Marry Screw Kill

by Liv Morris

  “Pearls aren’t required.” I try to lighten the mood in hopes of getting her to agree to come. “They do make a great dirty martini, though. Please?”

  “Okay. I am that worried about you. I’ll see you at noon, but you have some explaining to do and martinis will help.”

  “Thanks. For what it’s worth, I can’t wait to catch up.”

  We end the conversation and I rise from the bed, make it perfectly, and grab my black silk robe. I slip it on, along with a pair of panties, and amble down the stairs toward the kitchen. The smell of coffee hits me first, followed by two deep, male voices.

  I inch a little closer to the kitchen so I can make out what they’re saying. I stop before they can see me and lean against the hallway wall, resembling an undercover spy.

  “I didn’t mention it earlier, but I have a penthouse apartment downtown. Perhaps you’d feel more comfortable staying there,” James says, and I drop my head as my heart deflates. I want Sin to stay with us … or, really, just be here close to me. I have known him less than a day and the heaviness in my chest when I think of him leaving surprises me.

  “So, it’s by the hospital?” Sin asks, sounding interested in James’ offer. Dammit.

  “Yes. It’s my crash pad. I haven’t used it much since Harlow came to live with me, though. No matter how long my day is, a body like hers is worth the long drive home.”

  How could he speak about me like that, and in front of his nephew? I want to hide until Sin leaves, but I stay plastered to the wall, hardly breathing.

  “Man, she’s your fiancée,” Sin remarks. Here’s a virtual stranger showing me more respect than my own fiancé, but Sin’s more than a stranger to me. No matter what I tell myself, I want him to like me, and by defending me, he shows he cares.

  “And?” James questions.

  “How can you treat her with such disrespect?”

  “Come on, Sinclair. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about fucking her, too. Every man wants inside a woman like her. It’s our nature.”

  What did he say? I clutch my stomach, as if his words punched me in the gut. He talks like I’m nothing more than a possession to him. I feel cheap and embarrassed. And I can’t ignore how the degrading comment rolled off his tongue like second nature.

  Hearing the man who professes to love me say such cheap words stings. A silent tear of shame runs down my cheek.

  “That’s so fucked up,” Sin announces. Footsteps sound on the wood floor and Sin comes into sight down the hallway. He turns his head and our eyes connect. His face falls as he realizes I heard everything James said about me.

  “What is it?” James asks, and then he’s standing next to Sin.

  Sin’s eyes are filled with sympathy, just like they were last night when I saw him in the driveway. James has a smirk on his face and scans my body with hunger in his eyes. Both looks make me feel ashamed in different ways.

  As they stare back at me, I want to fold into myself and disappear. To where, I don’t know. For now, I’m trapped in this hallway with nowhere to go as James starts to move forward.

  “And here she is, my Sleeping Beauty.” James strides toward me, all smiles and open arms.

  He completely ignores the fact that I likely heard him talking to Sinclair and places his hands on my shoulders. When he lowers his head to mine for a kiss, I turn my cheek to the side. He squeezes hard and releases his grip to get my attention. I look back up at him and he shakes his head in the slightest fashion. It’s a slight rebuke, but I close my eyes and allow him to kiss me. It’s not worth the fight. I need to keep him happy so I can see Emma.

  “That’s better,” he whispers into my ear before standing up straight again. I give him a weak smile and it appears to satisfy him. When he’s no longer touching me, I slump in relief.

  “Did you sleep well?” James asks.

  “Yes,” I whisper, nodding my head. I glance around James at Sinclair, who’s shifting on his feet. “Morning, Sinclair.”

  “Hi, Harlow.” Sin’s voice is soft and filled with concern. His eyes are cloudy and troubled as he looks directly at me.

  When I walk past Sin on the way to the coffeemaker, my fingers accidently—or maybe on purpose, if I’m honest—glide over his hand. That odd buzz from yesterday sends a vibration up my arm. I want to linger so badly, but I pull my hand away before James notices.

  I grab a cup from the cabinet and pour some coffee, noticing Sin’s computer bag lying on the counter close by.

