Only for him, p.19
Only For Him, page 19
I nod, knowing he’s right. “I’ll do what needs to be done.”
Carter nods once, slowly, but his gaze doesn’t leave mine. It’s obvious the question is on the tip of his tongue. Cocking a brow I wait, knowing it’s unlike him to hold back. But it’s also unlike me … to do any of this shit. I don’t create chaos, I fix it.
“What happened tonight?”
A lump forms in my throat as I picture her in the ice bath again, on the verge of death. The moment it all turned red.
“You shouldn’t have watched,” Carter comments as if he saw it too. As if he read my damn mind.
“I needed to hear her say it,” I start, my mind going back to that moment when I heard her scream my name. I’ll never know the feel of the ice, but my body goes cold from the thought.
“She will never say it now. Not if you come running to stop interrogations.”
“Careful,” I warn him, every muscle in my body tensing.
The shock from earlier seems to be lessened, but still my brother’s eyes widen slightly. My grip tightens on the chair and I force my back to press into the seat.
“I want to be certain. She did it—there is no way that information reached the feds unless she is the one who gave it to—”
“I know,” I say, cutting him off. “I know, but it still doesn’t feel right.”
“Betrayal never does.” He’s quick to put forth the advice.
“What are you going to do with her?” he asks and I can’t answer. I don’t know. All I know is that I don’t want her to die. If she’s truly an informant, though …
“What happens when the feds come looking for her?” he says after the moment of quiet and again his thoughts mimic mine.
“I don’t want to believe—”
“It’s not just you, Declan,” he reminds me and there’s a plea in his tone. “I understand. More than our brothers, I understand.”
Compassion is a rarity from him, and perhaps that’s why I confess to him, “I can’t kill her until she admits it. I need to hear her say it.”
“I’m sure she knows that and she will do anything to stay alive, even if that means lying to you until she can figure out a way to bring you down … bring all of us down.”
“How did it get this complicated?”
“You fell for her,” he tells me and I hate him for it even if it’s the truth. Visions of her flash before my eyes. From when we were children, to when I first saw her glancing at me with those dark, lust-filled eyes, to our first kiss and more. Little moments I’ve never had with anyone else.
“She is yours, but betraying you is betraying all of us.”
“I know,” I answer him, pretending as if I’m not completely broken by what she’s done. I almost tell him that I just can’t believe it. I almost defend her again, but there’s no way around it. They all knew I was giving her that file. It was a test and she failed.
For the first time in my life, I wish I had kept some things from my brothers. I wish they didn’t know it was her. As I stand up and tell my brother good night, I realize that if I could go back, I’d do it all over again, but I wouldn’t tell them about Braelynn. I’d keep it all a secret and keep her to myself.
I can fix this. I can punish her and see to it that she obeys in every way. She has to. There’s no other way to protect her and keep her.
“I’ll take care of it,” I say beneath my breath as I make my way to the door. She’s going to regret this, and she’s going to make it up to me. She’s mine after all.
BRAELYNN
It wasn’t a nightmare.
The deep cuts at my wrists from where I pulled against the restraints and the pain in my throat of screams that went unheard are proof that it really happened. My entire body is weak, my head faint, and my eyes beg to close and let sleep pull me under again. My racing heart won’t allow such a thing, though.
I’ve barely slept at all and I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to again.
“You’re awake.” Declan’s deep voice from across the room startles me. With every muscle tense, I stare back at him. Darkness has settled under his eyes, telling me he hasn’t slept much either. Maybe not even at all.
“Yes,” I answer, not knowing what else to say as I roll over, making the bed groan. It takes a moment to calm even the slightest, but the fear doesn’t leave me. Standing there in nothing but pajama pants with his arms crossed, his corded muscles and bare chest are fully on display. Shadows from the early morning twilight play across his chiseled face.
He’s always been domineering in his stance and power has always radiated from him, but in this moment he is nothing other than the god who decides my fate. Merciless and hardened by sin, he is the only one who has control over what happens to me. It’s never been more obvious and with that knowledge, my throat tightens.
“Your purse and phone are in my office,” he says casually after taking a deep breath. His shoulders relax somewhat and he makes his way to me. Each dominating stride is more foreboding than the last.
With every step my heart beats harder, as though banging against the cage of my chest in an effort to escape. I can barely breathe as he kneels on the edge of the bed.
