Uncovering You 6: Deliverance (3 page)

I bite my lip. Anticipation tingles through me with every sinful word. “Yes,” I tell him.

“Yes what?” he growls.

“Yes, please?” I try.

“Not good enough.”

“Jeremy…!”

He clicks his tongue. One hand tightens on my throat. He forces my head to the side, and rasps in my ear. “I want to hear you beg.”

“Please, Jeremy,” I pant. My breasts are heavy and tender, trapped between our bodies. This is the type of dominance I’d been expecting from him. It’s the type of dominance I’ve started to crave. “Please, Jeremy, fuck me now!”

“Better,” he says. “But I want to know how ready for me you are. Because when we begin …” he grazes his cheek over my jawline, the stubble scratching my skin, “… I’m holding nothing back.”

“Jeremy, please! Please, just fuck me!”

“That’s better,” he growls. And with a shift of his body and a twist of his hips, he plunges deep inside me.

I gasp at the oh-so-welcome intrusion. He’s thick and hot and makes me feel deliciously stretched. He starts to pound his hips, every push sending spasms of pleasure through my body.

He grabs one of my hands. But, instead of pinning it back, as I thought he’d do, he presses our palms together and links our fingers. He does the same with my other hand, gripping me tight, all the while continuing to pulse into me.

My gasps and moans couple with his lustful grunts. His pounding takes on an animal ferocity. That tender linking of our hands, that extra connection between our bodies, somehow softens the unadulterated edge. The sounds of pure, raw sex fill the air. His smells invade my nostrils, his taste is hot in my mouth.

I move my hips in motion with his, squeezing with my inner muscles, desperate to increase the friction between us. Jeremy growls and goes even faster, even harder, slamming into me with unrelenting force. The bed creaks. I feel like I’m being split in two. The way he goes about it, holding nothing back, is almost frightening in its intensity. To know that I can cause such passion in this man, that I am the one who can elicit such a strong response in him makes me feel wholly… completely… and fully…

His
.

I’m being dominated. I’m being taken. I’m giving myself up with no resistance or caution or remorse. Any former trepidation is thrown to the wind as I lose myself in the throes of Jeremy’s unrelenting passion.

He gasps my name as he shoots into me. The second climax takes his body in another violent shudder. I’m close, too. So close, but not there yet.

Jeremy senses it. He
knows
it. Before he’s down he brings his hand down and urges me toward my own release.

“Come for me, Lilly-flower,” he pants. “Come for me now!”

The orgasm erupts on demand. It shoots through me with unrestrained ferocity, propelled by the fervor of his words.

When it’s done, and I’m left gasping and exhausted and raw and utterly fulfilled, there beneath Jeremy Stonehart, he nuzzles his face by my ear, relaxes his body, and whispers:

“I think I might be falling for you.”

I wake up the next morning to the blare of an alarm clock. The sound makes me jolt upright, heart pounding. I didn’t set it.

I don’t remember the last time I’ve been wakened by an alarm. It must have been before my captivity began.

Captivity
. Huh. I look around the room, and, finding it empty, consider that word. It’s an interesting choice after last night.

How else can I refer to my life since being ripped away from Yale? There are no euphemisms to match. I don’t want euphemisms. They imply fear. They avoid the term’s true meaning.

And yet… “captivity” does not seem like the right word. Not anymore. Not after the way Jeremy—yes, Jeremy, not
Stonehart
– shifted from his aggressive, dominant persona to the softer, gentler side last night. It happened in the least expected moment, when emotions were running wild. I was still strung out by fear, and he was still agitated by the encounter with Thalia.

And then we had sex… crazy, mind-blowing sex
… which I thought would just be him taking from me. Taking, taking, and never giving back.

But it wasn’t. The aggression was still there. It was still the outlet for all of our screwed up emotions, for all the shifting and changing desires and thoughts and passions swirling through our heads. But, sex was meaningful last night. Meaningful in a way I could have never expected. Meaningful because it was so different from any we’ve had before.

