by Kira Blakely
“You did well, princess.”
I nodded and traced my fingers over his shirt and eased back out of my role. There was a time to be Master and submissive, but not now. This was the after, the time I could slip back into being myself, just Belle with Drake, albeit with still one more thing between us.
Drake paused and considered me, his dark eyes troubled like storm clouds. “You’re so quiet. Did I tucker you out already?”
“No,” I said, biting my lower lip. “I just… I had one request and maybe I am pushing too much, but I’ve been more exposed to you than I’ve ever been to anyone, believe me. I’m stretching limits and running over boundaries that I didn’t know I had.”
“I know,” he said, holding me more tightly. “I never expected you to take to it all this well, to be so invested in it.”
I laughed, a rueful sound escaping my list. “I didn’t expect it either. But we’re here and intimate… but not even. I want you to take off your shirt.”
He started to push away from me, but then I reached my hand out and grasped his forearm. “It’s not because of me wanting to see you, it’s not about that. I think it’s important because it matters so much to you. I want you to know that you can be yourself around me. You don’t have to hide with extra layers or clothes or turning off the lights at the right time. I want you to know that I can care about you, all of you, and nothing else matters to me.”
“I don’t…” he started.
I leaned forward and kissed his lips, letting my tongue tangle with his own. “Please,” I said, pulling back. “Show me everything.”
Chapter Twelve
Drake
I was fucking shocked. I thought we’d gotten past all this, gotten past her curiosity. There was no way I wanted to show off my wounds, the marks from what had been a living hell. The physical therapist kept telling me that I’d been spared. The other old timers at the VA kept bragging about war wounds while I was in recovery and having a nurse wipe my ass when I was still wheelchair bound. I didn’t see any of that; I just saw the permanent truth they’d left on me.
I stood up and started to pace, raking a hand through my hair.
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“I just need you to know that I don’t care. I need you to understand that I can see past that. After this, if it makes you feel better to keep everything covered up, I won’t object. But you don’t ever have to hide from me. You need to know that.”
And she managed to say that with those wide blue eyes, the eyes of a fucking angel in that face, and I didn’t know what to do. Leonard had told me to fix this mess, and there was the present I was still arranging, but this would go even further to help heal the damage I’d done by walking out on her the last time we were in the playroom. I obviously couldn’t do that again.
But I owed her the truth, the actual truth, the one I didn’t even tell my parents when I got back from leave. “It’s my fault.”
She frowned and sat up in the bed. “What?”
I balled my hands up into fists at my sides. “It’s my fault. I changed the jeep route that day because we’d been getting intel on something I needed to check up on in the far west quadrant. I could have gone with the standard route but it was my call. I thought it was worth looking into this. Then we go out there and it goes FUBAR, and I’m holding what’s left of my best friend in my arms. I did that!”
Belle was out of bed quickly, rushing to me and putting her hand on the side of my face. I didn’t deserve her comfort. I didn’t deserve anything ever. Still, I couldn’t pull myself away, couldn’t leave the soft feel of her hand over my skin.
“You didn’t!” she cried, her tone strong. “You weren’t the insurgent who buried the IED to start with. You weren’t the terrorists who started the war. You were just there trying to do the best that you could, trying to follow up on the information you were given. You didn’t do it!”
I shook my head and stepped away from her, but she then took one of my hands in hers. Maybe I needed that, needed the heat of her touch to keep me focused in the moment. I could already feel the blood pounding in my ears, the whizzing rushing past me, all those signs that I was going to be pulled back to then, into those damn flashbacks that haunted me. That left me weak, like an animal. I gripped her hand tightly and took in a gasp of air.
“But Jimmy, Martinez, Jones… all of them. If I had made a better call, it wouldn’t have been them. If I’d been smarter or…”
“What?” Belle asked, her blue eyes wide and her tone calm, as if she were speaking to a scared animal. Maybe she was. “Were you supposed to be psychic? Were you supposed to be clairvoyant? You’re only human, Drake, and you did the best you could. That’s all you could have done.”
I pulled back from her, frustrated by the decision, but needing to show her all my truth. Maybe Belle wasn’t wrong about that. Sighing, I started unbuttoning my shirt, moving fast. It was like a fucking dam had burst, and I couldn’t get the material off fast enough. When the silk slipped off, I stood there with my arms spread wide, giving her the full picture. The scar was visible over my right hip, ran about seven inches and then to the side of my stomach. It didn’t really affect the view of my abs, and maybe people would assume I’d accidentally fallen off my bike as a kid and impaled myself on a fence post, something completely normal and inane, if I didn’t tell them about the service.
It wasn’t really disfiguring, not compared to some of the wounds I’d seen on others at the VA. Shit, there were guys from ‘Nam who still came in with napalm burns so bad that they no longer had ears. I wasn’t like that, but I knew what that scar meant, knew that the mark branded me as a failure. I’d gotten my men killed, and I had to remember it in exacting detail anytime I took my clothes off. Anytime I slipped into the shower… like a damn curse. Then I’d be doomed to remember, to draw back into those flashes.
