Black Light: Branded

by Parker, Kay Elle

  Black Light: Branded

  Kay Elle Parker

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Kay Elle Parker

  Black Collar Press

  Get a FREE Black Light Book

  ©2020 by Kay Elle Parker

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Black Collar Press

  Black Light: Branded

  Black Light Series

  by Kay Elle Parker

  e-book ISBN: 978-1-947559-48-6

  Print ISBN: 978-1-947559-49-3

  Cover Art by Eris Adderly, http://erisadderly.com/

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First Electronic Publish Date, October 2020

  First Print Publish Date, October 2020

  Dedication

  When you write parts of yourself into a character, it's easy to forget that you're not alone with the pain. It differs from person to person, but it links all of us together, one way or another.

  Branded is dedicated to all of us, all of you, who know that pain intimately. We wake with it and suffer restless nights with it, learn how to make the most of the good days and suffer through the bad. We find ways to make it stop for a little while and wish we knew how to make it end for good.

  Don't give up. It doesn't matter how deep the scars run, how low the voices drag us.

  We stand strong, we stand together.

  You are not alone.

  Chapter 1

  Ava

  Valentine Roulette Night

  She said yes.

  One of the most frightening things she’d ever done, and yet it was so exhilarating. Not only that, it felt as though something inside her changed when she took the step and agreed to spend the rest of the night with Master Finnegan after a seriously amazing three scenes at Black Light.

  It felt right, a positive direction in her life after so many bad turns.

  Which was why she was walking across the lobby of an incredibly opulent hotel with her hand cradled in the careful grasp of the biggest man of her acquaintance.

  Everything about Finn was supersized. Hands, feet, smile. One of the submissives standing in line with Ava earlier that evening had dubbed him the jolly brooding giant, but as much as he’d intimidated the hell out of her then, he’d shown her he was so much more.

  Strict, kind, compassionate, and exceptionally skilled with those hands.

  Ava tripped over her own feet, heat rising swiftly up her face as she recalled exactly how he’d used them on her—in her, for mercy’s sake—over the course of the evening.

  The man was a god.

  For tonight, he was all hers.

  “You’re tired, little dove,” he murmured quietly, leading her across the peaceful lobby so attentively, she felt like a princess. He towered over her, but rather than feeling trapped by his size, there was only a sense of security. “One a.m. is well past your bedtime, I’m guessing?”

  She snorted, then clapped her hand over her mouth. “Isn’t it late for you?”

  “Not really. Some mornings I don’t get into the house until four a.m. Back out into the saddle at six. There’s always work to be done,” he said simply, pausing beside a pair of silver doors so perfectly polished, her reflection bounced back at her as effectively as a mirror. One work-roughened hand reached out to press the button. “Ranching is a long, arduous business. When there’s no one to come home to, there’s no point coming home.”

  Her heart strings tugged. She knew what it was like to be so lonely that even the familiarity of home held no appeal. Though he spoke without bitterness or self-pity, she could tell it bothered him. Not keenly, not digging under the tough hide protecting the man within, but enough for it to resonate inside her.

  As they waited for the elevator to arrive, Ava leaned into him, warmth blossoming in all the good places as his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her in front of him, her back to his chest. “You’re not alone tonight.”

  “Neither are you. Aren’t we the lucky ones?”

  She was, absolutely. The night had been one rollercoaster after another, taking her emotions on an exhausting ride, but she sure wasn’t complaining. At any point, now the adrenaline and the excitement of Roulette was fading, he might change his mind about her.

  If he was going to break her heart come morning, she was going to milk the rest of the night for all it was worth. Whatever she could give, she would. She’d take every scrap of affection he offered and squirrel it away for when she needed it most.

  You don’t belong with him.

  Oh God, not now. Please not now. Ava squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out her father’s judgement. It was unescapable, the burden she carried every day of her life. The weight of it fell on her shoulders, threatening to crush the joy she harbored.

  Open your eyes, stupid bitch. Open your eyes and see what’s right in front of your face.

  Years of obeying her father kicked in. When she opened her eyes, she stared at her reflection, at Finn’s, and yearned. They looked disheveled and tired, but her lover’s face was relaxed and satisfied. Happy. The vee of his shirt was open, despite the bitter winter chill outside.

  He’d given her his jacket to wear, thinking of her first as he had all night. He’d forsaken his own comfort to ensure she was warm, that her scars were covered from prying eyes. Scars the voices in her head had driven her to score into her skin, cutting deep into her own flesh to escape.

  Her white hair was a tousled mess, but she didn’t care.

  Rich prick looks pleased with himself, doesn’t he? Not surprised, after what he’s done to you tonight. Striped your ass, had his hand up that tight cunt before he fucked you good and proper. Bagged himself a dirty whore with an angelic face, hasn’t he? He’ll be gone before the sun cracks the sky.

