Blyssfully Undone: The Blyss Trilogy - book 3 (30 page)

“I deserved everything you gave me that night, you know,” I confess softly. Nick is taken by surprise as he stares at me in stunned disbelief. “I’m sorry about what I said.”

“I almost don’t know where to begin with this conversation,” he says, stupefied.

“How about at the beginning,” I encourage.

“Yeah,” he says, looking away from me, wearing a somber expression. “The beginning…or rather, when I thought it was the end.” His eyes flick back to mine, full of compassion and remorse as he holds my gaze. “You know…I made myself a promise that night, Julianna.” He squats down in front of me, meeting me eye-to-eye as he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into him. “I’m sorry as well. I lost control of my temper, and all I could see was red. I never meant for it to go that far…hurting you the way I did.” His eyes silently plead with mine, seeking forgiveness as we both digest the other’s apology.

“I forgive you, Nick.”

“When I lost you, I swore if I ever got you back, I’d put away those items.”

“Is that why you have a locked door downstairs? Is that your special room?” His lips thin, and then he nods in a wordless confession. He looks so anguished, and then his nostrils flare with determination, his voice holding a weighty pledge. “I will never strike you out of anger ever again. I promise you.”

I lean forward, pressing my lips to his in an offering of truce. “I believe you,” I whisper his own words back to him. A sweet smile then plays on my lips as I place my hands against his scruffy cheeks, changing the subject. “I think I like your scruff,” I announce. “It adds something to your sexiness.”

His lips twitch with mirth as he raises both eyebrows. “My sexiness?”

“Mm-hmmm,” I purr, giving him a chaste kiss. “Take me to your room, Nick. Make me yours.” Some fucked-up part of me wants this, and I’m sure the Blyss has something to do with it, but the drug has nothing on my desire to feel physical pain over anything else.

“God, I hope you know what you’re saying,” he breathes in stunned disbelief. “Where’s this coming from, Julianna?”

“I think everyone deserves second chances, don’t you? I know you won’t hurt me. I trust you.”

My heart thunders in my chest, beating triple-time as I’m splayed naked and vulnerable, my wrists and ankles tied to a bed. Nick remains fully dressed as he paces the floor back and forth with an intensity that has me on edge.
He promised to never hurt you, Jules
, I remind myself, but then I argue back,
He promised not to hurt you out of anger. All other bets are off.
I swallow my panic, forcing myself to breathe in a shallow pattern to remain calm.
You asked for this, genius.

“I’m not going to hold you accountable as much as I am Travis, because I know you had been drugged the entire time he had you,” he begins, “but you are still going to be held liable.” My eyes bolt open wide and my pulse spikes. He stops pacing to regard me, pegging me with a heated stare as his lips lift in a knowing grin. “What I am going to hold you liable for, my dear, is that for every orgasm he gave you, I plan to replace it with my own, tenfold. I am going to erase away any trace of his DNA from your body, both mentally and physically.

Confused, I have no idea what this man is about to do to me. My mouth goes dry as I nervously glance about, darting my eyes from one wall to the next, where empty hooks and barren display cases decorate the room. Even though I don’t see a whip, I know he’s got them. I just pray to God my punishment doesn't include that. A cold shiver runs through me, and I visibly quiver.

Nick leans in, hovering over my spread-eagled body, his eyes narrowing on mine. “Are you scared, sweetheart?” he taunts with a hint of arrogance.

I dig deep down, pulling out some false courage I don’t have as I force my vocal cords to stay steady and calm. “I trust you, Nick.” It’s all I can muster without my voice wanting to waver.

Satisfied with my answer, a small smirk tugs on the corner of his lips, and then he steps away. A dominant display of authority and control is evident in every movement he makes, as his expression gives nothing away.

“Good.” He leans down alongside me and hoists a bag of tricks he apparently had stashed beside the bed. I hold my breath when he pulls out a large, white device that looks like an oversized microphone, and then I swallow hard when I notice it has a long cord with a dial on it. He leans in behind the bed to plug it in. Oh, geez. I pray he doesn’t want to put that mammoth of a marshmallow inside of me, and then turn it on. I’ll die; I just know it.

As he continues setting up in silence, he steals a glance at me every now and then, and judging by the unnerved look on my face, he must find humor in it, because he fights to keep the corners of his mouth in a straight line.

“Did you know,” he says, interrupting my thoughts, “that having at least three orgasms a week can help reduce the risk of a heart attack or stroke by about fifty percent?”

I can’t help but let a little nervous laughter bubble to the surface. “Interesting trivia you’ve got there. I wonder if science has done a study on having sexual escapades so freaky and scary that they increase your risk of a heart attack by a hundred percent.”

He throws his head back and laughs a deep, throaty laugh, and I stifle a smile. I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen him laugh, and I mean
really
laugh. He wipes the corner of his eye as his mirth dies down, shaking his head at me in amusement before he leans down, chuckling over my lips. He wears a broad smile as he gives me a light-hearted kiss, and I immediately relax.

“You are so fucking adorable.” He grins, his chocolate eyes twinkling and his mood no longer intimidating.

“Are you ready for your sweet torture, Julianna?”

Believe it or not, the little comedic relief has me ready for whatever it is he wants to dole out. I lift my head to steal a quick kiss from his lips.

“Yes, Sir.”

Ten thousand volts of electrifying sexual energy zings through my body as their vibrations sing a chorus of ethereal voices to my soul. In simple terms, I’m in vibrator overload. It’s an exhilarating thrill, and I’m on the edge of another explosive orgasm.

