She hasn’t had a period in quite a while. She’s not pregnant—just underweight and malnourished.”

  Declan’s head came up over the folder and locked eyes with the OB/GYN resident. “Amenorrhea? Did you do a stick test?”

  “Pelvic exam. I’m not screwing with you, Declan. If I thought she might be pregnant, I would not have put the implant in her arm.”

  “Lift your arm, Nyxie.”

  When she lifted her arm, he could see the bandage over the butterfly strip and the faint stain of yellow from the topical antiseptic that had been swabbed on her arm then wiped off afterwards. He touched it through her skin.

  “Do you still hurt?” he said with a knowing look.

  She stared at him knowing he wasn’t talking about the implant. Dr. Saunders had deadened it with a local and it was still numb.

  He ran the back of his fingers along the underside of her arm until she lowered it to his shoulder. He pushed her legs apart and moved between them. His large hands cupped her tender ass and slid her forward until her sex was pressed against the bulging fly of his pants.

  “Christ, Declan, do you two need a minute alone.”

  “Yes,” he said, his eyes never leaving Nyxie.

  “I’ll go set up your next appointment. Remember, no unprotected sex until Declan’s STD test comes back,” Emily said exiting the room.

  He grabbed her braid, wrapping it around his wrist and pulled it back until her face tilted towards his. The forcefulness of his touch made her clit tingle. It was the strangest thing the way his bold curt personality was reflected in his touch. She could practically smell the testosterone surging through his veins. It was so overwhelming; she just wanted to melt into him.

  “How much of that sandwich did you eat?” His voice lowered menacingly. His mercurial shift threw her off guard.

  “I-I thought I could make several meals out of it.”

  His lips tightened. “First of all, that’s not what I asked you. Second, I don’t want you rationing your food. When I give you food to eat, I want you to eat it until you’re full,” he said. “Now, answer the question.”

  She held her fingers a couple of inches apart to show how much she ate. “That sandwich could feed my whole family.”

  “Christ! You only ate a quarter of it?” She nodded. “Typical day, how much do you eat?”

  Onyx wanted to cry. She did the best she could to feed them all, but she knew her best wasn’t good enough—just like the caseworker said. “For breakfast I either have a bowl of cereal or an egg on a piece of toast.”

  “Go on.”

  She took a deep breath. “On days I work doubles, Bob gives me two meals. The kids walk over around 4:30 and we split them. We each eat half a meal. You know how big restaurant portions are. It’s plenty for supper.”

  “No lunch?”

  “Not for me. I share it with the kids.”

  He released her hair and paced the length of the exam room. “Do the kids eat lunch?”

  “Of course,” she said defensively. “They’re just kids. They can fix soup, a box of mac and cheese or sandwiches.”

  “Let me guess; one slice of boloney on two slices of white bread.”

  She blinked several times before answering. “Sometimes, if it’s on sale. They’re more likely to have tuna or egg salad or just cheese. I try to get by on about $40 a week.”

  “What about a Lone Star Card or whatever they call food stamps these days?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t have birth certificates for them and even if I did, how would I get to Lubbock to apply when I don’t have a car?”

  He shook his head and threw his arms up in the air at a complete loss for words.

  “Summers are tough, but the school year is easier. They can have breakfast and lunch at school and supper at work five days a week. And on Sundays, I like to splurge and cook something like a small roast with potatoes and carrots in my crockpot. I make soup out of the leftovers for Monday because I’m off on Mondays.”

  His eyes lasered in on hers. �
��So even when the kids are at school, you’re still only eating two small meals a day?”

  “No, it’s not like that. Food’s not so tight then. I eat a big breakfast—usually a breakfast burrito with an egg and potato.”

  “Christ, no wonder you’re skin and bones.”

  She covered up the hurt she felt with a wan smile. “I hear anorexic is the new black.”

  He grabbed her arm and stepped so close he towered over her and she could smell the spicy clean scent of his aftershave. “That’s not funny, Nyxie. You belong to me for at least the next year. You will take care of yourself. Bring your weight up and you will be rewarded. If you don’t, you will be punished.”

