“Didn’t the guy at the shop ask? You were underage.”
She shrugged.
“Dad walked into the shop one day and spoke to the guy. As long as he paid, I could go in and get whatever he needed. It was one of those days in which I ran into Antonio. God, he was charming, Rayden. Dark hair, soulful eyes, and a smile which could make any woman swoon. He had a way with words, and before you knew it you were wrapped up in his stories.” Betty clenched her jaw. “He approached me, and I remember my first thought was, shit, he’s going to take the bottles. But then, he was nice to me. He started talking about his life and how he’d had it tough, and he understood what it was like, and for me, fourteen and naive, I felt as if we had a connection. He paid for my bottles that day and winked on his way out. I was so starved for affection and attention, I was hooked.” She sniffled. “I started going to the shop more often in the hopes of seeing him. He was there every day at around the same time. He’d always leave whatever he was doing to come chat with me.”
Betty dug her fingernails onto her skin. “We started hanging out, and for almost two years we became friends of a sort. I told him about my dream of getting a tattoo, and he introduced me to someone who would do it for free. He bought me clothes, took me out, even helped me with my homework sometimes. When I needed someone to speak to, he was always there. He’d also buy me booze and sit with me while I drunk and told him about my problems. Antonio never drank, and he didn’t touch me until I was sixteen, you know? We went to a hotel, and we drank as we’d done countless times. At one point, he asked me if I wanted to kiss him. I did. Things escalated quickly. He told me to take off my clothes and kneel. I obeyed. I remember he called me a slut and to repeat after him. I didn’t really understand what was happening, but Antonio was all I had, so I followed his orders. I became his pet, his whore, all the way to his slave almost two years later. You asked me about my breast when you tattooed it? He had his girlfriend cut me. She was meant to dominate me while he watched, but poor Abby, she was a submissive, and much like me, all she wanted to do was please him. Her hand slid, and she cut too deep. I didn’t notice until much later when I woke up in bed alone, blood seeping out of a hastily covered wound. But everything was okay because I was finally in Antonio’s house, and he’d left me a glass of vodka and a pill to make the pain go away. Sometimes, I wonder why he took such a liking to me. He was fifteen years older than me. I had nothing to offer him.”
A choked noise came from Rayden, and she glanced at him. His jaw was set, and she could see the nerve ticking there.
“It was a power trip,” he said, the edge in his voice denoting his anger. “He was probably a narcissist, and he took advantage of you. You wanted to please him, and he fed off that.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Betty pressed her lips together and stared at her body. It was funny. She was naked in a bathtub with a man she hardly knew, and yet she was the most at peace she’d ever been, especially on the anniversary of Antonio’s death. A shiver shook her body.
“Let’s get you out of the bath, baby doll. You’re cold, and I would still like you to eat something.”
Betty’s stomach rumbled as if the mere mention of food had woken it up.
“All right,” she said taking his hand.
Chapter Nineteen
Rayden glanced at Betty. Dressed in little more than the t-shirt he’d grabbed from her closet and a fresh pair of undies, she sat curled up on his black leather couch, watching TV. It warmed him inside and out. She belonged there. Here. With him. Being loved, protected, and taken care of.
Protected.
Shame burned in his gut. He’d failed to do anything for her when she’d been trapped in Antonio’s hell, enduring unnecessary cruelty. He didn’t merit her. He was just one more person in the list of people who had let her down. Rayden ran his fingers through his hair. Eventually, he’d have to tell her the truth. He’d have to explain what he’d seen and what he’d done.
Nothing.
Rayden sucked in his cheeks. He’d make it up to her. For as long as necessary. As her mentor or her partner. His heart flipped. Partner? Lover. Shit. Who was he kidding? He’d only met Betty three days ago, but it was time he admitted to himself she wasn’t going to be just a quick fuck. She meant more, and she deserved more.
The toaster popped, breaking his stream of thought. Later. He promised himself, when she was one hundred percent herself, he’d have a heart to heart with her. He placed the pieces of bread on the plates. Grabbing them both, he took them to the living room.
