I read the messages and reread them. Over and over until they’re blurry to my teary gaze. I want things to be different. I thought they would be when I finally signed the contract. He’s kept me safe. I haven’t heard from my mother again, but deep down I know I’ll never be rid of them until I see her and that vile excuse for a boyfriend behind bars or dead.

I wanted to tell Nate last night. To come clean. To finally admit all the shit I’d been hiding. But I also wanted to tell him those three damning words. And in that moment, I ached to hear them from his lips as well. For him to reciprocate and tell me he loves me too, but I couldn’t and he didn’t.

Instead, I kept quiet, and he whipped me. He made me scream, cry, and then he cared for me. Showed me affection which didn’t have the normal effect of soothing the emotion.

Aftercare means you feel safe, cocooned in your dominant’s arms. Instead, my heart hurt more than ever before because I knew then that I’ll never have the one thing I want from him. Love. I can’t be too angry with him though, I’ve not yet given him my heart, my truth. I thought we’d be able to overcome that, to both be able to allow ourselves to feel.

He may give his body freely, not only to me, but to the other slaves he’s been with in the past, and that should’ve been a sign. A big fucking neon flashing sign to tell me to steer clear. But I wouldn’t have listened. I never do.

Now, as I lie on his bed, dressed in the soft, fluffy bathrobe he bought me, I know it will be the last time I’m in his home. The shower I had earlier was warm, calming my warring mind, but as the seconds tick by and the time he said to meet nears, anxiety attacks me again.

I’ve always trusted my intuition. It’s been spot on all my life. When something bad is about to happen, I feel it, like a thunderstorm in the sky, I see it coming. Only this time I didn’t get out of the way. I walked straight into the eye of it and now I’m caught in its clutches, spinning out of control.

Last night when he arrived home from work he was cold. Closed off in a way I hadn’t seen him in our time together. It’s going into the third week of our relationship, I know him, I know his moods. And this tells me there’s trouble ahead. Only, I have no way of knowing what it is or even why.

I normally spend my days reading, studying, but today I find my heart heavy. Even the temptation to taunt him by telling him I’m touching myself hasn’t given me the thrill it normally does.

Yes, I enjoy the punishments, and I tend to tease him because it’s our game. But I feel as if something’s about to crack in the fragile world we’ve built together. I’m not stupid. I know that his work is important to him, but when he got home last night, something in his demeanor shifted. There’s something he’s hiding from me and I think he’d rather let me go than let me in.

Over the time we’ve spent together, I’ve been his. I’ve given him me completely. But he’s always held back. I made the mistake of loving him. I fell, hard and fast. I knew I shouldn’t but the heart wants what it shouldn’t. I couldn’t stop it happening.

Every time I recall our first time, when he fucked me in front of others, when he used me like a toy, I wonder if he somehow chose me because I was special. Then I’m slammed back to the present and I know if I were he’d wouldn’t be planning to release me tonight. No. I’m not special. I’ve never been. I’m just a toy that offers him pleasure. I’ve given him everything a man could want, and now I know he’s about to return me without so much as a second glance.

Pain grips my heart. I’m not ready to say goodbye. I slip on the heels he bought me last weekend when we went shopping. The sleek silver sandals glisten under the low lights. Red and silver. His favorite colors.

My long dark hair hangs down my back in waves. My blue eyes are bright with unshed tears, but I can’t do anything about that. I know the end is coming and as much as I want him to love me, I know a man like him isn’t capable of love. He’s not going to give me forever.

I knew this when I submitted to him. I blame myself. My phone vibrates on the dressing table alerting me to a message from him no doubt.

When I swipe my finger over the screen I find his name glowing brightly at me.

 

Sir:  I’m leaving work now. I trust you’ll be on time. I’m not in the mood for waiting tonight.

 

Sighing, I tap out my response and hit send while I make my way to the door. He bought me a small Audi A3, cherry red, which he told me reminded him of me. Cherries. His favorite fruit. Only, as I slip into the driver’s seat of my car, I know I’m no longer his first choice.

 

Me: In the car, Sir. I’ll be there soon.

 

As I make my way toward Seven Sins, I feel a sense of foreboding overcome me. It hangs heavy around me like I’m driving to my end. Swallowing deeply, I turn on the radio and listen to the mixed playlist he made me when he bought the car. The song Bad Romance echoes through the speakers in Jared Leto’s voice. He did a cover of the original and to be honest, I prefer his version because it’s more haunting which fits with how I’m currently feeling.

