Desire (3 page)

Chapter 7

Burrow on borrowed strength

Music wakes me, music so slow and nefarious it feels as if I've fallen into a grunge metal Hades.

Getting up off my bed I pad to the door, jumping when it bursts open with a violent bang. A man with a hood covering his hair and the top half of his face blocks the threshold, aggressively prowling toward me.

Backing up, my hands held defensively in front of me, my heart jackhammering and making me pant, he grabs my wrists as if I held them to him in willing sacrifice, yanking my hands up and flinging me hard up against the wall, pinning me with his weight and my wrists, stooping to scowl mysterious eyes at me, sniffing over my throat, up past my ear, hovering his mouth over mine, staring into me with eyes like razors slicing my heart open to foretell the future, snarling, “You have hell in your eyes. You damn me.”

His nails are so long that they look like talons, they're cutting into my skin, biting and hurting.

Pushing back against his strength, afraid, panic blooms in my gut, racing with my wild pulse to poison my mind.

Laughing danger he grips my throat, releasing my left wrist to do so, chuckling in my face, “I love it when you fight. Struggle baby bird, struggle with your clipped wings and perverted soul.”

The hand around my throat has me pegged to the wall and I flinch when he bends to bite my neck, tugging the skin playfully, releasing it to lick up my vein to my ear, hissing softly, “It burns, it's hot, it's wet, it's me inside of you.”

Aggressively pulled away from the wall he hurls me across the room, forcing me to stumble and fall onto the bed, and before I can regain balance he's on me, his hand in my hair, pulling my head up, the grate of a metal zip being deployed, a hot and ruthless cock free and probing into me, his laughter enough to chill my skin.

I try to push up, to breathe, but he thrusts so hard, his nails scratching a burn down my back, that I cry out. His big hands are back on my wrists, pulling my arms above my head while he dives in and out of me, pillaging and desecrating, his dominance unequivocal.

Fucked harder and faster than I ever have, I feel like he's staking me in crucifixion, like he's trying to deliver my soul from the devil, his boner on a rampage to nail me to a crypt of carnal corruption. I'm panting, hot and disturbingly horny when he pulls out without cumming.

Lifting me and flopping me onto my back he snaps his punishing grip back onto my wrists, staring at me, breathing hard where he leans over me, nose to nose, eyelashes to eyelashes, a deep baritone saying, “I see them, those scars in your soul, the roadmaps that led you straight to me.”

Standing up, flexing his wrists, his penis sticking out of black jeans, his torso etched with extruded muscle, his chest pumped like a warrior's, his smile softens the bottom half of his face, looking vaguely familiar.

Leaning against the bedpost he crosses muscular arms to drawl sexily, “In your haunted history I wrote my name in your blood, I cursed you, I charmed you. I should have cut out your eyes but I liked looking into them too much, looking into those blue crystal balls where your internal winter continually snows. It's so cold in your mind, so hollow that it echoes when you smile.”

Folding my arms over myself, I inch up, intimidated by this enigma, by his macabre smirk and darker eyes. He surveys me, laughing between his teeth, muttering, “You like it rough, you like it wild, did you think being a sub to Dominic would be easy? Did you not think he'd be here to claim you, to remind you that in this world you are nothing more than a wet pussy to fuck as and when he pleases?”

I've just woken up and my morning dose of wild violence has left my brain flatlining. I can't seem to find a single response other than to watch him, to appreciate his body, those wide shoulders, and coarse voice, secretly delighting in his brutal display of dominance.

Diving back, covering me and holding me to the headboard, he bites my lip, purring, “Bleed for me, cut open those scars inside you and give me your blood.”

His nip on my lip is harsh, bulleting pain to my brain, blood strong in my mouth, his tongue licking over my cut, delving into my mouth, sucking and ravaging my mouth, his hand grinding tense fingers into my cheeks when he harnesses my jaw in his hand.