“Here you go. Chicken slices with diced zucchini, marinated with some olive oil and salt.”
“I would have been happy with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” she said.
“I know you would have, but I wouldn’t. You haven’t eaten anything all day. You need something with substance. Now eat.”
“Yes, Sir.” She smiled at him, the twinkle in her eyes sparkling with life. He sank into the seat next to her and watched her raise a forkful to her mouth. Betty moaned in pleasure.
“That’s my good girl,” Rayden said.
“It’s delicious. You’re a good cook.” She took another bite, closing her eyes in appreciation.
“Then make sure you don’t leave a drop,” he said, taking a bite out of his own food.
“I never do, Sir,” she said, mischievous gaze locking with his.
Rayden sputtered, almost choking on his food. “You’re feeling better.”
“Yes. Thank you.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “I hadn’t spoken about any of that to anyone in a long time. You’re definitely the first man I told it to.”
Rayden set his fork down. His heart skipped a beat, and emotion clogged his throat.
“I’m honored,” he said, his voice huskier than he would have liked.
Betty’s cheeks glowed pink. She gave him a small smile and returned to her food. Rayden’s mind whirled with thoughts and an overpowering emotion to just tell her everything now. Except, he couldn’t. Not yet. She was in a fragile state, Antonio’s death looming over her like a black cloud. He had to wait, at least, until tomorrow. Resolution made, he returned to his meal.
“You promised me a tour of your house,” she said, tapping his arm.
“I did, didn’t I? Aren’t you tired?” he asked.
Betty’s gaze darted around the room, her posture turning stiff.
“I’m not ready to try and sleep,” she murmured. “I will dream and—” She trailed off. “I’d rather not.”
“That’s all right, baby doll. I can give you a tour, and then we can watch a movie or maybe draw something together.”
Her eyes lit up. “I’d like that.”
“Great, then, I suggest we start with the kitchen.” He stacked up their dishes and offered her his hand. She took it without hesitance. “I had the house remodeled last year,” he explained.
“I like it,” she said. “I think the grey furniture with the silver highlights goes really well. Although,” Betty continued. “My favorite part of your kitchen is the island. I don’t cook. Never learned, but I’ve always fantasized with having one.”
She sensually slid her palm across the marble countertop as she spoke. Rayden’s dick jerked to life.
“Have you ever had sex on it?” she asked without preamble.
His libido skyrocketed.
“I haven’t. I don’t think it’s at the right height,” he added.
“Really?” In a flash, she jumped onto it and settled on the edge, legs spread and dangling. Rayden swallowed. She made a come hither movement with her index. Like a man without a will, he came to stand between her legs. She wound them around him, pressing her hot pussy to his stomach. “You’re right. It’s not.” Betty pouted.
Rayden blinked, trying to figure out what she was referring to through the fog in his mind. Realization dawned.
“What do you think you’re doing?” With a growl, he picked her up. She squealed. “Don’t tempt me, vixen, or I will make your a
ss red.” He set her down. “That island is at the perfect height for me to lick your cunt, but you’re not in the right state of mind for us to have sex, Betty.”
“Says who?” She crossed her arms.
“Says I. You just took an express to hell and came back. I refuse to let you return there.”
“And how would having sex do that?”
Rayden’s eyes narrowed. He fought off a smile. All she needed to do next was stomp her foot. Fuck him if he wasn’t dying to bury himself in her and hear her moans of pleasure in his ear. He couldn’t do it, though. Not tonight.
“You’d regret it tomorrow when you came to your senses. Right now, you’re trying to forget past hurts, to keep your mind busily focused on something else so you don’t have to think. I know the tricks, Betty, and I also know you have dreams and aspirations and it’s why we’ve been avoiding taking this any further from the moment I met you.”
“Can’t we conveniently forget everything tonight? You’ve already seen me naked and I’ve called you Sir. It—” She opened her mouth as if to say something else, but then closed it.
