Unraveled (Undone) (4 page)

I laugh and the tension in my shoulders eases a bit. “Exactly.”

He grabs the beer Michael offers and winks at Layla. “Got yourself in trouble there, did ya?”

Layla sticks out her tongue at him.

Chad rubs his jaw, lightly dusted with stubble, and says to Michael, “I don’t think she’s sorry.”

Michael flicks a glance down at her. “Are you sorry, girl?”

“Of course,” Layla says, her voice saccharine sweet.

“And what are you sorry for?” Michael walks and stands in front of her. At six-five he towers over her on the floor and she looks small and delicate.

She meets his gaze and licks her lips. “I’m very sorry Belle only listens to me.”

He crouches down, takes her by the throat and she gasps. “I see you’re in the mood to be bratty tonight.”

“Me? Never?” The words a husky, gasping sound.

I hold my breath.

This is much more explicit than I’m used to them being.

He gives her a smile that would have me shaking in my boots, but all it does is flush Layla’s cheeks a pretty pink. “You’re in the mood to be bratty. I’m in the mood to be unreasonable. This should be an interesting evening, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” she says, her tone all breathless and clearly wanting.

He straightens, crossing his arms as he looks down at her. “Since I’m stuck in this hell with my sister, let’s take care of that attitude in the bedroom.”

Without a word she rises to her feet.

Her dress is short, silky and leaves almost nothing to the imagination. She is a beautiful girl, but tonight she looks otherworldly gorgeous. And sexy in a way I can’t even fathom. I don’t understand how Michael can be so possessive over her, so utterly devoted, and still be fine letting her walk around like that.

Michael twines his fingers through her hair. “A few strikes with the cane should set you right, don’t you think?”

Out of the corner of my eye I see Jillian wince, and I assume this is not a pleasant experience. I mean, how could it be? A cane? I flush hot.

Layla, always a brave girl, says, “I didn’t really do anything wrong.”

Michael raises a brow. “You’re not being sassy and a bit bratty?”

“I am.” She flashes a smile. “But you like it.”

“I do.” He crooks his finger. “Let’s go.”

And down the hallway they disappear.

Jillian takes a sip of her drink. “Well now, this should be fun.”

Chad laughs. “Indeed.”

Suspicious, I stare at him. He’s not… no. No way. That’s impossible.

I glance longingly at the front door.

Suddenly, I want to go home.

Layla

When we get to our bedroom, Michael shuts the door behind us.

I walk to the edge of our bed, anxious and excited. I had been a tiny bit bratty.

I have my reasons. Reasons Michael understands.

I’m wound up. On edge.

Michael knows this. He knows everything about me. Knows what I need and just how to give it to me.

He comes up behind me and slides his hands on my silk-covered hips, leaning his head down to brush a kiss over the curve of my neck. His erection presses against my back. “You look so fucking hot tonight.”

I lean against him, arching my breasts high in the air.

We’re ready to go at it. It crackles the air between us.

Since the first time I saw him it’s been like this. So hot we’re bound to get burned. Time has only made us stronger. Made
me
stronger. With Michael, I’m the woman I’m meant to be, and not the shell of the woman I’d become. The road had been long and hard, but I’m finally in a place where I’m free of the past. Well, almost.

It’s still a dull ache, but it doesn’t consume me the way it did. Doesn’t run every aspect of my life.

I crane my neck and rest my head on Michael’s shoulder. I’m filled with a nervous anticipation about tonight. I’m one big ball of energy; wound a couple of clicks too tight. I know the possibility of what could happen, of what he might do to me, and as much as I fear it, I need it to make me whole. To make me complete so I can erase that horrible night from my mind. So I can conquer the last of my demons.

But most important, I need to do it for Michael, because it’s what he deserves. Somehow I believe it will allow me to give back a tiny portion of what he’s given me. To prove that out of all the women he could have, he was right to choose me. Right to believe I’m worth all the effort he’s put into me.

He reaches up and cups my breasts. “You need to be marked.”

It’s not a question. He knows. I have so much anxiety about tonight; I need the reminder that I belong to him.

I can already envision the fiery sting of pain on my flesh, the rise of the long, striped welt the cane will leave behind. It will hurt, and in that moment I’ll hate everything about me that craves this, but after I’ll feel better. Calmer. For the rest of the night, no matter what happens, I’ll wear the physical reminder of his possession of me on my body. And I need that.

Part of my nerves are because tonight is the first time I’ve done anything like this since my fiancé was murdered before my eyes. When I met Michael I’d frequented the club I now know belongs to Brandon. It had been part of my punishment, part of my self-afflicted slide into oblivion. Since I’ve been with Michael we haven’t been back. That place is the reminder of too much pain.

When Brandon invited us to his new club, at first I hadn’t wanted to go, the memories of that horrible night too deeply engrained in my mind. Michael and I spent a lot of time talking, and in the end, we’d decided to go. This is a new place, not even really a sex club. It won’t be the same. So I’m being brave, despite my memories.

In the end, it’s better to face your demons so you don’t drown in them.

It’s time for new memories, created with the man I love more than life itself.

