The Love She Craves: Selling Her Soul to Declan (37 page)

“I thought you might like a place for you to have some alone time or one-on-one time with your kids.”

“You thought of everything.”

She moved past the seating area into the bedroom area. He had placed the furniture to exactly mirror the placement of his. She had a king size bed with a white padded headboard. It was simple but expensive looking, refined without looking stuffy. It was trimmed out with a light-colored wood which matched the dresser and armoire.

“It has a TV in it,” he said following her gaze.

“It’s all beautiful.”

“I thought about getting you a headboard similar to the guest room bed, but I hated the idea of another man tying you to a bed I bought.”

She stepped up to him and put her arms around him. “When our contract is up, I’ll probably just return to my particular form of celibacy.”

His arms encircled hers, holding her, stroking her hair. He kissed her forehead. “I don’t know which idea bothers me more: you with another man or you alone.”

“I’m not alone. I have my kids,” she said matter-of-factly.

“But I bet you’d like to have a couple of babies of your own.”

She shrugged. “I’ve always thought when the kids were grown, I would start my life. I’d have time for friends and maybe a boyfriend or maybe I’d work on my education and get a real job. Who knows, maybe I’d kiss a few frogs, find a husband and have a couple of kids. It just seemed so far in the future, so out of reach, I never really pinned any hope on having any of my own.”

He pulled her tighter into his embrace and inhaled the scent of his shampoo. He remembered the first time he noticed the way his bath products marked her as his and he wondered if he’d ever get past the possessiveness he felt with her.

“Life really dealt you a shit hand, Nyxie.”

She pushed him away. “Please, don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t feel sorry for me.
I want to be happy and enjoy my new place.”

A sigh escaped his lips and he wondered if she dealt with her past by pretending it never happened. He wondered if she would benefit by talking to some sort of counselor. In school, he’d taken all the required psych classes but he wouldn’t have called himself anything more than a knowledgeable layman.

He took her hand and led her down the stairs. “I think after we know how well your kids can respect the boundaries of my house versus yours; we may install a couple of doors so we can get back and forth without going outside.”

They used the garages to return to his place and Declan grabbed the stuffed animal as they passed through so it could be washed.

He pulled out a pair of plates and began unpacking the huge meal, laying it out in the order he liked to assemble his fajitas. “Grab a half-dozen spoons and a couple of forks.”

He opened the tortillas, put spoons in the beans, rice, guacamole and sour cream and forks in the big container that contained the mesquite grilled chicken, onions, bell peppers and two charred jalapenos and another fork in the hot sauce but nothing in the cheese.

“I swear the ritual of getting ready to assemble the fajita is half the fun.”

Nyxie couldn’t help the little smile that emerged on her face. “We know how much you like anticipation.”

“Yeah,” he said handing her one of the plates. “Ladies first.”

“I thought I’d follow your lead. I’ve never fajitaed before.”

“Really? Just throw anything that looks good on a pair of tortillas.”

“More anticipation for you?”

“Sure, why not. Think what a drag Christmas would be if you didn’t have that build up beforehand.”

“Or what a letdown it is after all that buildup. Can we, please,
not
talk about Christmas?”

He heard the warble in her voice and instantly regretted saying something so thoughtless. Christ! What a dick. “Of course, Nyxie, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about it.”

Nyxie kept her attention on her plate, assembling her fajitas and moving down the counter.

“It’s not as if I didn’t get Christmas presents. Mama would buy Melinda a new coat every other year and I get one of her old ones. And if we needed new shoes or undies, we’d probably get those. Melinda might get a Beanie Baby or a potato-head and I’d get some plastic dollar-store or garage sale toy or doll. Mama said because I was younger, I would break my toys or, God forbid, pull off the tag. It didn’t help that mine were so cheap they usually broke within a week. Of course, Daddy never once stole my toys, hoping to sell them for booze money. So, who got the last laugh?”