Taking her by the shoulder, Rayden drew her into his arms. She stumbled forward, clashing into him with a gasp. Grasping her chin, he tilted her head so their gazes met.
“As much as I’d love to be your Sir, this is all you’re getting from me today, baby doll.” He captured her bottom lip between his teeth, tugging lightly. Betty moaned. Dear Lord, why was she so responsive? Touching the seam of her lips with his tongue, he beckoned for her to open. She did so without qualms. Her arms encircled his neck, and he slid his palms to her ass, cupping it beneath the thin material of her underwear. His cock throbbed, and he didn’t doubt, pre-cum was leaking out. Sensually, he explored her mouth, tasting every inch and crevice. She mewled, rubbing herself against him. He wanted to devour her. Now. Tomorrow. Every day.
Not yet, man. Keep it under control.
He broke them apart.
“We’re going to finish the tour of the house,” he said huskily.
“Are you serious? After that kiss? “
“Absolutely. It’s called being a Dom, baby doll.”
“I’d say a tease, but whatever you say, Sir.” She rolled her eyes and turned around. Rayden slapped her ass, and she squeaked.
“Behave.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, sticking out her tongue.
Rayden laughed. Taking her by the hand, he led her around the rest of the house. By the time they made it back to his bedroom, Betty was yawning and her eyelids were drooping. She could insist she wasn’t tired, but if she hadn’t slept last night, she had to be exhausted.
“To bed with you,” he said, pulling the sheets aside so she could crawl in.
“I’m not tired.”
“Like hell you’re not. In, doll.”
“Okay, Sir, but are you going to leave?” The fear danced like water droplets in her gaze.
“I’m not.” Though he’d planned to take a shower while she slept, he climbed into bed with her.
Pressing herself against him, she sighed contentedly. “Thank you, Sir.”
“It’s my pleasure, baby doll.”
Rayden shut his eyes.
He didn’t know how long he’d slept when he woke up with a start. Betty trembled in his arms, kicking and whimpering. She’d been right about the night terrors.
“Betty, baby doll,” he whispered, slightly shaking her.
She screamed and pushed him away, scrambling to the other side of the bed.
“Betty, it’s me. Rayden.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she threw herself into his chest, sobbing.
“He’s dead, Rayden. He’s dead. I killed him. It’s my fault.”
“Shush, my baby. You didn’t kill anyone. Everything is okay.”
Rayden caressed her back in what he hoped were soothing circles.
“No, no, you don’t understand,” she wailed. She disentangled herself from him and sat up, curling her knees to her chest and making herself into a ball. Betty started to rock back and forth, her gaze lost in another time and place. “We were in the bedroom. Abby had left a month before. She’d walked out on us, so it was just Antonio and me. It’s what I’d always wanted. I had him all for myself. He’d called me into the room that day. Something was off. I didn’t know what it was, but I could sense it in the air like a storm brewing. We did the usual. A bottle of vodka and cocaine. I heard noises coming from outside the bedroom. Doors banging. People shouting. He said it’d be okay. To go into the closet and stay there until he came to get me. Whatever you see. Whatever you hear, you stay in there, okay? Remember, Becky, he said. You’re my property. My slave. No one else’s. And I look after my stuff.” Betty sniveled. “I didn’t understand what he was talking about, but I did what he told me and just as I closed the door, I saw Antonio’s bodyguard come inside. Antonio went to him thinking he was there to help, but he wasn’t. He killed him. He shot him.”
Betty started to hyperventilate. Her hands shook, but they roved over her body like a swarm of ants frantically searching for their anthill. “I wanted to scream, shout, go and hurt that man, but I couldn’t because Antonio had said I needed to stay there. To not leave until he came. So I did.” Her hands found her thighs, digging into the flesh. “I drank the rest of the vodka and passed out. When I woke up again, I was at the hospital. They told me I was free, but I didn’t want to be free. I wanted Antonio. He’d saved me, and now he was dead.” Her nails dragged across her skin leaving long red slashes. “Why did he have to protect me? Why? I was his slave, an object, nothing more, and yet, he saved me. He treated me with kindness up until his last minute.”