“My mother”—the words rush from me as if begging him for something—“she’ll want me to text her.” Swallowing thickly, I try to explain as his dark eyes narrow, telling him, “She calls every other day.”
Declan’s lips pull up into an asymmetric grin as he huffs a humorless laugh. His gaze moves to the right of the room, looking around aimlessly, and I pull the sheets up around me as much as I can. Before I can register what’s happening he’s on practically on top of me, pinning the covers down and it threatens to expose my chest.
There’s nothing between us that can protect me. It’s all too obvious as his sharp gaze reaches mine again.
“I can text her for you … I’m sure that will suffice?” he offers, his tone slightly condescending. Something must have happened as I slept. Something awful.
I remember the last time I told him I was scared, and how he told me I should be terrified. Adrenaline surges through me, but it’s no match for how numb my body feels. “Answer me,” he commands without an ounce of mercy. Tears prick the back of my eyes as I nod.
“Declan,” I say, and his name is a plea that I can’t help.
“You’re scared?” he says easily, sounding like the devil himself.
I can only nod, my throat closed so tight, I feel as if I’m suffocating.
“Tell me what happened and I can fix this,” he offers and it’s the first ounce of compassion from him. The tiniest bit but even still, it soothes so much pain. So much fear. My body begs to bow to him, to make myself small and let him comfort me.
“I didn’t—”
“Don’t tell me what you didn’t do. Tell me what happened,” he corrects me.
Thump, thump.
“I don’t know … they kept asking me about computer files for your finances …” I remember the voice, deep and rough without a shred of empathy. I remember the man telling me to just give up a name. I don’t have a name. “I don’t know.” The wretched words slip from me in a whisper as the cage is lowered in my mind and agony betrays any semblance of control I might have.
“Tax evasion and tax fraud …” he says, coaxing me, climbing on the bed and making his way to me closer and closer, my skin heating with a fire that burns every inch of my skin.
My head shakes on its own as I whisper, “I don’t know any of it.” The fear climbing by the second, I don’t know what to tell him. “I don’t—”
“Don’t lie to me,” he warns and my pulse stutters. I couldn’t speak in this moment if I wanted to. Trapped by this man in his room, his rules the only certainty, I’ve never felt so hopeless and utterly alone.
“Did you ever take the laptop out of the office?”
“No,” I answer quickly. I was asked that same thing before in that room. The man asked me that. Flashes crash through my memory. The ice.
“When I found you snooping, I should have cut you off then.” His brutal tone cuts through me like a knife. “Instead I thought, I’ll prove she’s isn’t out to hurt me,” he tells me and his voice cracks ever so slightly. Peeking up into his gaze is painful. Regret and hate stare back at me. “Then you go and fall right into my trap,” he continues.
“Stop—Declan, stop please—I didn’t—”
“You did,” he insists and my entire body goes cold. It feels like being back in that cage. My blunt nails dig into my skin in a desperate attempt to hold on to anything at all.
“I didn’t,” I plead with him as tears slip down my cheeks. He doesn’t believe me. How could he not believe me? “I didn’t,” I try to speak, but I don’t know if the words even come out. So much fear consumes me at this moment that I’m light-headed.
Help me.
He creeps closer, the bed dipping as he does. “Just tell me the truth and I will figure it all out, Braelynn,” he nearly whispers.
I don’t know what to say, or if I’m even capable of speaking as the events of yesterday play back, faster and faster. Declan says something, but I can’t make it out. There’s only the iron cage, the freezing water. I can’t hear anything as it all whirls by. So quickly all I can hear is the memory of my own screams.
“Tell me,” he nearly yells as I see Nate murder Scarlet.
My hand whips out in front of me. I don’t mean it to. He’s just so close and I’m so scared. My palm burns as the slap rings out and breaks the visions, bringing me right back to the here and now. Shock overwhelms me.
My eyes widen as I realize the fear I felt before is nothing compared to this new terror. Slowly, ever so slowly, Declan turns his head to face me, the red handprint on his cheek evidence of what I’ve done.
DECLAN
I let her scramble to get off the bed. I let her fall to the floor as she pleads with me for mercy. I let her scurry under the bed, hiding there as I remain perfectly still where I am. I don’t allow a muscle to move.
The anger simmers and a sense of failure seeps into me. Failing her, failing us. Everything crumbles when I lose control and I obviously lost it before, but I will not again.