He wasn’t lying when he said I was going to pay tenfold. I’ve had so many orgasms I’ve lost count. After I came down from the last orgasm—which felt like my twentieth, by the way—I wondered if one could die from too many.

“Ohhh,” I wail, crying out in what could only be the most superlative torture ever known to a woman.

He plunges the five-star vibrator from paradise in and out of my pussy at breakneck speed as he punishes my clit with the big white vibrator, which is to die for. I’m about to cry out with yet another over-the-top orgasmic release, when Nick removes the magic wand from my clit. I pant heavily in quick, successive breaths, lifting my head to look at him with incredulous disbelief.

“Who owns your orgasms?” he asks in an authoritative, stern voice.

I drop my head back on the bed and close my eyes. I’m drenched in sweat as I breathe out for the hundredth time on a heavy whisper, “You do, Nick. You own my orgasms.”

“That's right, baby, and I don’t suspect you’ll forget that anytime soon, will you?”

“Never. I will never forget who owns me.” I’m actually glad for the reprieve; I’m able to catch my breath. This must be what it feels like in between contractions during labor. My body is spent, and it falls listless and floaty the second all of the intense stimulation ceases.

Keeping my eyes closed, I’m too exhausted to open them. I’m so tired that the short sixty-second reprieve he gives me feels like a ten-minute break.

He clicks the vibrator back on again, the familiar buzzing sound I hate yet love echoing throughout the room.
Oh, God, here we go again
. I’m so overly sensitive I scream on contact. I’m absurdly wet, not needing any more lube as he slides the phallic-looking vibrator past my swollen folds, stretching and filling me with exquisite sensations. He begins pumping in a rhythm that makes me move my hips in tandem as I seek to gain more of everything he’s doing to me. Surrendering myself to the wild indulgence, I still can’t seem to get enough, even though I’ve definitely had enough. My sexual appetite is unquenchable. He’s been relentless with his instruments of penance, fucking me with them for what feels like hours.

My breathing picks up again, and I feel beads of sweat rolling off my forehead as he stays on task. In a delirium, my back arches off the bed as he holds the vibrating device directly on my clit, pressing it there without mercy.

My voice hoarse by now, my screams become raspy as I voice my pleasure. “Oh…God…Nick…please don’t stop…please,” I cry out, and he moves the vibrator away from my clit.

“How bad do you want it, Princess? Are you about to explode for me?”

“Nick!” I wail. “Please!” I’m desperate and he knows it. He chuckles over me, enjoying this torturous display.

“Oh, God…” I moan in frustration.

His gaze penetrates mine, burning a hole of molten passion through me as he declares, “God’s not the one who is going to make you come; I am. I want to hear you scream out
my
name.”

“Nick,” I breathe out his name as if my life depends on it while pleading silently with panicked eyes. He rewards me by moving the vibrator back over my sensitive nub. With the force of a lightning bolt, electrical shockwaves shoot through my body, making my toes curl.

I do as Nick says and scream out his name. Another orgasm ripping through me only to leave me breathless and weak. My arms and legs are tired from pulling on the restraints.

I roll my head to the side and see through half-lidded eyes that Nick has decided to take another break. Thank God. I watch as he reaches for the decanter of liquor and slowly unscrews the lid. As he pours himself a small glass, I check out his perfect ass in his pinstripe pleated dress pants from behind. His broad shoulders are wrapped in fine fabric, and his cuffs are rolled at the sleeves. He’s so damn enigmatic, and how he can go this long without stripping bare and getting down to business is beyond my comprehension.

When he’s finished pouring his glass, he turns around, and my heart pounds at the sight of his beauty. He leans against the bar as he takes a sip of his drink, and as he does, my gaze travels down from his broad shoulders to the sexy bulge straining against his neatly pressed pants. I want to touch it. I want to feel the weight of his balls in the palms of my hands. You would think I would be sated with all these orgasms, but I’m not. Nothing can replace the feel of a man’s warm touch, a man’s hot kiss, or a man’s hard dick.

Nick catches me staring at him out of the corner of his eye, and his mouth quirks up in a half-smirk as he purposely adjusts himself. God, he’s so damn sexy I can’t stand it. I lick my lips slowly with a sultry dance as desire runs back through me. I want those lips on every inch of my skin. The liquor must go down rough, because he makes a noise at the back of his throat as if it burns him.

“God, that’s so sexy.” I suppose everything is sexy to me at this moment.

His rich baritone voice caresses over me. “What is so…sexy?”

“When you do that. Take a stiff drink that only a man can swallow, and then make that rough growl at the back of your throat.”

“Is it now?” He arches a brow as he takes another sip, staring at me with an intense heat.

“Yes.” I pause briefly, letting my eyes roam over his muscular build, and as I bring my gaze back up to his striking facial features, butterflies take flight.

He swirls his drink in his glass before taking another sip, and then cants his head to the side in question. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking I love you,” I whisper sincerely.

Nick barks out a quick laugh, and then shakes his head as he grins. “All the woman say that by the tenth orgasm. It’s mostly due to the oxytocin triggering a prodigious amount of other feel-good hormones. It happens every time.”

My smile fades, and I grow solemn. “No, Nick. I mean it. I think I’m falling in love with you.”

His face turns hard and serious as he puts down his glass of liquor and is immediately at my side, searching my eyes. “Don’t fuck with me,” he sternly warns.