Reveal (A Wild Nights Novel) (27 page)

“Oh, okay. Will you show me later?”

“Sure. I may even take another one.” He waggled his eyebrows and pulled her in for a kiss.

I turned away. I felt ill. I felt angry. I felt confused. But most of all, I felt disappointed in him, me, us, everything. I was done. I was done playing these ridiculous childish games, and I was done fending him off.

I. Was. Just. Done.

“Babe,” I said, my tone exhausted and devoid of any enthusiasm to stay and mingle. “I’m done. Want to come and tuck me into bed?”

Brad drank the last of his beer, tossed the bottle in the bin, and made his way toward me, his eyes communicating that he wanted nothing more than to do just that.

“I want nothing more, my sexy pixie.”

I inwardly smiled.

***

Brad had scooped me into his arms in front of everyone and whisked me back to the apartment. I hadn’t looked at H as we retreated. I didn’t want to. I wasn’t even sure I’d ever want to. And that hurt my heart, because for the last two years he’d helped heal it, and not in a romantic way. He’d been my friend with textual benefits, my rock with a cocky mouth and a hard-on, and the pillar of strength I’d often proverbially grind up against.

He’d just always been there for me, and I knew in my heart of hearts that he no longer would be. I knew that I had to let him go. And I would, as soon as Brad, Cori and Josh flew back to Darwin in a couple of days’ time. For now, all of my attention, time and thoughts belonged to Brad. He had my mind, body and soul.

He had me.

To do whatever he wanted to.

“Whatever I want?” he asked, staring down at my naked body.

I drew my knees to my chest, gifting him a nice view of my arse as I kneeled on the bed. “Yes. Whatever. Wherever. Whenever.”

A gruff noise reverberated in his throat. “Don’t move. And keep your head down.”

I loved it when he was all ‘do this and do that’ during sex. It was hot, and trusting him to take the lead was even hotter, because I did. I trusted him implicitly. But the anticipation of what he would do and when was what had arousal trickling down my thighs.

Doing as I was told, I kept my head down and waited, all of my senses amplified. Heavy breathing. Heart pounding. Arms trembling. The movement of the bed beneath me, and the smell of pending sex in the air … all of it had every nerve-ending in my body ready to explode.

The touch of a single finger to the base of my spine had my back arching instantly. It also made me sigh. His hands were forever warm and soft, a delight on my skin.

He trailed his finger up my back and across my shoulders until his hand clasped the back of my neck and guided me up to kneel with my back straight.

Hot breath caressed my ear. “I want to fuck your arse. Is that okay?”

My eyelids fluttered closed as his tongue traced a line down my neck, his hands reaching around to cup my breasts. “Yes. But my pussy wants you first. She’s jealous like that.”

He pressed himself against my back, and there was no mistaking how keen he was. “She shouldn’t be,” he murmured, his teeth nibbling my shoulder. “I’ll take care of them both.” Brad’s hand fell to my hip and then crawled to my thigh, his finger sliding across my clit and delicately twitching it. I rocked against his hand, wanting the contact.

“You’re impatient, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You want to come, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You want my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

He let go of my breast, placed his hand on my back, and gently pushed forward, guiding me onto my hands and knees. I heard the tear of a condom wrapper and smiled, knowing what was coming.

“Stop swirling your arse around or I’ll have no choice but to fuck it first.”

The edge of warning in his voice told me he was serious, so I stopped swirling, but only for a second.

“I’m fucking serious, Em. You keep doing that, and I’ll have no choice not to. I’ve wanted in that arse from the moment I first saw it. Let me take my time with you.”

“Okay. But don’t take too much time. I’m needy.”

He chuckled and slapped my arse. “Don’t I know it.”

I cried out at that sting, but then melted with the burn as he rubbed the spot. “Now, Brad! Or I’ll use my toys, and you can sit there and take your sweet time with yourself as you watch me hit multiples.”

“Are you threatening me, baby?” he asked, teasing my opening with the tip of his dick.

I moaned and swirled my arse again. “Yes.”

He pushed into my wet and wanting pussy, the slide delicious and smooth.

Brad slapped my arse again, but didn’t rub it better. It was my punishment. But when he gripped my hips and pounded me relentlessly until my thighs trembled and I was just about to scream his name, the absence of his cock when he pulled out was easily the worst punishment I’d ever experienced.

“What the hell?” I growled, turning my head to look back at him.

“Up you get. I want you to sit on that gym ball over there.”

I followed his gesture toward the corner of my room where my large, blue gym ball sat idle.
Oh … OH!

