Having Her: Lies We Tell, Book 2 (22 page)

Tonight she was broken. Was raw and bleeding, and although she knew she didn’t deserve it, she couldn’t bring herself to say the word that would end it.

He bit her shoulder, dropping her bleeding wrist to cup her breast, pinching her nipple hard. Then the hand between her thighs moved, a finger sinking inside her. The pain and the pleasure twined around each other, making her cry out. Another pinch, another bolt of hurt. Another finger pushing into her, deeper, harder. She moaned helplessly.

Vin’s thumb brushed over her clitoris, circling as his fingers moved inside her, and she found herself arching against his hand, panting. The pressure began to change, no less demanding, no less intense, but more focused. All it would take would be another brush of his thumb, another movement of his fingers. Another pinch to her nipple and she’d come.

Like the cut of the razor, the climax would bring such relief.

“Please…Vin…please…” She’d never used his name during sex before. But she was so far gone, she hardly noticed.

He said nothing. One hand came to rest on the back of her neck then pushed her forward and down, so she was bent over the vanity. The hand stayed there, a strong, dominant hold, keeping her cheek held against the cold porcelain of the sink.

She began to shake. Her neck stung where he’d bitten her and she knew she’d have bruises. God, she hoped so.

Behind her came the sound of a zipper being drawing down and her muscles tightened in response. Oh, Jesus, please let him take her. Use her. Hard and rough. The razor would never be enough now. She needed him. Needed the release only he could give her, an outlet for the anguish, the guilt and the shame that she never seemed able to leave behind no matter how hard she tried to escape.

The hold on the back of her neck eased as his fingers tangled ruthlessly in her hair, pulling her head back with a sharp jerk. Pain prickled all over her scalp and she gasped, the sound turning into a cry as she felt him spread her open with his other hand. Then the push of his cock into her, a harsh thrust rather than a slow slide.

He went still, deep inside her, the tiny bathroom space full of the sound of their ragged breathing.

The edges of the vanity dug into the tops of her thighs, her head pulled back so far it was uncomfortable. His fingers twisted tighter into her hair, tugging harder.

Kara shut her eyes, the pain and the discomfort merging with the feeling of him inside her, the heat of him against the backs of her thighs. The pleasure and pain of it promising a release that would probably break her in two.

Vin began to slide out then back in, a few shallow thrusts, teasing her. At the same time, he pulled her hair, increasing the tension, little barbs of agony piercing her scalp. Kara shuddered, light bursting behind her eyes, pleasure building like a fiercely burning fire.

His free hand slid around her front, stroking her clit as he thrust. So light and gentle in comparison to the punishing grip he had on her hair. The contrast brought strangled sounds from her, gasps and moans she had no control over.

He began to move deeper then, a hard rhythm that turned the sounds into something more raw and desperate. The pressure inside her crushing.

This was going to destroy her. Shatter her.

In some dim part of her brain, a warning screamed. Telling her to say the word that would end this before her defenses broke down. But it was too late for that. She was too far gone to turn back now.

She would fall apart when this was over and she didn’t think she’d ever be able to put herself back together again.

It’ll be okay. He’s here.

She didn’t know where the reassurance came from. But it was enough.

Kara squeezed her eyes tighter and ignored the warning, embraced the intensity of the physical sensations, throwing herself into them. The hard push of his cock inside her, the sharp edges of the sink, the pain in her scalp, the light brush of his fingers against her clit.

He slowed his movements and she moaned in protest, shifting restlessly against him, desperate now for release. But he ignored her, his touches becoming even lighter, delicate brushes that only prolonged the agony. Every inch of skin began to feel sensitized, the pull of his fingers in her hair the most delicious pain. He eased slowly out of her, so damn slowly she nearly screamed in frustration. Then back in, just as slow. She pushed back with her hips, wanting more.

“Keep still,” he ordered in a low, guttural voice. “You wanted pain. I’m giving it to you.”

Yes, this was pain. Caught on the cusp of an orgasm so intense she’d probably scream herself hoarse when it overwhelmed her. Pain and pleasure so inextricably twined she couldn’t work out which was which.

She was shaking, her knees buckled against the vanity, only the press of his body keeping her there. The pain in her wrist was a dim memory compared to the agony of pleasure coursing through her now. And still he went on and on, building the ecstasy slowly but surely until she was mindless with need. A creature aware of nothing but her own, desperate hunger.

Someone was begging in a low, hoarse voice. Saying his name and please over and over again. Her.

“Kara,” Vin said softly.

He gave one deep thrust that shoved her hard against the vanity then jerked her head back sharply. Her spine bowed as the pain shot down it. As the pleasure exploded like a magnesium flare behind her eyes, bright, shining. Incandescent.

She screamed as she fell over the edge. And screamed again as his fingers brushed her clit, the sensation so acute she almost couldn’t bear it. A delicious torment that seemed to go on and on, overwhelming her so that all she could do was press her hot cheek to the cold porcelain of the sink as her voice ripped itself raw.

Broken, all right. Into tiny little pieces. Shattered beyond repair.

The deep, gut wrenching sob that welled up inside her seemed torn straight from her soul, wrenched into the light of day by the intensity of her release. She tried to bite down on it but it came out of her mouth anyway. A long, low moan that turned into a cry of pure agony. She had no energy to keep it down this time and it escaped, ten years of anguish finally given voice.

Vin’s arms came around her, strong and sure, pulling her upright. Holding her tightly. And she couldn’t seem to stop the sobs. Couldn’t find the will to push him away even though every part of her wanted to run and hide.

He turned her so she faced him then pressed her head against his chest, giving her a measure of privacy and she took it. Sobbing and sobbing against his T-shirt. A never-ending well of tears that soaked the cotton.

