Having Her: Lies We Tell, Book 2 Page 11

  “On your hands and knees. Stay like that.”

  Again she obeyed, sinking down onto the multicolored rug. She stared at the bright threads beneath her, struggling to breathe, every sense focused on the man standing behind her. Shaky excitement and the lazy heat of desire tangling around one another at the thought of what he would do next. What he would say.

  A footstep behind her and she wanted to turn to look at him but somehow she knew that wouldn’t be allowed so she stared hard at the floor instead. She seemed to be sensitive to everything, from the corrugations of the rug under her palms and knees, to the faint breeze from some open window across her bare skin, to the ache between her thighs.

  No more sound came. No touch. Was he still even there? Had he gone? Was this going to be her punishment? Left naked, on her hands and knees, shaking with need?

  The moment drew out, the silence deepening.

  Kara’s breathing became ragged. If he’d gone she didn’t know what she’d do. But she wasn’t bloody going to check if he was there. If this was a test then she would pass it.

  A hand settled suddenly on the curve of one buttock, stroking. The heat and the abruptness of the touch made her gasp, the sound harsh in the silence of the room.

  He hadn’t gone. He was still there.

  “I like you waiting for me,” he said softly. “I like you on your hands and knees shaking for me.” That stroking hand slid down to the back of her thigh then up again and she trembled, unable to help herself, a wave of heat prickling all over her skin. Everywhere.

  “Yes,” he murmured approvingly. “Now show me how much a good slave wants to belong to her master. And make me believe it.”

  She didn’t even think about disobeying. The reflexive fear of rejection had utterly gone because the only thing in her mind was to show him exactly that. She wanted to belong to him with everything in her. For this moment in time there was no one else. No other way to exist but to be his.

  Kara crossed her arms on the floor in front of her, pillowing her head on them, widening her stance. Allowing herself to be as open and as accessible as she could.

  Please take me. Please. I’m yours. Oh God, please…

  She heard the hiss of his breath behind her, the catch that told her just what the sight of her did to him. And then there was his hand stroking her thigh, her hip, the small of her back, the roundness of her butt.

  “Good,” Vin said thickly. “That’s what I want. You open and ready for me.” His hand slid between her thighs, tracing lightly over slick flesh. She shuddered, pressing her forehead hard against her folded arms, a whimper escaping her.

  His hand settled on her hip, fingers curving around, holding her still. Then he slid a finger into her. She groaned, trembling. Pleasure spiked. She tried to push back against his hand because, fuck it, he wasn’t moving and she so desperately wanted him to move or to move against him. But the fingers at her hip only curled tighter.

  “Keep still.” Vin’s voice had deepened into a growl. “This is your punishment, slave. You take what I give you, take all of it.” The finger inside her eased out slowly, then just as slowly, back in. “Without moving or making a sound.” The hand on her hip slid around and over her stomach and down, fingers grazing her swollen clit, sending sparks along her nerve endings. “And maybe, I’ll let you come.”

  He couldn’t be serious. How could she do that? When every move of that teasing finger made her want to moan, cry out. Shake apart.

  She wanted to protest but more than that she wanted to prove she could take whatever he had to give her. Be a good slave. So she closed her eyes and clamped her mouth shut as the finger inside her moved in a slow, sensual rhythm. As the fingers of his other hand circled her clit lightly. The barest of pressures.

  Keeping still was difficult. Stifling the sounds he brought from her agony. The pleasure built and built, inexorable, a force of nature that couldn’t be stopped or contained. Her body shook like the ground underneath her was moving, the blackness behind her eyes leaping with bursts of color. And when he added another finger, delicately stretching her, she thought she would break apart.

  “Good, baby. Yeah that’s good.” Vin’s voice was ragged and breathless, and beneath the agonizing pleasure, she felt a kind of deep satisfaction. Because this was what he wanted too. This was for both of them. And by taking it, by being owned by him, he was giving her a little piece of himself in return.

  Kara opened her mouth against her arm, biting down as a moan threatened to tear free, determined not to break. But the sharp edge of pain, familiar and bright was too intense, too perfect, and she’d never allowed herself a release like that so she had to be satisfied with clenching her jaw instead. Which didn’t help.

  “Fuck,” Vin said hoarsely, moving his hand a little faster, a little harder. “Can you feel how wet you are? You want me so badly, don’t you, slave?”

  The spiraling pleasure had become sweet agony. He gave her only so much and no more, not enough to release the intense pressure that increased second by second.

  And just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, he removed his hands from her, leaving her body teetering on the brink, screaming. She nearly moved. Nearly cried out. Because abandoning her like this was one punishment she couldn’t take.

  But then he rested a hand in the small of her back, a reassurance that he hadn’t gone. A gentle touch. Yet the words he said weren’t gentle.

  “Beg me, slave.” The dark authority in his voice was rough with hunger. “Beg me to fuck you. Beg me to make you come.”

