Living in Sin (Living In…) (16 page)

Kahu slowed, tantalizing her. He wanted to bring her to the peak before that leather went anywhere near her. Wanted her nearly at the edge, when her pain threshold would be higher, let her be able to cope with it. And he should know, he’d had it done to him more than once.

Eventually, he felt her body begin to tense and shake, her orgasm just within reach. He pulled away and straightened.

“No,” she moaned. “Don’t stop.”

He picked up the flogger, stroking her pale skin. “I’m not stopping.” Fuck, he sounded as ragged as she did. And he kind of was. His head was full of her taste and smell, and he wanted nothing more than to have her right now. But his control was rigid and he wouldn’t. Not yet, Christ, not yet.

He had to prove to her that her trust wasn’t misplaced. That she’d given him a gift and he would accept it. He wouldn’t throw it away like it meant nothing to him. Because it did. It meant…so much.

Kahu raised his arm. And brought the leather down on her pale skin.

She cried out, her fingers clutching instinctively onto the couch cushions, her body stiffening. He didn’t give her any chance to adjust or anticipate, bringing it down on her again, the sound of it hitting her flesh echoing in the room.

Another cry, redness beginning to appear on her skin. He brought it down again, and a fourth time. Her whole body was shaking now, the sounds she made thin and reedy. He put a hand on her back, letting her know he was there and lowered the flogger, ready to hear if she wanted to say her word or not.

She didn’t, her sides heaving.

He stroked her back gently then slid his palm over her butt, soothing the redness. She groaned as he did so, shivering and panting.

Kahu let his hand trail between her thighs again, testing her. And yeah, Jesus, she was so wet. He played with her a little bit more, easing a finger into her, before leaning over and pushing her hair away so he could see her face.

She was deeply flushed, her mouth open, her eyes closed. Her expression twisted with agonized pleasure as he slid his finger deeper and the breath he’d been holding for what seemed like ages suddenly released.

“You like this, don’t you?” he whispered, adding another finger. “I can feel how you like it. This pain is good pain.”

“Yes…so good.” Her voice was rough. “Please, Kahu…please…”

But no. He wouldn’t give it to her just yet. He wanted this to be intense, amazing. He wanted to make sure she’d never regret giving him this.

He eased his fingers out of her and picked up the flogger again, administering a few more blows. Not hard but not holding back too much either, so she was squirming and shivering, her cries hoarse. Then he stopped again, resuming stroking her, building up the pleasure and yet withholding the final point.

“Please, Kahu…oh God, please… Please. Please…”

Begging. Dear God, she was begging. He brushed his fingers lightly over her pussy, watching her shiver. “You want more, sweetheart? Is that what you want?”

“Yes…please… More. Again.” She pushed against his hand again, insistent.

“More pain?”

“God, yes. Anything. Anything you want to give me.” Her voice was broken and rusty sounding, desperate. And he was breathing faster, harder. The wild feeling was back, bringing with it a sense of power. That sharp, clear focus.

He traced the red welts on her pale skin, marks that he’d left there. His marks on her.

How many times had he been marked by other people? How many times had other people taken pieces of him? Too many times to count. Yet no one had ever done vice versa. No one had ever given him a piece of themselves like Lily had.

But he wasn’t content with just one piece. He wanted all of them. Every single one.

His hands closed on the tender flesh of one buttock and he squeezed, testing her. Did she know what she’d done? Did she know who’d she’d given herself to?

She cried out in response, arching.

It must have hurt and yet she didn’t say her word. Still trusting him.

He smacked her with the flat of his hand, a sharp sound of flesh hitting flesh, and she flinched. “Are you sure, Lily?” he demanded, keeping his hand on her hot skin. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing giving yourself to me like this?”

“Yes, God, yes.” Her voice was thick, the last word catching on a sob.

“I’m a fucking prostitute. I’m a dirty rent boy. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“I don’t care.” The words were a whisper.

He smacked her again, a savagery filling him that was at the same time tempered by the brutal control he had on himself. He wanted to push her, make her understand who he was and yet give herself to him anyway, the broken person he was.

He didn’t fucking deserve it but he didn’t care. He’d take it anyway.