For the sake of her life, I don’t allow myself to even breathe as she cries out for me to forgive her, her voice muffled from beneath the bed frame.
My poor little pet.
Every jagged piece of my brokenness feels for her. I remind myself of my conviction, of the only way she makes it out of this alive: If she gives herself to me, she will be fine. She needs to be mine and then everything will be all right.
There’s not a sound in the dark room apart from her heavy breathing and the pounding of my racing heart. The ability to keep calm and levelheaded has never been more difficult.
“Please don’t hurt me,” she murmurs in a strangled way.
With every ounce of self-control I possess, I carefully remove myself from the bed. I’m sure to step toward the opposite side of where she is so shifting my weight doesn’t harm her, and to give her some distance between us. With slow, deliberate movements, I walk to the other side of the room, press my back against the wall and carefully lower myself to the floor.
Cross-legged and with my head resting against the wall, I let my gaze fall to the shadowy space where she’s concealed.
“How did you get yourself under there, my little pet?” I question loud enough for her to hear me. Exhaustion wars inside of me with every mixed emotion I feel.
Failure rings the loudest in my mind. Failing my brothers, failing her just the same.
All because I lost control. I was too weak to take care of her myself.
“I’m sorry,” she manages to say but doesn’t answer my question. She’s resisting my authority and untrusting. She’s terrified.
That’s how I told her to feel, isn’t it? Yet again, more evidence that I caused this. It was all in my control and then I gave it away. That won’t happen again.
I flex my jaw to dampen the sting from her slap.
With both hands resting on my knees, palms up, I tell her calmly, “Come here, Braelynn.”
Every second she hesitates anger stirs within until disappointment eventually settles through me. I have to remind myself she’s scared because of me. I did this to her. The only one I have to be angry toward is my fucked-up self.
“Come here, be a good girl for me,” I calmly command her, keeping my voice even and with a soothing edge. Time ticks by slowly with her mounting defiance.
Her sniffling is heard from the right side of the king-sized bed. “Please don’t make me wait any longer, my little pet. My patience isn’t what it typically is …” I swallow down every emotion elicited as the past forty-eight hours flick through my mind. “I’ve barely slept and I know you haven’t either.”
The floor creaks as she carefully starts to emerge from under the bed. Her large dark eyes peer up at me and the look in them wrecks me. Genuine fear and genuine sorrow leave no room for anything else.
Her lips are parted as she takes in short inhales, her shoulders shaking with each one.
I watch as the cords in her throat tighten and she swallows, just at the end of the bed, almost out from under it. Her breasts are covered by her long curly hair, tangled from sleep. Even in this moment, with everything that’s happened, my cock hardens and aches for her as her naked body crawls to me.
“That’s my good girl,” I murmur, focusing on her gaze. “Come here,” I add and pat my thigh before arranging my hand like before, in a way designed to make her feel safe.
She doesn’t make me wait long before pausing in front of me.
“In my lap,” I command her and she does as she’s told, fitting herself between my still-crossed legs, submissive to an extreme degree. Her breathing is anything but calm, and now that she’s in my lap, she struggles to look at me. She doesn’t lean against me and her gaze is glassy.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers and her voice hitches at the end. As she covers her mouth, I think to keep from losing it, I readjust, rocking my hips to tilt her into my chest, bringing my arms around her to comfort her. Her breasts press against my chest and I hold her there, running my hand up and down her back in soothing strokes.
Her relief is instant as she collapses against me, clinging to me like she did hours ago. I might be bad for her, I might terrify her, but I’m the only escape she has. She will learn that it is enough. I will be enough for her. “Shhh,” I hush her, resting my chin on her head as she leans her cheek against my shoulder. With a kiss to her temple, I hush her again.
It doesn’t take as long as I think it will to calm her.
“I’m sorry,” she says again, her body relaxing more with every passing minute.
“What is your safe word?”
She stills when I ask her, but she answers just the same, “Red.”
“I want you to use it more often … when conversations become difficult. Whenever you feel overwhelmed or in danger. At any point. It isn’t just for sex, you know this. You should have used it a moment ago. You know that, don’t you?”
She nods into my chest, but I pull her away to look her in the eyes, gently but with a firm hand. Staring into her deep brown gaze, I wait for her to truly look at me. “Tell me you understand.”
“I do,” she whispers and for the first time, there’s a flicker between us. Something raw and undeniable.
