Enslaved (Devil's Kiss) (7 page)

Exhaling a long breath, I dialed the hospital from memory. Guilt lanced through me at the sound of Eve’s voice. She cried, wanting to know where I was. I held my breath and sought composure. I’d give anything to be with her, and as I recalled how effortlessly Gage had made me forget everything, if only for a while, my self-loathing intensified. I hung up after her doctor assured me she was doing okay—the only thing bothering her at the moment was how much she missed her mother. All things considered, I had to find the silver lining; the new treatment seemed to be helping.
 

I paced Gage’s bedroom, taking in the furnishings for the first time. The bed and dresser overpowered the room with mahogany-toned masculinity. Unlike the crimson of his basement, this room had been decorated in shades of brown, complimented with touches of royal blue. I eyed the breakfast tray. I didn’t have an appetite, but I forced down what I could. A half hour had passed, and he still hadn’t returned. I was completely naked, my dress lying in tatters on his floor. Wringing my hands, I went over my options for my next move. Did he want me to leave the room and find him? Or was I supposed to wait here? Not knowing what else to do, I sank to my knees and waited.
 

Eventually, he pushed open the door. I let out a breath of relief at the sight of him. My knees ached to a point that was unbearable.

“How long have you been waiting on your knees?”

“A while, Master.”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “You know how to behave when you want to.”

“Can I get up now, Master?”

He held out a hand. “Yes. You have chores to get to.” He pulled the nipple clamps from his pocket. “Present your breasts.”
 

I almost begged for mercy, but in the end I stood up straight, clasped my hands behind my back, and suffered in silence as he clamped my nipples. The passionate, lustful,
out-of-control
Gage from the night before was long gone, overpowered by a man who apparently guarded his emotions above all else.
 

He kept me busy with chores for hours. After dinner, he returned me to the basement, where he abused my bottom some more for his perverse pleasure. Like the previous weekend, he took me anally. Wrists and ankles locked into place on the spanking bench—a term I’d learned through my research—I was powerless to stop him as he probed my tight hole.
 

“Stop,” I sobbed. Every last shred of composure I’d held on to vanished as he slowly inched his way in.
 

“It’ll get easier each time we do it. Relax your muscles.” It burned like hell for the first few minutes, but then Gage buried his fingers in the place he’d staked as his, and a different kind of fire erupted. “Relax,” he repeated, “eventually you’ll learn to enjoy it.” He pushed all the way in with a hoarse groan. My body opened for him, and as he rubbed me to pleasure, my cries took on the sound of ecstasy. His body owned me, demanded my surrender, and with a smack to my crimson bottom, he commanded my orgasm. Completion crashed over me, like a tsunami that couldn’t be stopped. He held his own orgasm at bay for a long time, forcing me to release twice more before he withdrew from my ass.
 

“Sweet dreams, Kayla,” he whispered after he’d unfastened the restraints. The door to the basement clicked shut. I remained on the bench for a while, replaying what had just happened in my head. Not only had he made me enjoy it, but he’d brought me to orgasm three times. The realization stunned me, yet on some level I realized it shouldn’t have. Gage had slowly knocked down my defenses, gaining compliance, and if my heart didn’t yield to his intrusion, my body sure as hell did.
 

Again and again, whether I liked it or not.
 

I fell into bed and questioned my very being. What was wrong with me? What kind of person enjoyed being forced like this? How could I enjoy anything in life—least of all something so sinfully twisted—while my daughter fought for her life in the hospital? Tears trickled onto my pillow as sleep pulled at the edge of consciousness. My last thought before I fell asleep was how I’d need to find a good therapist after Gage was finished making me his plaything.
 

10. B
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The biggest surprise on Sunday was how quickly the day flew by. Gage kept me busy with additional chores, three more rounds of sex, and even the absurdity of a board game. You haven’t played Scrabble until you’ve done it naked with a sadist who makes up his own rules. The only words allowed in Gage’s rulebook were those of a sexual nature, and his prize for winning was a blow job.
 

Now I stood in the foyer, but unlike last Sunday, I didn’t hold fast to any grand illusions of freedom. Gage’s dominance would follow me out the door. He molded his body to mine from behind, one hand palming my breast as the other fell on my thigh. The hem of my dress inched up with his fingers. We’d just returned from dinner, and now the time for us to part had arrived.
 

Until the following morning when I’d see him at work again.
 

He slid his hand into my panties. “You’re so sexy.” His mouth left a wet trail down my neck, and every flick of his tongue coiled between my thighs. Excitement ignited at the idea of him taking me in the foyer, against the wall like he had the previous weekend. I spread my legs to give him better access.
 

“Do you want me, Kayla?”

I nodded, my breath coming in short spurts.
 

“Who am I?”

“My Master.”

“You want your Master’s cock inside here?” He stroked my opening, then dipped a finger into that pleasurable place.
 

My head fell back against his shoulder. “Yes, Master.”
 

“I’m not going to give you what you want right now.” He rubbed a circle around my clit. “And you know the rules—no masturbation. If you want it badly enough, come to me on your lunch hour tomorrow and beg for it.” He gripped my hair, holding my head in place. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, Master,” I breathed.
 

He helped me into my coat, and then relinquished my purse and cell phone. “I was impressed by your research paper, by the way. You’ve learned a lot, and your behavior has showcased it.” He whirled me around and pulled me against him. His mouth descended, and we said goodbye with a long slide of tongues.
 

