The Love He Craves (The Love She Craves: Selling Her Soul to Declan Book 2) (35 page)

Declan reached out and put his hands on her hips. Taking a deep breath, he pulled her closer.

"Even after you quit school, you never had friends you could talk to?"

She shook her head. “Well, sometimes I had to tell Bob things. I had to tell him about Melinda dropping off Lotus and Reina, because I needed more shifts and I wanted both my meals at the same time. But Bob already knew all the bad stuff. My mother used to work there before she disappeared. I've known him my whole life. But I wouldn't call us close or anything. He's my boss."

"You didn't become friends with the waitresses?"

She shrugged. "We were friendly at work. Bob won't put up with a lot of drama; we have to get along or we’re gone. Mostly, they're nice to me, but we don't exchange phone numbers or anything. They all know the kids, and when Lotus got sick at school, Ginny gave me a ride to pick her up. She even covered my second shift until Cody came home."

"What was wrong with Lotus?"

She resisted smiling at her doctor husband. "Stomach bug, I guess."

"Did you take her to the doctor?"

Nyxie look at him like he was nuts. Didn't he have any idea how much a doctor’s appointment costs? "We don't run to the doctor every time someone sniffles. If she had gotten worse or wasn't getting better in a couple of days, I would've taken her."

"What
did
you do?"

“For the fever, a wet washcloth on her forehead and an aspirin. Jell-O, ginger ale and crackers for her stomach."

"Not real aspirin, I hope."

"What's wrong with aspirin?"

"You've never heard of Reyes Syndrome?"

One shoulder lifted in a shrug as she shook her head no. "If you had taken her to a doctor, you would have been told to give her something else."

Nyxie's lips sealed tightly, and she shifted her weight to her back foot. Declan was so in tune with her subtle body language that he picked up on the unspoken cues immediately.

"Don't," he said, his brow low with displeasure. "Don't clam up. I want to hear what you're thinking."

She stared at him for many seconds before she began to speak. "Everyone over the past few months has made it abundantly clear that I am a shit parent."

"I never said that."

"No, but you're judging me. There are only two doctors in Chimera Flats. The closest one is nearly two miles from my house. Do you expect a sick kid to walk that far both ways?"

"Call a friend."

Her eyes welled up with tears. "I don't have any."

"Then you should've called an ambulance and gone to the ER."

"And how were we going to get home? Hitchhike? You have no clue what my life was like. Don't you think I wanted to take her to the doctor? Unlike the hospital, the doctor expects to be paid upfront. I had just mailed off money orders to pay my bills the day before. I had earned less than $10 in tips when the school called."

"You know what your problem is?"

"Apparently, not. But I'm sure you do. Tell me, Declan, what's my problem?" she asked sarcastically.

"You are too proud to ask for help. You would rather starve than take charity. Is it just pride or do you get off on being a martyr?"

She gasped and took a step back.

"Did you ever see if you could apply online for food stamps? Did you call the welfare office and explain your situation? I know you are not the only person who doesn't have transportation."

Her eyes and nose suddenly felt prickly as emotion made her tears flow in earnest. She would have liked to have disagreed, but she knew pride kept her from putting in the kids’ names to Santa Red and Sage. She didn't want anyone to know how much she struggled. She even felt proud of herself for every sacrifice she had ever made for Cody and her nieces. It may not have been giving her life for a cause, but she supposed it was close enough to skirt the definition of martyrdom.

"If we aren’t going to fuck, can I put my nightgown on and go to bed?"

He drew her forward and kissed the tears on her cheeks. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I feel so frustrated by the fact you had no help. I don't know if they would have separated you, but frankly, Nyxie, you would have been better off alone in foster care, going to school and eating three meals a day."

She shook her head. "No, you don't get it. Without my brother, I had no reason to exist."

"Oh, Nyxie, yes you did. You do."

Chapter 32

"Look, I don’t want to argue tonight. Since it's our wedding night, I'm going to let you pick our toy."

Nyxie searched his face trying to decide how mad he was before she went to the armoire and picked out what he would use on her. "Anything?" she asked.

"Sure, whatever you want."

With hesitant steps, she crossed the room and began looking at the instruments inside the cabinet. Would this be like when her father told her to get a switch? If she didn't bring back something big enough, would her punishment be worse?

"Just one, or can you tie me up too?"

"We can do that."

Nyxie pulled open the bottom drawer and put four red ropes, that looked to be about six feet long each, on the bed. She pushed the bottom drawer closed and reached for the drawer above it.

"There's nothing in that one," he said as she pulled it open.

It wasn't true, the drawer wasn't completely empty but it didn't contain any toys either. Inside was the sheet stained with her virgin blood, the cards she had drawn him, their marriage license, and a selection of a few other items.

"Just a few souvenirs."

She opened the top drawer to find her corset and leash, the lidocaine spray and a variety of small and not so small toys like butt plugs and vibrators. Would they really use all of them?

