Unraveled_Undone Read online

  He comes up behind me and slides his hands on my silk-covered hips, leaning his head down to brush a kiss over the curve of my neck. His erection presses against my back. “You look so fucking hot tonight.”

  I lean against him, arching my breasts high in the air.

  We’re ready to go at it. It crackles the air between us.

  Since the first time I saw him it’s been like this. So hot we’re bound to get burned. Time has only made us stronger. Made me stronger. With Michael, I’m the woman I’m meant to be, and not the shell of the woman I’d become. The road had been long and hard, but I’m finally in a place where I’m free of the past. Well, almost.

  It’s still a dull ache, but it doesn’t consume me the way it did. Doesn’t run every aspect of my life.

  I crane my neck and rest my head on Michael’s shoulder. I’m filled with a nervous anticipation about tonight. I’m one big ball of energy; wound a couple of clicks too tight. I know the possibility of what could happen, of what he might do to me, and as much as I fear it, I need it to make me whole. To make me complete so I can erase that horrible night from my mind. So I can conquer the last of my demons.

  But most important, I need to do it for Michael, because it’s what he deserves. Somehow I believe it will allow me to give back a tiny portion of what he’s given me. To prove that out of all the women he could have, he was right to choose me. Right to believe I’m worth all the effort he’s put into me.

  He reaches up and cups my breasts. “You need to be marked.”

  It’s not a question. He knows. I have so much anxiety about tonight; I need the reminder that I belong to him.

  I can already envision the fiery sting of pain on my flesh, the rise of the long, striped welt the cane will leave behind. It will hurt, and in that moment I’ll hate everything about me that craves this, but after I’ll feel better. Calmer. For the rest of the night, no matter what happens, I’ll wear the physical reminder of his possession of me on my body. And I need that.

  Part of my nerves are because tonight is the first time I’ve done anything like this since my fiancé was murdered before my eyes. When I met Michael I’d frequented the club I now know belongs to Brandon. It had been part of my punishment, part of my self-afflicted slide into oblivion. Since I’ve been with Michael we haven’t been back. That place is the reminder of too much pain.

  When Brandon invited us to his new club, at first I hadn’t wanted to go, the memories of that horrible night too deeply engrained in my mind. Michael and I spent a lot of time talking, and in the end, we’d decided to go. This is a new place, not even really a sex club. It won’t be the same. So I’m being brave, despite my memories.

  In the end, it’s better to face your demons so you don’t drown in them.

  It’s time for new memories, created with the man I love more than life itself.

  But it doesn’t mean I’m not nervous. So I acted out, just a little bit. I need to work through all my excess energy and sassy is the way I do it.

  Michael doesn’t let it slide. Doesn’t always give me what I want. But tonight he understands I need the pain to ground me. And he’s not going to deny me.

  He runs his hands over my nipples, rubbing his thumbs back and forth until I moan. I’m not wearing a bra, or panties. My dress is really little more than a nightgown. The white the only concession I’d made for the angelic theme. His fingers trail over my ribs, down my stomach, before bunching the fabric and raising the hem above my hips. He slips between my legs where I’m already wet and aching.

  He growls, and bites my neck. “So goddamn beautiful. So goddamn wet.”

  I groan and arch into his touch. He’s skilled, driving me crazy but never delivering the type of pressure I need to get close to orgasm. A slow, delicious tease. His thumb brushes my clit. I sigh his name. “Michael.”

  “Mine.” His free hand wraps around my neck, his fingers squeezing just enough to set my heart racing into overdrive.

  “Yes.”

  “Should I fuck you now, or later?”

  “Both,” I gasp. Losing myself in him.

  “Greedy.” His pressure increases, and I lean against him, letting him take all my weight so I don’t have to think about anything but his hands on my body.

  “Always,” I whisper. Because I am. I know how lucky I am and don’t ever take it for granted.

  As I sit on the sharp edge of coming, he stops. The silk of my dress slides down my thighs, and his hand leaves my neck to press against the base of my spine. He exerts pressure. “Down you go.”