Those fucking flashbacks.
Belle stilled for a moment, her intense gaze studying the scar. Then she quirked her head at me and spoke, her tone still calming. “May I touch it? I… does it hurt?”
I shook my head. “Maybe you should. I don’t even know anymore.”
She reached out and stroked one finger over the edge of my hip to where the scar dipped low under the waistband of my jeans. I shivered at her touch; it was the first time anyone had touched me there in years. The first time I’d let any woman see it, and I’d let her.
God, what the fuck is this woman doing to me?
She reached up after that and skimmed her fingers over the ridges of my abs until they stopped at my pecs. “You shouldn’t be ashamed. I’m not going to give you some speech about you being a hero because I know it makes you feel like you’re put on the spot even more. I get that.”
“I don’t think you could,” I said, placing my hands over hers on my chest.
“Maybe, but I know it wasn’t your fault. I know that if your friends were alive and could see you now that they’d want you to try and move on. They definitely wouldn’t blame you. You have to let it go.”
She didn’t keep talking. Instead, she traced her fingers over my abdomen and then she leaned her face forward until her lips were caressing my skin. She littered my body with dozens of kisses, and I let her. Ran my fingers through her hair and let everything wash over me as my cock grew hard as granite in my pants. I fucking wanted her so badly; it was all I could do to keep from grabbing her right there and throwing her back onto the mattress.
Then she ran her tongue over the line of my scar and I fucking lost it.
I did grab her then, lifting her soft, naked body and demanding that she wrap her legs around my waist. Then I found the nearest clear stretch of wall and pressed her against it.
“You always get to me, Belle,” I said, my voice low and gruff.
She nodded and bit her lip in a way that drove the blood raging through my dick. “It’s the truth, Drake, just let go. All you have to do is let it go.”
“I can do that.”
At least for tonight, that is.
I reached down into my pants pocket and pulled out a rubber. “I need you to hold on tight,” I said, pinning her up against the wall as I unzipped myself and slipped the condom over my cock. “You ready?”
She nodded, and I was glad she was up for it. I loved pleasuring her, making her come with my name on her lips, but nothing felt as good as actually being inside of her. Even tasting her juices couldn’t make me feel as good.
This wasn’t going to be slow burn lovemaking like when I’d gone down on her or when we’d first had sex. No, this was going to be a hard fuck, something I needed, what I wanted to exorcise my demons. Belle watched me hesitate with those wide blue eyes beckoning me on, and I knew she was ready for it.
I shoved my cock deep inside of her. She was ready by now, limbered up from our earlier play, so I slid into her like I was made for her. Maybe I was. She was hot and tight like always, and I hissed at the warmth of her as I plunged balls deep into her. Belle wrapped her legs tightly around me, as if she was trying to squeeze me with her damn thighs.
I fucking loved it.
That animal side of me, all that pain and fear I tried to keep bottled up, came roaring out. I’d kept it tightly leashed with my Dom role, with all my rules, but now I just wanted to fuck out my guilt, to let it all be done with. Belle reached her arms around my neck and dug her fingernails into my back, scratching deeply. It made me pound harder into her, my cock pushing through her until my hips were pistoning for all they were worth.
Then my balls tightened, and I came, wishing a little that I could come deeply inside of her with no barriers.
She shuddered around me and cried my name as she shook, her climax obvious. Belle dropped her head and kissed my shoulder and then my lips. It took everything I had to keep standing, to keep from stumbling where I stood. I’d rarely had sex take this much out of me, but anything with Belle seemed to be an exception, everything about her a new fucking revelation.
“Do you feel better?” she asked, winking back at me. “Can you let it all go?”
“Not in one night,” I admitted, smirking and kissing her again. “But it’s a start.”
Chapter Thirteen
Belle
The weeks passed in bliss. I didn’t think that was possible. After Mom got sick, my life had been nothing but pain and fear. The last three weeks had been anything but that. By day, we explored the island, taking in the sights and sounds of the tropical nation. Then, at night, we would have dinner, either something fancy and delectable created by Mrs. Johnson or something with local flare from Leonard.
Later, we’d retire to the playroom, and I’d test my limits. Every night seemed to bring more pleasure than the last, to bathe my body with more ecstasy.
That wasn’t to say actual negotiations weren’t happening as well. Of course, they were. We were still only meeting each other part way with sixty-five cents on the dollar. It was a mental chess game when we went into business mode, and I had to respect that Drake McManus was able to outmaneuver me when it came to facts and figures. The dossiers had been right, and there was a reason he headed probably the most profitable media management company on the planet.
We felt matched, equal, and I couldn’t remember ever feeling that way with a man before.
Tonight, he promised he had a surprise planned, something he said he’d been working to arrange for a while that had taken longer than he’d hoped. I was just glad that as we approached our final week that he’d gotten it together at all. Not that I expected gifts… I didn’t… but I loved to see joy on his face. It was a feeling I think Drake denied himself far too often. Being able to see him happy moved me, and if his preparations had come to something he wanted to show off and was proud of, then I was more than excited.
