Vicious Carousel (Suncoast Society #25)(24)

Kenny slid his hand behind Nolan’s neck, cupping it, holding him in place for another long, tender kiss. Pressing his forehead to Nolan’s, he whispered, “Marry me.”

“Yes,” Nolan whispered back. “Marry me.”

Kenny kissed him. “Yes.”





Chapter Nine


Monday morning, Betsy laid in bed, her left eye open, her right eye barely able to squint just a little.

She’d take the win.

It was nearly seven in the morning, and she couldn’t believe she’d slept so late. Jack had to be up at 6:15 every morning to get ready for work, meaning she had to be up, too, fixing his lunch, cooking his breakfast.

Everything.

Failure to get up on time meant one cane stroke for every minute. The only time she was allowed to sleep in was on Saturdays and Sundays when he did.

Freedom.

And more than a little self-loathing settled within her as she stared at the strange furnishings belonging to the men, furnishings that she knew would quickly grow familiar.

No, she hadn’t been living a ritzy lifestyle before Jack. But she’d let Jack order her into getting rid of most of her belongings when she moved in with him.

Or he’d basically confiscated them, like her computer, and declared them his.

Once she moved into her own place, she would eventually start replacing the things she’d given up. And the things of Jack’s that the men had retrieved for her, like dishes, and pots and pans, that were Jack’s. Oh, she’d use them, all right, for now.

But eventually, everything she owned would be hers and hers alone. She’d be damned if she’d ever let another man do this to her.

What the hell was wrong with me? How did I get here?

It was something she’d asked herself a lot lately.

Especially over the past couple of weeks.

Usually as she’d sit there and stare at the damn chain on her ankle and try to figure out how the hell to get it off.

In the beginning, Jack had seemed like a nice guy. Said the right things. She’d trusted him, allowed a little more trust. She didn’t play with him alone. She met him in public. He never pressured her to play alone, encouraged her to talk to others. But since he was new to the area, and said he wasn’t really active in local groups up north, there hadn’t been much to ask about.

No one had anything bad to say about him down here, that she’d heard. It seemed like Tilly wasn’t fond of him, but to be honest, there were a few people who didn’t like Tilly. To her friends, she was fiercely loyal and protective, and that sometimes got lost in translation when dealing with someone like Jack. Someone who didn’t know her or her history.

That Tilly wasn’t fond of him should have been enough for Betsy. But he’d charmed several others, played with a few at the club, and no one seemed to have anything bad to say about him locally.

Tilly’s grumbles mostly quieted as he didn’t actually do anything that raised red flags.

So Betsy had allowed him into her life a little. First, just for play. At the club. Then orgasm play. Then they talked about maybe a training collar.

And then…

Then one day she found herself staring at a damn chain locked around her right ankle and trying to figure out how the hell she’d let that happen.

It was like a vicious carousel she’d managed to get on, but before she could get off, before she’d realized that it wasn’t populated by beautiful ponies and lions, and instead held horrific monsters, it was spinning too fast for her to jump off without risking her very life. At that point, she’d held on as best she could and prayed for a chance to get off the ride.

She’d had no doubts that if Jack had realized she’d gotten the chain off that afternoon, after beating her, the next step would have been him chaining it around her neck. He’d once “joked” about doing that.

Maybe that had been his plan all along, to see how she’d tolerate the thing at first and work his way up to that.

Why the hell did I tolerate it?

There were plenty of times she could have waited for him to go to work and then screamed for help until someone called 911 to report it.

But he’d said he had spies.

And she’d believed him. He was crazy enough.

And if one of them had called him instead of the cops…

Yes, fear. Flat-out fear.

And stupidity, but that had kicked in after the fact, once she knew she was finally safe.

I have to get up.

The rest of her life lay ahead of her. She was only thirty-two and had a lot of good years. Yes, she had some rebuilding to do, but she would do it.

To do it meant she needed to start now, be independent.

Including getting out of damn bed by herself.

At least her headache felt like maybe it had finally abated. And she didn’t feel dizzy.

She just…hurt like f*cking hell.

Slowly, she log-rolled onto her right side, pausing to breathe through the pain. It wouldn’t get any worse from this point out, only better. He would never beat her again. If she could take it now, it would get easier to take, day by day, until her injuries fully healed.

Working carefully, she pushed herself up into a sitting position with her legs hanging over the edge of the bed.

Hey, look at that!

It was a small accomplishment, but to her she might as well have finished a marathon.