  I don’t hesitate, I just lean down over the edge of the bed, my arms resting on the soft comforter, my face turned, eyes closed.

  He moves, and I don’t have to look to know he’s going to the wardrobe in the corner that contains various toys and instruments he sometimes uses on me. We’re a hands on type of couple, but there’s always exceptions, and the cane is one of them. The door opens and there’s the sound of shifting objects before he closes it again.

  I gulp. Swallow hard. And hold my breath.

  I hate the cane as much as I love it.

  Unless you’re a girl like me, it’s hard to explain how you can love something and hate something in equal measure. How it can be terrifying and make you drip with excitement.

  You’ll just have to trust me.

  Without a word he slides my dress up past the curve of my ass and trails the bamboo across my skin.

  I shiver. In lust and in fear.

  “Is this what you were hoping for with your sassy attitude?” He slides the cane along the side of bare leg, over my thighs, down my calf and up again.

  “No.”

  “Do you still think I’m being unreasonable?”

  “Yes.” Clearly I’m not the smartest girl.

  He laughs, and squeezes my hip hard enough I’ll have a bruise tomorrow. “I am, a little, you’ve been much brattier. But I want to hurt you.”

  I shudder and a trickle of wetness slides down my thigh.

  “I want to mark you and you want to be marked.”

  “Yes.” I struggle for breath and clutch the comforter.

  “Two strikes. I think that will be a proper reminder, don’t you?”

  “I do.” It’s more than enough. Just enough. I’ve taken more, but we are going out. It’s a reminder, not a real punishment.

  He steps away from me and I keep my eyes tightly shut.

  “Raise up on your elbows.”

  I comply, shaking my head so my chestnut hair curls down my back, and around my shoulders, creating a sight I know he’ll enjoy.

  “Very pretty,” he says from behind me and by the sound of his voice, he’s lined up. “You ready?”

  “Yes.” I try and relax. It’s so much easier if you relax.

  But when you’re waiting for pain, sometimes relaxation is too great a goal.

  Muscles tense, I hold my breath.

  I wait.

  And wait.

  And wait.

  Finally, I hear it, the whisper through the air a fraction of a second before it strikes my skin.

  I cry out, falling out of position, unable to help the scream as the fiery sting explodes, sharp and intensely focused.

  “Back in position, girl.” His tone is that hard, commanding bark I love more than anything.

  I hurry back into place, and brace myself, but this time there’s no waiting, and the second I’m anchored he hits me again.

  The pain brings tears to my eyes and I squeeze them shut as I count to ten. I can already feel the two distinct stripes running across my ass, can feel the rise of welts that will be white before they turn red.

  It hurts. A lot.

  But the tension that had bound me up so tight before is gone and I feel fresh and new. Accomplished somehow. All that’s left behind is insatiable lust.

  Michael puts the cane on the bed, and soothes a hand over my back. “Better?”

  I nod. Still taking deep breaths through the fiery pain.
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br />   “What do you need?” His is tone gruff.

  “You.” He’s all I ever need.

  He grips my hair and twists so my head cranes back. “Fucking gorgeous.” Then he covers my mouth, claiming me in that way only he can.

  His tongue strokes, tangling with mine. Possessing me so I feel nothing but his lips, and the brand of his ownership in the two stripes of fire along my skin.

  He pulls away, and says against my mouth, “Hard and fast, Layla.”

  I arch my back, moaning my acceptance.

  He moves behind me, and I hear the zipper slide down, before he grips my hips.

  He kicks my legs farther apart and then slams home.

  I cry out as he fills me to the hilt and his skin abrades the marks he’s left behind.

  He pulls out and thrusts back in and my clit brushes against the edge of the bed.

  Every single ebb and surge is heaven. Every rub of his hip against the marks he left increases my desire. So good. So goddamn good I might lose my mind.

  It’s all I can think as he fucks me, hard and rough, taking complete control.

  Filling me up. Making me whole.