“Give me your hand,” I order, holding out my own. I don’t break eye contact and although her lush lips part and her chest rises and falls faster, she brings her left hand up and places it into mine.
“No, the one you struck me with.”
Her body tenses in my hold, but she does as I command. Slowly she maneuvers in my lap to place her right hand into mine. Our locked gaze never breaks, not even as I bring her fingers to my lips and kiss the tip of each one.
With her hand held in mine, I murmur, “You know you need to be punished, don’t you?”
She swallows thickly and I swear I can hear her heart racing even as my own quickens. “Yes,” she replies, barely getting out the word.
“If you ever did that in front of them …”
“I wouldn’t,” she says as if it’s a promise, the words tumbling out as she shakes her head refuting the claim.
“I think you would, Braelynn.” I’m quick to correct myself, adding, “I know you would. You’ve forgotten who owns you.”
With wide eyes she peers up at me. The look there is one I fucking love, one I would kill for to ensure it stays with her forevermore. Her expression is one of obedience, tinged with the desire to please me, to prove to me that she belongs to me. A warmth flows through me, one that satisfies every jagged edge of what’s happened. A balm that promises everything will be all right so long as she listens to me and so long as I teach her, punish her, and satisfy my little fuck toy.
“Yes, Declan,” she answers and with that I place her hand on my lap and bring my thumb to her lip.
Yesterday I would have thought it an impossibility to want her like I do now. To crave her begging for forgiveness and promising me her complete submission.
“Who owns you, Braelynn?”
“You do,” she answers immediately.
“Do you still want me?” I question and she tells me, “Yes, but I’m scared …”
“Of my brothers?”
“Yes,” she whispers but there’s a moment of hesitation.
“Of me?” I surmise.
She nods first before replying, “Yes.”
“But you still want me?”
“Yes … I do. Even if I’m terrified of you, I still do,” she confesses and emotion drenches every word.
There’s a twisted sickness that stirs in my chest, an agonizing truth I’ve always known was there. I settle on another truth, brushing my thumb along her chin as I stare at her lips. “I can live with that.”
“Do …” she starts to question and my gaze is brought back to hers. She searches my expression for something before asking, “Do you still want me?” Her voice is small and full of insecurity.
Carter nods once, slowly, but his gaze doesn’t leave mine. It’s obvious the question is on the tip of his tongue. Cocking a brow I wait, knowing it’s unlike him to hold back. But it’s also unlike me … to do any of this shit. I don’t create chaos, I fix it.
“What happened tonight?”
A lump forms in my throat as I picture her in the ice bath again, on the verge of death. The moment it all turned red.
“You shouldn’t have watched,” Carter comments as if he saw it too. As if he read my damn mind.
“I needed to hear her say it,” I start, my mind going back to that moment when I heard her scream my name. I’ll never know the feel of the ice, but my body goes cold from the thought.
“She will never say it now. Not if you come running to stop interrogations.”
“Careful,” I warn him, every muscle in my body tensing.
The shock from earlier seems to be lessened, but still my brother’s eyes widen slightly. My grip tightens on the chair and I force my back to press into the seat.
“I want to be certain. She did it—there is no way that information reached the feds unless she is the one who gave it to—”
“I know,” I say, cutting him off. “I know, but it still doesn’t feel right.”
“Betrayal never does.” He’s quick to put forth the advice.
“What are you going to do with her?” he asks and I can’t answer. I don’t know. All I know is that I don’t want her to die. If she’s truly an informant, though …
“What happens when the feds come looking for her?” he says after the moment of quiet and again his thoughts mimic mine.
“I don’t want to believe—”
“It’s not just you, Declan,” he reminds me and there’s a plea in his tone. “I understand. More than our brothers, I understand.”
Compassion is a rarity from him, and perhaps that’s why I confess to him, “I can’t kill her until she admits it. I need to hear her say it.”
“I’m sure she knows that and she will do anything to stay alive, even if that means lying to you until she can figure out a way to bring you down … bring all of us down.”
“How did it get this complicated?”
“You fell for her,” he tells me and I hate him for it even if it’s the truth. Visions of her flash before my eyes. From when we were children, to when I first saw her glancing at me with those dark, lust-filled eyes, to our first kiss and more. Little moments I’ve never had with anyone else.
“She is yours, but betraying you is betraying all of us.”