There was a flatness to her voice that made Declan know the subject was still as painful to her now as it was when she was a child.  Christ, he was probably pouting over not getting every expensive video game he asked for while she was thankful for an old used coat and someone else’s unloved toy.

“Well, you and your kids are going to have great Christmases while we’re together.”

“It doesn’t matter about me, Declan. I’m an adult now. But if I’m not working, I would be extremely grateful if you could spare maybe fifty dollars for each of my kids.” Nyxie took her plate and moved around the counter to the breakfast bar and sat down. She didn’t notice how he kept glancing at her as he finished assembling his meal.

“You can’t get much with fifty dollars, Nyxie.”

“My kids don’t expect much. Last year I bought them each one toy they really wanted. It was new and the best I could afford. I think I spent about twenty-five to thirty-five dollars on each. I contacted the people who do the coat drive and got them each a free coat. Then I found them each a small gift, usually something we can all enjoy like a puzzle or a game. I think when it’s something they all have fun with, it feels like they got more than they did. Sometimes those are from garage sales or the thrift store. You’d be surprised what you can get for three or four dollars. And then I tried to get them a change of clothes and shoes, pretty much always used. The money that’s left will usually buy some candy for their stockings and a cake mix. We’ve got a six cup muffin pan that fits in my toaster oven. And the cake mix makes twenty-four cupcakes which is a huge treat for them and if they want a gift for a friend or their teachers, they can give them a cupcake with a handmade card. I put a little food coloring in some sugar and they get to decorate theirs. And a couple of times, someone put Cody’s name in
Santa Red and Sage
. It’s Chimera Flat’s version of Toys for Tots. That’s where his bike came from.”

“Why don’t you do that every year?”

She shrugged. “I always figured it was for people worse off than us. I only put his name in when I couldn’t figure out how to get him something like the two Christmas’s between when Mama disappeared and I got a job.”

Declan wondered if Santa Red and Sage ever brought her gifts. He knew instinctively, she didn’t put her name on the list and he didn’t understand why.
With her self-esteem, she probably did not feel she deserved anything for herself, or maybe she just thought it was the mature thing to do, like taking responsibility for Cody or quitting school to work.

She looked up at him teary-eyed. “Do you think I’ll have them back by Christmas?”

“I’m hoping you’ll have them back before school starts.”

He took a big bite of his fajita and closed his eyes as he savored his favorite food.

“I hope so.”

Nyxie attacked her fajita with the same gusto that Declan displayed. He was right. They were excellent. She started slowing down a few bites into her second one.

“I swear I could eat these every day,” she said.

“Okay.”

She laughed. “Oh, Declan, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you through all this. I would just be lost. I know it sounds crazy, but I really think you know me better than I know myself. Even when you made me leave the hospital when I didn’t want to was a godsend.”

Nyxie got up and began closing the food containers and putting them in the fridge. She rinsed the plates and flatware then put them in the dishwasher. When she looked up, she realized Declan had stepped away.

“I forgot to tell you your checks came today,” he said entering the room with a small parcel in his hand.

“My checks?”

“Checking accounts still come with these antiquated things called checks. Go figure. Open them up and make sure they’re correct. Then I need you to write me a check for thirty-six dollars.”

“I’ve got thirty-six dollars in cash in my purse if you need some cash.”

“Nope,” he said setting the pen next to her. “It has to be a check so I can show the judge you paid your rent.”

“Oh,” she said surprised, obviously not expecting him to ask for rent or expecting it to be such a small and random amount. “You’re only going to charge me thirty-six dollars a month for that huge townhouse?”

“No, Nyxie. I’m charging you one dollar a month. You’re going to be paid up for three years. Junior is bringing a lease for you to sign saying the same thing. Even if we find we’re incompatible in thirty days, I can’t evict you for three years. All bills paid by your landlord.”

“But what if the legal fees only total up to one year?”

He shrugged. “It’s irrelevant. The place is yours for three years.”

Nyxie opened the box and found the address of
her
townhouse below her name. “You’re going to have to show me how. It’s my first check.”