“See you tomorrow at work.” He opened the door for me, and I stepped into the late evening winter chill. As I hurried to my car, I felt the weight of his stare and almost looked back twice. Only after I’d slid into the driver’s seat did I allow my gaze to linger on him. His eyes never strayed as I backed down the driveway. The notion was naive, but I couldn’t help but smile as a sense of freedom settled over me. Freedom to see Eve. I couldn’t wait to hold her. Visiting the hospital didn’t take long, as it was late and Eve was tired, but I did get my cuddle time in and was relieved to find some color in her cheeks for the first time in weeks. Apparently Ian had taken my request to be left alone seriously—there’d been no sight of him, not even a quick passing in the halls as I left.
 

So I was stunned to find him waiting for me in my driveway, especially since I hadn’t told him where I lived.
 

“You shouldn’t be here!” I shouted the instant I exited my car. Swift anger rose until it burst free—anger at Gage for making my life so damn complicated, and anger toward Ian for making me want something I’d made myself give up years ago. I remembered in vivid clarity all the times we’d sat thigh-to-thigh on the couch watching movies during college, or how he’d wrapped his body around mine, holding on as I cried. His mere presence had been enough to set my head spinning back then; now was no different, despite the passing years.
 

Despite my crazy circumstances of which he knew nothing—and could know nothing—about.
 

I halted a few feet in front of him and crossed my arms. My angry display didn’t deter him. He narrowed the short distance, standing close enough to make me high off the spicy scent of his cologne.
 

“I shouldn’t be here? Or you don’t want me here? There’s a big difference.”
 

I studied his white sneakers, jarred by how easily he sliced through my defenses with calm patience.
 

He tilted my chin up. “Tell me to leave . . . tell me you feel nothing for me, and I’ll never bother you again, I promise.”
 

I blinked several times, hating how Gage had turned me into a blubbering, crying female. I hadn’t cried this often in years. Not since Rick had pushed and beat until the tears flowed, until he’d known he had the power to pound on me just as easily with hurtful words as he did his fists. “I can’t tell you that.” My voice cracked, as did my self-control. He opened his arms, and I fell into them.

“What’s going on, Kayla? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all weekend. I wanted to apologize, but you wouldn’t answer your phone, and you haven’t been at the hospital . . .” He inched back and looked at me. “You’ve had me really worried.”

“I’m fine.”
 

“No, you’re not. Is it Rick? I saw him at the hospital Saturday.”

His words turned my blood to ice. “What?” I gripped his shoulders as panic took hold of me. “Rick was there?” Impossible. He’d been arrested twice already for violating the restraining order. I hadn’t seen or heard from him in over a year—I’d figured he’d finally gotten the message.

Ian opened his mouth, appearing to struggle for words. “I . . . I always got the impression he didn’t treat you good, but you wouldn’t talk to me, and then you moved and changed your number, and when I did manage to track you down, he made it clear you wanted nothing to do—”
 

“Wait—you came to see me? When?”
 

“About three years ago.”

I shuddered. Rick’s rage made more sense now. The final and last beating had been the most brutal, and he’d almost killed me in the end. “Let’s go inside. It’s freezing out here.”
 

“I wasn’t sure you’d let me in.”
 

“I wasn’t planning to, but I’ve already broken the rules—” And now I’d said too much; going down that path would lead straight to the subject of Gage’s contract.
 

Ian shut the door. “What rules?”

“My rules,” I said quickly. “I don’t want complications in my life right now. Eve is the only one who matters.”
 

“Of course she is,” he whispered, and I suddenly found myself between him and the door. He encased me in his arms, and his breath drifted across my face as he leaned in. “She’s your daughter. But you’re a horrible liar, Kayla. You about shatter every time I see you. You’re nervous all the time, constantly looking over your shoulder.”
 

I was? I thought I’d hidden my inner turmoil better than that.
 

“Is Rick harassing you? How bad was it?”

I focused on his mouth, because looking into his eyes hurt too much. “Bad. Really bad.”
 

He dropped his forehead against mine. “I should’ve done something. I suspected he was controlling, and you’d mentioned how possessive—”
 

“Going back to him was the worst mistake of my life.”
 

“Letting you go was the worst mistake of mine.” He dipped his head, and I stilled, barely breathing.
 

“Don’t.”
 

“Why?”

“Because I’m not free to be with you right now.” I was terrified. Ian and I were about to cross a line. He was a part of my past, a place where he should stay. And me? I was enslaved—literally—to a man who liked to play with my head.
 

“Kayla, talk to me.”

I gripped his waist, wanting to keep him close even though I needed to send him packing. “I can’t. You need to go.”

“Like hell I do.” His mouth claimed mine, and he assaulted me with the kind of hair-tingling kiss that meant something. His hands were everywhere, pulling me close at the small of my back, tangling in my hair, palming my breasts. His erection strained against my stomach, and I tore my mouth from his with a small cry.

“Stop.” This was impossible. I couldn’t do this.
 

But then I was kissing him again. He groaned and hoisted me against him. I wrapped my legs around him, and our clothing provided the only barrier between us.
 

“Shit, Kayla . . .” He buried his face in the hollow of my shoulder and moved against me.
 

“Ian . . . stop.”
 

“Don’t ask me to stop . . . please don’t.” He fastened his mouth over mine again, silencing my protests.

I was in a daze, until the feel of his hands on my thighs evaporated the fog. I pushed him away, hard enough to make him stumble. “I said stop!”

His expression crumbled, and he slid to the floor, holding his head in his hands. “I’m sorry.”
 

Shame, swift and intense, clung to me like Ian’s scent did. How could I go from wanting Gage to wanting Ian in the space of two hours? What kind of person had I become? Gage would know. There was no way I could hide this from him.
 

“I’d never force you . . . this isn’t like me.”

I wanted to say it wasn’t like me either, but I guess there wasn’t much I hadn’t done now, thanks to the man who’d placed metaphorical shackles around my ankles.
 

He looked up, and his eyes were brighter than usual. “Please, say something. God, I hate that I made you cry.”