Wounded Hearts

by Julia Sykes

  I gave him a small nod, granting him my consent. This scenario wasn’t what I’d had in mind when I’d mentioned BDSM to him in the street, but the sure touches of his big hands on my thighs and soft brush of his lips over my skin made my core heat. I’d never been turned on by such a vanilla encounter, but Scott was different. Earnest. Intense.

  And he’d said he needed to taste me.

  His fingers curved into my thighs, spreading me wide for him as his head dipped toward my wet and waiting sex. Anxiety gripped me, making me stiff in his hold.

  He peered up at me, his face hovering just above my most vulnerable area. His thumbs stroked little circular patterns over my skin. “Relax.”

  “I don’t usually do this,” I said, my stomach dancing with nerves.

  He pressed a kiss against my clit, and I sucked in a small gasp at the whisper-soft contact to the sensitive nub.

  “Thank you for trusting me,” he said, his pale eyes spearing me in place as effectively as his firm hold on my thighs. He licked my slit in a long, slow glide of his tongue. “You taste so good.”

  I drew in a shuddering breath. I’d never experienced anything like this. The way he was talking about how my pussy tasted should be dirty, but he watched me so intently, his beautiful eyes alight with genuine pleasure. Something tugged in my chest, a deeper satisfaction than the erotic sensation of his hot mouth against me. I felt beautiful and powerful, as though I were a goddess he was worshipping with his body. But at the same time, I’d made myself vulnerable to him, and his strong hands on my legs reminded me just how much more powerful he was.

  He released one of my thighs so he could press his forefinger inside me. I gasped as he slowly penetrated me, stretching me after long months of emptiness. His touch was firm, assured. He crooked his finger, finding the sensitive spot at the front of my inner walls as though we’d done this dozens of times.

  My sex opened for him, responding to his confident touch. He might not be spanking me or ordering me around, but the way he handled my body—touching me as though he had every right—made me shudder with desire.

  A second finger slipped into me, stretching me farther. I anticipated discomfort at the added intrusion, but he sucked on my clit and rubbed my g-spot again.

  “Oh, god.”

  My thighs quivered. Actually quivered. It wasn’t the first time I’d experienced the sensation, but it had never happened with a man’s mouth on me before.

  He paused to look up at me, transfixing me with his steady stare.

  “Put your hands behind your head,” he ordered.

  I almost groaned as lust rolled over me. This kind of kink-lite usually wouldn’t do anything for me, but my pussy clenched around his fingers as I obeyed, lacing my fingers together behind my head. Scott might not be able to bring himself to pin me down, but he’d found a way to restrain me with no more than a calm command and a possessive hold on my most intimate area.

  His touch turned rougher when his mouth returned to my flesh. His tongue was firm against my clit, his fingers almost too demanding as he rubbed my g-spot. He didn’t pump in and out of me. Instead, he focused his attention on the special spot that would make me come apart.

  Pleasure built low in my belly, coiling within me. My thighs started to shake in earnest, my toes and fingers tingling. I bit back an ecstatic cry as my orgasm rippled through me. I lifted my hips as his touch turned harsher, demanding I give him more of my pleasure. Part of my mind marveled that there was no pain. I was wet, my pussy pulsing around his fingers as I came.

  When the last aftershocks of my orgasm subsided, he slid his fingers out of me and licked at the wetness at my core. I moaned at the decadent sensation.

  “You taste so good,” he told me again.

  Usually, I wouldn’t really believe such an assertion. But his rumbling tone and the cocky half-smile on his lips made it impossible to doubt him.

  “Thank you,” I panted, not really sure how to respond when I was boneless beneath him, my body humming and my mind mercifully quiet for a moment.

  He sat back on his heels, grinning down at me. “My pleasure.”

  For the first time, I was emboldened enough to glance down at his thick erection, which was straining against his boxer briefs. I swallowed and met his gaze again. Scott was big. Probably too big for me.

