Read we were one once book 2: "A Dark Romance" Online
Authors: Willow Madison
21
My fingertips find her first. I brush against her softness slowly, keeping my eyes closed. I relish the delight of trying to figure out what part of her I’m touching without peeking. She’s still asleep, so I keep my touch light.
Her flesh bumps as I slide the blanket down further. Definitely her hip and thigh. I feel her bone and contours, the hard curve of muscle and smooth hairlessness. She quietly whimpers and twists as I open my eyes.
In the pale rising rays filtering in, I can see my fingers over a large bruise on her outer thigh. It hasn’t yellowed yet. A remnant from our first night reunited.
She lies on her side, the sheets snaking around and under her arms and legs, but doing nothing to cover her. I watch her stomach rise and fall with her steady breaths. The hair between her legs is coming back nicely. It reminds me of the first time I saw her nude.
She twists again in her fitful sleep, moaning as her back arcs away from me. Even with her hair covering most of it, I can still see the marks left by Lamb. And the sight of those pale pink lines doesn’t fail to bring out the same furious response in me as it did the first time.
“Take off that whore’s dress, Gillian. You have something more appropriate for a bride to wear.” The lights from the Strip stretch as vibrant threads in a dark carpet outside the large windows. Not my ideal choice for our wedding, but I’ve had to wait long enough to have my bride. This brief layover in Las Vegas will be a distant memory tomorrow when we start our lives as man and wife.
Gillian picks up the simple white dress draped over the edge of the bed and turns to the door of the bathroom. “No. Undress here. I want to see you.” I can hear a fevered lust coloring my words, but I see no reason to hide it now that we’re alone.
She puts the dress back down gently, smoothing out the wrinkles in the fabric under the plastic covering. She turns to face me, but keeps her eyes demurely lowered. She knows how I like her sweet innocence.
In one slow movement, both her arms extend up and back, one to hold the dress, one to lower the zipper. My pulse races with the slow sound of the fabric letting go.
Three years I’ve waited. But watching her pull herself out of the overly bright dress, I’m reminded of a butterfly from its cocoon. She’s more beautiful than even my memories could ever hope to capture. And I won’t have to live with only memories ever again. My butterfly is in my net. And she’ll stay in it this time.
“Stop.” She halts all movement, frozen on half-bent legs, fingers outstretched from releasing her dress to the floor, hair falling over her shoulders as a dark curtain. “Come to me, my love.”
With her head still down, she obeys. My own breath can’t match her steadiness, catching in my chest with the thick drumbeat of my heart. My hands actually shake reaching for her to pull her against me. I hope she understands how filled my heart is at this moment.
But reality has a cruel way of marring even the most perfect. My fingers on her back find familiar ridges. Reminders of her long absence and her time spent with another man. Her only reaction to my firming grip on her shoulders is a stiffening to her back. “You’ve been gone for too long. I worry that you’ve forgotten how much I love you.” My words are whispers against her head.
Her response is a whisper against my chest, “I haven’t forgotten, Miles. And you show me now by finally making me your wife.”
My jaw works, clenching and unclenching, trying to keep control of the anger blazing through me. I keep my eyes closed tight, not wanting to see the evidence of her betrayal on her back. When I’m finally in control more, “You know how much I love you; yet, you’ve let another man touch you…” It’s not a question, not even an accusation. There’s no point to a denial. I run my hand up and down her back as an exclamation to my words.
“I…it wasn’t me…” But we both know she’s lying. I can hear it in how flat her voice is. I know she’s withdrawing a little to keep herself from reacting. But it’s obvious that she allowed Lamb to have his way with her. I know it’s her nature, to submit. The thought of her acting that way with another man…
“Turn around, Gilli.” I let her go and she stays close, pivoting so her back is to me, her head still lowered. I push her hair away and she remains still and quiet.
