Having Her: Lies We Tell, Book 2 Page 13

  He didn’t speak as she knelt to take off his shoes and socks. Or when she undid his trousers and took them off too, leaving him in only a pair of skin-tight black boxers which did nothing to hide his response to what she was doing. Clearly he liked it.

  She knelt in front of him, hooked her fingers in the waistband and slowly drew his boxers down. As he stepped out of them, she felt one of his hands rest gently on her head, his fingers sifting through her hair and she had to stop, take a silent breath, her throat constricting at the gesture. She didn’t want tender. It threatened something in her. Felt dangerous somehow. So she bent, running her hands down his muscular thighs and long calves, and his fingers curled tight, his hold not at all tender all of a sudden.

  “Up,” he said.

  She rose to her feet, standing in front of him. Looking.

  Beautiful. He was beautiful. His skin was a deep tawny brown, like oiled silk over the sharply cut muscles of his chest and abdomen. A body sculpted from hard work, sweat and sheer physical exertion. He was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. She wanted to run her hands all over him, kiss him, taste him. God, do everything she could think of to him.

  “Please,” she heard herself whisper hoarsely. “I want to touch you, master. Please let me.”

  He said nothing, going past her to sit down on the couch then holding out a hand to her. “Come here.”

  She went without hesitation, without any thought at all in her head except that perhaps he would let her have this. And if he did then the agony of not being able to have that release would have been totally worth it.

  Vin took her by the hips, tugging her down into his lap so she was sitting like she had that first night, facing him, her knees on spread on either side of his thighs. But this time he didn’t hold her, only sat back and put his arms along the back of the couch, watching her, his eyes dark. The sun from the windows threw shadows over the pure planes and angles of his face, highlighting the sheer beauty of him.

  How do you deserve a man like this? You don’t. Of course you don’t.

  She shoved the evil thought away, stuffed it back into the darkness. Because that thought belonged to Kara, not the slave. The slave got only what she was given to her by her master and her master was giving her himself. She couldn’t refuse.

  She lifted her hands, put them on his chest, felt heat, the fire beneath his skin. He was smooth and hot, the flex and release of his muscles beneath her fingers as she let her fingers trail down his chest to his abdomen, searching, exploring.

  Unable to help herself, she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his throat, where his pulse beat strong and sure. His skin tasted salty and hot and delicious. She licked him, rocking her hips, the rigid length of his cock pressing between her thighs, her hands stroking farther down. This was too much for her. This was too good. She’d been on the edge already and just a little more friction would push her over it.

  But Vin pulled her hands away. “Not like that, slave,” he said. “Go get me a condom.”

  She didn’t want to have to get up but since this was obviously going to benefit her too, she did as she was told, thanking God she’d started keeping a stash of condoms in one of the drawers of the dresser near the door.

  He let her handle the protection, staying right where he was on the couch, then lifted her up, only to lower her down on him, so she felt him slide deeply inside her. Her fingers curled on his chest, digging into his skin, the breath escaping from her in a harsh rush. His hand slid behind her head as he pulled her down for a kiss that caught her by surprise.

  He hardly ever kissed her. Yet this…this was hot. Sweet. Hungry. Intimate. It did things to her. Did things she didn’t want and yet she couldn’t pull away. Her master was giving her something and so she had to take it.

  She shuddered in his arms, his hands on her hips guiding her movements in a gentle rise and fall. Pleasure burst in her head, a wild explosion of light, and she lost herself in it. Put Kara and her demons away, and let herself revel in being the slave, with nothing but her master’s pleasure to worry about. Nothing to think about but him. Doing his bidding.

  So that when he whispered, “Come for me, slave,” she did. Instantly. Shattering like a pane of glass before a sharp stone, her high, wild cries swallowed by his mouth.

  And when his arms closed around her, holding her as she rode out the aftershocks, she didn’t pull away.

  That was the beauty of being the slave. She could have the things Kara would never allow herself.