  “Sinclair was just heading out to his orientation meeting at The Clinic, right?” I search Sin’s eyes, waiting for his response.

  “Right,” Sin answers, but there’s no conviction in his tone. His eyes glance between James and I, the sea of awkwardness mounting. “I better head out.”

  “We’ll get you set up at the apartment downtown after brunch tomorrow at the club,” James continues, like nothing degrading ever left his mouth. How easily he switches from crude to polished alarms me. It’s seamless and eye opening.

  “Okay.” Sin hesitates. “I just need the keys.”

  “Oh, right. Here you go.” James tosses a keychain to Sin. “Let me know if you have any trouble with the car. Remember what I told you about the gear shifting.”

  “Got it.” Sin stuffs the keys into his pants pocket, ones that fit him perfectly everywhere. “Bye, James. Harlow.” He stops fidgeting and peers into my eyes.

  “Bye,” I murmur, unable to disguise my disappointment that he’s leaving the house … and me.

  I want to thank him for standing up for me, but with James hovering over me, the thought gets squelched. It would start a firestorm. I can only hope I’ll see Sin later tonight. He needs to know how much it meant to me. He said the words I wish I had the nerve to say. I used to have the guts to stand up for myself. Before she died. I search within myself to find that quieted part of me. I think it’s called dignity.

  James walks over and wraps his arm possessively around my shoulders as I watch Sin walk out of the room toward the garage. Now, it’s just the two of us, James and I. I hate confrontations, but I can’t overlook what he said any longer. I turn to face him and try to ignore my sweating hands.

  “I heard what you said.” My voice is a little more than a whisper, but I know he can hear the hurt. “How could you talk about me like that? And especially with Sin? He’s family.”

  James’ ice blue eyes are wide as he stares back at me. He appears to be shocked that I’m questioning him, but he owes me an answer.

  “Honey, that was stupid locker room talk. Don’t be so sensitive. You know how us guys are.” He takes a deep breath and draws me closer to him, but I move just beyond his reach. And guys? He fails to realize he was the lone “guy” talking shit.

  “Okay, but tell me why. What possessed you?” I straighten my robe and quietly demand to know the truth.

  Looking me straight in the eyes, James begins to talk, and I pray he’s honest. “Jealousy.” He stops his answer short, thinking this will satisfy me, but I need more than a lousy one-word answer.

  “Jealous? Of Sinclair?”

  Even though I speak with conviction, there is no denying a spark of something forbidden exists between Sinclair and me. I’m not willing to admit it is anything other than a simple attraction, even if I’ve never felt this pull to another man before.

  “Yes, I’m jealous of Sinclair, and all the other men I see staring at you, wishing you were theirs, undressing you with their eyes. My only salvation is that you’re oblivious to them.”

  I’m amazed James confesses his feelings, finally letting me see inside his fear-driven thoughts. Saying he worries about me being around other men causes something inside my brain to click.

  “Is your jealousy the true reason you forbid me from going anywhere alone? Or is it really some worry about Tony’s family harming me?”

  “The detective did tell me there was a concern.” His eyes dart away from mine as he speaks and I’m convinced he’s likely lying
. It’s the first crack I’ve ever seen in his armor.

  “Then let me go to the club today by myself. I’m safe there from Tony’s family. Emma wants to see me and I miss her.” I have no idea where my fight is coming from, but part of me feels like Sin would be cheering me on from the corner of the room.

  “I don’t know, Harlow …” James takes a couple steps toward me and cups my face. He gently rubs his thumbs over my cheeks and his normally icy blue eyes are dark with desire. “Where did this brazen woman come from?”

  “Maybe hearing you talk about me like you did to Sinclair.” I stare back up at him as he presses himself against the front of me. His arousal hits my stomach and I close my eyes, knowing where this encounter will lead.

  “Forgive me?” he trails kisses down my neck and I decide to press him about the club.

  “Yes, but let me go meet Emma. I’ve only seen her once since my mother was killed.”