He shrugged. “It’s pretty well self-explanatory.” He walked her through writing the check and took it from her.

“I can’t believe I’m paying you with your money.”

“It’s not my money. It’s your money, in your account. I’m not even a cosigner. I couldn’t get to that money if I wanted to.”

She stared at him, her eyebrows knitting little lines between her eyes. Her chin drew up and dimpled.

“Do you know how uncomfortable this makes me feel? The car, the clothing, the townhouse, the money; it’s too much. I never liked taking charity—even when you put granola bars in my locker. It just emphasizes how inadequate I am.”

Something in his attitude changed and Nyxie knew her Dom stood before her. She tilted her head down and for once hated doing it. He was supposed to take care of her needs not make her indebted to him for the rest of her life. Was that his plan? Would he demand an extension of their contract?

“Nyxie go up to my room. Get undressed. You’ll find the key to the armoire hanging on the back of it on the left side. Open it; get out my crop, my belt and my paddle. Place them an equal distance apart on the leather bench at the foot of the bed. Then kneel down with your hands behind your neck.”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered.

Nyxie resisted the urge to run into the pantry and lock herself in. She took a deep breath and began the trek to his room. Her feet felt like lead as she tried to maintain her normal pace as she climbed.

38

Nyxie felt foolish kneeling on the floor in such a vulnerable position waiting on him but the intensity in his look told her he played no games and she shouldn’t treat this frivolously.

Crap
.

Declan ignored her when he came in. He undressed down to his black boxer briefs then went to the armoire.
He pulled out the red ropes and tied each to a ring attached to the large bed but hidden beneath the level of the mattress.

“Slow down your breathing before you hyperventilate,” he said suddenly without looking at her.

“Yes, sir.”

Grabbing the middle of the
white duvet, he stripped the bed down to the gray sheets below. She wasn’t surprised. When she’d climbed out of bed that morning, she had seen her virgin blood staining the fitted sheet. Apparently, he had too when he awoke and changed the sheets.

He approached her and stroked her hair. She could see the evidence of his lust. She didn’t know if she should look down or look up at him or continued to stare at the huge bulge in the front of his underwear. He had a magnificent body—the body of an athlete, all muscled and lean. She would never tire of looking him.

It made her acutely aware of her imperfections. She was all bones and sharp angles and lacked all the womanly curves she should have.

Not even conscious of doing it, her head bowed.

Declan’s hand grabbed her hair on the back of her head and firmly but not roughly pulled back until she stared up at him.

“I wish I could bottle the look in your eyes right now. You’re so beautiful like this. I can see your desire and that look you get when you intentionally provoke me. But you know you already have. Does that paddle have you on pins and needles, Nyxie? Does it remind you of the principal’s office and touching yourself in the girls’ room?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re not a child anymore and I’m not going to water down the impact of that paddle.”

Nyxie wanted to say,
Neither had the principal
, but she suspected Declan was considerably stronger and he’d be hitting her on bare flesh.

“Get up,” he said not releasing her hair. His pull on her hair increased slightly, but it was far from being unbearable.

Nyxie awkwardly rose to her feet with her hands still clasped behind her neck.

“Assume the position Mr. Jones made you stand in.”

The principal had tape on his floor approximately three feet from the wall. He had made her place her toes behind the line, her feet shoulder’s width apart. Her hands braced against the wall maybe six to nine inches out from each shoulder. She didn’t grasp why the position had been so specific—if there was a letter of the law principals had to follow or if it was what the man liked to get the most bang for his buck.

Nyxie moved into position and waited as Declan retrieved the paddle. She wondered if he had glimpsed Mr. Jones’s paddle or if coincidence had led Declan to acquire one nearly identical.

The light-colored solid wooden paddle was as thick as her finger and as tall as a dollar bill was wide. The hitting surface measured a good two and a half feet conservatively with another six inches of handle. Extra wood had been added to the handle and to the end of the paddle’s surface to reinforce the weak area where it tapered to prevent it from breaking.

