Dauntless (The LockDown Series Book 2) (13 page)

“Well, Scott whipped her and then I caned her. She is what you call a masochist, someone who can't get off unless she is in agony. Her threshold is extremely high and it takes a lot to push her over the edge. To her, the feel of the cane against her arse is the same as sex is for you.” I shrug my shoulders to play it off as not being a big deal, but it is. It is a scary concept to an outsider.

“I know what a masochist is, Leighton, I am not stupid. Okay, so is that everything you need to tell me?” She seems fine with the Dom thing, and I am now secretly hoping she is going to experiment, try out the scene with me.

“No, I have two more things to tell you, and I need your absolute attention and I might need my own support from you afterwards.” I am scared to tell her, not about me and Scott, she has seen Ant fuck me and it did nothing but get her off harder than she ever had. What I'm terrified to tell her is that I am suffering with my own addiction to drugs. Okay, it isn’t anywhere near as bad as hers, I'm not needing it multiple days just to get by, I’m not becoming Mr Crazy Pants. I do a few lines every day before I come home, but it is expected with the job I do, and the shit that’s happened lately.

“Leighton, please. Just tell me so we can sort this out and move on. I want go home and see my baby.” She strokes my arm gently, her fingers roaming up and down the length of my corded muscles.

“Ok, first thing is.” I procrastinate for a second before carrying on. “Thing is Abbi, I fucked someone last night.” Her eyes look hurt, angry and sad. “Me and Scott, well we kind of had sex when we left the club, before I found out about you.” She instantly relaxes and then smiles. That beautiful set of sparkly white teeth showing, then she does the unexpected thing, and bites her bottom lip, slowly dragging it through her teeth. It causes a surge of waiting blood to pump into my already hardening dick. God I miss the feel of her around me, so bad.

“Leighton, I do not ever see you fucking a man as you cheating on me. Fucked up as it might sound, I want you to have every pleasure there is to take. For pussy? Yes, you always come to me, never anyone else, but if you need a guy, ever, you take one. Just don't ever leave me for one okay, because that would be a real downer on my self-confidence.” She laughs at me, the sound so magical I can't help laughing back.

“Sweetheart, you are amazing.” It is so easy to be around her again, like every bad thought I ever had about her has been burned away and I now have my woman back. Everything is just so right. It has been so easy to forgive her, well easy once I had sorted my own head out that is. My own fucked up issues even out this crazy patch we are having. I just hope when I tell her about my problem, she will be there for me.

“Abigail, I have my own problem, my own addiction, other than being addicted to you of course.” I smile weakly at her, trying to make the next part as easy as possible. “God, this is hard,” I say aloud. A man as strong and in control as I am, finding it so hard to admit I am actually weak as hell.

“Leighton, no matter what is wrong we can get past it baby. I’ll be here for you.” She gestures for me to continue talking. If only it were that easy.

“I am addicted to cocaine, Abigail. And I have been for a very long time.”

How do I tell him? Tell him that I have known since the very first time he had taken it. The day I was attacked in our home had taken an adverse affect on Leighton and from that point on, every time I saw him, I could tell he had been snorting. It breaks my heart to see that he needs the stuff so much, that he cannot even manage to get through the day without it. I didn't want to confront him about it. I had grown up in a home where my father was continuously on the white crap, and saying something just makes the situation worse.

I have seen the signs, the change in his eyes, the escalation in sexual behaviour and the sudden outbursts of aggressive behaviour. Leighton hasn’t been physically violent with me, but his temper is worse than it had been to begin with. There have been a few times, at parties particularly, where he has almost knocked someone out for even looking at me, or for looking at him too long. I don't need any physical proof that he is using, I might as well be an expert on the stuff, but finding his stash that one day, the white powder haphazardly buried in his underwear drawer, confirms all of my suspicions.