Nothing there appealed to her; it was a pleasure drawer—the large compartment on top was where the pain was located. Her eyes flitted from floggers to crop, to a stiff leather paddle. One flogger—she guessed that's what that was—had knots tied in the leather strings. When her eyes fell upon a bamboo rod, she knew that was what she wanted. She held it with both hands palms up as she presented it to him.

"Nyxie, this isn't punishment."

"It’s not? Still, this is what I want," she said, continuing in a rush, her eyes never lifting above the middle of his chest. "I've been watching this tattoo show and I saw a piercer make a corset on a client’s back with a row of loops that he put a ribbon through. I thought, maybe you could put a crisscross pattern across my back."

Declan was shaking his head before she even finished. "I could try to do that, but don't you think the crop would be better? I could leave welts with no bruises."

"It would be gone tomorrow, sir. I want to wear it longer than a few hours."

"You won't be able to go swimming while we’re out of town. The kids will want to know why."

She shrugged. "I’ll wear a T-shirt over my swimsuit and tell the kids I don't want to get a sunburn. I bought one of those one-piece swimsuits with a little skirt so no one would see my boney butt, but I also thought it would hide any marks."

Nyxie extended her arms to present it to him. "You said I could choose."

"I've never caned anyone. I'm not sure I know how hard to hit you."

"We will figure it out."

Declan reached out and took the finger thick length of bamboo from her and smacked it against his palm. He looked down at his hand and frowned.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Grab the bedpost."

Nyxie hesitated before turning. "I love you. Sir, may I give you a kiss first?"

He used the rod to tilt her head up. Her tears had stopped but her cheeks still glistened with wetness. "I have loved you from the first day I saw you. I will love you until the day I die."

His lips met hers in a gentle, languid kiss, as if he kissed the injured bird he believed her to be. His left hand reached into her hair and tightened into a fist, making Nyxie moan and smile. The kiss seemed to energize her every pore and every cell of her body with sexual yearning. Gone were the upset words from a few minutes earlier, gone were her insecurities and feelings that she was not loved. Her breathing came faster with the buildup of what was to come. She felt both antsy and calm in the same instant.

"Okay my naughty little slave, do as you were told, or you won't like the consequences."

Nyxie's eyes flashed with excitement. "I bet you're wrong. I bet I'd like it just fine."

She turned, wrapped her arms around the substantial bedpost and wiggled her bottom at him.

"Before I lace your back, I'm going to take a few practice swings on your bottom so I can get a feel for the cane."

"Her cheek rested against the cool wood of the pillar, when the first blow hit her bottom. She pulled away and looked over her shoulder at him. "I thought you were going to hit me with that thing, not caress me."

"How would you like to wear a gag?"

Suppressing a giggle, she sighed dramatically—her lips in an uneven line that brought a dimple to one cheek. Turning back around, she tightened her grasp around the upright.

The next strike came with painful results. "God, that's perfect, sir. Just like that." Her breathing had increased and she held her body absolutely still as he peppered her back with five slanted lines in one direction and then the other.

~*~

His touch to her elbow brought her back to the present. It took a moment for her eyes to flutter open and when she looked at him, her pupils were dilated and glassy. She didn't answer his question, ‘Was she all right?’ She unfurled herself from the death grip she exerted on the bedpost and reached her arms around his neck, as if she didn’t have the strength to stand on wobbly legs. He tapped the side of her thigh and she raised her leg around his hip, and as soon as he wrapped his large hand around her leg, she lifted the other one.

Declan dropped the piece of cane and held her as his mouth found hers. She tasted of mint and sweetness. Her mouth yielded under his gentle kiss. He would never understand how she could be so strong that she could accept his painful strikes with barely a whimper, and still be so delicate and fragile. With each air whistling blow, he cautioned himself not to injure her—not to take it too far, but to find that perfect balance to bruise the surface without making the strikes so deep, they’d contuse the muscles. God, he needed to fatten her up so she’d have a layer of protection.

He moved one hand to her bottom to hold her weight better as he pulled the ropes off the bed, letting them drop to the floor.

"We'll play with those later," he said.

His thighs came in contact with her sex as he climbed onto the bed one knee at a time. Her eyes glistened with need and desire, making a slight smile momentarily curl his lip.

He studied every nuance of her face as he carefully lowered her onto her back, making sure the position was not causing her unbearable discomfort. He felt like rolling his eyes at his stupidity.… As if she would let him see her pain.

"Maybe you should roll over."

She tightened her hold around his neck. "I wanted to look at my husband as we come, not the pillows. It's our wedding night—sort of,” she said referring to the fact they had been married by a judge more than a month earlier.

"It doesn't hurt to lie on your corset laces?"

"It feels wonderful, sir."

