The elevator opens to a floor that is many degrees warmer than any other room in this house, especially the Hole. I’m eager to see his space as he ushers me into the foyer and then down a long hallway. When we reach a set of two, thick double doors, he punches in a code on the keypad and pushes inside.
One.
Nine.
Eight.
Two.
I don’t think he means for me to see but I do and I file the number away in case I need it for future reference. We walk in and I gape in amazement. His room is gorgeous. A roaring fireplace takes up most of the far wall across from his massive bed. Several floor to ceiling windows make up the wall that faces the lake. His bed is covered in a thick, white down comforter and a chocolate-colored, fluffy chenille blanket sits folded at the end. The wood floors are dark and almost match the blanket perfectly. A large white furry rug sits in the middle of the floor between the foot of the bed and the fireplace. It looks soft and I wonder if it’s made from real animal fur.
“This is beautiful,” I tell him in a whisper.
Even though the room is warm, the windows make it seem colder and I shiver. He turns to look at me and frowns.
“Drop the towel. I want to show you something.”
Without hesitation, I do as I’m told. He drops his and I’m awarded a fine view of his muscular ass. It’s cute enough to bite. The thought has me giggling. He snatches the brown blanket from the bed and casts an amused smirk my way.
“Something funny, little girl?”
The man has the weirdest moods but he is by far the most delectable specimen I have ever had the pleasure of being with. In the light of the fire, his body glows and some curves of his chiseled chest are hidden by shadows. He’s every bit of a warring devil and angel, all wrapped up into one human.
I want to open him up.
To learn about what makes him the way he is.
I want to see more of his smiles. Hear his laugh. Be the object of his affection.
Yet, I also want to feel my hair tangled in his fist. I want him to fuck me and spank me. I want to see that precious vein on his forehead throb with rage.
Truth is, I like each new layer I peel from him. I was attracted to the smug bastard who conned me into signing his bullshit paper and whisked me off to America. I was attracted to the man who made me feel like trash while I sucked his cock in his office. I was attracted to the man who beat a man to death because he put his hands on me. I was attracted to the man who intended to use me in the Hole yet ended up making sweet love to me in the hot tub.
And now . . .
The handsome god of a man who watches me with a playful grin and shining blue eyes. This man, I’m not only attracted to, but I’d probably do anything just to keep the smile on his face. The attraction for him goes deeper than the surface. Past the pleasure and pain he inflicts upon me. It’s much more.
It’s as though I’m connected to him.
Like I belong to him.
“You have a cute butt,” I blurt out and then giggle. “I was just thinking you were hot and I was lucky.” The last part causes his smile to fall and I immediately chastise myself for ruining the moment.
His voice is gruff. “I have an ass. A fine ass. Cute butts are for babies and shit.”
I’d normally laugh at his playful banter but his words are a sucker punch to the gut. My eyes clench shut and I drop to my knees.
Don’t think about it.
Don’t think about it.
My chest quakes with a sob I’ll never let escape. I want these memories to go away. To leave me the fuck alone! The pills. I can sneak out of here and go downstairs to where I stashed them away in the cabinet. I’ll get fucked up and this will all go away.
He’ll go away.
The thought sours my belly. I don’t realize that I’m lost in the abyss of my despair until the heat of his presence is in front of me and drags me out of the darkness. When I blink my eyes open to meet his, they’re deep blue and his brows are furrowed in concern. The naked angel of a man cradles my cheeks as if I’m precious to him.
I’ve never been precious to anyone.
Another ache in my chest.
His power and strength cloak me the moment he scoops me into his massive arms.
I belong here. Cuddled against him. Him whispering soft assurances into my hair. He strides over to where he dropped the blanket on the white rug. With me in his arms, he sits on the edge of the rug and slides me between his legs. I shiver and stretch my toes toward the fire.
