Living in Shadow (Living In…) Page 13

  Now she wanted nothing more than to indulge that desire, drown her memories in pleasure.

  She licked him again, running her tongue along his collarbone, pressing her hands against his chest, feeling the shift and flex of his muscles under her palms. Christ, his body was a work of art and she ached to touch it. He hadn’t given her much opportunity on Friday night, and now she was hungry for the chance to explore him.

  And then gentle fingers wound into her hair, her head being tugged back, and when she met his gaze, she saw his eyes were full of concern. “Eleanor, what are you doing?”

  “I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to remember it. I just want…to break out of this fear, Luc. It’s like a cage and I don’t want to be trapped in it anymore.”

  He studied her intently, concern shadowing his gaze. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. You were right. I’ve been letting it stop me from taking what I want for too long and I’m sick of it.”

  “So you want to take it now?”

  She nodded, stroking the oiled silk of his skin with her thumbs. “You can help with that, can’t you?”

  “Yeah, I can.” His fingers tightened in her hair, pulling slightly, and the little prickle of hurt made her catch her breath, her thighs clenching around the ache between them. “You remember your safe word?”

  “Yes,” she said unsteadily.

  “And you know I respect it? That I would never ignore it?”

  “I do.”

  “Good.” He released her and stepped away, and she nearly reached for him, wanting that hard body and hot skin against hers. “Go into the bedroom and take off your clothes. Then sit on the bed and wait for me.”

  “You don’t have to shower if you don’t—”

  “Did I ask you to question me?”

  Excitement twisted in her gut and she embraced it, biting her lip to keep herself from saying more. Wordlessly she shook her head.

  “No, that’s right. I didn’t.” His eyes glittered as he searched her face. “You look like you want to say something, though. Argue with me maybe?”

  She looked down, shaking her head again, her breathing getting faster. Jesus, he was so fucking hot.

  “Just as well. Arguing with me earns a punishment and I don’t think you’re ready for that quite yet.”

  No, she didn’t think she was ready for that yet either.

  “Into the bedroom, Eleanor. I want you on my bed with your legs spread and your pussy wet, right now. Otherwise there’ll be hell to pay.”

  She went, her heart beating loud enough in her head she was sure he probably could hear it himself.

  In his bedroom, she shrugged off her jacket and unbuttoned her blouse. Took off her bra and pushed down the plain gray wool trousers she wore, stepping out of them and her underwear. She didn’t bother with picking them up and folding them neatly. She only left them there in a pile on the floor as she went over to the bed.

  She was beginning to shake as she sat down on it and positioned herself in the middle of it, her body already gearing itself up for what was to come.

  Lying down on her back and spreading her legs in preparation for him only made it worse. She flung her arm over her eyes, feeling vulnerable and exposed and yet not moving. It was her choice to obey him and she wanted to. God, she wanted to so badly.

  She wasn’t going to let fear rule her anymore.

  Some time passed, she didn’t know how much. She kept her arm over her face, listening to the silence of the room, anticipation building, ramping up her excitement.

  If he already knew that a sub’s own mind could be the most powerful erotic tool then he was learning very, very quickly indeed.

  Piers was good at the psychological seduction too, don’t forget…

  Eleanor stared into the darkness behind her eyes. No, she would not think of him. She had Luc to give her better memories now.

  The bed suddenly dipped and she gasped, freezing up. How the hell hadn’t she heard him? She should have remembered how silently he moved.

  “It’s only me.” Luc’s voice was soft, dark. Then the heat of his hands on her inner thighs, pushing them wide. “And I said legs apart.”

  She took her arm from over her eyes and blinked away the darkness.

  Luc was kneeling between her spread thighs. He was completely naked, a stray drop of water from his shower making its way down the hard, cut muscles of his torso. His gaze was on hers, burning with a familiar intensity that made the breath lock in her throat. And there was something else there. Something more. Determination.

  “Are you wet, Eleanor?” He covered her sex with his hand.