“I didn’t hear you, ballerina. Say it.” His palm descended again.

She gasped. “I said, I don’t care.”

“Louder.” Another smack.

“I don’t care!” The cry ended on another sob as he pressed his hand hard against her flesh.

“Why?” He squeezed her again, relentless. “You don’t know how many cocks I’ve sucked. How many people I’ve fucked. How many people have fucked me. I’m used. I’m broken.” He pushed his hand between her thighs, sliding two fingers inside her, her wetness coating him, stretching her deliberately. She wailed, a high, needy sound. “You can’t save me, sweetheart, no one can save me. Why would you trust a man like me?”

He could hear her breath sobbing in her throat, her body moving helplessly against his hand, and he knew he should stop. Knew he’d pushed her too hard, too far. That she didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. But there was a savage possessiveness tearing him up inside, a need he couldn’t restrain. The need to own her, make her his completely in a way no one else had ever been.

You don’t just want her surrender. You want her soul.

His heart squeezed hard inside his chest. No, he didn’t want that. What would he do with her soul? This was a night, wasn’t it? Nothing more.

“Because you’re a good man,” Lily said in a voice so croaky it sounded as if it had been scoured by steel wool. “Because you showed me what passion is. What pleasure is. Because you held me. Because you helped me feel not so fucking lonely.” She took in a heaving breath. “I don’t care who you were or what you’ve done or how many people you’ve fucked. You’re not dirty. You’re not broken. You’re my music and music is pure. So that’s what you are. You’re pure, Kahu.”

Barbed wire circled his soul and pulled tight. And he stood there, for a long moment unable to breathe. How could she say that? How could she see that in him? He wasn’t pure. He’d never been fucking pure.

She shifted, starting to turn and reflexively he put his hand down in the small of her back, holding her down.

“No,” he said hoarsely. “Stay there.”

She stilled instantly but he could see the trembles shaking her. “Kahu…please. I need you. I want you so much. Please….”

He spread his hand out on her pale skin, the red marks of the flogger and his own blows showing up between his fingers. Fuck. If she thought he was pure, she really was holding nothing back.

Unlike you with Anita.

The barbed wire pulled even tighter. Broken, dirty and yet she wanted him.

Instinctive fear warred with the deep, crushing need, an animal tearing itself apart inside him. He felt like he could barely breathe.

“Keep still,” he ground out then, pulling his hand away from her, he turned and went over to the coffee able, opening a drawer in the side of it and finding the small box where he kept a stash of condoms. He paused a couple of moments, fighting for a breath as he took one out of the box.

This needed to end. Now.

Dealing with the packet and trying to ignore his shaking hands, he sheathed himself then went back to where Lily was bent over. She shifted as he gripped her hips and positioned himself behind her, her back arching in anticipation, bright curls falling everywhere.

You can’t keep her. You can never keep her.

No. He couldn’t. She was far too young for him and he was far too broken for her, no matter what she thought about it. But he could mark her, make her remember. Imprint himself on her so she would never forget him or what she’d given him.

He would hurt her, but perhaps then she’d learn.

Sometimes distance was better. Sometimes distance was all you had.

Kahu pushed inside her, hard, deep.

She gave a hoarse little scream, her body stiffening, her pussy convulsing around his cock, clamping down hard as she came.

He closed his eyes, almost holding his breath because she was insanely hot and tight, and the temptation to let go of the leash was intense. But he held on, beginning to thrust, controlling the pace, feeling her pulse around him.

“Oh my God, oh my God…Kahu…” Shards of words falling around him, sharp and mirrored, reflecting back what he was doing to her, her pain and her pleasure. “So good, oh God… Oh Jesus…I can’t…I don’t think I can do this…”

He kept his eyes closed, kept pushing hard, faster, deeper. Hearing her pant, the words stopping, replaced by ragged sobs.

She’s broken you. She’s broken you.

But how could she do that? He was already broken. He’d been broken years ago.

He kept going, feeling her body gather for another climax and this time she didn’t scream or sob, she only whimpered like a child.

By that time he couldn’t hold on anymore, the vicious grip of his own climax beginning to tighten around him. As it did so, he pulled her upright, arm around her waist, the other across her chest, holding her steady as he drove himself into her body.