“I’ll keep you warm,” he murmurs and then sets to wrapping the thick blanket around his shoulders to my front. As soon as he closes it shut in front of my chest, it poufs out and heat warms us.
A vent, under my thighs, just in front of the rug blows blissful warmth around us. In the face of the flames of hell, I’m in heaven. We sit for a long time and I try to pretend we lead a life where this was normal. A life where in less than six months, I wouldn’t be leaving to go back to the fucking ghetto but instead spent my years with him.
Braxton Kennedy.
Sexy Santa Claus.
“Why are you a prostitute?” His words are gruff but soft. So soft, I almost don’t hear him. For a moment I wonder if I was even meant to hear them.
I sigh and push away thoughts of another life—a life where I wasn’t a prostitute but a well-revered woman instead. It makes me sick and I shove the memories away.
“I needed the money.” I bark out a laugh.
He tenses from behind me and I scold myself for not being more forthcoming. When he doesn’t say anything, but I sense the brewing storm behind me, I finally speak up again.
“Everything was fine in London. I’d found a nice girl to room with, Scarlett Dempsey, and she got me a job at the small shop she worked at selling hand drawn city maps and hand painted thimbles, teacups, trinkets and other knickknacks; a souvenir shop if you will. I worked the register and made decent wages.”
I sigh, hoping to find the strength to talk about my past. Somewhere deep within, I find it and clutch on. “One day, we went to a club. I never went out but she’d begged me to. Some guy kept buying me drinks. He was nice I guess. I wasn’t looking for anyone to hook up with since I’d just gotten out of a relationship but I enjoyed his company.”
The darkness floods through me and I shiver despite the warm cocoon I’m in.
“But I think he put something in my drink because I woke up naked in a shitty flat with my knickers shoved in my mouth. Scarlett was still out but was naked too in the bed beside me. That fucker took us and judging from the used condoms on the floor near me, he used us too.”
I hear a growl and realize it’s Braxton. He’s pissed.
“Then what?”
My stomach rumbles, still sour from earlier. “I woke her up. She was hysterical but I managed to get us both dressed and we left.”
I wish that were the end of the story. But the nightmare was only beginning.
“Then, as we were leaving, the dickhead came home. I screamed at her to run and she did. Meanwhile, I distracted him. Hit him and kicked him—anything to get him to focus on me while she went to phone the police.”
My heart aches in my chest. I’m still bitter about the next part.
“But Scarlett didn’t come back. The cops never showed up. This guy, Corgy he called himself, fucked me. Tied my arse up and had his way with me. I cried and screamed and begged for him to release me. Instead . . .”
The blanket falls away as Brax strokes my hair away from my neck and kisses me there.
“He pulled out a needle and told me he was going to make my fucking day. I fought against him, even as the needle bit into my skin. But when he pushed the skag into my vein and the heat rushed in, I gave in. It took the pain—all the pain in my head and my heart—away from me. With it, I found bliss. Darkness. Emptiness. I loved the high.”
His hot breath tickles my flesh. “So then what? What happened to that stupid fuck?”
Tears well in my eyes. “I worshipped him. Did whatever the hell he wanted. Anything for my next hit. I never went back to my job or my flat. I never checked to see if my friend was okay. Nothing. All that mattered was Corgy and his skag.”
He presses a soft kiss on my neck. “But something happened?”
I swallow and nod. “Something did happen. One day, he and a few of his friends thought it’d be funny to watch me beg for the drug I needed so badly. He tied me up like a fucking animal and slowly let me withdrawal from it. I begged and screamed and threatened. They laughed and tormented me. And when I thought I would die, they released me. Sent my naked arse out into the cold streets. I was like a rabid dog craving blood. I would have done anything for that shit. Anything.”
A shudder wracks through me as I sob. I hated that time in my life. Each time I recall that wicked part of my past, I want to wipe it from my memory. Not only was I starving and freezing, but I was naked and vulnerable. I was a target.