Frankly, I just wanted to take every chance I had to spend with Drake. We’d be going back to Los Angeles in a little over a week, and I didn’t know what would come after that. Would we still continue our nightly sessions? Were we a couple? Could we be considered that now? I know what we whispered to each other at night, but so far, I’d been the only one to admit I cared about him, but that was as far as I could figure out my own emotions. I knew he cared about me from his actions—the way he’d protected me, the way he shepherded me through the steps in our BDSM relationship and ensured I had the best aftercare, the tenderness he showed me on our excursions. But was that enough?
I wasn’t sure when I left the cocoon of the island that what I wanted was to be just his favored sub. No, I was beginning to realize I wanted far more than that, but there were few playboys in the Western world more infamous than Drake McManus. Was I setting myself up for disappointment? When he had other women available, would he just throw me aside?
Hell, to be crude about it, was I really just another notch on his bedpost as he got the deal he wanted?
It was this mishmash of thoughts that swirled through my head as Mrs. Johnson came in to help me pick out my outfit for the special date Drake had planned for tonight. He was as eager as a puppy to show me whatever he’d been planning, and it was cute. Everything about him was.
Mrs. Johnson eyed me speculatively as she pulled out a blue silk shift. “You seem distracted, dear. Is everything all right?”
I frowned back at her. Mrs. Johnson had become a surrogate mother on the island. While I Skyped with my family daily, even as Carol seemed to grow more bitter and resentful, Mrs. Johnson had also become quite the confidante. I’d told her everything about me and my family, about how sick Mom was and how we worried more and more even as this new treatment was hopefully supposed to really make a difference with the right timing and exposure.
She was probably worried I’d gotten bad news. I was melancholy enough today.
I shook my head and patted her hand. “I just talked to Mom this morning. She’s doing well. She’s keeping food down, looks like she already gained some weight on the new meds. I haven’t been this relieved for her in a long time.”
Mrs. Johnson nodded but then sat on the bed. “Then why do you look like your dog just died, dear? Something is bothering you. Is there anything I can do to help?”
I sighed and leaned against the wardrobe. “To be honest, I don’t know. It’s about Drake.”
Mrs. Johnson gave a knowing smile. “Isn’t it always? I swear I’ve worked for him for well over a decade and I’ve never seen him light up for any woman the way he lights up for you. He cares about you so very much, and that’s a miracle.”
Picking at my cuticles, I tried to keep the smile on my face. “I really hope so, but how do I know? He’s never said out loud that he cares about me or really likes me. I know after three weeks it’d be crazy to expect the big ‘L’ word. I don’t even know if I feel that yet.”
Although I was beginning to suspect I did love him, that it was more than just passion simmering between us.
“Drake keeps so much to himself. He’s used to bottling everything about his feelings up.”
“But I don’t know where any of this goes after this and…” I stopped, finally daring to say out loud what I hadn’t even admitted to myself. “I like him. I really like him. I want us to be more when we go home, and I’m terrified that he might not feel the same way.”
Mrs. Johnson smiled a knowing smile and passed me a light silk dress in a coral pink. “This will look best with your coloring, dear. Also, I think you more than ‘like’ him, don’t you?”
“I…”
“Your secret is safe with me,” she said, winking back at me.
“I love him, Penelope,” I said, using her first name. “I think I really do. I keep telling myself it’s just caring or being grateful he saved my life or that we have fun together, but I think I love him. Oh, God, what if he doesn’t feel the same way?” I started to pace, moving back and forth across the expanse of my bedroom. “God, what if he can never feel this way about me and it’s all just for fun?”
Mrs. Johnson stood up and then hur
ried across the room to hug me, holding me tight and stroking my back as I tried not to hyperventilate. “Shh, it’s all right. I think that you’ll be surprised. I know Drake, and he’s never been like this with anyone.”
“But that doesn’t make it love,” I said, my voice wavering as I pulled away from her. “It could just mean he’s having a fun time, and I’m having so much more than that. If he’s not on the same wavelength with me, if he doesn’t love me back someday, I think it’ll crush me.”
“My mother used to say that ‘the evil of the day is sufficient thereof’ and not to borrow trouble. I think you go through with tonight and see what happens. I believe that Drake will surprise you.”
I nodded and swallowed hard. I didn’t want to wipe at my eyes because I didn’t want to acknowledge that I’d been tearing up. The thought of anything changing my new normal—short as our time together had been—was almost too much to bear.
Mrs. Johnson smiled again and stroked my shoulder. “Get yourself dressed, hon, and go out there for the surprise. I think you need to have faith. I do.”
That made one of us.
***
We rode out to the far corner of the island in his Porsche, a red speedster that zoomed up the coast with the top down. The wind whipped past me as the scent of the salty sea invaded my nostrils. The stars twinkled above us, bright and pure in a way that you’d never see in L.A., and I curled into the arm he wrapped around me. Strength coiled through his muscles even then, and I could feel the power of the soldier he’d been always just coiled underneath the surface.
When he pulled up at a small, squat warehouse, I frowned. This wasn’t exactly what I imagined.