She stood waiting as he moved into position and lined up his shot.

He lowered the paddle, leaned towards her and spoke into her ear. “You will take what I give you and you will like it and appreciate it.”

She wasn’t sure if he was talking about the paddling she was about to receive or the gifts he had given her. Probably both.

“Yes, sir.”

He moved back into position and realigned his shot. She waited. Her body tensed. She waited.

He swung. The impact sent her body forward and she had to take a step to catch herself. He caught her by the waist when he thought she was going to fall. Her ass erupted in heat and pain, but other than the gasp in her breathing, she made not a whimper.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his Dom persona slipping away momentarily.

She nodded as she tried to find her voice. “Yeah,” she said now panting. “It just knocked me off balance.”

The pain in her ass seemed to be increasing rather than ebbing and she knew her flesh was swelling already.

He released her as soon as she felt steady. “Get back into position.”

“Yes, sir,” she said trying not to sound breathless and shaken.

Nyxie put her hands back on the wall and stretched her legs out until they were in position. She nodded to indicate her readiness. He reached out and caressed the abused flesh. His soft strokes felt cool to the touch making her close her eyes. He stood inches behind her and nuzzled her hair, inhaling her scent deeply.

“Baby, I really need you to make some sort of sound when I hit you. Your breath is lost under the impact and I need to hear something to gauge the blows. I don’t care if you cuss, moan or scream, but I need something.”

“I’ll try,” she said, her whole body beginning to tremble as adrenaline surged through her. “Don’t you think I’d use the safe word if I couldn’t take it?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly
pushing away from her. “You still embraced the willful defiance you used to piss off your father. You wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing he hurt you, and you’re still hiding it from me. Even now you’re trying to keep your voice even, but I can see the distress in your carriage. You can barely stand.”

“The adrenaline has me shaky. I’m okay.”

Declan disappeared and her Dom returned. He straightened up, turning sideways to move back into position. He only extended the paddle once to line up a shot before raining it down on her with the same force as before. She made a small grunt of pain as his blow knocked her off her feet again. His body lurched forward but when he could see she had caught herself, he did not reach for her.

She put her feet back into place and aligned her hands with her shoulder so she could brace herself better. Turning to indicate her readiness with a nod, she realized he was gone. He emerged from the closet with the Louboutins.

As if that would help her balance
, she thought sarcastically.

She balanced on one foot at a time as he placed the shoes on her feet. God, even her ankles felt wobbly. She walked her hands up the wall to adjust to the added height.

“After this one, I’m going to fuck you against the wall. You’re being punished so if you come, I’m going to punish you again. You understand me, Onyx?”

“Yes, sir.”

Declan lined up again and his body leaned away as he waited for a sign that she was in the proper state of readiness. She wasn’t sure if he waited for her to tense or relax or for her attention to drift slightly, but when the blow came; it landed with such force, she fell into the wall, her gasp incapable of filling her lungs.

He was behind her in an instant, spreading her legs, lowering his underwear and shoving his cock into her pussy.

He flattened her into the wall, her naked breasts stimulated by the rough painted surface as his thrusts continually jarred her body.

He possessed her, filled her, took her—his huge cock abusing her nearly virginal depths in a most carnal, powerful and erotic way. She tried to detach herself from the earth shattering sensations. Trying to comply with this demand that she not orgasm, she tried to soften herself, to yield without participating, but it only seemed to make what she felt building, come from a different place. She tried tightening everything. It just made the friction between their bodies intensify. He groaned and she almost let herself soar over the edge at the sexy rasp.

Distraction was her only hope. She closed her eyes and reached for her throat.

“What the fuck?” he said under his breath. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away, then clapped his large hand on her other wrist. He pinned her arms against her wall and nuzzled the back of her neck as he buried himself inside one last time, shooting his load into her hot depths.