In the past, there existed a clear dichotomy in my mind. Sex with Stonehart would be harsh, fast, and forceful. It was him doing whatever he wanted to me. It was him ravishing my body based on the false allowance of the contract. It was him treating me as little more than an empty vessel for his perverse fantasies.

Then there was sex with
Jeremy
. The first time it happened—though I did not appreciate the distinction back then—was when he took my hand and led me to his bedroom. That night, at the very beginning of my stay with him, he’d been soft, gentle, and caring. He showed me a side of him that I’d never glimpsed before. A side that I could have never suspected existed, when I was locked in the middle of the sunroom with the pillar at my back.

From there, the sex continued—based on his moods. I could tell, in advance, which side I’d get. I could tell from the way he looked at me, from the way he acted and reacted to my actions and comments.

That’s when things had been clear. Yes, my life had been surrounded by uncertainty about the future, about his intentions, about what would come next. But, at least, in that single element, the distinction had been clean. If he was pissed, angry, or moody, I’d get Stonehart sex. If he was calm, relaxed, and carefree, I’d get Jeremy sex.

And yet, last night, the lines blurred. Ever since I woke in the bedroom of his tropical villa, ever since the night he’d removed the collar and been so gentle, so sweet to me in the aftermath, I’d only experienced the Jeremy-side of him.

Until the encounter with Thalia last night. On the ride to this hotel, he’d been brooding. I could sense his anger building. The silence terrified me. I thought it signified a step back to our old dynamic. I thought he’d changed his mind, and I was again his unwilling prisoner, his captive, his slave. His submissive. I thought that all the freedoms I’d glimpsed in our time in the sun would be wiped away, no more solid than the specter of an illusion. He’d go back to being Stonehart.

To being Stonehart, and
remaining
Stonehart, for good.

I feared that the appearance of someone from my past life would trigger it. That it would remind him of the reasons he’s doing this to me—which I’m
still
not privy to—and that we would carom back to the uneasy existence where I was trapped in his mansion and absolutely helpless to fend for myself.

But that hadn’t proven to be the case. Jeremy had been fuming when we reached the building. He was in a mood for violence. I did not think anything but the roughest sex would satiate him. I expected him to take full control of my body, the way he’d done every night when I was trapped on the armchair in the dark.

And that’s how things began. But, at a certain point, for a certain reason, his mood…
shifted
.

Or maybe it’s better to say that his personality shifted—that he slipped back to being Jeremy. The anger and dominance and aggression were all still there. You can’t just smother such fiery emotions through will alone, no matter who you are. But, they became buffered by something else inside of him. Something—and it’s still astounding for me to think of it this way—caused by
me.

Or rather, by his concern for me. After last night, I have no further doubt: On some level, Jeremy Stonehart does care for me.

I sigh heavily and look around the room. The alarm stopped a long time ago. I must have turned it off while lost in my thoughts. There’s no sign of Jeremy. Where is the man?

I frown. Maybe the sensation of waking up to find the bed empty was what made me jolt upright with so much adrenaline when I woke. Perhaps it was not the incessant blaring. After the words he whispered in my ear before he fell asleep, I expected to find him close by.

I think I might be falling for you
, he’d said. Was that an admission—his first admission—of
love
?

No. I shake my head. Love and Jeremy Stonehart go together about as well as oil and water. No two concepts can be any further part. He told me part of his life story. Everything he’s done, everything he’s created for himself. The cold, lonely empire he’d built had been predicated on the precise absence of that feeling. On the outright denial of it.

I wonder, for a tentative moment, how far back the damage might run. I know only bits and pieces of his childhood. I know that his mother was important to him. I know that he loathed his father and his brothers.

I also know that the deep-rooted issues that are evident in his behavior now must have originated there. To understand Jeremy…to really understand the man… I have to know exactly what happened in his childhood.

I push myself up. The Caribbean sun shines brightly through the windows of the room. Last night, I didn’t get a chance to see how high up we are. But now, looking out at the beautiful, glistening ocean, at the majestic palms lining the stark white beach, I can tell that this is one of the highest suites in the city.