And when it pulled him apart, he buried his face in the bright softness of her hair, allowing himself one instant where it was all okay. Where she was his and he kept her safe forever.

Then he sunk his teeth into her shoulder, as the pleasure exploded through him.

Another mark before he let her go.

Chapter Thirteen

Lily was shaking and shaking and shaking. It felt like she’d never stop. Only the strength of Kahu’s arms around her kept her upright. Jesus, if he let her go, she’d fall.

Her shoulder stung where he’d bitten her and her butt stung from the leather of the flogger and the blows from his hand. Her sex ached and she felt raw from the pleasure he’d given her. From the pain he’d wound inextricably with it.

Tears ran down her cheeks. Jesus, why was she crying? Yeah, she hurt, but he was right, there was good pain and it was all good pain. Wonderful pain.

He was hot against her back, so fucking hot. His arms so fucking strong. His mouth brushed over her shoulder then the nape of her neck, his breath warm. “Thank you.” His voice roughened velvet. “Thank you for your gift, ballerina.”

There was a subtle shift in his body and she whimpered, the sensation almost too much for her.

He hushed her, a hand stroking down her spine, soothing and light. Then there was another shift and his arms were around her, lifting her up like she weighed nothing. She didn’t protest, turning her head against his chest, inhaling the musky, masculine scent of him. The second time he’d picked her up and carried her. God, she could get used to it so easily.

She didn’t look to see where he was taking her, closing her eyes instead. Resting against him.

Another shift and she lifted her lids. They were in the bathroom and he was undressing her then lowering her into the bath. The water was still warm but as he got in with her, he turned the hot tap on again, a hot current against her skin.

She shivered, her whole body shaking at the sensation.

“Relax,” he murmured, his arms coming around her, urging her to lie back against him.

So she did, her eyes drifting shut again, her muscles lax as he began to wash her, long, slow strokes down her arms and torso. Gentle movements down her legs and between her thighs. Caresses that didn’t demand anything of her.

The combination of the water and Kahu’s touch made her feel weightless, like she was floating.

It was so good to be touched like this. So good to feel cared for. She never wanted it to end.

And yeah, so she was crying, but that didn’t matter. It was like all the shit she’d been dealing with for years was slowly being sloughed off as Kahu washed her, being cleaned away by his touch. All the loneliness and pain and fear that had hardened the outside of her, a shell that had kept the world at bay. Leaving her wiped clean. A brand new Lily.

“You’re amazing,” she murmured drowsily. “You’re the most incredible man I’ve ever met.”

“And exactly how many men have you met?” His voice was amused, his hands moving on her body, soothing her.

“Not many. But you’re still amazing.” She let her head fall back against his shoulder, arching as his hand settled on her stomach. Hell, she could
not
want more, could she? Surely after that, she wouldn’t be able to take it.

“No,” he murmured as if he’d read her mind. “I think you need to rest now.”

She sighed. “Later?”

He didn’t reply, his hands pushed into her hair, massaging her scalp and she gave a moan of pleasure. “Please say yes.”

Only silence behind her, his hands maintaining a steady pressure.

A strange pain caught behind her breastbone. “Kahu?”

“Lie back, sweetheart.”

“No.” She sat up, water swirling around her, his hands falling away, and turned to him.

And the pain in her chest turned into a knife because the look on his face was guarded, his dark eyes opaque. Protecting himself again.

She’d given him everything. Her body, her trust.

And your stupid heart. Or are you going to ignore that too?

Lily took a silent, anguished breath. Yeah, she had given him that as well. She knew that now. And what was she getting in return? Walls. Shut doors.

What did you expect? That he was different? That you could put him back together when you can barely heal yourself?

“This is it, isn’t it?” She hadn’t meant the words to sound accusing, but they did.

His gaze didn’t flicker and he didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I’m sorry, Lily.”

It shouldn’t hurt, but of course it did. And this time it wasn’t good pain. It was bad. “What are you sorry about? We only said one night after all.”

“We did. But I’m sorry because I hurt you.”

Her throat felt thick, like she was coming down with a really fucking miserable cold. “It’s okay, you didn’t.”