She cried until her eyes felt swollen shut. Like she’d never open them again. Until her voice was thin and ragged. Until she felt empty. All the air inside her had gone, leaving her nothing but a hollow shell.

Vin said nothing. Instead he calmly turned on the shower, took off all his clothes and pulled her into it with him. He began to wash her gently, cleaning away the blood, the salt from her tears. Washing her hair too, his fingers massaging her scalp, easing away the pain.

She didn’t want him to take care of her like this. It was dangerous. But she couldn’t remember why and it was good having someone touch her so carefully. Good to feel as if someone cared. Especially him. So she let him do it, let him dry her, put plasters on the cuts to her wrist. Let him wrap her in the blue Chinese silk robe she loved. Even let him pick her up in his arms and carry her back to the lounge.

She kept her eyes closed the whole time. She felt so tired. And when he finally sat on the couch, with her in his lap, she let her whole body go limp, relaxing into his warmth. Allowing herself the luxury, just this once, of letting someone else take care of her.

Silence fell. A deep, abiding silence that she felt no inclination to break.

And sometime after that, she fell asleep.

She felt so warm in his arms, the gentle weight of her relaxed against him in sleep. Vin looked down at her face now wiped clean of makeup. Of tears. Her expression peaceful, her breathing even. But still he could see the dark circles under her eyes, the lines of pain around her mouth.

He’d never hurt a woman like that. Not deliberately and never during sex. But he hadn’t been able to think of any other way to help her. And he had to help her. He just had to.

She was a woman in pain. A pain he’d never realized the depth of until he’d seen her standing naked in her bathroom holding a razor, her wrist bleeding.

He’d come back because he’d known the moment the door had shut behind him that he couldn’t leave her. That he should have remembered that when she got sharp and snarky it was because she was hurt and trying to protect herself.

Except he didn’t know what he’d done to hurt her except try to be gentle.

Well, perhaps he understood a little more about that now.

Vin brushed aside a long golden strand hat had fallen across her face.

Pain. I need pain.

Why? What had happened in her life that she had to hurt herself in order to feel better?

I just wanted normal… I’m screwed up… It hurts so much…

A heavy, sharp stone seemed to rest just above his heart. He’d known she was vulnerable and yet he’d worked his own sick shit out with her all the same. Sure, the first time they’d been together it had helped her. But that’s where he should have stopped. He should never have kept going. Kept using her to service his own needs.

He hadn’t wanted to hurt her tonight, really hadn’t wanted to. But he’d seen, perhaps for the first time, that Kara’s needs were different. And that perhaps it was time to give her what she truly wanted. Help her the way she wanted to be helped.

So he had. He’d given her the pain she demanded. But he gave her pleasure too. Because whether she thought she deserved the pain or not, she had to have with it pleasure. She totally deserved that.

Kara shifted in his arms, turning her head against his chest.

And he had the odd impression he could sit like this forever, just holding her. And he wouldn’t mind. Wouldn’t mind a bit.

Vin settled back against the couch. Tiredness crept up on him. They had so much to talk about, so much to discuss. But now wasn’t the time.

Tomorrow. It would have to be tomorrow.

He shut his eyes. Just for a moment.

Chapter Eleven

It was the sensation of feeling trapped under a heavy weight that woke her. Kara cracked her eyes open to find herself lying on her side on the couch, a heavy male arm snaking across her chest, holding her tightly, warmth like a fire against her back.

Vin. Who’d apparently stayed the night.

A strange sense of peace stole through her. She’d never slept with anyone before and she hadn’t known how comforting it would be.

Not just anyone, girl. Vincent Fox.

Who’d discovered her shameful secret.

Who’d given her the pain she requested. Who’d held her as she’d broken apart afterwards. Held her as if she mattered.

Heaviness gathered in her heart. She hadn’t mattered to anyone for years, not since the day she’d been told by her mother that she wasn’t to come home. Her little brother and sister had been returned to their mother’s care but Kara, who’d aged out of the foster system by then, wasn’t wanted.

No one had wanted her. No one except Vin.

She’d been such a pathetic mess last night, yet despite all the provocation she’d given him, he hadn’t turned around and walked away. He’d stayed. And more than that, given her something she’d never thought she deserved—pleasure with the pain.

She swallowed, suddenly breathless, that weird feeling in her heart squeezing tight. He seemed to have the ability to make her accept a lot of things she never normally allowed herself. Somehow he’d managed to get under her guard and after last night…

Kara shifted as the breathless feeling intensified. Man, she really could do with a bit of distance right now.

Untangling herself from Vin, she slipped down the hallway to the bathroom to relieve her aching bladder. Then, as she washed her hands at the sink afterwards, she stared at herself in the mirror.

Red-rimmed eyes, tangled hair, and yep, bruises on her neck. Dark ones. She looked like a freak show. Grimacing at her reflection, she waited for the inevitable shame to assail her. But it didn’t come. Instead there was only an odd sense of…acceptance. Vin had seen all of this and hadn’t turned away. Hell, he’d been the one to give her those damn bruises in the first place so was there really anything to be ashamed of there?

Slowly, she turned from the mirror and went into the bedroom, pulling open her wardrobe to grab some clothes. A tiny pair of denim shorts over black fishnet stockings and a tight, neon pink T-shirt. Heavy black biker boots. Her armor against the world.

Yet as she stood at her dressing table, putting her hair up in a ponytail and putting in some bright blue contacts, she realized that she hadn’t been thinking of armor when she’d pulled on those clothes. She’d been thinking of Vin. Of what he liked to see her in.

Dressing for a man? What the hell was going on with her?

The breathless feeling returned and she found herself creeping back into the lounge, drawn to the man still lying asleep on the couch.