  If he could have read her rebellious thoughts, he would have had her back on her knees. And she might have told him so if he didn’t seem so intimidating—not just the punishment thing—because she could take that spanking in her sleep, but also because she felt attracted to him and that was more nerve-racking than the spanking. When he stood between her legs, she just wanted to pinch herself. She could hardly believe this forceful, strong man wanted her. Was it just because he saw an opportunity to possess a sub or did he genuinely want her? Either way, she had no choice. It was her only hope to get her brother and nieces out of the clutches of CPS.

  “You act like I’m thin to spite you.”

  A mirthless chuckle escaped his lips. “You’re not thin. You’re skinny bordering on emaciated. If twelve-year-olds did it for me, I’d be in seventh heaven right now,” he said. “Frankly, that is not where my interests lie, and if you were any skinnier, your body would be a bit off-putting.”

  “Gee, thanks,” she said sarcastically trying not to let him under her skin. “Maybe you should pretend you ordered me to restrict my food to show your control so you can look at me without disgust.”

  His eyes narrowed at her as he chose his words. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, and perhaps you’re right about one thing; I don’t like it because I can’t control what happened before. But I can and will get you up to a healthy weight, even if it means putting a feeding tube down your nose.”

  She gasped. “Y-you wouldn’t really do that, would you?”

  “Let’s not find out,” he said lifting her by the waist and setting her on the floor.

  “How much do you want me to gain?” Resignation strained her voice.

  “You’re what five foot three?”

  “Five-four,” she said and silently cursed herself for correcting him. Being taller only meant he’d want her even heavier.

  “Model-thin would be one-twelve. Normal range is one-twenty to one-twenty-eight.”

  She stared at him. “How do you know that off the top of your head?”

  A smile toyed at his lips. “It’s a formula. It’s one hundred pounds for the first five feet. Models add three pounds for every inch over. Normal range is five to seven pounds per inch.”

  “Oh. It’s going to really suck if all my weight goes to my butt and thighs and none goes to the girls.” She looked down at her small chest to emphasize what she meant.

  “I’d be okay with that. It gives me more room to spread out the blows. But I suppose if you really want larger breasts and they don’t get any bigger as your weight comes up, there’s always breast augmentation.”

  “No, absolutely not. I may be whoring myself out to you, but I’m not getting fake boobs for the rest of my life.”

  When she turned to go, her braid swung in the air and he caught it before it landed. A second later, he was standing in front of her with the braid wrapped around his hand, her head tilted back, immobilized by his grip.

  “That is not what our arrangement is.”

  She pulled against his painful grip to level her gaze at him defiantly. “Isn’t it? I guess I don’t know the difference.”

  When he saw her wince, he realized he had unintentionally tightened his grip. “Fuck,” he said under his breath as he released her. “Finish off the sandwich for supper. I’ll see you later.”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” she said with false bravado before he walked away.

  Stopping dead in his tracks, he turned back to her and stepped so close she doubted if she could pass a hair between them. He stared at her for ten seconds before leaning in and whispering in her ear. “You’re not supposed to be.”

  10

  Joseph handed Declan Cody’s chart when he stepped into the room. He spent a few minutes going over it and made a few notes before turning his attention to the woman asleep in the chair. She was turned sideways with her bare feet folded under her and her waitress dress tucked tightly around her bottom.

  “How’s she doing?” he asked Joseph.

  “She’s been kind of weepy this evening,” he said with a shrug. “I think it might have to do with this.” The nurse crossed the room and handed Declan the sheet of paper the teacher had given Nyxie the day before. “I snuck a peek after she went to sleep.”

  Declan turned his head to the childish handwriting on the photocopied page. It was titled, My Mom.

  My real mother left when I was four. I don’t rember her much. My dad is dead. I don’t miss him cause he was mean and always stole Nyxie’s money. Nyxie is one of my sisters. She is my best friend and she takes care of me and our neces Lotus and Reina. Nyxie dropped out of high school so she could get a job to pay the rent and other bills. But she says she’ll skin me alive if I don’t finish.