I look around for some clothes. Finding none, I wrap the white sheet around my body and wander to the window. I touch the glass. It’s cool and smooth against my fingers. I can feel a bit of heat from the morning sun. Overall, the room is air-conditioned to perfection.

I wonder vaguely what happened to the remains of my dress. Not that it can ever be worn again-not after the way Jeremy tore open the front. But, there was still something about the red fabric that I liked.

It wasn’t just its monetary value. I’ve worn plenty of expensive clothes inside Jeremy’s mansion. It wasn’t even its shape or its cut.

No, those weren’t the qualities about it that I like. I
liked
them. But, they weren’t what made the dress special.

I think it was just the significance of it. That dress was the first thing I wore when going out in public with Jeremy. That’s enough to make it special to me. If things had ended where I thought they would, if the night had proceeded in the expected way after the stark warning in the car, I would’ve wanted nothing to do with that dress.

But things moved differently. And now, for better or for worse, I have to figure out where I stand with the man.

Again
.

“Jeremy?” I call out, turning away from the window. I glimpse the bare concrete pillar where our adventure began last night and suppress a little giggle. “Jeremy, where’d you go?”

I walk out of the bedroom, straining my ears for a hint of his presence. Maybe he’s in the shower? God knows, after last night, I need one. But there is a bathroom connected to the bedroom, and I don’t hear the water running.

The entire suite, of course, is marvelous. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were the most expensive one in the city. That’s just how Jeremy lives. The rooms are wide and the ceiling is high. Lots of natural sunlight filters through, adding a sense of space and a feeling of supreme extravagance. The few wooden furnishings are bright and match the Caribbean lifestyle. I even spy a coconut or two lying around on the counters and shelves.

My stomach rumbles, reminding me how long it’s been since I last ate. I definitely need some good nutrition to prepare me for the day—

Shit
. I freeze on the spot, midway to the refrigerator. I’m supposed to meet Thalia and Fey this morning. Stonehart
and I are
both supposed to meet them . I have no idea what his plans for that are.

Thoughts of food forgotten, I lower myself onto a stool and tap my nails against the marble counter.

Where is Jeremy? He’s the one who’s supposed to arrange the meeting. Everything about it depends on him. And he hasn’t given me his rules yet, or made known any of his expectations.

Now would be the perfect time to do that, while we still have a few hours left.

Anxiety creeps up my spine and settles into a gurgling ball in my stomach at the prospect of seeing Fey. How will she react when she sees me with Jeremy? Her mother obviously would’ve told her who she found me with… Maybe not… Either way, the last thing I want her to think is the same insinuation Thalia made: that I abandoned my friends because I “upgraded” my life to Jeremy Stonehart’s level.

I do have some expectation of the rules Jeremy is going to set. I’m not an idiot. This isn’t my first rodeo with . He’ll tell me to be vague and noncommittal. He’ll tell me that I’m not to speak of what’s been happening to me in the months after the Corfu contract began.

In short, he’ll tell me to be a cold, distant bitch.

A sneaky thought rises in the back of my mind. Could I work this meeting, somehow, to my advantage? Could I indicate to Fey, without letting Jeremy know, that I need her help?

But … the thing is . . . I’m not sure I need her help. Not really. Not now. My goals and desires and motivations are not as simple as getting away from Jeremy. Not anymore.

If I had, somehow, stumbled into meeting like this even a month ago, I would’ve used every ounce of brain power I possess to channel outside help. To let Fey know the reality of my situation. To get her to alert someone, anyone, in the outside world, of what Jeremy Stonehart is doing to me.

But, my future plans are more insidious than that. I haven’t forgotten Paul. One night of hot sex has not erased my memory of every depravity Jeremy Stonehart is guilty of. His increasing affection is not something that will sway my resolve.

I need to get close to Jeremy. Close enough so that he really lets his guard down. Close enough that he begins to feel comfortable, safe, and secure with me.

Only then will I take my vengeance. Only then will I have my revenge. I don’t need to get away. I need to worm myself closer.