But it doesn’t mean I’m not nervous. So I acted out, just a little bit. I need to work through all my excess energy and sassy is the way I do it.

Michael doesn’t let it slide. Doesn’t always give me what I want. But tonight he understands I need the pain to ground me. And he’s not going to deny me.

He runs his hands over my nipples, rubbing his thumbs back and forth until I moan. I’m not wearing a bra, or panties. My dress is really little more than a nightgown. The white the only concession I’d made for the angelic theme. His fingers trail over my ribs, down my stomach, before bunching the fabric and raising the hem above my hips. He slips between my legs where I’m already wet and aching.

He growls, and bites my neck. “So goddamn beautiful. So goddamn wet.”

I groan and arch into his touch. He’s skilled, driving me crazy but never delivering the type of pressure I need to get close to orgasm. A slow, delicious tease. His thumb brushes my clit. I sigh his name. “Michael.”

“Mine.” His free hand wraps around my neck, his fingers squeezing just enough to set my heart racing into overdrive.

“Yes.”

“Should I fuck you now, or later?”

“Both,” I gasp. Losing myself in him.

“Greedy.” His pressure increases, and I lean against him, letting him take all my weight so I don’t have to think about anything but his hands on my body.

“Always,” I whisper. Because I am. I know how lucky I am and don’t ever take it for granted.

As I sit on the sharp edge of coming, he stops. The silk of my dress slides down my thighs, and his hand leaves my neck to press against the base of my spine. He exerts pressure. “Down you go.”

I don’t hesitate, I just lean down over the edge of the bed, my arms resting on the soft comforter, my face turned, eyes closed.

He moves, and I don’t have to look to know he’s going to the wardrobe in the corner that contains various toys and instruments he sometimes uses on me. We’re a hands on type of couple, but there’s always exceptions, and the cane is one of them. The door opens and there’s the sound of shifting objects before he closes it again.

I gulp. Swallow hard. And hold my breath.

I hate the cane as much as I love it.

Unless you’re a girl like me, it’s hard to explain how you can love something and hate something in equal measure. How it can be terrifying and make you drip with excitement.

You’ll just have to trust me.

Without a word he slides my dress up past the curve of my ass and trails the bamboo across my skin.

I shiver. In lust and in fear.

“Is this what you were hoping for with your sassy attitude?” He slides the cane along the side of bare leg, over my thighs, down my calf and up again.

“No.”

“Do you still think I’m being unreasonable?”

“Yes.” Clearly I’m not the smartest girl.

He laughs, and squeezes my hip hard enough I’ll have a bruise tomorrow. “I am, a little, you’ve been much brattier. But I want to hurt you.”

I shudder and a trickle of wetness slides down my thigh.

“I want to mark you and you want to be marked.”

“Yes.” I struggle for breath and clutch the comforter.

“Two strikes. I think that will be a proper reminder, don’t you?”

“I do.” It’s more than enough. Just enough. I’ve taken more, but we are going out. It’s a reminder, not a real punishment.

He steps away from me and I keep my eyes tightly shut.

“Raise up on your elbows.”

I comply, shaking my head so my chestnut hair curls down my back, and around my shoulders, creating a sight I know he’ll enjoy.

“Very pretty,” he says from behind me and by the sound of his voice, he’s lined up. “You ready?”

“Yes.” I try and relax. It’s so much easier if you relax.

But when you’re waiting for pain, sometimes relaxation is too great a goal.

Muscles tense, I hold my breath.

I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Finally, I hear it, the whisper through the air a fraction of a second before it strikes my skin.

I cry out, falling out of position, unable to help the scream as the fiery sting explodes, sharp and intensely focused.

“Back in position, girl.” His tone is that hard, commanding bark I love more than anything.

I hurry back into place, and brace myself, but this time there’s no waiting, and the second I’m anchored he hits me again.

The pain brings tears to my eyes and I squeeze them shut as I count to ten. I can already feel the two distinct stripes running across my ass, can feel the rise of welts that will be white before they turn red.

It hurts. A lot.

But the tension that had bound me up so tight before is gone and I feel fresh and new. Accomplished somehow. All that’s left behind is insatiable lust.

Michael puts the cane on the bed, and soothes a hand over my back. “Better?”

I nod. Still taking deep breaths through the fiery pain.

“What do you need?” His is tone gruff.

“You.” He’s all I ever need.

He grips my hair and twists so my head cranes back. “Fucking gorgeous.” Then he covers my mouth, claiming me in that way only he can.

His tongue strokes, tangling with mine. Possessing me so I feel nothing but his lips, and the brand of his ownership in the two stripes of fire along my skin.

He pulls away, and says against my mouth, “Hard and fast, Layla.”

I arch my back, moaning my acceptance.

He moves behind me, and I hear the zipper slide down, before he grips my hips.

He kicks my legs farther apart and then slams home.

I cry out as he fills me to the hilt and his skin abrades the marks he’s left behind.

He pulls out and thrusts back in and my clit brushes against the edge of the bed.

Every single ebb and surge is heaven. Every rub of his hip against the marks he left increases my desire. So good. So goddamn good I might lose my mind.

It’s all I can think as he fucks me, hard and rough, taking complete control.