“Oh God, Betty.” Rayden tried to hug her, but she wouldn’t sit still. She dug into her skin, and he realized that if he wasn’t there, she’d be hurting herself even more. Rayden inhaled deeply through his nose, then exhaled. His muscles tightened, and his heartbeat slowed.
“Baby doll,” he said, modulating his voice. “It was a long time ago. You need to forgive yourself.”
“I can’t. I want to forget, but I can’t.” Her scratching started to become frantic.
“You can, and you will. Give me your hands.”
“No. I—”
“Betty, your hands,” he said sternly. She hesitated for an instant before gingerly slipping them into his.
“I understand your need for pain. The physical distracts the mind, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
He quirked an eyebrow.
“Yes, Sir.”
The moment she said the words he saw her countenance change. It was almost as if someone had smoothed out the stress from her face. By giving her a command to follow he helped her focus on something else other than the loss of Antonio and the trauma it had created.
“I will help you feel better, but not like this. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Chapter Twenty
Betty closed her eyes. Silent tears leaked down her cheeks, but the man brushing them away was not Antonio. It was Rayden. Sir. Every time she called him “Sir” it was as if a blanket of peace was wrapped around her shoulders. He had control of the situation. He would watch over her. Her trembling ceased, and her vision focused. She was centered on him, what he wanted, what he needed.
“You’re going to do as I tell you,” Rayden said softly. “If you’re uncomfortable, feel it’s too much, you will call ‘red’. If you’re afraid, uncertain, not ready to proceed, you will call ‘yellow’. If you’re okay, you will answer ‘green’. Is that clear, Betty? I will not hurt you for the sake of hurting you. I am not Antonio,” he said adamantly.
“Yes, Sir,” she answered.
“What color are you? Think it through carefully. I’m in no hurry.”
Betty took in a deep breath. She wasn’t afraid nor uncomfortable.
“I’m a bit nervous.”
“I know.”
His smile made her heart race. He wouldn’t hurt her, not t
he way the others had.
“I’m green.”
“Good girl. Then, listen carefully. I want you to take off your clothes and stand at the foot of the bed, facing it. I’m going to get things ready. Are you okay with being tied up?”
“Yes, Sir.” She took in a deep breath. “I enjoy being unable to move.”
“Great.”
Rayden moved to the other side of the bedroom. She watched him open a cupboard and reach inside. Realizing she hadn’t moved, she jumped out of bed and quickly rid herself of her clothes, leaving them in a pile next to her. Goosebumps sprouted across her skin, and her nipples hardened to painful tips. She shifted on her soles, debating on what was the proper way to stand. Arms at the side? Crossed? Feet apart? Together?
“We’re going to have to have a serious conversation about leaving clothes on the floor, baby doll. It seems to be a habit of yours,” Rayden said with a chuckle. He picked up her things and placed them on top of one of the dressers.
Betty held her breath. She wanted to turn around and see what he was doing, but she remained in place, staring at his pillows.
“You’re such a good girl.”
Betty’s breath hitched. Rayden stood behind her, the heat from his body licking her back and heightening her arousal. He came closer, his chest touching her back and bringing a moan to her throat.
“You’re precious, Betty,” he whispered in her ear, sliding his palms over her arms. Taking her hands, he brought them up to her chest. “My precious, baby doll.”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied breathlessly. He placed her hands on her breasts, but didn’t remove his own.
“Show me how you like to be touched.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Betty kneaded her flesh, first bearing down on her nipple, then, tugging at the turgid points in incremental doses. Wetness slid between her thighs, and her clit throbbed.
“Let me,” Rayden spoke in her ear, his husky tone sending a new jolt of lust to her pussy. Rayden’s larger hands covered her breasts. He massaged them carefully. Mindful of her latest tattoo, he kept his touch gentle. Unable to keep still, Betty thrust back, coming into contact with Rayden’s hard-on. She whimpered.
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