“I know,” I answer him, pretending as if I’m not completely broken by what she’s done. I almost tell him that I just can’t believe it. I almost defend her again, but there’s no way around it. They all knew I was giving her that file. It was a test and she failed.
For the first time in my life, I wish I had kept some things from my brothers. I wish they didn’t know it was her. As I stand up and tell my brother good night, I realize that if I could go back, I’d do it all over again, but I wouldn’t tell them about Braelynn. I’d keep it all a secret and keep her to myself.
I can fix this. I can punish her and see to it that she obeys in every way. She has to. There’s no other way to protect her and keep her.
“I’ll take care of it,” I say beneath my breath as I make my way to the door. She’s going to regret this, and she’s going to make it up to me. She’s mine after all.
BRAELYNN
It wasn’t a nightmare.
The deep cuts at my wrists from where I pulled against the restraints and the pain in my throat of screams that went unheard are proof that it really happened. My entire body is weak, my head faint, and my eyes beg to close and let sleep pull me under again. My racing heart won’t allow such a thing, though.
I’ve barely slept at all and I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to again.
“You’re awake.” Declan’s deep voice from across the room startles me. With every muscle tense, I stare back at him. Darkness has settled under his eyes, telling me he hasn’t slept much either. Maybe not even at all.
“Yes,” I answer, not knowing what else to say as I roll over, making the bed groan. It takes a moment to calm even the slightest, but the fear doesn’t leave me. Standing there in nothing but pajama pants with his arms crossed, his corded muscles and bare chest are fully on display. Shadows from the early morning twilight play across his chiseled face.
He’s always been domineering in his stance and power has always radiated from him, but in this moment he is nothing other than the god who decides my fate. Merciless and hardened by sin, he is the only one who has control over what happens to me. It’s never been more obvious and with that knowledge, my throat tightens.
“Your purse and phone are in my office,” he says casually after taking a deep breath. His shoulders relax somewhat and he makes his way to me. Each dominating stride is more foreboding than the last.
With every step my heart beats harder, as though banging against the cage of my chest in an effort to escape. I can barely breathe as he kneels on the edge of the bed.
“My mother”—the words rush from me as if begging him for something—“she’ll want me to text her.” Swallowing thickly, I try to explain as his dark eyes narrow, telling him, “She calls every other day.”
Declan’s lips pull up into an asymmetric grin as he huffs a humorless laugh. His gaze moves to the right of the room, looking around aimlessly, and I pull the sheets up around me as much as I can. Before I can register what’s happening he’s on practically on top of me, pinning the covers down and it threatens to expose my chest.
There’s nothing between us that can protect me. It’s all too obvious as his sharp gaze reaches mine again.
“I can text her for you … I’m sure that will suffice?” he offers, his tone slightly condescending. Something must have happened as I slept. Something awful.
I remember the last time I told him I was scared, and how he told me I should be terrified. Adrenaline surges through me, but it’s no match for how numb my body feels. “Answer me,” he commands without an ounce of mercy. Tears prick the back of my eyes as I nod.
“Declan,” I say, and his name is a plea that I can’t help.
“You’re scared?” he says easily, sounding like the devil himself.
I can only nod, my throat closed so tight, I feel as if I’m suffocating.
“Tell me what happened and I can fix this,” he offers and it’s the first ounce of compassion from him. The tiniest bit but even still, it soothes so much pain. So much fear. My body begs to bow to him, to make myself small and let him comfort me.
“I didn’t—”
“Don’t tell me what you didn’t do. Tell me what happened,” he corrects me.
Thump, thump.
“I don’t know … they kept asking me about computer files for your finances …” I remember the voice, deep and rough without a shred of empathy. I remember the man telling me to just give up a name. I don’t have a name. “I don’t know.” The wretched words slip from me in a whisper as the cage is lowered in my mind and agony betrays any semblance of control I might have.
“Tax evasion and tax fraud …” he says, coaxing me, climbing on the bed and making his way to me closer and closer, my skin heating with a fire that burns every inch of my skin.
My head shakes on its own as I whisper, “I don’t know any of it.” The fear climbing by the second, I don’t know what to tell him. “I don’t—”
“Don’t lie to me,” he warns and my pulse stutters. I couldn’t speak in this moment if I wanted to. Trapped by this man in his room, his rules the only certainty, I’ve never felt so hopeless and utterly alone.