  She inhaled raggedly at the touch. “Yes.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” His fingers slid between her folds, exploring, testing her gently. “Hmmm. So you are. Extremely wet. Good girl.”

  He took his hand away and leaned over her, staring down into her eyes. “I’m going to hold you down with your wrists above your head. And I don’t want to hear a sound unless it’s your safe word.”

  She gave a jerky nod, her heart racing. He was intent on something, she could see it in his eyes. It made her excitement twist even tighter.

  Luc took her wrists in one strong hand and held them away, pressed into the pillows above her head.

  Her breathing became fast, the old, reflexive fear lingering. But she’d chosen this, knowing what he would demand of her. And she’d trusted him before; she’d trust him again.

  He held her wrists so gently and yet firmly enough she knew she couldn’t get away. His eyes scanned her body in a slow sweep, a dark flush of color staining the brown skin of his cheekbones. Like a man who hadn’t eaten for months surveying a banquet table and wondering where to start.

  “You said they hurt you,” Luc murmured. “Where?”

  “What? Who?”

  “Those men.”

  Oh fuck. She’d thought she’d escaped that. But… Her throat felt dry, memories scratching in the corners of her mind. Things she didn’t want to remember.

  “Luc,” she said thickly. “I don’t—”

  “Where?” His tone was insistent, brooking no argument.

  She could say her safe word. She could say truth and he would stop.

  Coward. So much for truth.

  “My jaw,” she heard herself say hoarsely. “One of them slapped me.” She hadn’t liked being hit and Piers knew that. And yet he’d only watched as his friend hit her. Hard. Letting it happen. The shock of that had been worse than the pain. Worse than the bruise on her cheekbone.

  Luc’s free hand cupped her chin, an intent look on his face. He stroked her cheekbone with his thumb, gentle, soft. Then he bent and brushed his mouth along her jaw, a series of featherlight kisses. Her throat closed up, her heart constricting.

  “Where else?” he murmured.

  “M-my neck. He tried to choke me.” Piers had told them that anything was allowed. She’d tried to say her safe word but she wasn’t able to speak.

  Luc’s hand dropped to circle her neck, still gentle. He bent, kissed the side of it then nipped her softly. Another trail of kisses, ending at her throat. Then his teeth, another nip, sharper, an intense bolt of sensation that went straight down her spine.

  She closed her eyes, shaking. There were tears behind her lids and she wanted him to stop touching her, stop making her remember because she didn’t want to. She so didn’t want to.

  And yet at the same time she didn’t want him to ever stop touching her again.

  “Where else, Eleanor?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut tighter. “My breasts.” One of them had bitten her, making her nipple bleed. Leaving bruises on her skin and definitely no pleasure.

  Luc’s hand drifted lower, stroking the curve of one breast, caressing. His thumb circled around her nipple and he pinched her, but the sensation was nothing like the pain Piers had left her open to. It was sharp, yes, but it didn’t hurt. Only added to the exquisite tension gathering tighter between
her thighs.

  More tears pushed against her closed lids. Oh fuck. Why was she crying?

  She wanted to throw an arm over her face again, hide somehow, but he was holding her wrists and she couldn’t. “Luc,” she whispered, “please don’t.”

  He didn’t answer, nor did he stop, the heat of his mouth closing over her nipple, drawing hard on her, heightening the ache.

  A sob caught in her throat.

  “Where else?” he asked, his breath feathering over the sensitive tip of her nipple.

  “No, I can’t do this.”

  “Where else?”

  “Luc…”

  “Tell me.”

  She shivered, keeping her eyes shut tight so the tears couldn’t escape. “It hurts.”

  “I know.” The warmth of his hand moving down her body, soothing, caressing. “But if you want better memories, you need to let me take the old ones away. And I can’t if I don’t know what they are.”

  But it was hard. She’d been avoiding those memories for so long, not wanting to relive them. Because it hadn’t been the physical pain that was so terrible. It had been realizing, slowly, that Piers didn’t give a shit about her. Why else would he have blindfolded her so she had no idea what was happening? So she didn’t know how many men were going to use her or even what they were going to do? Why else would he have ignored her safe word, no matter how many times she said it?