A breath escaped him. “You’re crying, love.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your love.” Her heart was beating faster now, anger coming to her rescue and thank God, because that was easier to deal with than this sharp, tearing pain.

Unable to bear the regret in his eyes, she turned away, putting her hands on the sides of the bath. “I want to get out now.”

“Lily.” His hands gripped her hips, holding her against him. “You don’t have to go.”

“Yeah, I do. Let go of me.”

“Ballerina…”

“Let me go!” The words burst out, riddled with anguish. And instantly she felt his hands fall away from her.

Tears caught in her throat. With a surge, she pushed herself out of the bath, water overflowing onto the floor. She didn’t turn to look at him, reaching to grab a towel, wrapping it around her.

“I’m sorry, Lily.” His voice was hideous in its gentleness. “I never meant to hurt you.”

She wanted to keep up the pretense, lift her chin and carry on. Ignore the hurt like she did when she was dancing, because the fucking show had to go on, didn’t it?

But then again, why should she? Why should she pretend nothing was wrong? Pretending it didn’t matter didn’t make it hurt any less. She’d done it enough times with her father to know that.

She turned around to see that he’d gotten out too and was standing on the other side of the bath, wrapping a towel around his lean hips, that horrible, regretful look on his face. Like a parent denying a child a special treat.

“Well, you did,” she said. “You did hurt me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that. It doesn’t help.”

He let out a breath. “I don’t know what you expected. We agreed on one night. I didn’t want anything more.”

“I thought I didn’t either.” She swallowed against the pain in her throat. “Turns out I do.”

Something crossed his face, an expression she couldn’t read, like anger and desire and frustration all at the same time. “I can’t give it to you, Lily. Whatever it is that you want, I can’t give it.”

She fought the knife twisting in her chest, the shivers that kept wracking her. It was true she was changing the rules on him, wanting more than they’d agreed on. But why not? Why shouldn’t she want more? “Why can’t you, Kahu? God, I’m not asking you to marry me or anything stupid like that. I just thought… This feels important, doesn’t it? I mean, what’s going on between us. It’s different. Major.”

The strange look on his face vanished. Wiped away as if it had never been. And then there was nothing but that jaded, cynical look, the one she thought she wouldn’t have to see again. “Different? Oh sweetheart, that’s the sex talking, I’m afraid.” His beautiful voice was faintly mocking. “The truth is, it’s nothing I haven’t done many times before. Your reaction is quite usual and it’ll fade in time.”

She stared at him, shaky like a building suddenly without a foundation. “No. It’s not like that. That wasn’t… It was more than that.”

“I know it felt that way. It’s all new to you after all.”

A tremble shook her, a wave of cold passing over her skin. “Don’t,” she said thickly. “Don’t do that. I know what I felt. I know what you felt too. It was more. It was
important.
”

The expression on his face hardened, his eyes cold. She could almost see the distance he was opening up between them, a gulf as vast as oceans. “No, darling, it wasn’t. You’re just another in a long line of pretty girls I’ve fucked. It was good, you’re right about that. But if you think you’re the only woman I’ve bent over that couch and flogged, then you’re mistaken.”

It felt like he’d slapped her. She blinked, more hot tears filling her eyes. “I gave you everything. I gave you myself.”

“I know you did. And believe me, I’m grateful. But call it a temporary loan that I’m now returning to you.”

“You bastard.” The tears slipped over her cheeks and this time she felt every one.

For a second the jaded expression disappeared, a moment of genuine sadness flickered over his face. “I never pretended I was anything different, ballerina. You only saw what you wanted to see.”

A fucking ex-prostitute. A dirty rent boy.

That’s how he thought of himself, wasn’t it? That’s what he saw. But she didn’t see that. She’d never seen that.

Her anger began to fade, leaving behind it only the pain. What was the point in getting angry with him? He was only protecting himself the way he always did.

“I know what I saw, Kahu” she whispered. “But I’m not the one who’s being blind.”

She saw the barb land home, the flare in his dark eyes. Then he looked away.

He didn’t trust her, she could see that. Perhaps he didn’t trust anyone, and maybe, with a background like his, he never would. His defenses were meters thick, there was no way she’d get through them and she was a fool to think otherwise.