  “Well …” He pauses and looks down at me with a darkened stare. “You want to bargain?” I inwardly brace myself for where he’s going with this.

  “Depends.” I need to talk to Emma, but unfortunately, he holds the keys right now—literally. To the car, house, and any money I have in my pockets. Even my cell phone is a gift from him. If I walk out the door, I’m going by foot.

  “Remember those restraints?” He curls his lip into a devious smirk and it’s clear where this conversation is headed. He wants to tie me up.

  Shit.

  Sexual bondage has been a sore subject since a package arrived in the mail a few weeks ago. He handed it to me, and with a sly grin, instructed me to open it. I thought he was giving me another gift, maybe a pair of shoes, since it was the size of a shoebox. Instead, it was a gift for him, a kinky set of bondage restraints with a photo of a woman bound to a bed covering the top of the package.

  I asked who they were for, and he said, “You.” I tossed the package on the kitchen table like it felt deadly to my touch. He laughed while I shook my head and told him no way. He took his kinky sex contraption from the room, and he hasn’t mentioned it since. But of course, he never forgot, and now he has found the perfect opportunity to get me to cave to his wishes.

  “I remember them.” A shiver runs the length of my body as he looks at me with expectant eyes.

  “Here’s the deal.” He slowly rubs his hands together and my heart begins to race. “Let me tie you to the kitchen table and fuck you, then you can go meet Emma for lunch at the club.”

  It’s come down to this. I’m making a devil’s deal and losing a part of my soul, but I need to see Emma today. She’s the only friend who cares enough to tell me the truth about what she thinks is best for me. I want her advice.

  I begin to rationalize, giving into his option. How bad could it be to give into his desires this once? He’s never been violent or hurt me. Odd to think being tied up would later give me freedom.

  “You know I have no desire to have this type of sex with you.” Honestly, after hearing him talk about me today, I have no desire to have sex with him now—kinky or otherwise.

  “Please?” he begs with pleading eyes. The power between us shifts while he awaits my answer. For the first time since he has stepped into my life at the hospital, he sits in the palm of my hand.

  “On one condition. You will release me from the restraints the second I say the word ‘done’. No questions.”

  He wraps his broad arms around me and picks me up, cradling me. As he begins to walk, he pulls me tight against his chest. It doesn’t register what is going on until I feel the hard, cool wood of the table against my exposed thighs. His eager lips press against mine, then trail along my jaw to the sensitive area behind my ear.

  “You won’t regret this. I promise,” he whispers, then kisses his way down to my shoulder. He doesn’t know it, but regret filled my heart the second his lips met mine. It’s a means to an end, I tell myself, knowing full well how crazy this all sounds in my mind.

  He pulls away and gazes down at me with a desperate hunger in his eyes. “God, Harlow. I love you, baby.”

  I remain silent, unable to form even a weak smile. Normally his words of endearment have an impact on me, but what he said earlier to Sin drowns them out.

  “Relax, beautiful girl.” He rubs my rigid shoulders, but it’s no use. The tension will remain until I’m off this table. I just want this whole sex fantasy of his over with. He laces his fingers behind my back and pulls me to the edge of the table, prepping me for his pleasure.

  “Lie flat on your stomach with your hands over your head. I’ll get the restraints.”

  He removes the ornate centerpiece and waits for me to comply before turning from the room to retrieve his bondage toys. Toys. What a twisted use of a word. There’s nothing innocent or childlike about his taste in fantasies. Hardware is more like it.

  Deliberate thuds hit the steps to the upstairs bedrooms where he must have stashed the restraints. I ease myself down against the table until I’m flat as he requested. I purposely leave on my robe and panties. If he wants them off, I’ll find out soon enough anyway.

  Lying face down on the table, I’m the centerpiece to be spread out and fucked.

  I hear James’ footsteps as he approaches the table. With the light as my focal point, I take a few deep breaths and prepare for what comes next.

  “Harlow,” James hums as he runs his hand under my robe and up the center of my back. “I promise you will enjoy this.”