  Ava shuddered in revulsion, was instantly soothed by Finn’s easy murmur. She loathed being called derogatory names. Years of psychological abuse had rooted deep and taken hold, quietly eroding her self-esteem.

  For the first time in hours, she wanted to cut.

  Riding the burn silenced the voices. When blood dripped warm and wet down her arm and the fire of her wounds ripped through her nervous system, peace followed. A numbing balm on the wreckage of her soul. It was like everything just flowed out of the gashes, her blood cleansing injuries that would never fully heal.

  She’d promised Finn she wouldn’t do it again.

  Not after the last time, when too much pressure on the blade had sent her mind soaring and left her body bleeding out on the bathroom floor for her roommate to find. Not after a stay in the emergency room and all the questions that followed.

  She wasn’t suicidal, not really. Sometimes the voices and the pain grew too loud, too opinionated. Screaming for attention, throwing insults and accusations. A constant reminder of the man she’d avoided for years before finally gathering the courage
to run away from him, as fast and as far as she could.

  He’s going to fuck you for the rest of the night, take what he wants from you, and the moment you fall asleep, dreaming of a future with a man far out of your reach, he’ll leave you. Walk out of the room with a grin on his face and never think of you again.

  Ava’s chest grew tight, her breath short. Cursing her father with every inch of her soul, she dug her nails into the palms of her hands, squeezing until they bit hard enough for the pain to mute the voices.

  “No, little dove, don’t do that.” Finn’s breath wafted across her ear as he spoke, sending a spark of heat spiraling down to her pussy. His hands moved, taking hold of hers and drawing them apart. “I know this must be making you uneasy. We don’t really know each other, and there’s no Black Light safety net in place. Still trust me?”

  It was easier to let him think she was nervous than it was to explain the voices were haunting her again. She wasn’t worried he was a serial killer or that he’d do despicable things to her once he had her inside his room—it wasn’t as though she had a lot to live for right now.

  No, she was concerned the voices were right, that he’d wake up in the morning and see her for what she truly was.

  Broken. Damaged. Worthless.

  Even now, watching them in the shine of the doors, she couldn’t see herself. Not how she was in reality. The beautiful man holding her, his dark hair richly contrasting against the stark whiteness of hers, wrapped his strong, safe arms around a woman more shadow than human. A shadow shrouded in darkness with blood on her hands.

  Easily overlooked. Easily forgotten.

  If tonight was the only time she’d be remembered as something precious in his life, she was determined to make an impression. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, Sir.”

  The softest ding of sound heralded the elevator’s arrival. As Ava stepped forward to enter, the world spun madly in a blur of motion as Finn whipped her around to face him, his body forcing her back into the car with more dominance than she expected.

  Her shoulders bumped into the wall, but Finn simply gripped her hips and lifted her until they were eye to eye.

  The moment ranked high on the sexiest moments of her life scale, then rocketed to the top of the list when those dark gray eyes of his dropped to her mouth, met hers again. “I fucking love it when you call me Sir.”

  “I got that impression, Sir,” she said softly, unsure what he had in mind for her. No, that was wrong. The intention was clear in his heated gaze—she just wasn’t sure if he’d follow through with it in a public elevator, one a.m. or not. “But I thought you preferred Master Finnegan?”

  His growl ripped through the small space, echoing as the doors closed quietly. Before she could catch her breath, he stole it with a kiss calculated to set her on fire.

  Finn hitched her up higher, his body holding her against the elevator wall as he moved his hands to a firmer grip beneath her thighs. The design of her dress didn’t give him a lot of room to work with, but she thanked every god in the heavens for creating a resourceful man.

  Breaking the kiss, he set her on her feet and yanked open her borrowed jacket. The damn thing hit her mid-thigh, and it was obviously in his way. Dropping to one knee, Finn glared up at her. “How attached are you to the dress, Ava?”

  “I…um…” Stunned, she blinked at him. This wasn’t Black Light—those doors could open again at any moment. “It’s not mine.”

  Broad shoulders shrugged. “That’s a real shame.”

  Material ripped loudly between his hands, no match for his strength. She’d have some explaining to do to Rosie when she got home. The tearing sound continued until she felt cool air against her very bare, now exposed pussy.

  Ava squeaked, whipping her hands down to cover herself, only to have Finn smack them aside. His fingers stroked along her seam, blunt tips finding her slick and wet. She hissed at him, mortified.

  Chuckling darkly, he rose and hefted her again. This time, her legs were no longer confined by the dress and wrapped of their own volition around his hips. “When we get back to my room,” he told her, nipping at her jaw, her ear, “I’m going to eat that wet little pussy until you scream, Ava. I think you’re smart enough to know what I want to hear when you come, aren’t you?”

  Oh mercy, she’d created a monster. Her fingers dug into his hair. “I think so, Master Finnegan.”