  “I can’t tonight, Vin. I’m going out with Kara.”

  Vin stopped in the middle of the busy footpath, cell phone clutched in one hand. “Why?” The demand came out before he could stop it.

  “What do you mean why?” Ellie sounded more than a little pissed off. “That’s none of your damn business.”

  With an effort he contained his angry response. Which, he had to be honest, had less to do with Ellie not wanting to meet him for a drink and more to do with the fact that Kara had cancelled their meeting tonight. It had been him the night before—a problem with Lillian’s accommodation he had to sort out—and now he was restless and aching, and wanting her. Looking forward to the moment when he could wrap that chain in his fist and pull her to him.

  Fucking Neanderthal.

  Vin clenched his jaw tight. “What I meant was, I’d like to see you a few more times before you leave for Tokyo. If you have time that is.”

  There was a pause. Then Ellie said, in a softer tone, “Ah, I’m sorry, Vin. I know I said I was around but it’s Kara’s birthday today. She doesn’t like to make a big deal out of it but I do.”

  Kara’s birthday? She hadn’t said anything to him about it. Not a word. Then again, why would she? They weren’t in the kind of relationship that celebrated that sort of thing and God knew he already understood what Ellie was saying about Kara not wanting to make a fuss. He’d already noticed she hated having attention lavished on her. In fact, the only place she allowed it was in the bedroom, as his slave.

  After he’d ended the phone call, Vin stood on the footpath, scowling at nothing in particular. Because somehow the knowledge of Kara’s birthday had lodged in his brain and he couldn’t seem to get rid of it.

  He should do something. Get her a present. A little thing to show his appreciation of her in some way because it felt wrong not to mark the occasion. They’d been intimate after all and yeah, so it was only physical but still.

  Of course the really tricky thing would be to find something she would accept from him because he had the feeling she’d probably throw anything he gave her back in his face. Somehow he had to find a gift that she’d both like and find impossible to refuse…

  It wasn’t until ten minutes later, as he was passing a jewelry shop that he saw something that made him stop. That made him put his hands on the glass and stare.

  That made him smile.

  Because it was possibly the one thing on earth Kara Sinclair would not be able to refuse him.

  Kara heaved in a shuddering breath, the aftershocks of her orgasm still echoing through her. She was on the couch in her apartment, astride Vin’s supine body with him still inside her. And man, she felt good. He lay on the couch beneath her, his eyes closed, the white business shirt he wore unbuttoned, the fabric spread wide.

  Leaning back in his lap, her hands behind her, gripping his knees, she let her gaze run over him, hungry for the sight. Sweat sheened his torso, highlighting the chiseled contours of his chest and abdomen, gleaming at his throat. She wanted to lean down and lick him there.

  Lick him everywhere.

  Holy God but he was so very desirable. Even moments after an orgasm, when she should have been happy and sated, she wanted more.

  “Master,” she said huskily, “may I touch you?”

  He didn’t move, his eyes closed, long dark lashes fanned out on his cheekbones. “No. We’re done for today.”

  Disappointment twisted in her gut despite the fact that she knew the mid
dle of the day visits were always going to be limited by their jobs. Tom, her assistant, was fine over a lunch hour but any longer and he started to get anxious. He was great with keeping the computers going and dealing with any tech issues but when it came to the coffee making, not so much.

  “Oh.” The word slipped out without her permission and she cringed inwardly, hoping he wouldn’t hear the disappointment edging it.

  His eyes flicked open and he lifted his head, one of his rare, perfect smiles hovering around his mouth. “Is that disappointment I hear, slave?”

  Bugger. “Yes.”

  His smile deepened and she couldn’t work out which was worse, the way his smile made her chest feel tight or the way him knowing she was disappointed made her feel exposed. Lifting a hand, he lazily reached for a lock of her hair, winding a strand through his fingers. “Good.”

  It was pathetic how much that simple touch excited her. Quite pathetic.

