Echo (Bleeding Hearts #1)(30)
My tormentor showed no surprise as he pulled me into his arms and held me steadfast. We sat in silence for a long time while he massaged whatever part of skin was within his reach. I felt so small and fragile that a part of me enjoyed it. The part of me that had been neglected and starved for human affection my entire life. But on the other hand, he was still the man who was forcing me to do this. I was disgusted with myself for allowing him to comfort me. I needed to get away. I needed some room to breathe, so I said the only thing I could think of in the moment.
“Can I take a shower?” I asked. “Alone?”
He stiffened beneath me, and I was certain that I’d offended or irritated him, but I was long past caring. A moment later, he stood up and helped me to the bathroom.
Before he left, his fingers feathered over the marks on my back, touching each one until he was satisfied.
“You belong to me now, Brighton.”
And with that, he disappeared behind the click of the door, leaving cool air to creep over my body in his absence. When I removed the blindfold and turned to check my wounds in the mirror, I was surprised to see they were just reddish bruises. I was certain he’d broken the skin, but he hadn’t.
What was more surprising was the pattern of the bruises. The longer I looked at them, the clearer they became. The shape of two initials.
JL
He’d marked me as his. Claimed me.
I wracked my brain for what those initials stood for. For anyone I might know that could be a match, but I came up empty. No matter how many possibilities I conjured up, I could never get this scenario to make sense. To understand who this man was. I figured this must have something to do with Brayden, but then again, maybe not. With the exception of a middle-aged father, all the people who could have sought revenge against him were dead. But that last initial haunted me. It was too similar to be coincidence, wasn’t it? Or was I overthinking it? Was it just a stranger I’d never noticed before? Whoever it was, he’d been watching me a long time.
I turned on the shower and tested the water to make sure it was lukewarm before stepping inside. I was careful to avoid my back as I washed and lathered my entire body. The soap was an exotic looking bottle with a French name and a lavender infusion. Expensive from what I gathered. As was the shower, now that I deemed to notice. There were dual showerheads and a sunken floor surrounded by natural stone tiles. It looked as if it belonged in an old castle which made me curious about where I was or whose house I was in.
The wheels turned in my brain, wondering if I’d get a chance to explore more of the place sans blindfold. It wasn’t likely, but I would bide my time if I had to. It was early in the agreement, so I still had plenty of time to figure this mystery out.
A knock on the door startled me as I was drying off, and I realized I’d been in the bathroom for a long time. Probably pushing the limits, I supposed.
“I have some breakfast for you,” his voice called through the door. “Do you have the blindfold on?”
For a moment, I considered lying and telling him I did. But then I thought of Brayden and what would happen to him if I didn’t play along. I slipped the cloth over my eyes and wrapped the large towel around my body.
“Yes,” I answered solemnly.
The energy in the room changed when he walked into it. There was an aura of power that rolled off of him, even though I couldn’t see it. I could feel it, though, in the way he took up space. The way he handled my body and spoke without apology about his wants or needs.
Perhaps it was that power which attracted me on some small level. It was the same trait that had attracted me to Ryland Bennett when he darkened my porch five years ago. His confidence was unwavering. A man who knew what he wanted with a certainty he would have it too. At the time, I thought that was me. It didn’t make much sense then, and now it made even less.
A warm and solid hand cupped my shoulder as another wrapped around my waist, guiding me back into the other room. This time, he pulled me into his lap in what I presumed to be an oversized chair. The soft velvet rubbed against my thigh, combined with the ever-present heat of my tormentor’s body beneath me.
Something cool brushed against my lips, and instinctively I darted my tongue out to catch the liquid before it dripped down my chin. The sweet taste of melon burst across my taste buds, followed by a soft chuckle beneath me.
“Open your mouth,” he urged.
I parted my lips awkwardly and pulled the melon ball from the fork with my teeth. Nobody had ever fed me before, and it was strange to be allowing it now.
The process continued with forkfuls of eggs, toast, and crispy bacon, which I ate eagerly. I hadn’t known how hungry I was until the food was in front of me.
When I finished, he moved me back to the bed to rest. I insisted I wasn’t tired. But when his mouth found its way between my thighs and gave me a mind blowing orgasm, my body quickly changed its mind.
And so the rest of the day was spent much of the same. My companion fed and caressed me, occasionally stopping to lavish my breasts with his full attention. This almost always led to more of his attention between my legs as well, and by the end of the day, I’d counted five orgasms. I never even thought such a thing was possible, but now I could say definitively it was.
When darkness fell around us, he pulled me into his arms and rested my face in the space between his shoulder and his neck. As sleep pulled me under, I thought I caught the faintest hint of Amber and Cinnamon. I was so certain I was dreaming that I disregarded it completely.