  “Good girl.” He plundered her mouth, more fiercely than before.

  When he lifted his head again, she was little more than a puddle in his arms. Evidence of her excitement dampened her thighs, and the ache in her belly was unbearable. She managed to swallow. “Ah, Sir?”

  He bit her bottom lip.

  Stifling a quiet moan, Ava jerked her chin toward brightly lit panel behind him. “Shouldn’t one of us press the button?”

  His forehead rested against hers, and the man she’d spent the evening with resurfaced. “Came on a bit strong, didn’t I?”

  Ava shook her head. “I had my suspicions you were holding back on me, Sir. It doesn’t bother me. After tonight, I think you know I’d trust you to do just about anything to me.”

  “Don’t tell me that,” Finn groaned, then pressed his lips to her forehead and eased her down, holding her until she could stand without her knees wobbling. “You can’t imagine the things I want to do to you, little dove, and tonight isn’t the night to demonstrate them.”

  The rags of Rosie’s dress fluttered around her legs; Ava tried not to giggle as Finn rearranged the scraps of fabric to cover her pussy. Or tried to, anyway. He’d done a thorough job decimating the dress and now it didn’t want to cooperate. “What if it’s our only night?”

  Giving up with his task, he let the two halves gape open and shook his head. “I stand by what I said earlier, Ava. I gamble with every part of my life, put my future in fate’s hands, and tonight, I hit the goddamn jackpot.” He stepped away to jab the button for the top floor, then turned to face her as gears ground into motion and the car ascended. “In my eyes, we’re not standing here waiting for the night to end. Not at all. The moment you said yes to this, we began building what comes next.”

  What comes next. Was it so easy for him to think along those lines? She really hoped so, because she didn’t want to be the only idiot dreaming of a happy ever after stemming from a single night of sex and debauchery.

  Because, honestly, it sounded ridiculous, didn’t it?

  Eight hours ago, she’d have scoffed at the notion herself if she hadn’t been so busy fighting the urge to cut to stave off the nerves. Yet here she was with a man she didn’t know from Adam, contemplating keeping him in her life.

  God, she really wanted to keep him.

  Of the handful of people in her life, Finn was the only one who got why she cut. He saw past the obvious explanations and arrowed straight for the truth even she didn’t fully comprehend; her addiction was a drug, the drug killed the pain, and she was an addict.

  Rosie tried her best to help but coming home to find Ava bleeding out on the bathroom floor had hammered the tiniest wedge into their relationship. It hadn’t affected it, not yet, but their friendship had the potential to splinter into two halves and send them in different directions with the smallest argument.

  Ava didn’t want to lose her as a friend.

  The elevator doors swooshed open. Ava jolted, found Finn watching her with the same intensity he’d monitored her with during their scenes. With an embarrassed hum, she gave him a small smile and hoped he wouldn’t—

  “Lots of secrets in that head, little dove. Secrets that hurt.” His hand slipped beneath her elbow, long fingers curling around her arm. With a gentle tug to get her moving, he escorted her from the elevator into an elegant hallway decked out in rich cream and dark wood. “It’s okay to have secrets, we all have them. But when they start causing you pain, they need to be set free.”

  They need to be set free.

  Finn’s words resonated inside her. How many times
had she thought that about herself? When she dragged a blade over her skin, she wasn’t trying to kill herself. Suicide wasn’t an act she’d ever truly thought about, not with intent, but sometimes she wondered if it wouldn’t be easier to just cut that extra bit deeper and fade away into peace.

  The night Rosie found her on the bathroom floor, she hadn’t meant to cut so deep. The voices had been so persistent, distracting, and her hand had slipped, the metal sinking further than she’d expected. For an instant, there’d been an oh shit reaction as she watched blood run like a river. The realization that she might not be able to come back from it.

  Then the burn had eclipsed everything.

  Beautifully, blessedly.

  She couldn’t remember hitting the floor. There was the vaguest memory of going numb from the top of her head to her shoulders. The strangest sensation. Then Rosie had been there, crying and tying a tourniquet around Ava’s forearm, wrapping her wrist up in a towel.

  No, she wasn’t suicidal, but neither was she afraid of death.

  “I can’t promise I won’t cut again,” she said quietly as they walked on plush cream carpet toward a door at the end of the short hallway. “You said it yourself, Finn. It’s an addiction. I’m an addict. Cutting myself is the only thing that’s given me a reprieve from what’s in my head since I can remember. But,” she continued quietly, “I can promise you I’ll do my best not to give in to the urges. I’ll try.”

  Finn said nothing as they approached the door. Ever the Dom, his face gave nothing away, which was a little nerve-wracking. Her stomach erupted with butterflies as he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a card key. With a quick flick of his wrist, he passed the card over the lock and the security system responded with the faintest buzz of approval.