  The words rushed out of her, heedless, falling over themselves now he’d given her permission. Raw and broken and desperate. “Please, master. Fuck me, master. Please, make me come. Please…oh…please….master…” She ran out of breath, drew in more in a ragged burst. “I need it…I want it…please… God, please…”

  He didn’t say anything but she felt him shift behind her, the sound of a zipper being drawn down. The rustle of foil as he got a condom out. Then his large, warm hands were gripping her hips and the heat of his body against the backs of her thighs, and the blunt head of his cock pushing slowly into her.

  She bit her lip to stop from crying out, because he hadn’t given her permission yet, but she bit it too hard and the bright burst of pain made the whole world explode. A dry sob tore from her throat, the orgasm crashing over her with all the weight of a concrete block dropping from a great height, flattening her. All she could do was press her forehead against her folded arms, her eyes screwed shut, feeling herself torn apart as he slid deep inside her.

  Quaking, she felt him pause, lean over her, the heat of his body searing against her spine. “I didn’t tell you that you could come yet,” he growled in her ear.

  “I’m sorry,” she gasped, shivering and unable to stop. “I’m sorry, master. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” And the words kept coming, over and over as he began to move again, harder and faster, driving her toward another impossible climax.

  She couldn’t do it a second time. She couldn’t bear it. But he slid a hand between her thighs, stroking her, forcing her to begin the climb again, his voice in her ear dark and rough, whispering all the dirty things he was going to do her. Punish her with. And, God help her, her body gathered tight with a second orgasm and when it took her she couldn’t stop the scream that burst from her throat.

  Behind her, Vin thrust deep and hard then stiffened, his harsh groan in ear, his breath rough against the back of her neck. Then his whole body seemed to surround her, his hands coming down on the floor on either side of her pillowed head, the heat of his body pressing against her back. “You’re mine,” he said, the words so rough they were almost unrecognizable. “Understand? Mine.”

  He’d said it before. Said it many times. Yet now, surrounded by him, this was the first moment she’d felt it. In her flesh, in her bones, and deeper. In her heart. In her soul.

  Owned. Possessed. Sheltered. Protected.

  And she wanted it to las
t forever.

  Perhaps later she’d change her mind. Later, the guards would come up and she’d think what a pathetic mess she was that she needed a man’s ownership. But it wasn’t later. It was now. And now was all she wanted.

  Now was the whole of her existence.

  He remained like that for a long time, the searing heat of his chest and stomach pressed to her curved spine. And when he at last pulled away she wasn’t ready. Almost told him not to go. But like she’d stayed silent in pleasure, she stayed silent now, locking her jaw against the words.

  She felt him move, withdrawing from her, the loss of his warmth nearly painful. But she stayed silent. Stayed where she was.

  Behind her came the rustle of clothing, the sound of his zipper. A silence then his footsteps receding. Leaving as he always did without a word.

  As the door shut, her body began to tremble and shake, a weird rush of emotion surging through her. A release of some kind, though she wasn’t sure what from or why she was experiencing it.

  But she knew that the moment had moved on.

  That now had become later. And just for a second she hated it.

  Chapter Eight

  Vin stopped outside the apartment he’d just viewed, cursing under his breath. It wasn’t right. None of it was right. The whole apartment block was seedy and run down, the kind of place alcoholics went to drink themselves to death. Yet he didn’t have a lot of choice. The halfway house his mother usually went to had closed down due to lack of funding and this apartment was the closest he could get to the Fox Chase offices. And it had to be close. One of the benefits of the halfway house had been a manager who kept an eye on the residents. And the manager of that particular house had always kept an eye on Lillian. Making sure she wasn’t drinking, that she kept taking her meds, that the other residents weren’t hassling her or encouraging her drinking. Which had helped and had the added bonus of giving him one less thing to do.

  But not now. Now that had to be his job.

  Jesus, he just couldn’t even get just one fucking break.

  He stared at the dingy, stained wallpaper of the hallway and the seething frustration and rage that always seemed to be just below the surface these days threatened to break free. He wanted to kick the wall. Kick a hole straight through it. Kick away the chains of responsibility that bound him, tied him down. Constricted him. Claw his way out of the suffocating mass of everything he had to do for other people. Be free just for one goddamned minute.

  Vin closed his eyes, trying to breathe around the thick ball of emotion that sat in his chest, his hands closing convulsively into fists. He had to do something, get rid of this feeling somehow because he had a meeting in a couple of hours with the bank—some trouble with his loan application—and if he went to that meeting in this kind of mood, it was going to be all bad.

  Christ, it was just one battle after another. His mother, his business, Ellie. And even after Ellie was in Tokyo, it wouldn’t let up because no one else was responsible for his mother but him. And she wouldn’t ever get better. Wouldn’t ever recover. He would have to deal with hospitals and the crappy mental health system for the rest of her life, no matter how long that would be.

  His jaw tightened against the rage that caught in his throat. Getting angry and frustrated was pointless, a waste of emotion. And yet still the emotions filled him, making him restless and aching and tight. Sometimes when he felt like this, thinking of Ellie helped gain some perspective and helped him remember who he was doing all this for.

  Yet it wasn’t Ellie his brain went automatically to now.

  Kara, on her hands and knees in front of him, her body trembling. Waiting for him. Ready to do whatever he wanted. Whatever he said.

  Who do you belong to?