  But I still ached for more, even after my orgasm. He’d primed my body to be filled, and I wanted him.

  “Do you have a condom?” I asked, temptation dripping from the question. Scott certainly made me feel like a temptress; a sensual siren he couldn’t resist. The way he was watching me with such open hunger, his mouth still glistening from my arousal, sent me flying high.

  His lips curved with pleasure, and he nodded. He left me briefly to retrieve the condom from his pants, where he’d abandoned them beside the bed. He also stripped off his boxer briefs, and when he resumed his position between my thighs, I got my first look at his cock.

  My eyes flew wide. I’d been wrong. Scott wasn’t big. He was huge.

  “This is going to sound like I wrote it in one of my romance novels,” I babbled, “but that’s not going to fit.”

  Did I just say that out loud?

  “I mean, that doesn’t even sound like something people say in real life,” I continued on, nerves making the words spill out of me. “But yeah. That won’t fit.”

  One corner of his mouth tugged up in a self-assured smile as he tore open the condom wrapper and sheathed himself.

  “It’ll fit. Trust me.”

  There it was again: trust me.

  I’d only known Scott for a couple hours, but the pull I felt toward him went soul-deep. We both needed this: to feel cherished, to be held.

  I nodded. I did trust him. He was almost a stranger to me, but I trusted him.

  He gripped the base of his shaft and shifted forward, guiding his cockhead to my slick, swollen entrance. When the tip had barely penetrated me, he lowered his body atop mine slowly, pushing his cock into me with aching care.

  I gasped and opened my legs wider for him, my knees falling to either side as I rocked my hips up to accommodate him. To my amazement, he entered me in one steady, controlled slide, my body perfectly prepared to accept him.

  Pleasure suffused my system, and I grabbed at his shoulders, my fingernails sinking into his flesh.

  “Oh my god,” I breathed. “I’ve never felt… I can’t believe you’re inside me.”

  I was full, stretched around his enormous cock. But my body had welcomed him. There was no pain, just toe-curling pleasure.

  Emboldened, I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him impossibly deeper. We both groaned, and my eyes nearly fluttered closed as ecstasy washed through me. I forced them open. I didn’t want to miss a second of this time I was sharing with Scott. I stared up at him, captured in his gorgeous blue gaze.

  He closed the small distance between us, his mouth crashing down on mine as he withdrew slightly and pumped back into me, letting me feel him inside me. His tongue coaxed mine, as tender and careful as his cock penetrated my pussy.

  I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him closer, opening for him and accepting him completely. Something swelled in my chest as I gave him so much more than just my body. The kiss tasted like my essence, but I wasn’t bothered by the flavor. Scott had reveled in it, so why should I find it unpleasant? I slid my tongue against his as he began to move within me, thrusting into my pussy with longer, rougher strokes.

  I met each of his thrusts, my heels digging into his sculpted ass to draw him deeper, welcoming him to claim me. I panted into his mouth, exchanging breaths with him as both our bodies became slick with sweat. Pleasure built within me, my second orgasm cresting as his cockhead dragged across my g-spot. He caught my cry on his lips as I came apart, my pussy squeezing him as my legs locked around his waist, demanding he give me more. He drove in harder, giving me the rougher treatment I craved. Our kiss turned more frenzied as bliss pulsed through me, and I
mindlessly met his thrusts with wanton abandon.

  I was still tingling with pleasure when he slid out of me and gripped my hips. Anticipating a new position, I rolled and started to get on my hands and knees, assuming he wanted doggy-style.

  “No.” His hands firmed around my hips, pressing me down against the mattress so I laid on my stomach.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, some of my awkwardness returning. I didn’t like that he wasn’t inside me, and I wasn’t certain what he wanted.

  “Haven’t you tried this position?” he asked, rolling me and lifting my leg as he slid back into me.

  I was on my front, my hips tilted slightly to the side to accommodate him. He filled me, hard and deep.

  “I didn’t even know this was a position,” I marveled breathily.