As soon as I pull up to the club, I park and exit the vehicle with anxiety tightening my stomach. My hands tremble because I know what’s going to happen when I walk in there. He’s going to leave me and there’s nothing I can do about it. Our three weeks are almost up. The contract will end tonight, a few days earlier than we agreed, but it was never up to me. It’s final and so is our relationship.

Each step I take is like a nail in the coffin, nearing the doors, I try to put on a brave face. If Carrick sees me, he’ll know something’s wrong. My shoes click on the asphalt as I head toward the large black double doors.

“Ms. Gallagher,” the bouncer greets with a smile as his eyes drink me in.

I can’t help shuddering in frustration. There’s only one man I want looking at me like that. And that is where my mistake lies. I shouldn’t have fallen. I should’ve stayed strong.

“Hello.” I smile back. He opens the door and allows me in, but I don’t miss the way he tries to glance down the front of my dress. As soon as I walk into the decadence that is Seven Sins, I feel like I’m walking backward. I’m not moving into a future with Nathan, I’m strolling back into the pain and hurt that I’ve been hiding from.

“Eva.”

My name drags me from my inner turmoil. I turn to Dylan working the bar, he’s smiling at me like he’s missed me. I’ve known him for a long time, almost five years.

“Hey, D, can I please get a shot of tequila?” I ask, settling on the stool. When he sets the shot glass on the counter, I pick it up and down it without salt or lemon.

“Are you okay?” He frowns in concern.

I don’t respond, instead, I slam the glass down, motioning for him to pour me another. Once the liquid is kissing the lip of the glass, I pick it up and down it easily.

“What did that asshole do to you?” Carrick’s silky-smooth tone comes from behind me as his fingertips trail my spine. Everything about my best friend is elegant. Even while he’s drenched in feral darkness, there’s an alluring sensuality about him. Confidence oozes from him like a cologne.

His touch heats my flesh with tingles. It’s been so long, but he still affects the girl inside me. His touch is gentle, firm, yet also tender, but I know that’s not Carrick Anderson. This man is one who takes control in the harshest of ways. He loves his toys, leash, chains, and whips. He’s known for being a man who enjoys control in many ways. But right now, he’s emanating seductiveness that eases my heartache.

“What makes you think he did anything?” I question, schooling my features. I don’t need him seeing my pain, not right now. It’s his fault I got involved with Nate. No, I can’t blame Carrick.

“I’ve known you since you were sixteen, little one. I’m not stupid. Whenever you down tequila like it’s water means something has happened,” he says quietly, reminding me of the time he found me in the middle of the nightclub high on something, drunk on tequila, and completely out of my element. A sixteen-year-old girl trying to act like an adult. It was also the night he saved me, walking into my life like a knight.

“Carrick, do not do this now,” I plead, my gaze meeting his icy ones.

“Why, Eva? Because you’re going to fall into my bed, slip onto my hard cock which needs you?” he murmurs seductively in my ear and I’m so close to saying yes when Nate walks in. I see him just behind Carrick. Two men. Both want me more than I can fathom, but only one holds my heart. I didn’t realize it until this moment. Looking at both of them, I realize I know where my love lies, and it’s with Nathan Ashcroft.

“Eva.” The deep voice of my Sir rumbles through me like I’m tethered to him and he’s tugging me back. I’m emotionally yanked into his hold where I wish he’d keep me forever. But they’re all just wishes, dreams. I’ve become accustomed to those being surreal, nothing in life is concrete. No one ever stays. The only constant I’ve ever had was Rick.

He doesn’t say more, but the way he’s glaring at me it’s as if he’s bound me to his soul. And he has. I know it and he does too. I rise, turning to face him fully. His eyes are molten as they burn a hole into me. Through me. He’s angry. So am I.

“Room one. Now.” Without response, I turn, casting one last glance at Carrick and head to the room in question. I don’t want to know what they’re about to say to each other. Both men want me. Both men can’t have me. Because my heart only belongs to one.

I slink out of my dress, folding it and setting it on the cabinet in the corner. This room, much like the other’s is decked in dark shades of decadence—red, purple, and dark blue. It’s filled with sensual and sinful toys, but in reality, it’s for Dom’s and submissives who derive pleasure from play, not for a Master who enjoys what Nate does. When the door flies open, I meet his intense heated gaze.

“Thinking about Carrick’s dick inside you, sweet slut?” he grunts angrily, tugging off his tie, then flinging the navy silk causing it to land on the bed. I watch him roll up the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt. It’s still impeccable, smooth, and crease-free. He’s in Dominant mode and I know there’ll be no changing that now. We can’t talk. In the three weeks we’ve known each other, it’s been a mix of sweet and romantic, as well as dark and dangerous, but we’ve always been able to talk.