Her back is a beautiful canvas of pink and cream. Lamb knew what he was doing at least. No cuts, no lasting damage, just exquisite welts in a perfect pattern, none overlapping each other even. My blood boils in my temples and a hiss of hot air escapes my lips as I run just one finger up the longest mark and she doesn’t respond.
“You know my rule, Gillian.” This produces a nice full-body response, a shudder to her shoulders, a weakening to her knees.
“Please, Miles?” No whine, no cry, her same flat voice. She knows it’s no use to argue with me. We went over this three years ago, the night before she ran away. But she turns quickly to face me, pleading with her large chocolate eyes so soft and sweet. “Just for tonight. Please.”
This being our honeymoon night, I might be moved by sentiment and allow her this concession just this once if she wasn’t already marked by another. But now my anger, the anger I’ve held in for three years, demands full payment. I won’t allow her to hide within herself, to withdraw from the pain she knows she deserves. Not tonight or any other night. Not ever again. I explained this rule three years ago. I shake my head. “Now. Turn. Around.” Her lower lip quivers, but she turns back.
Her Mother didn’t understand this. She didn’t understand Gillian really. Anya knew about the personalities of course, but she chose to ignore them. Or to delight in them sometimes. She never tried to heal her daughter. Not that I would expect that it even crossed her mind to try. She was the cause of Gillian’s fractured state and I think she delighted in knowing that most of all.
But Anya didn’t understand that without pain, discipline is a useless tool. Anya was crazy, though. Very little about her daughter escaped her attention, but she didn’t really care if Gillian learned a lesson from any of her punishments. She hurt Gillian because she enjoyed it; it amused her is all.
But I want so much more for my Gillian. I won’t allow her to hide in herself ever again. Her Mother may have tolerated that behavior from her, but I’ve made it clear that I won’t.
I pull her arms to bring her back against my chest, breathing in her hair. “I love you, Gilli.”
“I love you, Miles.”
Her voice is the same as that first time four years ago in the library when we declared our love for each other, soft and sweet. But it’s also edged now with pain from my jacket pressing against her raw back.
She stirs more and rolls over to face me, her eyes slowly opening. I smile watching her expression change from confusion, to blankness, to finally awakening to full awareness and presence again. Her brows knit together to form a small frown.
“Good morning, Mrs. Vanderson.” I kiss her nose gently. It’s still a little swollen, but the small bruise across the bridge is lighter. Her lips poke up into a smile, despite her brows lowering even more. “I have a long day scheduled in the city, so you need to get dressed and in your room quickly, my love. You’ll have breakfast there again.”
She pouts, which is pretty; but as a display of willfulness, it’s not to be tolerated. She quickly changes into a more appropriate look, but her words reach for me as her hands do when I move to get up, “Please. I’ve been good. I’ve done everything you’ve wanted, haven’t I?”
I sit back and slide her to me, so her upper body rests on mine against the headboard. It’s true that she’s been perfectly obedient, without a trace of her other selves or any attempts to hide within herself, since we left California four days ago. “And do you think it’s good of you to question my orders now?” I run my fingers through curls made wilder by her restless sleep, my hands continuing down her back and sides with each stroke. I haven’t made any marks to her back. I refuse to overlay what was left by Lamb. I can wait until her back is completely clear again to make my point of ownership on that part of her.
“No. I want only to know that I please you, Miles.” I chuckle with this response. She thinks to twist me around her little finger. That may have worked before she ran, but I know I have a responsibility to keep her on a tighter leash now. For her own good.
“I’m very pleased. Now that you’re back where you belong.” I smile into her hair. I know it’s unnecessary to remind her of why she’s being punished, but I’m feeling self-indulgent this morning. “And I told you on our wedding night that you would be spending three weeks in your room as atonement. One week for each year you kept me waiting. I don’t think that’s unfair. Do you?”
She responds quickly, “No. I want only to be with you. I’m lonely in that room without you.” She keeps her voice small and sweet in an attempt to not anger me with arguing more. It’s futile. And she should know better.