Despite her assurances, Declan entered her warm, wet passage with slow deliberate motion. Each thrust was slow exquisite torture, making sure he didn’t jar her body and grind the wounds into the covers. Their eyes were locked on each other as he repeatedly filled her with the most erotic sensation.

She began thrusting her hips forward to bring forth the hard friction she craved.

"No," he said in full Dom voice. "You will not move."

Her body instantly melted into the mattress.

"Put your hands by your head."

Her hands dropped from his shoulders to the pillow next to her head. His body stopped briefly as he took a moment to adjust the pendant of her necklace. It had fallen to the side and he moved it to the hollow between her clavicles.

"If it moves, I will be very displeased," he said.

She had flinched slightly when he reached for it, but he knew it had nothing to do with him.

He pinioned her open hands to the mattress and as her fingers closed around his, he continued his agonizingly slow pace. Her eyes closed as a sigh came from her throat on her exhalation.

"My God, sir. What you are doing feels amazing. I really am a slut for these things you do to me."

"Shut up. I don't ever want to hear you say that word again."

Confusion flittered across her face and she bit her lip, making her look vulnerable and defenseless. She was his wife, his submissive, his slave, his life, and she would be the mother of his children. Nyxie was everything he desired in the world. She was everything that mattered.

The helpless whimper drew his attention. Her cheeks and chest were stained with color. Her nipples stood out in plump points at the end of her breasts and he could feel the beginning of her orgasm milking his cock.

"Come for me, baby."

Despite his earlier intentions, Declan began thrusting into her hard enough for her to move against the covers.

Her hands tightened around his and her eyes squeezed shut. He couldn't distinguish if her cries were ecstasy or discomfort, but he suspected it was a combination of pain and pleasure, mixing in a way that only others in their world could truly understand.

With one final thrust, he buried himself in her depths, and the world disappeared as he filled her with his seed.

~*~

Fingers running through his hair brought Declan back to the present. His head nestled on her shoulder and his muscular frame pressed her small body into the mattress. He'd fallen asleep on top of her.

Her back! Christ!

He rolled off her instantly and looked deeply into her eyes, first one and then the other, until he felt certain she was more present than she was after he'd finished marking her back. The glassy far-off look was gone—her dilated pupils had returned to normal.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Good. Really good. I want to see my back."

"Not yet. I, uh, need to tend to it first. I broke the skin in a few places—I really didn't think about the fact that natural cane would have an uneven surface. It's only a few small spots—nothing that should leave a scar—just a few drops of blood here and there."

"Sir, would you take pictures so I can see."

With wide eyes, he stared at her as if he didn’t understand what she said, but slowly, a grin spread. "You have no idea how much that would please me."

Declan practically sprinted from the room. When he came back several minutes later, he not only had a professional looking digital camera, but first aid supplies as well.

He turned all the lights on to their brightest settings and began snapping pictures. He took close-ups of the blood drops that had formed on the surface of the abrasions. Pictures that showed the welts and bruises. He snapped photos of the pattern on her back and then he tied the ropes to her wrists and ankles, and posed her and took more. He took pictures with her standing holding the bedpost and tied to it. And some where she sat on the floor clinging to the upright, looking as if she had collapsed during the caning.

"May I see them?" she asked, reaching for his camera as he began treating her back.

He slapped at her hands. "Not yet."

“May I take the ropes off my wrists?"

"No," he said.

His tone of voice and curt answers told her not to press the issue further, so Nyxie sat there sullenly while he tended to her back.

When he finished, Declan dashed down the steps and came back a minute later with his laptop and a cable. He plugged the camera into the laptop and tapped a few buttons to begin downloading the pictures onto his hard drive.

Before he let her see them, he disappeared into his closet for a few seconds and returned with a white dress shirt. He loosened the restraints on each arm long enough for her to slip her hand out and put on the shirt before sliding her hands back through.

"Leave it open," he said, when she reached for the buttons.

He controlled the order in which she viewed the photos, starting off with an extreme close-up of a spot where the tiny drops of blood had re-formed after they had made love. He posed her sitting cross legged in the middle of the bed with the laptop on the mattress by her knees, and took a picture of her reaction to each and every photo, her hands and ankles surrounded by lengths of red rope.

Many showed a hint of breast in the opening of the shirt. When he placed her lying on her stomach with her rope clad ankles casually crossed above bent knees, he allowed the curve of her bottom to peek out from under the shirttail.

When he was finally ready to reveal the first wide shot of her whole back, he had her sit in the middle of the bed, her legs drawn up and her arms hugging her knees, with the computer a yard away. Nyxie's eyes widened as she saw her back for the first time. Others would no doubt be repulsed by the sight, but to Nyxie, it was overwhelmingly beautiful. To her, each welt and bruise bound her to Declan in a manner more real than any rope ever would.

To her side, she could sense Declan coming close to take more pictures. Most of the time it made her self-conscious about her expression, but now she was only vaguely aware of his presence. She dropped her leg as she reached out and brought the laptop closer.