we were one once book 2: "A Dark Romance" (16 page)

BOOK: we were one once book 2: "A Dark Romance"

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His eyes are still watching me, moving over me as lazily as his crop, but he responds to my smile with one of his own. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Gigi.” He sits down next to me and I can truly see how tired he is for a second, before he grins again. But I can still see the strain of the past months on his face. “I thought I’d wait to say this…until I was back. But I need to say it now.”

I bring my foot up to playfully push at his shoulder, “Don’t you think I already know, Simon?”

His eyes are rimmed with redness and he blinks several times, breathing heavily, his voice almost angry, “Okay. Then I need to say it for
me
. I need
you
to hear it.
I
fucking need to hear it.”

I smile, and it’s the softness of Grace, the memory of her that fills my own eyes with tears, because I’m filled now with all her needs too, all that drove her. It’s my need now and it constricts my voice, a lump in my throat, “Okay. Go.”

Leaving the crop on my stomach and between my breasts, he takes my face in both his hands. He’s gentle and sweet, staring between my eyes for what feels like an eternity, because my tears keep falling and I have to blink them away several times to see him. “I love you.” His voice is clear and deep and commanding. His eyes are questioning.

I gasp once, a breath in and out like when he lands a new mark purposefully over a fresh welt to deepen my need for him. “I love you.” My voice is strong and soft and giving. My eyes are his answer.

I never would’ve had the strength to say these words without Them. I never would’ve known their true meaning without Simon.

Because what I had before…what Grace and I and the others had before…the memory of the library and bittersweet moments of tenderness…all of that is nothing compared to this. This is just us. Simon and me. Raw and exposed.

And it’s perfect that I’m naked, that he’s naked. That I’m tied to his bed and at his mercy. Because I trust him, like I’ve trusted no other. He is my Trust. My heart. My love.

And I’m everything to him. Everything he’s needed. I’ve known his feelings for me since he took Miles away. Because only a man determined to prove his love would do what he’s done for me.

He pulls my face to him and I strain against the rope to reach him more. When his teeth finally stop biting my lips, his tongue finally stops reaching for mine, he doesn’t let my face go. He again looks quickly between my eyes and I sense his difference, taking a breath in that I hold until my stretched ribs burn along with the ache between my legs.

“I need you, Red…”

“I know, baby. You have me.” I smile, sweet and slow. I’m lost in a memory of the number of times we’ve been here before. My body aches to feel his need, even as my heart feels the guilt for it. Because I know this isn’t his usual need. This is so much more. This is a need to erase memories. And I know all about that need.

But I know that his pain will be over soon. I’ll get him past this. Because only a woman determined to prove her trust in his love would do what I do for him. I whisper what he needs to hear, the softness of what was best about Grace in my voice, “Hurt me like you’ve had to hurt him, baby…I can take it…”

A match strikes in his eyes. The mention of Miles is enough to do that.

He won’t let me go to the cave where he holds him. He won’t let me see what he does to break the man that tried to break me. He won’t say anything about his debt to his cousin for helping in all this. I know he doesn’t let Cary do much; I’ve heard them arguing enough to know this. I know he bears the burden alone as much as he can.

And I know that he needs me as much as he needs the cock-hardening pills to get him through what he must do. It was his plan and only he would have the strength to see it through. Only our crazy love would be enough to see him through when it’s complete though.

“You sure, sweetheart?” He looks down at his cock, still standing straight up and engorged. I know he has hours of this torment, both mental and physical, and I want all of it to be mine. We both need to make this more about us and less about what can’t be forgotten, but can be replaced.

Our needs are matched as they always have been…and I smile. “I’m sure, Trust. Please?” I can see in his eyes, that did it. He’s a sucker when I beg for it.

“We’ll go for a swim when I’m done…” He sounds almost apologetic as he slides the crop off of me. I watch him return it to the cabinet and select a thick, leather paddle instead.