His weight crushed her as he recovered from the powerful explosion. Breathing heavily into her hair, he moaned as gravity pulled the weight of his deflated cock out of her. It stirred him enough from his stupor to recognize how hard his body pressed into her. He pressed his lips against her crown of her head. Releasing her wrists, he stepped back and frowned. He would need to ask her about why she grabbed her throat later when they spoke about the scene.

“Go lay in the middle of the bed. Face down,” he said
, his breath still raspy as if he was still recovering from his climax as he placed the paddle in the armoire.

“Faced down?”

“We’re not finished. You have two more punishments.”

“Two?” She scrambled to the bed and crawled to the middle. Her body molded to the mattress too exhausted to do anything else.

“That one was for not accepting my gifts graciously. The next one is for walking to the hospital. And then there is the matter of masturbating after you were told not to. I told you I would know.”

He tied each wrist to the ropes attached at the corners, winding the excess rope up her arms to her shoulders like snaking bracelets.

Leaving the shoes on, he tied her spread-eagled to the bed. As he had with her arms, he wound the excess rope up her legs.

“God, you're sexy as hell, red soles,
red ropes, red ass. I planned to use the belt across your ass one time for every one of the thirty-four minutes I had to worry about you. I still intend to, but I hadn’t anticipated paddling you beforehand. So I’ll let you decide if you want me to stick strictly to your ass or spread it out over your thighs and lower back.”

Nyxie, still feeling the heat and swelling from the paddling, took a deep breath. “Declan, you’re stronger than.…” She almost said
Daddy
, but what Declan did and her father did felt completely different. Daddy wanted to break her—break her body, break her spirit, break her willfulness—but Declan wanted something else from her. She wasn’t quite sure what, yet. She wasn’t frightened when Declan punished her, not afraid of
him
, although at times she still felt anxiety over the pain. He was in control. He could and would stop instantly if she said the word. “You’re stronger than I realized. Hit my ass unless I
yellow
you. Then you can go after my legs and back until you’re finished.”

“Or you can
red
me,” he reminded her.

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“I want you to count them off.”

“Yes, sir.”

He picked up the belt and folded it in two. She whimpered when the first strike came down on the flesh so recently bruised.

“One, sir.” She waited and waited.

The belt whistled through the air. “Two, sir,” she gritted with the impact.

The red display of the alarm clock clicked off a minute. He hit her again. “Three, sir.” When he didn’t hit her again until another minute passed, it occurred to her he intended to draw out this punishment over thirty-four minutes.

Jesus
.

“Four, sir.”

Somewhere around fifteen, sixteen and seventeen, she began feeling something odd. She didn’t know where the pain went, it was almost the way pain vanished during an orgasm. She could feel the weight of the blows pressing her into the mattress, but she didn’t feel the sting anymore. Her body was trembling again as chemicals coursed through her brain. She was barely able to remember the count and he had to correct her two blows in a row.

At twenty-five, he laid one across the very top of her thighs.

She knew this was a new pain, a different pain, but she didn’t know what that meant. She was pain drunk. “One, sir?”

“That’s twenty-five, Nyxie. Are you still with me or are you going to that place in your mind where you went when they took the girls?”

It took her several seconds to reply. “No, it’s different,” she said lethargically.

“Do you need me to stop?”

“No.”

He put his hand on her back as he sat down on the bed. “On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst pain imaginable, where are you?”

“Zero.”

The clock face changed.

“It’s time for the next one, sir.”

“Be quiet, Nyxie. I’m trying to decide what to do.”

“Finish it. I want you to be proud of me. I want to accept your punishment without complaint. I want to feel how much you care about my safety and I want to feel how much I worried you.”

“Fuck,” he said as he realized she was too impaired by pain to make rational decisions. He threw the belt at the armoire
and began untying her. She was going to let him beat her as much as he wanted so he would be proud of her for taking it. Christ, what kind of bullshit was that? He was so mad at her he wanted to punish her again. Trust was a two-way street. Not only did she hide her pain but she couldn’t be trusted to safe word him when he’d gone too far.