Sexy as Hell Box Set (101 page)

Victor bashed through
what felt like a gate, stopped and pulled my back harder into his chest. “This is your home now, this is where you’ll admit you belong to me.”

He was panting hard, his rapid breaths jostling my body.

“Mmmph…” I managed again, opening my eyes. My vision was fogged by tears.

We were at the shed. The lean-to. Where Victor and I had licked each other’s arses.

What the?

A new wave of terror surged through me. It was ridiculous, I knew that. But here, the shed.
I’d been taken by surprise and dragged to the shed. Where they’d kept me, where they’d…

No,
the shed, the shed where Victor had fought demons with me. Slayed dragons, battled the beasts that raged within me, and, ultimately, helped me. Where we’d turned a disgusting memory into a new, beautiful reality that made me burst with pleasure whenever I thought of it.

This was
our
shed. This was the only shed I needed in my life.

“I’m going to remove my hand. You will not scream. If you do, things so horrible you can’t even imagine them will happen to you. Nod if you understand.”

I bobbed my head. Willed my heart to slow.

Slowly, he lifted his hand. But he kept it hovering over my mouth. The way
Conner had that first time. Before they’d really started messing with my head and silence had become a way of life for three weeks.

I clamped my lips shut. Locked my knees; they were as weak as noodles, watery and pathetic. If Victor hadn’t been holding me up I was sure I’d be a crumpled heap on the floor.

“You’re going to do exactly as I say,” he murmured into my ear, his breaths sweeping down my neck and beneath the collar of my coat. “And you’re going to fucking enjoy it, okay?”

Again I nodded, the soothing tickle of his words on my skin settling my nerves a fraction.

Victor. This was Victor. Not Conner. Conner was gone. So were Ray and Sam.

He suddenly propelled me forward, into the shed, and kicked the door
half shut behind us. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dull lighting. But when they did I saw that Victor had pushed at the hood he wore and revealed himself to me. His hair stood up a little spiky, his cheeks were mottled with exertion, and a plume of cool air hung in front of his face. He’d never looked more gorgeous.

Fuck it. Had I pushed Zara too far? No, she needed this. I was sure of it. And while we were still in Venice it seemed appropriate to use the pseudo location that stored her troubles. It might just be an abandoned shed in a forgotten corner of a deserted alley, but for her, for us, it was a place of great healing and of great, if extreme, pleasure.

But this was the one memory she’d told me about that we hadn’t yet faced together; changed, buried, recreated. And because of the nature of it, her being taken by surprise and hauled away from her life to a new sick one, it wasn’t something I could discuss with her beforehand.

I had to just do it and hope I’d played the right hand.

She was shaking now and her face was as pale as a sheet of paper, her eyes so wide I could see the whites.

But we still had more to do. I had to push on with my plans. It would be worth it in the end.

I reached for her coat and undid the buttons. Slipped it from her shoulders and then hung it on a rusty nail jutting out of the wall. It was a cheap coat, fluffy too, and not as heavy as it should be to give a decent degree of warmth. I’d buy her more, the finest, the best. Soon she’d have everything she needed materially as well as emotionally and physically. I’d made a pact with myself to ensure that. My Zara, if she’d formally consent to being mine, would want for nothing in the future.

But back to the present…

I had no idea exactly what those bastards had initially said to her, after they’d taken her. It was bound to have been crude, evil, manipulative, not things that came easily to me but I’d give it a go anyway.

“You’re ours now,” I said. “To do whatever we want to. We might fuck you, we might not. You’ll never know what we’re going to do next. You see, we’re just curious; we want a girl to play with, come on, piss on, maybe even shit on. We want a girl who can act, too, pretend to be whatever animal we want her to be, and enjoy it, obey us. We’re going to treat you like the whore you are, but you won’t get paid
. Oh no, you’re just going to have to live with that, here, in this shed, with us. You’ll never escape, never.”

I peeled off her sweater and revealed her black lace bra. One quick flick of the catch and that, too, was discarded. Her nipples were tight, though I suspected it was because of the cold rather than desire, and her flesh held a swarm of goose bumps.

“And if you don’t do as we say, if you do try and escape then…” I paused, not knowing or particularly wanting to know what extreme threats they’d kept her with.

A small sob burst out of her mouth.

Damn it. I didn’t know if I could go on.

Quickly, and with fumbling fingers, I dragged off the hoody, tossed it aside, then pulled at my
polo shirt too.

Once bare-chested, I tugged her close. Her breasts flattened against me, cool, soft
globes that felt so delicate. I hovered my lips over hers and softened my voice.

“New memories,” I said, “from now on, this is about new memories.” I kissed her, hard, to show that this was us now, here, in love, together. Those
bastards weren’t here anymore, I’d told them to piss the fuck off.

Because nothing bad would ever happen to her again. I would spend the rest of my life making sure of that. I would kill anyone who hurt her. Maim anyone who even looked at her the wrong way or upset her with a sly comment.

“Victor,” she whispered and slid her hands over my shoulders, linked them at my nape. “Victor, I…”

“I’m here for you. I always will be.” I ran my hands down her back, rubbed her cooling skin and then cupped her arse cheeks
over her trousers. “Those shed memories, although maybe not completely gone, can always include me now, loving you, pleasing you, taking you to be mine. Those cunts have no place in your mind when you think of me, of us.”

“Yes, that’s what I want.” Her voice was shaky.

“And I want
you
.” There was no quiver in my voice. If ever I’d said something that I believed from my heart, that was it. I wanted her.