Anyway, the kinds of hurts he must have suffered took years to recover from. Did she really think one night of sex would heal everything?

Lily didn’t know where she found the strength, but somehow she did, dropping the towel on the floor and picking up her crumpled dress. Then she walked naked to the door, her heart in broken pieces in her chest. But then life was pain, wasn’t it? That was the beauty of the dance.

She paused in the doorway and looked at him. So tall, powerful. Beautiful. Yet so dreadfully alone. There was one piece of herself she hadn’t given him yet and despite everything he thought about himself, he deserved to have it.

“You want to know who I saw?” she said quietly. “I saw the man I fell in love with. And if you can’t see that man too, then that’s a loss for both of us.”

She didn’t wait for him to reply, walking through the door into the bedroom where there was still wine and food from the snack he’d brought them.

The sight hurt but she didn’t hesitate, going on through to the lounge where the rest of her scattered clothes were.

She dressed, her hands shaking, hoping he would follow, knowing he wouldn’t.

And he didn’t.

There was no sound as she opened the door of his apartment.

No sound at all when she closed it.

“Jesus,” Eleanor said, frowning at him. “You’re a wreck. What happened?”

Kahu reached for the wine in front of him. Christ, he hated wine. Why was he drinking this shit? He swallowed the rest in his glass but it did nothing for the burning sensation in his chest. The one that hadn’t gone away since Lily had walked out of his bedroom two weeks earlier.

“Nothing,” he said, trying for lazy and getting only curt. “I’m a little under the weather.”

“Bullshit you are.” She narrowed her gaze. “What’s going on, Kahu? You look like your best friend just died. And since I’m still alive and so are Connor and Victoria, it’s not that.”

Around them the club continued its usual noisy, lunchtime business. It had never irritated him more, the happy, laughing people going about their lives. As if nothing touched them.

Really, he should be one of them. Except for some reason, he couldn’t find his usual humor, his usual mockery. The comfortable, casual mask of easy cynicism had vanished and he didn’t know where it had gone.

Of course you fucking know. Lily took it with her when she left.

Shit no. He wasn’t going to think of Lily. Of the pain in her eyes as he’d systematically stripped their night together of any significance and turned it into another round of mediocre, emotionless screwing. As he changed her into merely another woman he’d fucked. Putting so much distance between them there could be no coming back from it.

He’d had to. She wasn’t his and she could never be and that was the end to the matter.

Kahu pushed the glass away and reached under the bar for the bottle again. Then felt Eleanor’s cool hand on his. He looked up and met her eyes, seeing the concern in them. “What?” he demanded, gracelessly.

“Who is it?” A pause. “Or rather, who is she?”

He jerked his hand away. “What are you talking about?”

But his friend’s gaze was inescapable. “I know that look, Kahu. Believe me, I know. I used to see it in my mirror a lot when I got together with Luc. You’re in love, aren’t you?”

“Love? Seriously? Me? Fuck off.”

Eleanor let out a breath. “Who is it? Come on, don’t be a prick. I came to you for Luc advice, which turned out okay in the end, luckily for you.”

“I’m not in love. Christ, where the hell would you get that idea from? You know me. I don’t fall in love. I’m not built for it.” The words tasted hard and gritty in his mouth, like stones. Like lies.

His friend only looked at him then sighed. “Have it your way.”

But of course she was right.

He was in love. And he had been since the day Lily took off her clothes and danced naked. Maybe even since the day she’d got out the chessboard because she’d watched him play and thought he might like it.

A silence fell, heavy with the weight of everything he wanted and didn’t have the courage to reach for.

“I can’t have her,” he said at last, helplessly. “She’s too young. Too bright. Too brave and too fucking beautiful. She’s Rob’s daughter and she’s twenty. I’m thirty-eight. I’m a fucking ex-prostitute. I’ve got nothing to offer her but this stupid club. What would she want with that? With me?”

Eleanor was silent a long time. “Does she love you?”

You’re my music, Kahu.

“Yes.” The word was hoarse and broken. “Silly girl that she is.”

“And do you love her?”

If you can’t see that man, then that’s a loss for both of us.

“Yes.” Again hoarse. Again broken.

“Then that’s what you have to offer her.”