His gaze penetrates me. Boring into the very depths of my heart, gripping it tightly in his fist as if he’s about to rip it out and stomp it into the ground.

“Tell me. You and Carrick looked rather cozy at the bar a moment ago. What were you talking about?” he asks, stalking toward me. His eyes glitter with danger.

“No, Sir. I wasn’t thinking about his dick inside me. As a matter of fact, I was thinking about yours filling me like you always do.”

He smirks. His tongue darts out, wetting his plump lower lip then his pearly white teeth bite down on the flesh which sends a jolt of pleasured heat to my clit. “Don’t fucking lie to me. Tell me, Eva. Did you ever fuck Carrick?” His question is loaded with the promise of punishment and pain. That’s all Nathan knows. Tonight, he’s going to rain down hell fire on me because yes, I’m about to tell him something he knew all along. There’s no way that Carrick didn’t tell Nate about us.

“I was young when I was with him. It’s been years.”  I give him the only answer I can, the honest one. It has been a long time since I had sex with Carrick. When he told me that he didn’t think we should be together, I moved on. He still watched over me, protecting me, but there wasn’t anything sexual between us. We do flirt, that’s a given, but it’s never been more than that. When he rounds me, gripping my chin, he gets in my face. His gaze is fire. His touch is pure anger.

“And if I didn’t walk in tonight? Would you have fucked him?” he hisses in my face with rage simmering below the surface and I have a feeling it’s about to erupt. The fog of need that surrounds him, clouds around me, pulling me into its thick haze and I’m caught in it, never wanting to leave. I love the dangerous Nathan as much as I do the romantic one.

“Why? Are you going to punish me if I did?” My retort is going to earn me a lashing, I have no doubt, but the way he acts when we’re in certain scenes, like I no longer matter to him makes me angry. I love this man who’s trying to hurt me and I know tonight is our last night together, it’s written all over his face. I see it clear as day. He’s saying goodbye in his own brutal way.

He’s going to give me one last memory.

Pain.

Punishment.

Pleasure.

“Do not fucking test me, slut,” he grunts, hisses, spits at me like I’m nothing. His nickname for me forgetting the important ingredient. It’s no longer said with reverence. It’s said in anger. It all becomes clear then. I know how he’s kept from loving his other submissives. He pushes them away in anger. His kink of degrading them, works in his favor to keep emotion from his scenes and from his life.

I’m not them though, I’m different. There is no way I’ll allow him to do this and walk away. I’ve seen him love. I’ve felt him love. And as he grips my hair, tugging my head back, my heart aches, it physically hurts for him.

“Eva, tonight I have no time for games. We’ll play our scene. I felt like it needed to be in the place where we first met. Where we initially started all this…” He gestures with his hand, releasing my hair, but holding onto my arm.

Shoving him away, I step back, needing space, needing a moment to breathe through the emotion that’s got a hold of my throat. It’s squeezing the very breath from my lungs, and as they empty, the sting of my tears burn my eyes. His gaze is all-consuming, an inferno that’s going to take me alive. Even my name on his lips sounds different. Strange even.

“I know why you brought me here.” I tell him, then turn away, not wanting to look him in the eyes. I don’t want to see how little I meant to him. The tender moments play in my mind. All those brutal scenes, the times I felt like I would explode from pleasure. Everything tumbles through me. All that time we spent together, each moment, every smile, laugh, and touch. The nights he slept with his cock buried inside me, connected. It’s all come down to a fucking scene in a club where he’s probably fucked countless others. All this time I’ve spent with a man who didn’t even care.

“You have no fucking idea, get on your knees.” His face is contorted in anger when I glance his way. I’m naked. Not because I’m not wearing clothes, but because I’ve bared my soul to him and now I have nothing left. He’s got all of me and he’s about to crush it like it means nothing.

“Why?”

“I told you once, Eva. I will make you kneel. Do it. Kneel.”

I want to fight. I want to claw his eyes out. I want to rip through his shirt, the flesh of his chest. I want to shove my hand in and find his dead, un-beating heart, and I want to tear it from his ribcage and squeeze until there’s nothing left. Because that’s what he’s doing to me right now. That’s how he’s breaking me. His only slave. The only one who wanted to stay. Even after she saw the monster.

I don’t respond to him with words. I merely show him with my body how I feel. All my anger dissipates into nothing and I drop to my knees, obeying the last few commands he offers. Not showing him how my heart fractures, inch by soul destroying inch.