“You have me.” She ran her hands through my hair, pulled me close again for another kiss that seemed to stroke my soul and satisfy a need in me that I couldn’t give a name to. Only that it was the most fulfilling, completing sensation I had ever known and now that it had moved in, found a home in me, I would do anything to make it stay.

When we came up for air, I released her and reached into my bulging back jeans pocket.

I pulled out the collar. The collar she cared about so much. The collar I’d had a job getting out of her sight because of the way she idolised it.

But I had. It had taken a little deviousness, but I’d stolen it from her with the intention of giving it back to her. Here.

Her eyes widened and she pressed her fingers to her lips. “That’s my…”

“I want you, Zara Watson, not just to be with me when I wake up and when I go to sleep. I want you to be mine, officially, for the rest of my life. When you go about your business, whether it’s to the shops or at work, or hanging out with…friends and clients, I want—no, need—to know, for everyone to know, that you belong to me, forever.”

She swallowed—a noisy gulping sound—and one of the tears that had been brimming on her lower lids over-spilled.

I watched its track down her alabaster-like cheek. A sudden flip in my chest that had nothing to do with my dodgy heart rhythm announced that I was scared.

Scared that she might, at this final point, refuse to
be mine. Refuse to have me.

Please, God, if you’re listening. Let her say yes. Let her belong to me for all eternity.

I had no idea what I would do without her now. I’d be stumbling in the dark, reaching for purchase and finding nothing to hold on to. How the bloody hell would I even get out of bed each morning if I wasn’t going to have her in my day?

Zara stepped backwards; her gaze dipped down my body and then to the floor. She scooped up her hair so that it piled on the top of her head and exposed her slender neck.

“Collar me,” she said quietly, her breath hanging in a small cloud between us. “I’m yours, Master, forever.”

Relief and happiness soared through me. After all we’d been through, after the highs and lows, the horrendous acts and the beautiful climaxes we’d shared, she was willing to hand herself over to me.

The amount of trust and respect and love that simple act showed threatened to overwhelm me. I’d never believed that I could get so lucky as to find a woman, another human being, to share such raw, honest devotion with.

My fingers were cold, almost numb now, but I managed to slip the thick collar around her neck and fasten the buckle. I was careful to make sure it wasn’t too tight, but secure enough that she’d be able to feel it, that it would remind her she had a Master.

“I love you,” I said, tracing the edge with my finger. “It’s only you, Zara, no one else will ever compare.”

“And I love you,” she said, looking up at me again. “In a way I never thought I could love anyone, and…”

“What?” I touched her chin with the crook of my index finger. “Tell me.”

“And it’s scary, this love business.”

I nodded. “Fucking terrifying, but then doesn’t that just prove that it’s worth having, if the thought of not having it is beyond painful, makes you want to scream and shout and fight to the death for?”

“Yes, yes you’re right.”

“I’ll never hurt you, I promise.”

“I know, yes, I know that.” She nodded rapidly and then swiped at her damp cheeks. “But…”

I had an idea what she wanted, what would complete this moment. I reached into my other back pocket. Pulled out the third purchase I’d made that morning when I’d slipped from the hotel room; the first two had been the hooded top and gloves.

“Is this what you want?” I asked, holding up a very slim, black dog’s collar. One that I would be able to wear beneath my work shirt without anyone guessing that I had a Mistress waiting for me at home—a Mistress who might decide to paddle my arse raw, insist that I plug myself or seduce me in the shower and make me beg to be allowed to come
all over her.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, immediately taking it from me. “Perfect.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it, and I love you, Victor Partridge and I…”

She hesitated, and I sensed she was controlling a quiver in her throat that was jeopardising the stability of her words.

“And I would be honoured if you would wear it, for all of time, as a symbol of your devotion to me and my commitment to caring for you, as your Mistress, as your lover, as your wife.”

“Nothing would make me happier than to be yours the way you are mine.” I smiled and blinked rapidly a couple of times, hoping I wouldn’t show myself up with tears. But it was too late; a drip leaked out and rolled fatly down my cheek.

She caught it with her thumb then sucked the moisture into her mouth.

Always so greedy for me. For any part of me.

I smiled at that.

She grinned, too, then reached up and coiled the chilly leather around my neck. She shivered as she secured the slender buckle, her teeth giving a little chatter and her hair shifting around her face.

I pulled her close to share my meagre warmth. She nuzzled
in and kissed the collar about my neck, her lips and tongue leaving a cold trail that sealed our deal.

She was mine. I was hers.

This abandoned shed, on a cold January morning in Venice, was our place. It wasn’t a lavish cathedral or a quaint English church. But for us it was the most romantic destination on Earth. No one else would ever understand that, or even try to. But what did that matter? We were the important ones in this relationship, and Zara’s happiness had become my top priority in life.

“It suits you,” she said. “The collar.”

“Only because you put it there, because it shows the world that I belong to you.”

“But will the world see it?” She tipped her head, frowned a little.

“When I’m not in the office, yes, I’ll proudly display my owned status. If people get it, that’s great, if they don’t, that’s their problem. Though I can’t see why they wouldn’t get it—it is, after all, just like a wedding band.”

“And so much more.”

“And so much more.” I smiled, kissed the tip of her nose.

She trembled again; her skin was icy-cold now beneath my touch. This wasn’t the best of days to be half naked outdoors.

“We should go,” I said. “Or at least get dressed.”

She nodded. Touched her collar, smiled, and then reached for her bra and top, quickly pulling them on.

I did the same, enjoying the sensation of a band around my neck, stroking the taut tendons as I moved.