  Apparently, there were a lot more possibilities open when a man was as well-endowed as Scott.

  He took me, long and slow. I felt pinned down, and there was little I could do to move against him in this position. It made me feel small and vulnerable, and I reveled in it, gasping against the pillow as he plunged in deep. I wasn’t going to come again, but pleasure suffused me.

  Scott grunted and stiffened, driving deep before withdrawing suddenly. I hated the abrupt emptiness, but I appreciated that he’d pulled out as an extra precaution.

  He dropped a kiss on my shoulder.

  “I’ll be right back,” he promised before disappearing into the bathroom to clean up.

  I rolled onto my back, stretching and smiling to myself. I’d just experienced the best sex of my life, and it had been almost completely vanilla. It was strange and wonderful. I’d never shared such intense chemistry with a man, and gratitude swelled in my heart.

  Scott returned, climbing onto the mattress beside me. I cuddled close to him, tucking my face against his chest.

  He pulled back slightly. “No.”

  I blinked up at him, confused and a little upset that he didn’t want to snuggle with me.

  “I want to see your face,” he said, immediately allaying my discomfiture. “Your eyes are so beautiful.”

  I flushed at the compliment and trailed my fingernails down his back, scratching lightly. “You have beautiful eyes, too.”

  The fine lines that aged his face deepened, his expression tightening with anguish. “Do I?” he whispered. “What color are they?”

  “Blue,” I told him, puzzled by his question. “Right?” I was suddenly uncertain, even though the evidence was literally staring down at me.

  “I don’t know. Sometimes, I forget. Sometimes, I think I don’t have eyes. I don’t think I even have a face.” The words were soft, haunted. I wasn’t certain if he knew he was speaking them aloud.

  My heart ached for him as I realized he couldn’t bear to look at himself in the mirror. Whatever violence he committed in his dangerous world, he’d done things that had scarred him deeply. His body was close to flawless, with only one small physical scar visible on his jaw. But Scott had wounds that went so much deeper than his flesh.

  “You’re a good man,” I told him, my voice soft but firm.

  “Am I?” he asked, strained.

  I stroked his back. “Yes. I believe most people are inherently good, and I can tell you are.”

  His lips thinned. “I’d like to believe that, but not everyone is good.”

  Something dark stirred within me, too. “No,” I agreed, remembering the terrible things my ex had done to me while claiming he loved me. “Some people aren’t good.”

  Scott shook his head, as though to physically shake off bad thoughts. “Now you’re talking about bad guys. Those are the guys I deal with. I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

  “I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say. I held him closer, my arms tightening around him as I buried my face in the crook of his neck.

  He leaned back again. “No. Let me look at you. I want to remember this.”

  My chest tightened, but I swallowed my grief for him. I met his intense gaze and resumed stroking his back.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Whatever it is you do, thank you. I know it must be hard.”

  His jaw firmed, but his hand was gentle as he stroked my hair. “Never change,” he said, a low, almost reverent command. “I do the things I do so people like you can be safe and live the lives they want. Tonight, you were so relaxed when I first saw you at the bar. And when I went down on you, you decided to trust me. Never lose that ability to trust. Thank you for that.”

  A lump formed in my throat, my heart twisting in my chest. Scott carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I hated his pain.

  I simply nodded, unable to find words heavy enough to express my feelings, my gratitude for his service and for the incredible gift he was giving me. Because he was trusting me, too. He hadn’t told me anything about his life, but I knew parts of his soul he probably didn’t often share with anyone. Maybe not even with himself.

  He shifted, moving down between my thighs.

  “Again?” I asked in awe.

  “I love the way you taste,” he rumbled.

  His clever tongue touched my clit, and I was lost. He licked me to a third orgasm, one that left me trembling and limp against the mattress.

  “Wow,” I panted when he settled beside me, a cocky smile on his lips.

