Page 49 of Bought
Anticipation gathered inside me, along with a certain excitement, making me aware that it had been far too long since I’d felt either of those things. Years, possibly. Was it her? Or was it merely the newness of it? Of having something and someone different for a change? Someone to engage my intellect as well as my body?
Regardless, I was going to indulge it totally for the next forty-eight hours.
She felt soft, making me conscious that she was wearing nothing but that sheet. I had one hand gripping her hip, the other at her throat, and her bare skin was silky beneath my palms. All her tension was slowly bleeding away, her muscles loosening even as I held her, as if now she’d given herself to me, she could finally relax.
It was sweet to see her surrender. So very sweet.
“Good.” I stroked the side of her neck with my thumb then dropped my hand to the sheet she still held in front of her. “Now, remember what I said. You will be naked in my house.”
“Yes…Sir.” She let me tug the sheet away, unwrapping her like the luscious present she was, and she shivered as I eased her naked body back against mine, watching goosebumps chase over her pale skin. I didn’t think it was because she was cold. That wasn’t why her nipples had hardened either.
That was all me.
Satisfaction stretched out like a wolf inside me, my cock liking the sight of her nakedness very much indeed. But I had all day. I didn’t need to rush. And there were some necessities to take care of first.
“First, you will answer the question I asked about who hurt you,” I said. “Second, you might be sore from yesterday, in which case a warm shower will help.”
Her lashes lowered, veiling her gaze. “It’s not important.”
“Disobedient again,” I chided. “Eyes on me, sub.”
It took her a moment, but her lashes lifted again, and her silvery gaze met mine, little flickers of defiance glittering in it.
She was defensive, I could see that, and trying to protect herself. Trying to minimize what had happened to her, trying to make it not matter.
But it did matter. All violence mattered.
“It is important,” I said. “You’re mine and as I told you before, I take care of what’s mine. I won’t allow anyone to hurt you. So again, sub, answer my question.”
She sighed, her gaze dropping to my chest. “Oh, it was my dad. Years ago, now. My mom left when I was thirteen, so it was just him and me. He drank a lot, had a temper, the usual story. I ran away when I was sixteen.”
I let her stare at my chest, allowing her some measure of privacy, since she’d given me the truth and I wanted to respect that. But I was conscious of my own sudden fury.
I wasn’t a good father, I knew that. I’d distanced myself from Isabel for years and caused her all manner of heartache. But I’d never laid a hand on her in anger, or on any woman, and I never would. And I despised the men who did.
I wanted to ask more questions, get his name from her, get his address, get every detail about him so I could track him down and repay him in kind, and then go and ask her mother why she’d left her child with a man like that, but I stopped myself. Hammering at her for details wasn’t the right way to go about this and I didn’t want her having to relive trauma just for my sake. Still, she’d been so young, and running away at sixteen….
I’d been fifteen when I’d come to New York after escaping my uncle’s house, so I knew a little something about being a teenage runaway. And she’d been a girl which would have made things even worse.
“Running away at sixteen can’t have been easy,” I said.
She lifted a shoulder. “It was easier than being kicked in the guts on a regular basis.”
Minimizing again. But then that’s what runaways did. The lost kids, kids without families or homes, they developed a hard skin, a hard shell to protect themselves. Being seen as weak, being seen as prey was the worst thing that could happen to you — I knew that. That’s how I’d grown up too.
I pushed a lock of her soft, silken hair behind her ear, and she looked up at me suddenly, temper in her eyes, as if the gesture had annoyed her. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. I’m not a victim, okay?”
I understood her defensiveness, but I wasn’t going to have it directed at me. My role was to protect her, not hurt her. “You’re speaking out of turn, sub,” I warned coolly. “You’re also trying to prove something you don’t need to prove. If I thought you were a victim you wouldn’t be here, understand?”
She gave me a suspicious look. “What?”
“You don’t need to prove that you’re strong. I already know, that’s why you’re my sub for the weekend.” I ran my hands over her ass, relishing the softness of her skin and the heat of her pussy pressed against the zipper of my jeans. “Submissives aren’t weak, little one. It takes strength to surrender to another person and strength to trust them. Strength to want to test your limits and go beyond them. So, you’ll let me take care of you because you have nothing to prove. You’ll use your safe word when appropriate because you’re smart. And you’ll obey my orders and take any punishments I may give you because you’re strong. Do you understand?”
Her gaze was still narrowed, as if she didn’t quite believe what I’d said, and I was beginning to realize a little more of what she needed, what she didn’t even know that she needed.
Acceptance and reassurance. Someone to make her feel special because I suspect no one had.
And that someone is you?