  The orgasm barrels down on me and I gasp his name in a pleading question. “Michael?”

  He growls, and impossibly increases his pace. “Yes, Layla.”

  I explode around him. Pleasure mixes with pain, creating a kaleidoscope of sensation that crests through my body in pummeling waves, making me mindless and incoherent.

  He follows me, spilling inside me over and over again until we’re both breathless. Normally he’d collapse on top of me, but he doesn’t, conscious of the marks on my skin. Besides, we have guests waiting for us to come back so we can go on what is sure to be a strange adventure.

  He pulls out and helps me to my feet, my knees still wobbly.

  My dress falls effortlessly back in place. After he’s zipped up, he twines his hand around my neck. “Better?”

  “Yes.”

  He kisses me, soft and sure. “I love you, Layla.”

  “I love you too.” More than he can possibly know, possibly understand. I rise to my tiptoes, twining my arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He licks my pounding pulse. “You’ll be okay, sugar.”

  “I know.” I squeeze him one more time before I let him go.

  He leads me back into the living room, hand clasped with mine.

  When we get there, Jillian, winces at me. “You okay?”

  “I’m great.” A smile graces my lips, wide and open. Because, I am.

  Leo laughs. “All sorted out, girl?”

  I wrinkle my nose at him. “Are we ready to go?”

  Jillian winks. “We were waiting on you guys.”

  “Well, I’m ready.”

  I turn to Ruby, who’s standing next to Chad. They look odd together—my rocker, Snow White best friend and Chad, who is about as clean cut as can be. She seems to have no clue that Chad is also dominant, and I’ve thought about clueing her in, but Michael insists she should figure it out on her own. So that’s what I’ve done. Time will tell if it’s a wise decision or not.

  Ruby’s brow is furrowed and she looks distressed. Which she probably is. I’ll have to talk to her later and try and explain.

  I’d debated inviting her to this party, because it’s out of her comfort zone, but in the end, I gave her the option and let her make up her mind. She’s curious about domination and submission, despite all the times she tells me she can’t figure out why I’d want such a thing.

  All her protests that she’d never let a man control her ear… telling. She asks too many questions, watches Michael and Leo a little bit too closely, and is a little too interested for casual curiosity. So I’m giving her a vehicle to find out more, but she’ll have to pick up the keys and start the ignition.

  She’ll get an eyeful. Tonight, subtle isn’t an option.

  Ruby

  I’m nervous as we walk to the place, unsure what to expect. Located in downtown Chicago, Brandon’s club is off the beaten path, which should work against its success, but from what I understand he has some sort of Midas touch when it comes to business, and considering the current buzz, this place will be no different. As we walk through a near deserted area, Chad walks next to me and I bite my lip.

  He takes my hand and squeezes, and when I look up at him, he smiles. “You okay, Ruby?”

  I dart a nervous glance at the rest of the group. He spoke low and I don’t think they heard anything. I nod. “I’m good.”

  He drops my hand but stays close to my side. He’s considerate that way. My dad would love him. He’s a real stickler for manners and gentlemanly like behavior.

  My dad hates my type of guy. Not that I’ve brought anyone home.

  We veer off onto a little sub block, walking against the sharp Chicago winter wind before we come to a nondescript, loft building with a locked door.

  Layla told me he’d modeled it after a prohibition speakeasy. But right now it looks like an abandoned building. Come tomorrow night there will be a line down the block, but tonight is a private, intimate party for Brandon’s inner circle.

  A slot in the door slides open and two eyes peer out, Michael gives his name, and a second later the lock clicks and we’re shown inside.

  Even though I’m only here as an observer my heart still thumps too loud in my chest as an attendant takes our coats. It’s like I’ve caught the excitement of Jillian and Layla, and combined it with my own personal brand of nervous energy. I’ve never been to a sex party and I can’t even begin to imagine what I’ll encounter. We walk down a corridor that leads to another closed door with a bouncer standing in front of it.