  No, he didn’t care. And she’d prostituted herself for nothing.

  “Did they hurt you here?” His hand brushed her stomach and down between her thighs, and instinctively she closed her legs, trapping him.

  His breath near her ear, lips soft against her neck, his body shifting on the bed. “Did they?” The hand between her thighs didn’t move. “Mon soleil… Did they hurt you?”

  She couldn’t speak. Tears leaked out the corners of her eyes despite her best intentions.

  “You fucking love it,” one of them had said in her ear as he’d forced his way inside her while someone else held her down. They were in one of the private rooms, no one could hear them. “Hey, Piers, I think your little slut loves this.” And he’d kept talking. Talking right over her as she said her safe word over and over. Until it meant nothing.

  While her husband watched. Letting it all happen.

  The memory caught her, the shame of it a giant stone on her chest, crushing her. The pain. The helplessness. The grief.

  Luc moved and she felt him begin to withdraw his hand. “No,” she managed to force out, her voice all rusty. “Don’t go.”

  He stilled. “I can’t bear to hurt you too.”

  “You were right. I want something else. I want something good. I want you there instead of them.” She could feel the tight clench of her muscles but she couldn’t seem to relax, a tremble shaking her.

  A second passed, or maybe a minute. An hour even.

  “Look at me,” Luc whispered. Another order, but a gentle one.

  It took effort but she managed, opening her eyes, his dark, beautiful face wavering in her vision.

  “Keep your legs spread.”

  She forced herself to obey. His hand rested between her legs, the warmth and pressure of it both weirdly reassuring and intensely erotic.

  “You feel where I have my hand?” he said in a low, fierce voice, gently squeezing for emphasis. “This pussy is mine. And I don’t want other men near it. I don’t want other men hurting it. So from now on, it belongs to me. Tell me.”

  Tears were running down her face and she couldn’t understand why those possessive, territorial words should make her feel so safe and yet they did. Like he was reclaiming her from her memories. Reclaiming her from Piers. “Luc, I don’t—”

  His hand squeezed again, his fingers pressing gently against her clit, an arrow of pleasure piercing her. “You don’t need to hold on to that bullshit anymore, Eleanor.” He looked into her eyes, pinning her there with the intensity in his. “So give it to me. Let me have it instead.”

  She couldn’t stop those fucking tears. Because she hadn’t known how long she’d been waiting for someone to say those words to her… until now.

  You don’t need to hold on to that bullshit.

  The words came out of her, hoarse and broken. “I don’t know if I can—”

  His hand pressed down, sending another jolt of pleasure through her. “You can. You’re strong and you’re brave, but you don’t need to do this alone, soleil.”

  She wanted to believe Luc with everything in her. But she’d made the wrong choice in trusting Piers. What if she made the wrong choice now? What if Luc ended up hurting her?

  Oh, she knew he’d never hurt her intentionally. But…she couldn’t take the risk.

  Eleanor turned her head away, tears streaming down her cheeks, the pain in her chest making it difficult to breathe.

  But Luc wouldn’t let her run. He wouldn’t let her hide. His thumb pressed against her clit again and she groaned. “I can’t…”

  “Why not?” He leaned down, his breath brushing her cheek, inches away. “You know you can, mon rayon de soleil. You’re mine now and I would never hurt you.”

  “I want to,” she whispered brokenly, “but I don’t know if I can trust myself.”

  “So don’t.” His hand moved, stroking. “Trust me instead.”

  She swallowed and turned her head at that, looking up at him. There was so much ferocity in his black eyes. So much determination.

  “Give me your trust, Eleanor.” It was the voice of absolute authority. Absolute command. “Give me all of it. Because I want it.”

  It was an order and he was right, she was so sick of fighting. In fact, he’d been right about a lot of things. And maybe he was right about this too. Maybe if she was going to trust anyone, it should be him.