“I won’t be here anyway, so you’d be lonely no matter what.” I feel her move to speak again, but cut her off angrily, “Think very carefully, Gilli, about what comes out of your mouth next. You haven’t earned the right to be free. If you keep up with this line of questioning, you will spend the
night
in your room too.” I don’t like this, but I know that I will have to follow through on this promise if necessary. I would hate to have to spend the night without her, but she has to learn somehow.
“Of course. I’m sorry, Miles. I’ll look forward to seeing you when you’re home then.” She moves to get off of my chest, but I keep her pressed to me.
“And will you look forward to submitting to your punishment tonight as well, my love?” I’ve beat her every night, not as harshly as the first one, but enough to break her to tears each time. Enough to sate my anger a little. And I told her that this will continue for three weeks. She’ll spend her days in solitary contemplation of how she betrayed me and her nights in tearful retribution for it.
“I’ll look forward to deserving your love again.” Not quite the answer I wanted, but I can feel her body melting against me too. She knows how much I like when she gives herself to me completely.
Rolling us over, I hold her under me. I fight the urge to punish her more. I’ve made a promise to myself to not start a session unless I can devote a proper amount of time to it though. And my schedule this morning is not going to cooperate with my desires.
I pull back and her face is red from being smashed against my shoulder, her eyes try to hold back the pain I can so clearly see. I smile and feather our lips together. I won’t need to punish her to elicit the effect I desire. I know my hands and hips are pressing into bone-deep bruises and I squeeze a little harder before sliding off to her side.
Kissing her deeper, taking her lower lip between mine, I trace down her chin with my middle finger. I don’t press hard, just smoothly glide over her skin, down to her collarbone. I walk two fingers lightly across this ridge and she gasps inside my mouth. Her chest is a tortoise shell of black and blue that starts at this ridge and ends below her breasts.
I continue sucking her mouth into mine, biting her tongue when she gasps louder from a squeeze to each nipple.
I pull back, my hand gently cupping her right breast, my pale fingers cool against the warmth of her colored flesh. I know she doesn’t enjoy pain. I won’t let her be the part of her that does. Because I don’t want her to enjoy what I do to her.
But I know that she doesn’t need to enjoy it to take it or to be aroused by it. I think she’s surprised herself with how she can climax for me even as I choke the air from her lungs. It’s not her body that gives her release; it’s her mind that welcomes the opportunity to please me. She can’t help but give in to her desire to do anything for me, anything I want.
And I know that we’ll be very happy together like this. As soon as she learns a few more lessons in what I expect from her. As soon as I can trust that she won’t betray me again.
I lean back, arms behind my head against the padded headboard. “Take my pants off, Gilli.”
She’s quick to obey, despite the wincing she does at moving. I watch her fingers delicately work, untying my sleep pants and gently pulling them down and off. She folds them neatly and puts them on the bench at the end of the bed. Before she can return to me, “Stop. Crawl on top of me from there…slowly.”
Her knees are a little red from being pulled across the carpet two days ago, but she doesn’t hesitate to get on them now. Her nipples stand up as her breasts gently move, the color on her chest darker from this angle; her hips sway, a little exaggerated for me as she knows I’d like.
She can’t hold in a small cry as her lips position perfectly over me, but she tries. I think she thinks holding in her sounds of pain will hold off my excitement at hearing them. A foolish thought, but I do enjoy knowing that she’s trying to not excite my desire to hurt her more.
It makes hurting her that much more pleasurable for me really. I smile widely for her. “Put me inside you, my love. I need to feel you around me.” She takes a deep breath and pinches her lower lip in her teeth. She tries to go slow, tries to brace herself against the onslaught of pain. I watch her face contort with the effort.
I wait until she has half of me in her, then grab her hips, my fingers digging into where their prints already reside, and slam the rest of the way deep into her. Her cry out is loud and shakes her body nicely on top of me. Her eyes squeeze closed and her head lifts back with another sob.