“Did you ever take the laptop out of the office?”
“No,” I answer quickly. I was asked that same thing before in that room. The man asked me that. Flashes crash through my memory. The ice.
“When I found you snooping, I should have cut you off then.” His brutal tone cuts through me like a knife. “Instead I thought, I’ll prove she’s isn’t out to hurt me,” he tells me and his voice cracks ever so slightly. Peeking up into his gaze is painful. Regret and hate stare back at me. “Then you go and fall right into my trap,” he continues.
“Stop—Declan, stop please—I didn’t—”
“You did,” he insists and my entire body goes cold. It feels like being back in that cage. My blunt nails dig into my skin in a desperate attempt to hold on to anything at all.
“I didn’t,” I plead with him as tears slip down my cheeks. He doesn’t believe me. How could he not believe me? “I didn’t,” I try to speak, but I don’t know if the words even come out. So much fear consumes me at this moment that I’m light-headed.
Help me.
He creeps closer, the bed dipping as he does. “Just tell me the truth and I will figure it all out, Braelynn,” he nearly whispers.
I don’t know what to say, or if I’m even capable of speaking as the events of yesterday play back, faster and faster. Declan says something, but I can’t make it out. There’s only the iron cage, the freezing water. I can’t hear anything as it all whirls by. So quickly all I can hear is the memory of my own screams.
“Tell me,” he nearly yells as I see Nate murder Scarlet.
My hand whips out in front of me. I don’t mean it to. He’s just so close and I’m so scared. My palm burns as the slap rings out and breaks the visions, bringing me right back to the here and now. Shock overwhelms me.
My eyes widen as I realize the fear I felt before is nothing compared to this new terror. Slowly, ever so slowly, Declan turns his head to face me, the red handprint on his cheek evidence of what I’ve done.
DECLAN
I let her scramble to get off the bed. I let her fall to the floor as she pleads with me for mercy. I let her scurry under the bed, hiding there as I remain perfectly still where I am. I don’t allow a muscle to move.
The anger simmers and a sense of failure seeps into me. Failing her, failing us. Everything crumbles when I lose control and I obviously lost it before, but I will not again.
For the sake of her life, I don’t allow myself to even breathe as she cries out for me to forgive her, her voice muffled from beneath the bed frame.
My poor little pet.
Every jagged piece of my brokenness feels for her. I remind myself of my conviction, of the only way she makes it out of this alive: If she gives herself to me, she will be fine. She needs to be mine and then everything will be all right.
There’s not a sound in the dark room apart from her heavy breathing and the pounding of my racing heart. The ability to keep calm and levelheaded has never been more difficult.
“Please don’t hurt me,” she murmurs in a strangled way.
With every ounce of self-control I possess, I carefully remove myself from the bed. I’m sure to step toward the opposite side of where she is so shifting my weight doesn’t harm her, and to give her some distance between us. With slow, deliberate movements, I walk to the other side of the room, press my back against the wall and carefully lower myself to the floor.
Cross-legged and with my head resting against the wall, I let my gaze fall to the shadowy space where she’s concealed.
“How did you get yourself under there, my little pet?” I question loud enough for her to hear me. Exhaustion wars inside of me with every mixed emotion I feel.
Failure rings the loudest in my mind. Failing my brothers, failing her just the same.
All because I lost control. I was too weak to take care of her myself.
“I’m sorry,” she manages to say but doesn’t answer my question. She’s resisting my authority and untrusting. She’s terrified.
That’s how I told her to feel, isn’t it? Yet again, more evidence that I caused this. It was all in my control and then I gave it away. That won’t happen again.
I flex my jaw to dampen the sting from her slap.
With both hands resting on my knees, palms up, I tell her calmly, “Come here, Braelynn.”
Every second she hesitates anger stirs within until disappointment eventually settles through me. I have to remind myself she’s scared because of me. I did this to her. The only one I have to be angry toward is my fucked-up self.
“Come here, be a good girl for me,” I calmly command her, keeping my voice even and with a soothing edge. Time ticks by slowly with her mounting defiance.
Her sniffling is heard from the right side of the king-sized bed. “Please don’t make me wait any longer, my little pet. My patience isn’t what it typically is …” I swallow down every emotion elicited as the past forty-eight hours flick through my mind. “I’ve barely slept and I know you haven’t either.”