“I’d like that.” And I know that the pool is cleansing for him. And it reminds me of the stillness I now have in my head. It’s good for us both to float and laugh and just be…but that will come later. After he releases some of his demons to me, then we’ll float in waves we create together.

But my attention is drawn from thoughts of serenity. Simon stands over me with the paddle held high and a gleam in his eyes, “Turn over.” There’s no denying the demand in his voice.

There’s enough slack in the rope to allow me to twist my arms, wrists crossing, and flip over onto my stomach. I tremble in anticipation.

And I know this image, of my body stretched and waiting, with light marks from yesterday still healing…this will be what Simon imagines when he heads back to the cave tomorrow, back to deal with Miles, back to finish what he’s started.

The image of my body writhing with his blows, keening up to meet them…this is what he’ll need to imagine as he finally frees me from my past once and for all.

And it’s what I’ll imagine, tied again to this same spot, waiting for his return to me, to our love. My Trust. My Simon. My match.

The first thud of the paddle is centered and hard. The thwack solid and frightening in the quietness of our bedroom. My ass wobbles with it. I know I’ll have bruises tomorrow. I let out a small, high hiss and wait for more. I just love when he doesn’t build up to heavier hits, but starts right at the top of my threshold.

He grunts and I don’t tense as two more sound thwacks land quickly. He rarely uses the paddle. He prefers the whip or cane. I think it’s the sound and artistry that he prefers.

Thwack. I hum through a deep breath out, spreading my legs more and lifting up for him. He can’t resist the invitation and gets a squeal out of me by biting on my right cheek hard. I have the image of me as the apple and him as the serpent. And I giggle as he lands two more hits, cutting it off to a low moan. I moan through the rest, trying to rise again to meet him.

Thwack. Thwack. He’s panting with the full-body swings. I know he needs the physical release of this, that’s why he’s not using the whip. Thwack.

I’m almost there. Almost at the point when I need to withdraw a little from the pain…but I wait. Just a little longer. Three more hits and I feel the warmth spreading into a numbness. He pauses and I tilt my head back, my hair covering my face, sweat plastering it to me.

He’s panting harder, but the paddle is still clutched in his hand. Our eyes lock and he smiles a little. I smile back and mouth, “More.” He doesn’t hesitate in giving me what I want, what he needs. I lose track of the lift and fall of his arm, the sound of leather on my flesh and our moans perfectly in sync.

When he stops, we’re both drenched in sweat. He’s on the bed quickly, his hot hands pull my legs apart and lift my hips up. I feel his hard cock press between my swollen and tender cheeks and I press back to him so his length slides up and down my crack.

He laughs, “I think I’ve had enough ass for today, sweetheart.” And he lowers himself in between my lips. I laugh too, because that’s what he needed. To be able to let go and just be us again.

He enters me quick, one long, smooth push. I squeeze him and tilt my hips to pull him in deeper, to push him against my wall. His hot sweaty chest leans over my hot sweaty back and his fingers cup around me, finding my swollen clit and forcing a squeal out of me again.

We ride each other this way, not much in and out, more deep pressing and pulling. When we cum together, we’re both moaning guttural sounds that I can feel between my legs.

He stretches us out, flattening his body over mine. And I love the feel of his weight. I love the feel of our bodies cooling together, our breathing slowing together. Just when I think he’s asleep and I’ll be stuck under him, he slowly moves just his lower half off me. I take a deep breath in and shudder when he traces his fingers in a light circle on my right shoulder.

“I’m going to carve my initials right here before I leave for Durban.”

I turn my head to look at him, but he’s busy now untying me. “Not a tattoo?” He shakes his head, still concentrating on the ropes. I laugh, “Isn’t that a little primitive?”

Now that I’m free, he looks me right in the eyes, moving my hair off my face. “That’s me, Red. Primitive.”

And I smile. Because I wouldn’t want him any other way.

Thank you for reading “we were one once, book 2.”

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…It only takes a sec and is relatively pain free (unlike a nice paddling) …

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