Releasing me abruptly he slaps the cheek in his grip, snarling, “That's for being blind.”

Then just as aggressively he strides to the door, looking back at me, and my mind is pinwheeling. It's as if he's waiting for me to beg, to plead, to crawl across the carpet and beseech him to take me, but I won't.

If he's Dominic he knows what he wants. I have no pride left after last night. Looking away from him I do the final act of subservience. I slip off the bed onto the floor, sitting staring at the black carpet, hot tears sliding out of my eyes, blurring the pile.

“Bruised wings can't fly. Broken minds can't sing. Scabbed knees bleed when they crawl for pity. If you want something you have to take it,” he says.

Shaking my head, I wish he'd stop. He's got the silver cord to my soul and he's strangling me with it. Wiping my eyes, sniffing, I lift my chin, holding my hand out to him, a silent offer to lift me up, to make me whole.

“I have no coin for a beggar,” he says, this time his voice so gruff that it sounds emotional.

“
I'm not begging, it's an offer to help me up, to repair my wings, to cover my scars with your own.”

Now he smiles, walking back in a slow strut, the hollow inside his hipbones before his tendons and muscles bulge mesmerizing me. “Who am I?”

Looking up, I notice he has a scar inside his right forearm. “The master,” I whisper, my words husky and strained.

“
Whose master?”

“
Mine,” I say, my voice weak and watery, emotion flooding me, shame drowning me.

He drops to his haunches, offering me his hand, bulging thighs poised in front of me in creaking leather jeans. Taking his hand I press my cheek to it.

He reaches out and cups my face with his other hand, saying, “Whenever I collect your tears in my hands you absolve my pain, your voice digs graves, and mighty men fall to their death when you dance. Someone broke an angel and she let me chain her neck, but I didn't want to cage her sin or fill her womb with kisses, all I ever wanted was for you to look up and see your own light. You have fallen so far little angel that you think you are a slave.”

His thumb wipes my tears, pulling the skin under my eye, him closing the gap and kissing me so softly that it breaks my heart. It makes me cry harder and a suffering sob escapes my tortured spirit.

His voice is a salve, it's a blessing, “I know who you are. I know your darkness, I know your mistakes, I know your regrets. I know you like tough and rough and brutal, but after that high you come down, you fall deeper into your own pain. You choose music that screams and shouts, you like it scything through your soul with chained guitars and demonic lyrics, but you don't understand that this is a mirror. All you're doing is exposing that you like to crawl, you like the grazes, you like the pain. It's okay Lilah, I understand it. I promise to break you apart and rebuild you, I have enough strength for both of us.”

“
Who are you?” I frown, feeling as if I know him, as if I love him ... maybe.”

“
To disguise a secret it has to hide in plain sight,” he smiles, still looking into me with those mysterious portals of ink.

“
Your penis is still hanging out of your zip,” I smile, because I'm finding it distracting.

“
Maybe it's happy to see you.”

Leaning down I take it into my mouth, heating the cooled skin, reawakening its passion.

His chest is lifting and falling as his blood surges, and I find the strength to get off the floor, encouraging him to stand with me, holding onto him when I sidle back onto the bed, looking up at a strong neck and dark stubble, “Where would you like me? Underneath or on top?”

“
Beside me, forever and always beside me.”

Frowning because I'm trying to make sense of this, I'm wondering if spooning will work then?

Taking the space next to me, long nails scrape down my cheek, him saying deeply, “What did you learn last night?”

I don't know how to answer. I learned that I'm afraid of rape, I'm afraid of getting hurt, I'm afraid of rejection.

Speaking honestly, I hold his free hand, looking at the long nails, noticing they're fake, “That I'm afraid of rejection.”

The hand next to my cheek grips my chin, tilting my face to his, “Why?”

“It hurts,” I whisper, a fresh leak of tears trickling over my cheeks at the confession.