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “Three orgasms.” Pride radiated from him, and I marveled at the fact that he seemed to find more pleasure in giving me ecstasy than he’d found in fucking me.

  “Thank you.” I’d been saying the words all night, but what more could I offer the man who’d just shattered me three times in the space of a few hours?

  He pressed a kiss against my forehead. “I have to go,” he said, his voice heavy with regret.

  “Stay,” I begged, even though I knew he couldn’t. I’d already kept him for far too long.

  “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “I understand.” I really did. I didn’t want to make him feel guilty for leaving after sex. This had been so much more than a one-night stand; he wasn’t using my body for his own pleasure and leaving in a rush.

  “It’s probably late enough—or early enough—to get coffee, if you want,” I offered, craving a little more time with him.

  He shook his head. “I really can’t. I wish I could. This time tomorrow, my coffee will probably have sand in it.” His lips twisted around the words, and my chest ached.

  He must be going back to his dangerous job, to a dangerous place. What terrible things might he have to do? Would he add another scar to his soul, another dark memory that would haunt him?

  “I really do wish you could stay,” I said softly, to comfort him rather than guilt him. “This has been amazing.”

  He smiled and stood, leaving me alone on the bed as he began to pull on his clothes.

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “Man, I’m glad I kissed you outside the bar.”

  I grinned. “Me, too.”

  I started to push up off the bed when he was fully dressed. “I’ll walk you out.”

  His big hand settled on my shoulder, pressing me back down into the mattress. “No. Stay. I want to remember you like this.”

  He pulled the covers up to my chin and tucked me in before brushing a kiss over my forehead. I felt precious, cherished. I hated that he was leaving, but I settled into the bittersweet perfection of the moment.

  “Thanks,” I whispered.

  “Goodbye,” he murmured.

  He straightened and walked away, disappearing through the bedroom door in three long strides. I heard the apartment door close and lock automatically behind him.

  I let out a soft sigh of regret, but a satisfied smile lingered around my lips. I was suddenly glad that I hadn’t killed myself last month, when loneliness and despair had engulfed me. Scott would never know it, but he helped save my life.

  Wounded Hearts

  Chapter 1

  Ten Months Later

  When I first got married, I
never understood how people who had once been madly in love could grow to hate one another. I understood now.

  Ugly, toxic resentment swelled in my chest, mingling with yearning as I stared out through the ballroom window, surveying the gorgeous city of York. The massive Minster shined gold in the morning light, a gleaming beacon at the heart of town. Tendrils of fog clung to the surface of the River Ouse, protected from the sun by a thick layer of gray English clouds. Despite the general gloom, cheery yellow daffodils brightened the March day, lining the vibrant green, grassy banks of the ancient city walls. It was one of my favorite views in the entire world.

  “Is something wrong?” Lizzy’s voice jolted me out of my reverie.

  I swallowed my turbulent emotions and blinked back the slight burn of tears.

  Yes, I wanted to say. Everything is wrong. My whole life is wrong.

  But Lizzy already knew how I felt. I might occasionally confess my deepest pains with a shrug and a dismissive wave, but my friend had known me long enough to tell when I was hurting.

  “I’m fine,” I lied to both of us.

  “Are you sure?” Her big hazel eyes regarded me carefully, her dark lashes lifting to her blonde brows as she studied me.

  “Positive,” I said with a huge grin. I’d never been a good liar, but I’d become well-practiced at putting on a brave face.

  “Okay,” she allowed with a slight shake of her head, making her platinum hair sway around her pale, delicate features. She wasn’t buying the lie, but we had work to do. “Let’s get you set up.”

  I suppressed a sigh and turned away from the breathtaking view of the city provided by the huge windows that lined the ballroom of The Grand Hotel. Dozens of other women bustled around the opulent space, straightening tablecloths and setting up banners with their author names emblazoned upon them.

  The book signing would start in just under an hour, and I’d wasted too much time staring glumly out at the city. Lizzy hurried me over to my table, and we started pulling my books out of boxes.