The floor creaks as she carefully starts to emerge from under the bed. Her large dark eyes peer up at me and the look in them wrecks me. Genuine fear and genuine sorrow leave no room for anything else.
Her lips are parted as she takes in short inhales, her shoulders shaking with each one.
I watch as the cords in her throat tighten and she swallows, just at the end of the bed, almost out from under it. Her breasts are covered by her long curly hair, tangled from sleep. Even in this moment, with everything that’s happened, my cock hardens and aches for her as her naked body crawls to me.
“That’s my good girl,” I murmur, focusing on her gaze. “Come here,” I add and pat my thigh before arranging my hand like before, in a way designed to make her feel safe.
She doesn’t make me wait long before pausing in front of me.
“In my lap,” I command her and she does as she’s told, fitting herself between my still-crossed legs, submissive to an extreme degree. Her breathing is anything but calm, and now that she’s in my lap, she struggles to look at me. She doesn’t lean against me and her gaze is glassy.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers and her voice hitches at the end. As she covers her mouth, I think to keep from losing it, I readjust, rocking my hips to tilt her into my chest, bringing my arms around her to comfort her. Her breasts press against my chest and I hold her there, running my hand up and down her back in soothing strokes.
Her relief is instant as she collapses against me, clinging to me like she did hours ago. I might be bad for her, I might terrify her, but I’m the only escape she has. She will learn that it is enough. I will be enough for her. “Shhh,” I hush her, resting my chin on her head as she leans her cheek against my shoulder. With a kiss to her temple, I hush her again.
It doesn’t take as long as I think it will to calm her.
“I’m sorry,” she says again, her body relaxing more with every passing minute.
“What is your safe word?”
She stills when I ask her, but she answers just the same, “Red.”
“I want you to use it more often … when conversations become difficult. Whenever you feel overwhelmed or in danger. At any point. It isn’t just for sex, you know this. You should have used it a moment ago. You know that, don’t you?”
She nods into my chest, but I pull her away to look her in the eyes, gently but with a firm hand. Staring into her deep brown gaze, I wait for her to truly look at me. “Tell me you understand.”
“I do,” she whispers and for the first time, there’s a flicker between us. Something raw and undeniable.
“Give me your hand,” I order, holding out my own. I don’t break eye contact and although her lush lips part and her chest rises and falls faster, she brings her left hand up and places it into mine.
“No, the one you struck me with.”
Her body tenses in my hold, but she does as I command. Slowly she maneuvers in my lap to place her right hand into mine. Our locked gaze never breaks, not even as I bring her fingers to my lips and kiss the tip of each one.
With her hand held in mine, I murmur, “You know you need to be punished, don’t you?”
She swallows thickly and I swear I can hear her heart racing even as my own quickens. “Yes,” she replies, barely getting out the word.
“If you ever did that in front of them …”
“I wouldn’t,” she says as if it’s a promise, the words tumbling out as she shakes her head refuting the claim.
“I think you would, Braelynn.” I’m quick to correct myself, adding, “I know you would. You’ve forgotten who owns you.”
With wide eyes she peers up at me. The look there is one I fucking love, one I would kill for to ensure it stays with her forevermore. Her expression is one of obedience, tinged with the desire to please me, to prove to me that she belongs to me. A warmth flows through me, one that satisfies every jagged edge of what’s happened. A balm that promises everything will be all right so long as she listens to me and so long as I teach her, punish her, and satisfy my little fuck toy.
“Yes, Declan,” she answers and with that I place her hand on my lap and bring my thumb to her lip.
Yesterday I would have thought it an impossibility to want her like I do now. To crave her begging for forgiveness and promising me her complete submission.
“Who owns you, Braelynn?”
“You do,” she answers immediately.
“Do you still want me?” I question and she tells me, “Yes, but I’m scared …”
“Of my brothers?”
“Yes,” she whispers but there’s a moment of hesitation.
“Of me?” I surmise.
She nods first before replying, “Yes.”
“But you still want me?”
“Yes … I do. Even if I’m terrified of you, I still do,” she confesses and emotion drenches every word.
There’s a twisted sickness that stirs in my chest, an agonizing truth I’ve always known was there. I settle on another truth, brushing my thumb along her chin as I stare at her lips. “I can live with that.”
“Do …” she starts to question and my gaze is brought back to hers. She searches my expression for something before asking, “Do you still want me?” Her voice is small and full of insecurity.