  His gaze drifted to the lock of hair he’d wound around his hand. “The blue is fading. I like it. See that you don’t dye it again.”

  Kara shifted on him, uncomfortable. She’d gotten sick of the blue herself but had been meaning to try out a new purple shade she’d seen in a shop the day before, not go au natural. Her real hair color reminded her of too many bad things. Too many bad feelings.

  Being different, being someone else was always easier.

  She took one hand off his knee and reached out to pull her hair out of his grip. Only to have his fingers close around her wrist.

  “What are those?” He was looking at her wrist, his voice losing its lazy, sensual edge, becoming sharp, demanding.

  Oh fuck. Had he seen the scars?

  “Nothing.” She twisted her hand out of his grip. No, she was not going to answer questions about those. Master or not, no effing way.

  He said nothing but she could feel the weight of his stare. Pressing down on her.

  Don’t ask. Please don’t ask.

  His fingers released her. “On your knees, slave.”

  Oh, thank God.

  She kept her gaze averted so as not to betray her relief, slipping off his lap and onto the floor, settling into the position that by now felt natural to her. At his feet.

  “You’ve been keeping secrets from me.”

  Her shoulders tightened. Shit. Of course it was too good to be true.

  “It was your birthday yesterday and you didn’t tell me.”

  For a minute all she could do was stare at the floor in confusion. Okay, so not the scars but her birthday? What the hell did that have anything to do with it? And how did he know it had been her birthday anyway?

  She heard Vin move, getting up from the couch, taking a couple of seconds to deal with the condom and put himself to rights if the sound of his zipper was any indication.

  “I’m sorry, master,” she said. “It wasn’t important.”

  “Correction, slave.” His long fingers gripped her chin suddenly, tipping her head back so she had no choice but to look up at him. There was a fierce expression in his gaze, intensity burning in the depths of his eyes. “I own you. Which means anything that concerns you also concerns me.”

  She wanted to deny it, refute it. But that was Kara talking and she wasn’t being Kara right now. She was the slave and his.

  “Yes, master,” she said thickly. “I’m sorry.”

  His thumb caressed her lower lip. “I have something for you. For your birthday.”

  Oh Christ. Please don’t say he’d bought her a present. A weird heaviness settled in her chest. Like a lump of clay sitting there, thick and large and immovable. She hated the sensation. How fragile it made her feel. As if she was made of glass and would shatter at a touch. She could handle a drink with Ellie, an offhand jokey toast to the suckiness of birthdays and how crap they were. But this was different. This was Vin, staring at her, giving her a gift. When no one had ever bought her gifts before.

  She opened her mouth to say she didn’t want it, break character completely, but his thumb settled over her lip, pressing down, silencing her. “You’ll take it.” There was nothing but finality in his voice and how he knew she wanted to refuse she had no idea. “Remember, slave, you don’t get a choice. Now…” He took his hand away and stepped back. “Stay there. Don’t move.”

  God. Kara waited on her knees, her heart beating oddly fast, watching as he turned and went out into the hallway, coming back a moment later with a long, flat box in his hand. The heavy lump in her chest got heavier.

  Without any hurry at all, Vin opened the box and took out something, holding it up between his hands so she could see. A mesh collar of gold and bronze wires, intricately woven together, the clasp a small gold padlock. It glittered in the light through the windows as he carried it over to her, delicate and beautiful and like nothing she’d ever possessed in all her life.

  “No.” The word spilled out of her before she could stop it, thick and hoarse with denial. Because she couldn’t accept it. Didn’t want it.

  But Vin ignored her, coming over to where she knelt before dropping to his haunches in front of her. “Do you see this?” He turned the collar so she could see the padlock clasp. See the word engraved on it. Mine. “You’ll wear this because I’m your master and you’re my slave. Because you belong to me.”

  Her eyes felt gritty, like there was sand in them. Her throat tight and raw. Kara could never accept this. But the slave could. The slave had to.

  Fuck the slave. You want it, too, don’t deny it.