  So she gave in. “Yes,” she said thickly. “Okay, it’s yours.” And as soon as she said the words, she felt the tension bleed out of her, a weight lifting from her shoulders.

  “Close your eyes,” he murmured, “and keep them closed.”

  Darkness. Hands everywhere. She couldn’t see and they didn’t listen to her. So scared. Alone in the blackness while they hurt her…

  She let her eyes open just a crack, unable to help herself. But no, this wasn’t the club and the man with her now was Luc. She’d decided to trust him and even though it was hard, maybe the hardest thing she’d ever done, she closed her eyes again, feeling his thumb pressing down on her clit, a finger slowly easing inside her. Pleasure flared bright and she let herself fall into it.

  “Say the words.” Kisses against her cheek, taking away her tears. “Tell me what’s mine. Give it to me, mon soleil, because I would never take it from you.”

  No. He never would. So she told him what he needed to hear. “I’m yours, Luc. All of me.”

  He covered her mouth with his, kissing her passionately, his finger sliding deep inside her, a gentle rhythm that was nothing like their first time. That wasn’t so fast and furious and yet had a desperation of its own.

  Luc stroked her, sliding another finger inside, keeping it so easy and slow that she began to pant, her tears drying on her cheeks, memory falling away to be replaced by sensation. Pleasure. No pain or humiliation. Or fear.

  While still holding her wrists above her head, his mouth moved over hers, a gentle exploration. The restraint only added to the ecstasy slowly building higher and hotter inside her.

  All the fear she gave up to him and he took it away.

  And God, it was good. It was like giving herself up to the wind and letting it take her wherever it wanted to go. There was freedom in that. And a peace she hadn’t realized was possible.

  The orgasm, when it came, swept over her, not like a crashing wave but more as a deep sea swell, lifting her up in a gradual rise that tore a sob from her. That had her pulling at his restraining hands, a deep moan escaping. He kissed her through it, a long, sweet kiss, and when it was over, all she could do was lie there shaking.

  Out of th
e cage for good.

  Luc released her carefully, burying the intense, burning rage by focusing on the touch of her skin sliding under his hands, the movement of the bed as he shifted away from her. He couldn’t let that rage out, couldn’t let that anger burn through. Those motherfuckers hurt her, but there was nothing he could do about it now. It happened in the past and all he could do was make things better somehow in the present.

  Eight years ago he would have killed the son of a bitch ex-husband and he wouldn’t have regretted it, not even for a moment.

  He reached toward the nightstand, grabbing a condom from the drawer.

  Pushing her hadn’t exactly been what he’d planned to do, but he’d come back into the room and there she was, lying on the bed exactly like he’d asked her to. Despite all the terrible things that had been done to her. And he’d known right then that she was capable of more. That she’d gone with him part of the way and was strong enough to take the rest.

  Not only that, she deserved it. To step free of the shit that had been holding her back.

  His gut had told him to push, so he had. And what she’d given him… Such a precious gift, her trust. He wanted to return that gift. Give her something not just good but incredible.

  He looked down at her a moment, all pale skin and golden hair, her body still quivering from that last orgasm, her cheeks damp with tears.

  No more crying. No more pain. No more fear.

  His instinct nudged him.

  Down beside the bed was a T-shirt from yesterday that he’d dumped there instead of putting it away. Leaving the condom on the sheet beside him, he reached down and picked up the T-shirt. Then he held it up between his fists so she could see it.

  “Blindfold,” he said.

  She said nothing. Only looked at him with eyes gone dark, steel gray.

  He leaned forward and bound the material over those eyes and though he could feel the tension in her muscles, she remained silent.

  Jesus. She was strong. She was like him, a fucking soldier.

  Then he picked up the condom packet, ripped it open, took the condom and placed it in the palm of her hand. “Put it on me,” he ordered. “And when you do, I want you to think only of my cock. Of how it’ll feel when you put it inside you. Knowing that there won’t be any other men for you while you’re with me.”