  She doesn’t say she loves me very offen but I know she does. When Santa Red and Sage gave me a bike for Christmas she wouldn’t let me ride it until she could by me a helmint. When I told her other kids road without one, she said those kids folks must not love them as much as she loves me. When Stetson Kirkpatrick teased me for wearing it and looking like a dork I just smiled because I rembered what Nyxie said.

  If I asked Nyxie what she would want for Mothers Day she’d tell me she’s not my mother so I don’t have to give her nothing but she’s a better mother than my real one. If I could get her anything in the world I’d give her a million dollar lottery ticket so she could quit work. But since I can’t get her that I’ll just tell her I love her.

  Declan cleared his throat before turning his back to Joseph. “Do you know if she ate the rest of her sandwich?”

  “I came in at 7:00, but I noticed there was a Subways wrapper in the trashcan. Did you give her your foot-long, Dr. Stryker?” he asked in a suggestive tone.

  “Fuck off, Joseph.” Declan thrust the paper at him. “Make yourself useful and go make me a copy of this.”

  The nurse crossed his arms over his chest refusing to take the paper. “Are you going to sedate her again as soon as I turn my back?”

  “No, I’m going to wake her up. I thought she might like a shower and a bed tonight.”

  Reluctantly, the older man took the paper. As soon as Joseph departed, Declan squatted down in front of Nyxie’s chair and lightly stroked her face. “Nyxie, wake up.”

  Nyxie startled awake. One moment she was asleep and the next moment her whole body flinched with alarm and she thrust his hand away before she realized it belonged to him.

  Declan frowned wondering at her reaction. Did she often wake up so afraid? Was she frightened of him or was this some throwback to her rough beginnings.

  “Cody?” she rasped.

  “Your brother’s having another good night. Everything is slow tonight, so I’m hoping to get a little sleep during my shift. I thought you might like to join me and sleep horizontally for a few hours.”

  She nodded her head tentatively. “Sure.”

  He knew she’d agreed not because she wanted to, but because she felt she had no choice. He could tell she expected it to be their first sexual encounter and the prospect made her nervous. But he had no intention of fucking her at work—even if he had condoms with him. He had built up so many scenarios in his mind, he was not about to have vanilla sex with her in one of the beds reserved for residents during their overnight shifts.

  “You can
take a shower first. I’ve already scrounged up a set of small scrubs for you.”

  She smiled dreamily at him. “A shower would be great. Thank you, sir.”

  He stroked her hair with the back of his fingers before rising to his feet and extending his hand to help her up.

  “I asked Joseph to photocopy that Mother’s Day paper Cody wrote. I think the lawyer can use it in your case.”

  “You-you read it?”

  A chagrined smile played upon his face. “I probably should have asked you first, but Joseph said you were upset and thought it was because of the essay. He sounds like a great kid.”

  “He’s a kid like any other. There are times when I’d like to throw him in a mud puddle, and other times when I just love him to death. I just don’t understand why he wasn’t wearing his bike helmet when the truck hit him.”

  “He did have it on, Nyxie. I remember seeing it in the ER.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “He did? But he has a bad concussion.”

  “And without it, he would’ve been dead. His cranium wasn’t fractured. What caused the trauma was his brain slamming into his skull when he hit the pavement.”

  As Joseph reentered the room, Declan asked where Cody’s clothing and other personal effects were. The nurse opened a cabinet and retrieved a large white bag with hard plastic handles that snapped together. Declan opened the bag and pulled out the damaged helmet. It was black with neon green flames. Nyxie recognized it immediately. Deep grooves marred the right side showing where the rough asphalt had dug into the plastic’s surface. Declan grasped it with two hands and pulled the hard molded plastic apart exposing the thick crack in the protective gear.

  “That’s what would’ve happened to his skull if he hadn’t been wearing it—except the plastic has a little flexibility—his cranium doesn’t. His skull would’ve shattered possibly embedding bone into his brain. You saved his life by insisting he wear it.”

  As Nyxie turned to her brother, tears sprang to her eyes making them bloodshot and red blotches appear on her cheeks and nose. “I’ve been mad at him for not wearing it. He promised me he’d always wear it and I was upset because I thought he broke his promise.” The tears ran in long rivulets down her cheek and off of her jaw onto the pink polyester she wore.