My eyes lit up. “Wherever?”

He nodded.

I stood up and sashayed over to the ball, glancing over my shoulder and smiling deviously at him.

“You’re really asking for it, aren’t you?”

I winked, then rolled the ball to him.

He stopped it with his hands and patted the top. “Sit then lie back. Legs open.”

Touching my breasts, I pinched my nipples and walked toward him, not saying a word, my eyes doing all the talking as I took a seat on the ball and leaned back while opening my legs and finding my balance.

His hands gripped my thighs and held me still as he swiped my sensitive clit with his warm tongue, making me cry out. “Oh, fuck yes! Lick me, babe. Lick me good. I want all of your tongue.”

A hungry growl vibrated against my pussy, and he unleashed a carnal attack with his mouth. I gripped the ball. I gripped his head. I tried desperately to balance as he licked, nibbled, sucked and flicked his tongue until I was coming all over his face.
Wow!

I convulsed with the pleasure of my orgasm. Brad pushed two fingers inside me and pulled them out, rubbing my arousal all over the opening of my arse.

“Up,” he demanded, taking my hands and pulling me flush with his chest. “You ready?”

I could barely speak, still trembling, so I nodded, his lips finding mine as he kissed me tenderly. Our tongues slowly swept each other’s and licked gently, my teeth gently nibbling and biting as they moved across his. It was a sweet kiss. A loving kiss.

The perfect kiss.

Pulling back, I gave him one quick peck on the lips before turning and leaning over the ball, rolling it forward just slightly until my hands reached the ground and my arse was in the air, my feet on tiptoes on the ground behind me.

Brad’s hand found my hip, holding me steady. He positioned his cock at the entrance of my pussy and pushed in. We both moaned, and a gentle bounce began, the two of us finding rhythm quickly using the momentum of the ball.

“Oh God yes!” I slurred, and my head dipped. It felt amazing, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to sustain my position for too long. “Babe. My arse. Now!”

Pulling out of me, Brad inserted his finger and massaged the walls of my pussy, coating it with my arousal and pulling it back out again before teasing my puckered arse. Slowly, he pushed inside.

I relaxed with the push and breathed out. “Mm …”

“Good?”

“Yeah.”

He slid in and slid out. “More?”

I nodded.

He pushed his cock inside my pussy again and fucked me hard, covering himself with every drip I released. I was so fucking wet, and so fucking ready for him to fuck my arse.

Sliding out of my pussy, he spread as much of my arousal as he could over my opening and positioned his cock, pushing in slowly.

I beared down and relaxed as much as possible. “Oh …” I moaned heavily, my eyes falling closed, the slight sting of my arse heightening with his every movement.

Brad groaned, deep, long, his tone soaked in pleasure. “So tight, baby. So good.”

I couldn’t speak. I was full, relaxed, stretched. Comfortable. Not to mention my teeth clamped my lip and words were the furthest thing from my mind.

Brad thrust ever-so-slightly using the motion of the ball, inching in bit-by-bit until his thrusts were longer and deeper, and my moans were harsh, little grunts.

It was glorious.

It was dirty.

It was gym ball anal.

My new favourite workout.

Saying goodbye to Brad and Cori had been harder than anticipated, their absence felt much stronger this time around because I didn’t have H to fall back on. The pain of my loss was near crippling, because for the past two years, when things got tough, H had been there for me. Always. Just a text away. But he wasn’t this time. And even though I still felt that I needed him, I couldn’t have him.

I didn’t want him.

H was a dead-end with a scenic route. He was heartache cloaked in pleasure, and the amber light at a traffic intersection.

He was an addiction.

And like any addiction that needed to be overcome, I’d pretty much gone cold turkey, ignoring his texts, not answering the door, and staying within the apartment. I wasn’t stupid. I knew I wouldn’t have been strong enough to face him, because
pain
. Because
lust
. Because he was my Achilles heel. But also because of the way I’d treated him and the way he’d retaliated.

It all hurt too fucking much.

When the ones you love cut you, the pain is profound because you bleed more. And you bleed more because you’re not only bleeding for yourself, you’re bleeding for them.

I’d loved H, in my own Optimus Prime kind of way. And for those days following Brad and Cori leaving, I’d bled for him, bled for me, and bled for the loss of his constant support and general uplifting conversation. He’d been my saviour, my strength … the reason I first smiled everyday. But I realised that when I opened my eyes this morning and didn’t cry that I didn’t need him as much as I’d thought I did. I didn’t need Brad and Cori for that reason, too. Because as it turned out, I’d only needed myself.