“
I'll never hurt you like that. I'll hurt your body plenty because I'm a greedy glutton, but I won't reject you. It's time you learned to drown.”

Alarmed, I search his eyes, “Drown?”

“In me,” he croons, dipping his head to close my mouth into another searing kiss. I don't wait for instruction, I just crawl into his lap and slide him inside me, this time rocking gently, savoring the heat, my head resting on his shoulder, my palm softly rubbing over the delicious brush of his stubble, feeling as if this time it's not my body I'm exposing to a stranger, but my heart and my soul.

“
Fuck!” blasts heat into my ear, his hips thrusting up, and I feel the hot sensation of him orgasming inside me.

I don't move, I just fold my arms around his neck and nuzzle, pressing soft kisses into the skin beneath his ear, wishing I could just hide here forever, away from the world, away from my life, in this strange dimension where safety hides inside a masculine chest.

He forces me to lift my head with insistent pressure of fingers under my chin, and I focus on his mouth, finding my own happiness in it when it smiles. “Why did you want Dominic?” he asks.

“
I just want to be safe and happy. I'm tired of running from life.”

“
You were running from yourself,” he says, unzipping the mask and peeling it off.

I'm shellshocked, staring into Garth's face, feeling him twitch inside me, knowing he was the master but not understanding why he'd pretend to be.

“You didn't really think I'd just select any girl, did you? I pretended to work, for myself no less, watching you girls, watching your interaction with each other, with people like me who some of you consider simply a staff member planted here to run after bitchy princesses.”

“
But you're my friend. I trusted you,” I grumble, feeling duped.

“
And that's why you're the one I chose. I've craved you, watching you for all these months, wondering how you feel when I'm inside you, wondering what it would be like to have you dance just for me, wondering what your lips felt like, how you make love, how you own your female power when you have no reason to hide it. I gave you a reason and you surpassed my wildest hopes for us. Jesus Delilah, you can fuck a man into a different dimension.”

“
Why? Why be Dominic? Why... I don't understand.”

“
I am Dominic, Garth's a masquerade. I own a club where the worst sins are committed and I see men and women destroy all that is sacred. And then you came along, with your frozen soul. When you smiled you cracked my sanity. Looking into your eyes I fell through eternity and I knew I'd find a way to make you whole. You told me your secrets, your wishes, and I read between the lines. This was all for you. But I'm the master, and a good master protects his chosen. When you let me in and we became friends I lost my mind to you. I had to get it back, I had to have you need me as much as I needed you.”

Hugging him, so delighted it's Garth, my friend, the only man here to ever respect me, to be gentle and tender, I laugh, giggling elation, “You're a snake. Who was the man I thought was Dominic?”

“My brother, he was nice enough to help me get this right. You never saw me as your evil equal, I do declare I have dispelled that myth.” And then just as fast he has my wrists again, crushing them with his strength, forcing me onto my back and plunging his penis in and out of me again, his weight holding me down, darkness filling his eyes, “I'm a bad man, I'm just as damaged as you, but together we'll be whole.”

“
Gar- Dom,” I stall, laughing because I want to call him Garth.

“
Dom, I'm your dom, call me Dom because it's my fucking name. Now shut up broken angel, I need your blood.”

This time he bites my lip, smearing it like lipstick, mashing our lips together, bidding me do the same, and with crimson smiles we bond in blood, the illusion shattered, my heart engorged, finding the venom in him that replenishes my soul.

And yet he's a kind man, a good man, and my best friend.

Clamping my legs around his tush, lifting up to snag his neck in my teeth, I cup the back of his head to bring him down, nose in my neck, whispering in his ear, “I am your servant, master.”

Because I have always been a slave, but now I am a slave to love. He grunts, filling me again, grinding over my clit, stealing my breath with my own impending orgasm, grazing my ear with his words, “No, you are my dancer, you are my skin, you are my smile. No more dancing for them, from now on you dance only for me.”