I want nothing more than to pour it down the toilet, to get rid of the filth from my house, but knowing his temperament I don't want to put myself in that position. I have been petrified of him more than once, the day I went into labour being the worst time. He had grabbed my jaw so hard it hurt, his pupils dilated and the raw malevolence on his face had scared me shitless. That wasn’t my Leighton, it was some beast that had taken over his being.

I avoid looking at him, not because I am ashamed or disgusted by him, but because I don't know what to do. Do I lie and pretend I don't know, and haven’t been putting up with it for a goddamn long time? I wanted, on more than one occasion, to beat the living shit out of him, maybe knock some sense into him. My father had ruined his life, repeatedly raping and abusing me, every single time he was high as a kite. I don't need the constant reminder when I look into his eyes, and then my father’s filthy ones looking back at me.

I take a deep breath and raise my head to look at him. I’ll lie, it’s the easiest option. He doesn’t need to feel guilty, he needs support, the same as I do. We can mend each other and be one again. “Ok, how long have you been using, Leighton?” I ask him outright, no emotion behind it, whatsoever.

“About four months, it started the day you were attacked, by Phillip and his men. I couldn’t take the shit it caused me; I needed to blot it out before I did something stupid.” He looks so bloody broken, so embarrassed. His eyes portray a man who thinks he has let me down. He has done far from that, he has built me up high, kept me safe as he could, loved me with everything he is and given me a beautiful baby girl who I would die for, and I know he would too.

“I completely understand, Leighton. I'm not happy that it has been going on for so long behind my back, that every time we are together you are under a false belief, but I know better than anyone, how hard it is to deal with things sometimes, how hard it is to face reality. Sometimes just a tiny fix helps us get through each day.”

He shrugs again, not hearing what I am saying.

“Leighton,” he gives no reply. “LEIGHTON!” I shout to him, tapping his cheek lightly. “Baby, listen to me. There is nothing to be embarrassed about; nothing will ever stop me wanting you. Your flaws just make me love you more because I know you’re strong enough to overcome them.” I pull him to me, his head to my chest for a change. My fingers are stroking his soft strands, my cheek to the top of his head, my lips meeting with the crown every so often. He needs me now.

My own addiction is still bad. I still want the pills even now just sitting here, but seeing my man so weak and helpless assists me with not giving a shit for it right now. He needs me more than I need that filth. I will die before I touch another one.

“We can get through this, Leighton, you and me, together. I know we can, we can fight the world, baby.” I lift his head, looking into his intoxicating green eyes. I bring his lips to mine and kiss him, the first kiss in over three days. I have seen the need in his eyes every time they have wandered to my mouth, he desperately wants to kiss me, but is restraining himself for some reason. I need to feel his touch, to feel him on me.

His body instantly awakes, becoming tense and alert. He pulls himself up onto his knees, using his frame to lie me down. His eyes are open and staring into my own; intense, raw and fucking sexy. I can feel his hard dick pressing into my thigh as he manoeuvres himself on top of me, the small hospital bed somehow accommodating the pair of us.

“Fuck.” I hear him growl through the kiss, his hands roaming my body, brushing over my breasts and reaching to cup my face as his tongue explores my needy mouth. “God, babe.” He is hard on top of me, his full body weight on me. Every defined and rock solid muscle moulded to my own curvaceous frame. We are made for each other.

His right hand leaves my face and shoots down between our bodies, pulling at the plain cotton panties the hospital has provided me. His fingers rip into them with vigour, clearing all obstacles between us.

“Fuck, Angel, I need you,” he tells me as his lips leave mine, placing themselves hard against my throat, his teeth and tongue grazing against the column of my neck. “Door,” he says before he jumps up from me, leaving me wet and wanting on the bed. He slides the lock into place quickly, before shutting the blinds closed.

I praise the Lord for the benefits of having my own room.