  She closed her eyes, shutting out the sight of the collar glittering between his hands, too overwhelmed and conflicted to speak.

  Mercifully he let her have her meager self-protection, not saying anything, but she felt the slave collar around her neck loosen and fall away, to be replaced by cool metal. Heard the click as he shut the padlock clasp.

  Mine…

  “Hold out your hand,” he ordered.

  She did so and felt him press something into her palm. Cracking open an eye, she glanced down to see a small golden key sitting there. Clearly the key to the padlock. Which meant he was handing her the power to wear it or not.

  You want to wear it. You never want to take it off.

  God, she did. So much. The collar around her neck had a weight to it that had nothing to do with the metal. It was the weight of ownership, of claim. It felt like his hand resting there. Choosing her.

  Mine.

  That one word had so many meanings. It didn’t only refer to her being his but her choosing to be his. Her choice to wear this collar. Make it her own.

  Mine. Hers. Kara’s.

  She couldn’t speak, didn’t trust her voice. He’d given her a gift and given it in the only way she could let herself accept it. And she couldn’t even speak to tell him how much it meant to her.

  A long silence fell but she kept her eyes closed, her fingers clutching the key in her palm, struggling to breathe.

  Then she heard him exhale softly. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, slave. Next time you’ll wear that collar and nothing else.”

  Luckily she knew there was no response required so she just knelt there until she heard the sound of the front door slam.

  After he’d gone, she let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding, then opened her eyes and got to her feet. Still clutching the key, she went down the hall to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, looking at the delicate web of precious metal around her neck.

  He was right, it did look good. She reached up a hand and touched it, brushing her fingers over the intricately woven mesh. It was so lovely, it really was. She’d never had anything so gorgeous.

  Ah God, she’d always hated birthdays. Hated being given things. Hated any kind of attention or fuss made of her. It made her feel so vulnerable and she hated that too. And yet this collar didn’t make her feel vulnerable. No, she just felt…owned. Claimed. Like for the first time in her life she truly belonged to someone.

  She leaned against the
vanity, noting suddenly the dark circles under her eyes and a certain pallor to her skin. Weird. She’d been sleeping quite well the past few weeks and she’d put that down to getting regular sex. Especially since before she and Vin had started screwing, sleep had been difficult.

  Absently stroking the collar around her neck, she looked down from the mirror to the box of condoms on the vanity. The empty box of condoms. Dammit, had they gone through that box so quickly? She had that stash in the lounge, but it wouldn’t hurt to double check that she didn’t have any more under the sink. Crouching, she pulled open the cupboard, poking around amongst the loo rolls, cleaning fluids and tissues, looking for any spare boxes she’d missed.

  No condoms. But there was an empty box of tampons. For a moment she stared at it, trying to figure out if she needed to get those as well. How long had it been since she’d had her last period? She wasn’t the most regular chick in the world and didn’t keep track of it much.

  Okay, so she’d had it a couple of weeks before the NZ Con with Ellie which made it…six weeks.

  Kara swallowed. No, shit, that couldn’t be right. Could it? The last time she’d had wicked PMS not helped by yet another return to sender letter from her mother, so she and Ellie had gone out and got drunk. She’d got her period in the bar and had had to bug Ellie for some change for the tampon dispenser.

  And yeah, that had been about six weeks ago.

  She frowned at the tampon box. So she wasn’t all that regular but she’d never been quite that late before. What the hell was going on?

  Are you sure you don’t know?

  A lump of ice suddenly collected in the pit of her stomach. Oh no. Oh please God no. She and Vin had been careful. Every single time they’d used a condom. Every. Single. Time.

  She couldn’t be pregnant. She just couldn’t be.

  Kara stood, cold all over, forgetting entirely about the collar around her neck, feeling like she’d been in an earthquake and the ground hadn’t stopped moving yet. There was, obviously, only one way to check.

  Half an hour and five pregnancy tests later, there was no denying it.