  You, master. I belong to you…

  Since that night he’d picked her up at the club, she hadn’t refused to see him again. Every night he went to her and every night she was there, waiting naked in her hallway, the slave collar in her hands to give to him. Ready to cede control. There was no more talk about boundaries or discussions about what they were doing. There were no discussions at all. They didn’t need to talk. What they got out of those hours together went deeper than words, deeper than sex, and he’d come to crave it. Need it.

  A few hours when he wasn’t fighting anyone. When the world operated according to his rules and his desires. When there was a person who was there for him. Who would give him the escape he needed without question. Without argument.

  He’d turned from the shitty hallway before he was even conscious of doing so, making his way back to his car. Then he drove fast because he didn’t have long—an hour at most if he wanted to make this meeting with the bank on time.

  When he pushed open the door of the café, she was there, standing behind the counter dealing with a queue of people. It was the middle of the day so it must have been the lunchtime rush. She raised her head as he came in, blue-and-pink hair held back from her head with a black Alice band, her eyes a bright turquoise. She wore a little mini dress made out of some kind of purple stretchy material that molded to her generous curves, outlining them perfectly and all he could think about was ripping that dress in half. Tearing it off her the way he wanted to tear off the wallpaper in that hallway. Pushing her against a wall and drowning himself in her. Drowning the rage and the frustration in heat and softness.

  Fuck, he needed this. Needed her. And he hadn’t realized how much until now.

  A crease appeared between her brows, a crease that got deeper as he ignored the queue of people standing waiting to order and went straight to the head of the line.

  “Vin,” Kara hissed. “What the hell are you doing? If you want coffee, you’ll have to wait your bloody turn.”

  He’d taken to coming in every morning to get himself an espresso—purely because she made such good coffee, or so he told himself. She never gave him an espresso though, only a latte. It was a small power-play but one he kind of enjoyed. Except not now. Now he wanted obedience.

  He put his hands on the counter, ignoring the filthy looks directed his way from the people in the queue. “I want you,” he said flatly. “Now.”

  She blinked in surprise. “What? What do you mean now?”

  “What do you think I mean? You really want me to explain?”

  Her mouth opened then shut again. She glanced at the queue then back to him. “Tonight.” She spoke quietly. “You’ll have to wait.”

  “I can’t wait. It has to be now.”

  “Do you not see my lunchtime crowd?”

  “I don’t give a shit about your lunchtime crowd. I need you.”

  An expression flickered in her gaze, one he couldn’t interpret. The smart comeback he was almost expecting didn’t eventuate. Instead she let out a breath, looking once more at her customers. “Yeah and so does my café.”

  She was going to say no, he could almost see the word forming on her luscious mouth. And if she said no… The rage shifted inside him, frustration burning a hole in his chest. He didn’t want to have to explain his need or justify it or fight for it because shit, he was so goddamned tired of fighting.

  So he leaned over the counter even farther, holding her gaze. “Please, Kara.” He didn’t often say please because he hated conceding power to other people. And yet she held the balance between them. Her permission was always necessary for what they did and if she didn’t give him permission, he was screwed. And not—unfortunately—literally.

  She went very still, staring at him as if he’d said something completely shocking. “Vin—”

  “Please,” he repeated. So she understood. “I need this. I need you.”

  Once again her expression changed, something in her eyes softening in a way that made him feel as if a weight pressed hard against his chest. “Back at my apartment?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How…long?”

  “An hour max.” Behind him people were starting to get restless, muttering. He ignored them, watching he
r instead. He always seemed to be at this point with her. For all the power he had in the bedroom, she was the one who seemed to have so much outside it.

  She put down the metal jug she’d been holding. “Well, okay. Give me five minutes to sort out cover.”

  Relief swept through him and he had to struggle not to let it show. “The car’s in the street. Meet me there.”

  It took longer than five minutes though and by the end of it he was nearly climbing the walls. But just when he’d come to the end of his meager stock of patience, she came striding out through the doors, heading straight for the Corvette without hesitation.

  “What’s up?” she asked as she got in, closing the door behind her. “I thought you preferred evenings?”

  “Not today.”

  She frowned. “And today…?”

  “I thought we didn’t talk,” he said flatly. “Or have you changed your mind?”

  Kara was silent a moment. Then she looked away. “No. Forget I said anything.”

  The car journey was silent, tension taut between them. Almost as if she could sense the desperation coming off him and was pulling subtly away. If so he couldn’t blame her. Because he did feel desperate, hungry for what he wanted. The violence of it disturbed him. The past couple of times he’d felt so cool and calm, in control. And yet now… He felt like he was crawling out of his skin with need.

  He didn’t understand why it should be so bad now. He’d had setbacks with his mother before, this wasn’t any different.

  But you’ve never had anyone you could go to before.

  No, he hadn’t. Not like this. Before, he’d work on the Corvette. Or his house out at Piha, or go out to the pub with Hunter. But now he didn’t want the slow careful work of putting something together or even the laidback dude chat he had with his friend. He needed something more. An escape. Pleasure. Control. And Kara was all of those things.

  As he pulled up out front of her building and stopped the car, he made himself pause before he got out. Made himself ask. “You sure you’re okay with this?”