  His comments make it sound like he’s played this game before, and I’m sure he has with many other women. He likes control, and this kind of sex gives him the power trip.

  Walking to the side of the table, he covers my hand with his. He encircles one wrist with a Velcro cuff that’s anchored to a table leg and tightens it. “Laid out here for me. I’ve wanted to do this to you since I saw you yea—” he stutters and my eyes narrow at him, “the night at the hospital.”

  I swear he was going to say years before he corrected himself. The thought leaves my mind as he secures my other wrist to the similarly anchored strap.

  I close my eyes to find strength and see Sin’s face. I should open my eyes and remove him from my mind, but the thought of him calms me. If focusing on Sin helps, then so be it.

  James moves behind me and trails his hands up my exposed thighs. When he finds my panties, his fingers still over them.

  “These have to go. I want you open and exposed to me. Nothing standing in the way of what is mine.”

  He yanks the lace top of my panties and pulls them down my legs. There’s no gentleness or care in his movements, and this gives me a clue as to what will follow. He taps an ankle and I lift my foot in response. The fabric pulls away from my ankles, my panties on the floor.

  “Now, widen your legs, Harlow.” I comply with his request and wait for what follows, jumping when cold metal meets my right leg above my ankle. What the hell is he doing to me?

  “James?” I ask, concerned. I can’t see what he’s wrapped around me from my vantage point, but the touch of metal is different.

  “It’s a surprise,” he chuckles through the words. “A spreader bar. I’m attaching each ankle to the bar with special cuffs on the end. Then, you’re totally mine.”

  “I only agreed to the restraints. The ones on my wrists,” I protest. He answers by locking a cuff around my other ankle. I’m his completely. I control two things: being able to turn my head and see in a limited way and speaking to him. Though, I wouldn’t put it past him to pull out a hidden roll of duct tape. At that thought, the word “done” is a second away from being uttered. “I will stop if you want me to, but remember our bargain.”

  Son of a … Emma is my trade off with James and more than ever, I need to see her. What are my options? None. He’s got me bound to his will—literally.

  A tear of frustration rolls across my cheek and falls onto the wood. Then another. When I left the hospital with him, I would have never guessed I’d be in this position. Not in a million
years.

  “Okay.” My agreement to his demand twists inside me, because it’s a lie. I am left with a sick feeling about him and us. James has showered me with his version of love over the last four months, but does it really matter? The clothes, the car, the place to stay, and the times he’s professed his love—all of it means nothing as I lie here and agree to something that makes my skin crawl.

  James pushes my robe up over my bare bottom, bunching it at my waist. I pretend his fingers belong to a man with sun-flecked eyes and a heart that I swear saw the real me. Not just the body I inhabit, but Harlow, the person.

  “You’re perfect, Harlow. Just like I knew you’d be.” He squeezes my cheeks and massages down to my sex. I try to adjust my legs, but the bar leaves me at his mercy.

  James bends over me, his erection pressing into my backside. He tucks my hair behind my ear and licks the skin around it. “Feel what you do to me.” A quick flex of his hips leaves no question about how he’s feeling.

  “Yes,” I mutter, playing along to make him happy.

  He rises off my back and his touch is gone. The lowering of a zipper sounds out, a rustling of clothes following it. His hands grip my hips, pulling me to the edge of the table. Then, he presses against my lower back, so I’m angled perfectly for him.

  Knowing he’s considered everything up to this point foreplay, I expect to feel an immediate thrust. Instead seconds go by in stillness, and my anticipation rises. The longer nothing happens, the more I fear what he’ll do, until … Smack!

  I am stunned to silence until the sting his hand made flows beneath my skin.

  “James, how dare you.” I hold nothing back in my rebuke. There was no discussion of spanking. No warning or regard for my feelings. I wasn’t even spanked as a child.

  I tug on the restraints over my head and try to push my feet back against him. My temper flares. I continue to squirm as he rubs over the mark he made. I hate to admit it, but it does ease the pain.

  “Your sweet peach of an ass was too tempting. I have no resistance with you. Besides, my hand print looks lovely on your lily-white skin.”