I’d only ever needed myself.

I was a strong-willed, thick-skinned, outspoken woman, but I was aware I had chinks in my armour. Small but dangerous cracks. And when you cracked, you eventually broke.

I wasn’t about to let myself break.

Opening the door to my apartment, I ran toward the stairwell. There was not a chance in hell I’d use the elevator, because God forbid he enter and trap me inside like the last time. So I jogged down the steps, careful not to misjudge one and tumble down the rest before exiting the building. My objection was to make it to The Esplanade without seeing H, so I ran fast. I’d been cooped up in the apartment for days and needed the sanctity of fresh air and to stretch my legs.

Crossing the road and making contact with the sand, I decided to run a different route than usual and headed toward Station Pier. It was farther than what I’d normally run, but I welcomed the escape, needing the distance and burn.

I focussed on anything and everything that wasn’t the tightness in my chest, admiring the sun’s rays reflecting from the water’s surface. The seagulls hovered overhead, and bike riders shared the roads with the morning peak-hour traffic. But my focus was my destination up ahead—the Spirit of Tasmania, docked at Station Pier. The closer I got, the bigger it appeared. It was a good focal point.

Just less than forty-five minutes later, I’d returned home, jogging to a stop at the apartment elevators and bending over to catch my breath.
Fuck the stairs. My legs are jelly, and jelly doesn’t do steps.

Hearing the
ping
of the elevator doors, I stepped in when they opened, turning around to a sudden, pungent smell of …

Blackness
.

***

My eyelids slowly fluttered open, heavy and weighted. I felt tired, dizzy, and disorientated, and at first I wasn’t sure if I were dreaming, waking from a dream, or experiencing the world’s worst hangover. My head spun, my eyes were sore and my limbs felt weak. A nauseous wave churned within my stomach, and yeah … I definitely felt sick.
What the hell happened?

Uncertainty prickled my skin, and I couldn’t remember a damn thing other than waking up and going for a run, getting home and then …

The nausea in my stomach joined hands with the dread rolling through my body, both of them skipping toward my throat. My eyes shot open and scanned my surroundings, taking a second to focus and soon discovering I was in a room that did not look familiar. A tidy room but devoid of furniture other than the bed I was lying on.
I’m lying on a bed? Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. No.

The incessant echo of my beating heart pounded in my ears, and the desperate need to get far away from where I was kicked in. It was fight-or-flight time, and I was prepared to do both, prepared to do whatever was required in order to be safe again.

Adrenalin surged through my body, and I went to sit up but fell back, my wrists and ankles, restrained.
Oh my God! Oh my God!

“Relax, love. You’re safe.”

H’s sudden but eerily smooth, calm voice sounded from behind, flicking the tempo of my heart to an even faster beat and louder thump. I craned and twisted my neck, trying to catch sight of him so that I could confirm that it was his voice I’d heard. I couldn’t be sure. I was still a little disorientated.

“H? Is that you?” I croaked, my throat constricted and dry.

“No!” The voice was stern, cold, almost unrecognisable.
Shit! Who is he? Where am I?

“I’ve told you before, Emily. My name is Mike. Mike and Emily, Emily and Mike.” His footsteps were slow, calculated, and heavy, his boots echoing against the hardwood floor until they stopped beside me.

I looked up just as he lowered himself to the edge of the bed. Our eyes met, and I tried to scoot away but he put his hand on the mattress beside my body, stopping me from moving any further. “Don’t be scared, love.”

“Don’t be scared?” I shrieked, my eyes wide, my chest heaving. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m tied to a bed after being drugged. Of course I’m scared. Untie me now, Mike! You’ve gone way too far.” I pulled on my restraints and squirmed, trying to loosen them, but they were tight, unyielding, and they hurt like hell. “Ow. It hurts. This isn’t funny.”

He moved his hands onto my stomach and applied a small amount of pressure, enough to stop me from squirming. “You’re hurting you. Not me. Just lie still. Relax. I need to show you something.”

“Why are you doing this?” I asked softly, a tear escaping one eye.

“Because I love you, because I need you, and because you keep ignoring me and pretending I don’t exist. I do fucking exist. I’m right here, next to you. I’ve always wanted to be right here next to you.”

“What? Like this?” I exclaimed, pulling on my restraints again.

“No, love. Not like this.” He placed his hand on my cheek and wiped my tears with his thumb, his sad but strangely serene hazel eyes studying my face. “You’re so beautiful. Perfect.”

I turned my head away, his touch, unwelcome. “I’m not perfect. Nobody is perfect.”