He is back on me before I can say ‘fuck me’. His hands continue their onslaught, teasing and tormenting my body. I can't even prepare myself for his fingers as they are thrust into me. “Oh, Leighton, baby.” I moan into his hair as his lips bruise my neck, his mark being sucked into place. I can feel my skin being drawn into the warm wet residence of his mouth, his tongue laving at the flesh. My body is trembling with need, my pussy dripping and convulsing around his thick fingers.

“You’re always so ready, my beautiful Angel.” His name for me, falling from his lips, has me attempting to reach down between us to grab onto his dick. “No, Angel, you don't touch me until I tell you that you can. I am in charge from now on, and it is in your best interest and that arse of yours, to do as I say.” I gulp down the lump in my throat. His throaty, deep words send spasms through my body and a delicious moan leaves my mouth.

“Baby, please, oh god, Leighton, harder.” I beg him to relieve me, for his hands to smash harder against my pussy.

“That’s right, Princess, you beg. Beg me to make you cum, beg for my cock. I own you Abigail, everything about you. Your body, your lips, your pussy, and every fucking orgasm you have from now on. Even if its Antonio’s thick, hard cock pounding inside of you, you do not cum until I tell you.” Holy shit, it is so hard to not climax right now. It’s so screwed up, but my body craves this, craves his dominance, his control and his downright animalistic tendencies. Why does he have to mention, Antonio, he knows how much I want him? It’s hard to not jump the man every time I see him. Each time I am in his presence, I can't stop my perverted, wandering eyes as they roam every inch of his massive hard frame, and even better dick. The bulge concealed in whatever trousers he is wearing, is uselessly hidden, or deliberately put in front of me to torment and tease my fuck-obsessed brain.

“Leighton, please, I’m begging. Please fuck me. I need you in me so bad, make me cum, please.” There I said it, and it wasn’t hard at all. In fact, it feels fucking natural. I can do it any day of the week if it means I have him inside me, pounding the fuck out of me.

“Oh, Abigail, Angel, that is the best thing I have ever heard come from those sexy fucking lips of yours. Get me out baby.” My hand is between our bodies in a second, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. His cock is in my hand. I’m stroking it so viciously I am sure he will get friction burns.

He uses his large hand to spread my legs apart, pushing at the knees to drop them open for him. Not that he needs any force; I would have parted like the red sea if he had just commanded me to.

I hold his dick and glide him in smoothly, every rigid bump scraping against my inner walls. My pussy grips him like a vice, refusing to let him leave me as he slowly pulls himself away. I am internally begging him to fill me again.

He slams forward, his pelvis connecting with my clit; the fantastic friction has me moaning his name.

“Now, Abigail, you know better than to scream whilst in public. Anyone can hear us, you need to keep that pretty mouth shut tight or I’ll pull out of your sexy cunt and fill your mouth with something that will stop you making any noise.” I would pay to have him in any orifice of my body. My cunt, my arse or my mouth, I love the taste of him, it is like nothing I ever tasted before, so sweet but rich at the same time. So delicious and a hundred per cent, if not more, man.

I nod to him, trying my hardest to stop myself vocalising my pending orgasm, as Leighton repeatedly slams full pelt into me. He thrusts in once, hard, and then brings his body close to mine, laying flat on me. He begins to rock inside of me, gently, lovingly and so erotically, my orgasm is within touching distance.

“Argh, oh god, baby.” I moan aloud, regretting my decision instantly as he pulls out of my wet depths and climbs off me. His dick is standing tall and proud against his abdomen.

He gets to my head, slapping my cheek with his hard length, as he uses one of his hands to hold open my jaw. He pushes himself inside my mouth, his entire cock taking up residence. He hisses through his teeth as I suck hard on him, savouring the taste of my pussy and his pre-cum mingling, such an enticing mix, my favourite kind of lolly, an Abbi-Leighton cum pop.

“Abbi, Angel, suck me harder. Get me in that throat the way you like it.” Why wouldn’t I? His magnificent steel gagging and choking me is the best feeling in the world. To have his hands in my hair as he rams and fucks my face is what I desire and what I crave for, more than anything.