  The guy is huge, with muscles the size of my thighs and tats running the length of his arms. His massive chest stretches the confines of his black T-shirt. While he doesn’t look particularly old, his hair is salt-and-pepper and his eyes are so blue they appear electric.

  He looks like a badass. Like ex-military.

  He nods at Michael. “Brandon will be here in a minute.”

  Jillian laughs. “Is this Brandon or what? It’s like the freakin’ Pentagon to get in.”

  The bouncer gives her a raised brow that makes the fine hair on the nape of my neck stand up.

  Leo slides a hand around her waist. “She’s a little high strung tonight.”

  The guy flashes a grin. “Good luck with that.”

  Leo kisses the side of Jillian’s neck. “Come to the back room later, I’ll have her on display.”

  Jillian sucks in her breath.

  Michael shakes his head. “For fuck’s sake, this is a nightmare.”

  The guy looks at Michael before shifting his attention to Jillian, giving her a thorough once over. “She’s very hot.”

  Michael looks like he’s grinding his teeth. “She’s my sister.”

  The bouncer shrugs. “Still hot.” He turns to Layla and gives her a long, slow perusal. “Not that you’re suffering in that department.”

  Layla beams at him and does a little curtsey. “Why thank you, kind sir.”

  He winks at her. “Aren’t you a good girl?”

  “Always.” The sweet compliance in Layla’s voice could rival the saints in heaven.

  Michael palms her ass and Layla sucks in a breath, her expression twisting a bit. “Don’t let her fool you, she only looks like an angel.”

  The guy laughs and it’s like smoke, a sexy, husky sound. “And what trouble are you going to get into, little girl?”

  Layla bats her eyelashes. “Who me? I never get into trouble.”

  Oh my god, she’s actually flirting with him. And Michael’s just standing there, clearly amused.

  The door opens and Brandon walks out, wearing his dimpled grin, and black. He’s blond, tall, lanky and gorgeous. Jillian once said he looked like a young Matthew McConaughey in True Detective, and it’s an accurate description. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  Apparently blac
k is the only acceptable attire for a man tonight. Except for Chad, who’s dressed for casual Friday.

  Michael juts a chin at the bouncer. “No worries, your man here is keeping us entertained by flirting with Layla.”

  Brandon thumps the bouncer on the back. “Well, Hunter has excellent taste in women.”

  I frown. Hunter hasn’t even glanced in my direction.

  I’m like a wallflower here. I’m not sure I like the role.

  We start filing into the room and Hunter nods at Jillian. “I’ll be seeing you later.”

  Jillian blushes while everyone else laughs, and I just stand there feeling lost and confused.

  Suddenly there’s a hand on my waist, and I jerk back in surprise. It’s Chad. His brow is furrowed, looking at me in an intense, searching way. “Are you sure you’re okay, you seem a little off?”

  “I’m good,” I say, making my words as light as possible. How does he keep doing that? Reading me? I don’t like it.

  He rubs a hand up my spine. It’s not sexual, it’s more friendly, reassuring. “Don’t be afraid to let us know if you get overwhelmed.”

  Puzzled, I blink at him, and again I get that strange sense he might be bent the same way as Leo and Michael. But that has to be wrong. I smile, wanting to be on even ground with them, or at least with him. “I went to that Metal Punk bar that just opened in Wicker Park, if I can handle that, I can handle anything.”

  He flashes me a grin. “Watching people thrash is a bit different than watching people have sex.”

  The moment of awareness flashes, then recedes, and I’m left looking into his friendly face. He really is a good guy. He’s just making sure I’m okay. We start to walk, and I bump his hip with mine. “Thanks.”

  “Your welcome.”

  “You’re a regular Boy Scout, aren’t you?”

  He laughs. “Yep. Ask anyone.”

  “What are you even doing here?” I ask, but as soon as I enter the space everything else, including his answer, fades into the background.

  Holy Shit.

  I had no idea what I’d been expecting but it wasn’t this. I think, in my head, I’d pictured something small and seedy, with all sorts of… devices that make me shudder whenever I run across them on the Internet.