“Oh, but you are.” His fingers dug into my cheeks and guided my face back to him. “In my eyes you are, which means you
are.
” H watched intensely as his fingers loosened their grip and trailed down my neck to my collarbone, stopping at the seam of my tank top.

My chest heaved, and I panted nervously, but what scared me the most was that despite my fear, my body reacted to his touch in a way that it shouldn’t.

“Please stop,” I whispered.

His eyes met mine. “Why would I want to stop? You’re perfection.
My
perfection. No one else’s.” H lightly swept his fingers over my cleavage.

I trembled. “You should stop because I want you to stop.”

Sighing, he lifted his hands and scrubbed his face with his palms. “I never wanted to do this, love. But you gave me no choice.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” I snapped. “You decided to bring me here and tie me up. And for what reason… so you can rape me?” I yanked on the restraints again, but it was pointless.

“No! I’m not gonna rape you.” He moved his hands away from his face, the squint of his eyes indicating I’d offended him.

The squint offered some relief.

“We’re gonna make love instead,” he continued.

“What? Mike, listen to me, you don’t want to do this,” I pleaded.

“Of course I do. I’ve always wanted to make love to you, to taste you. You’re always telling me how sweet you are. You’re such a tease, Emily Davis.” He smiled and reached over to a small table, picking up a pair of scissors.

My eyes widened, and I screamed. “No!”

He chuckled, amused. “Stop screaming, love. I’m not going to hurt you, and anyway, no one can hear. It’s just you and me.”

My eyes darted from his and scanned the room, noticing that the walls were covered in a criss-cross patterned foam, like the walls of a recording studio. “You planned to do this all along, didn’t you?” I asked, shocked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“What? Bring you here to this room? No, I didn’t. I wanted to bring you to
my
room, and to
my
bed where I could worship you. And I will, when you admit that you love me and that we belong together.”

Tears filled my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. “I did love you in my own way,” I gritted out. “Very much so. But this? This is just crazy. How can I love you after this?”

“I’m gonna show you how.”

H sliced open my singlet top with the scissors, cutting it away from my body and exposing my white sports bra.

I cried, thrashing and trembling. “Please, don’t.”

“Stop moving. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You ARE hurting me. You’re breaking my heart.”

He paused and hovered unbearably close to my face, his breath warm with a hint of tobacco. “I could only break it if you gave it to me. You never did.”

Leaning back, he reached for my cotton shorts and sliced those as well.

“Mike, no! I’m begging you, don’t so this.” I tried to prop myself up, to distract him. “We can sort this out. I want to sort this out. Please just stop and untie me. We can talk.”

“I’m done talking, love. I need to show you. It’s the only way you’ll see. The only way you’ll remember.” He placed the scissors down and pulled my cut shorts from underneath me, discarding them on the floor, the loud thud of my phone sounding as it fell from my pocket and hit the floorboards. H ignored it and climbed onto the bed, straddling my knees and running his hands up and down my stomach, hips, and thighs.
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. Please tell me this isn’t happening.

I closed my eyes and tried to escape the reality I was in, to tell myself I wasn’t where I appeared to be.

But I was there.

I was
very much
there.

Crawling backwards, he placed a delicate kiss on my leg. “This is for the first time you wrote to me. You said, ‘Mr Happy, can you make me happy?’”

I gasped and choked on my tears, remembering that I’d typed those very words.

He moved up higher and hovered over my panty-covered pussy, inhaling deep and then breathing out. “I can smell how wet you are,” he hissed, his warm breath skating over the material. My pussy clenched, and a rush of heat waved through my body.
No! What is wrong with me? No!

I didn’t want to react this way. It was wrong. He was forcing himself on me against my will, and it was fucking wrong.

He moaned, breathing in once again. “And this is for the first time I made you laugh.”

I tried to mentally prepare myself for his lips to touch me where I didn’t want them to touch me, but they never did. Instead, he moved across just slightly to my hip and placed a soft kiss there. “You said, ‘Lol, I thought Mr Happy referred to your arse not your cock’.”

“And you said no … that’s … that’s Mr Crappy,” I sobbed, trying to suck in a breath.

H lifted his head and smiled at me, and I hated it. I hated it because he remembered that memory too, because it was a happy memory that would never be happy again.

“Yes, love. I did say that.” He moved up higher yet again and nudged my belly with his nose.

Arching my neck, I closed my eyes and tried to pull away, tried to rescue my body from the perverse spell he was casting. “Please, Mike, stop. I don’t want this.”