“Then what?” Brax’s body is tense and despite not knowing him long, I know it’s from rage. He can barely contain the hate that floods through his veins. I pray, this time, it’s not pointed at me.
“A punter found me. Offered me a tenner for a blow-job. I climbed right into his car, uncaring that he could be a serial killer or something. In his car, I blew him. He must have had pity on me because he shoved his jacket in my face along with a tenner before he hauled arse far away from me. So, I took the cash, donned the jacket, and searched for someone to give me the hit I desperately craved. The rest’s history from there, handsome.” My voice takes on a sarcastic drawl and I try to swallow down the bitter pill of contempt for Corgy that sticks in my throat.
So many what-ifs.
London was supposed to be the beginning of a new life. A better life.
Instead, it was a direct ticket to hell.
He doesn’t say anything but instead scoots back onto the rug. For a moment, I’m afraid he’s disgusted with me. But then I remember, he chose me. He plucked me from the sad state I was in and he restored me.
Just like he promised.
But why?
That’s the million dollar question.
There’s more to it than him just getting his rocks off by fixing up a whore. I know there are more layers of his dark soul to be uncovered. I’m not afraid, I’m curious.
He guides me down and onto my back. His dark hair hangs over his forehead as he settles himself between my legs. Our eyes meet and I prepare myself to let him enter me. I’m not turned on, still distraught from the bitter memories that still hang in the air, but I’m willing to do this with him.
I want to do this with him.
But he doesn’t enter me. Instead, he scoots back and spreads me open. His eyes skim over my bare pussy and hunger flashes over his features. I knew Braxton would be a good lover the moment I laid eyes on him. But I never took him for a giving bed partner.
“Oh!” I gasp as soon as his heated breath tickles my center. His thick, hot tongue licks me, almost unsure at first. But once he’s tasted me, he becomes ravenous. Strong fingers dig into my thighs as he opens me wider. My pussy dampens for him and a craving deep in my core begins to throb. His tongue is all over me, exploring and lapping up my essence. I easily grow wet with his expert mouth skills and wiggle under his grasp.
“More.” My word is more like a needy whine but he understands the language. His hand slips from my thigh and he pushes two fingers deep inside. When he curls them upwards and grazes my ever-allusive G-spot, I cry out in pleasure.
“Braxton! Oh God!”
I don’t have time to chide myself for using his name because his efforts become more intense. He sucks, bites, and runs crazy circles all over my clit to the point I lose my sanity. Who needs heroin when you have the best damn drug between your legs? With his fingers owning the pleasure button from within and his tongue mastering my poor little bundle of nerves between the lips of my pussy, I thrash from an explosive orgasm. His name falls from my lips in a worshipful chant over and over again until I shudder one last time with a heavenly aftershock.
The ripples of paradise eventually subside and he sits up on his knees, staring down at me with a shit-eating grin on his glistening-from-my-juices face.
“You—I—ugh,” I groan but my smile is immediate. “Now fill me with your cock.”
His face flashes with anger but I’m quickly learning that with Brax, his anger is also determination. And it’s sexy as hell.
“You’re mine, Jessica,” he says with a growl as he pushes his large cock into me. “Don’t ever forget that.”
He drops his body over mine and finds my mouth. His kiss is possessive but sweet. As he thrusts into me, I allow myself the luxury of imagining a life with him. Braxton, despite his issues, is nothing like him.
Could I have a life again?
One where I’m not some piece of trash to be used and abused by whoever thinks they have a God-given right to.
With Brax rubbing against my sensitive clit with each pound into me, I grow closer and closer to another much craved orgasm. For so long I had sex without pleasure. For so long, it was a job and far from something I enjoyed. I only used it for a means to obtain my skag—so I could forget. For too long, I was swept up in a vicious cycle that I numbed myself into.
But now that I’ve been thawed . . .now that my heart has begun to beat again, the old me roars to life with her nails bared and a new desire to live. The old me from before mixes with the new one that’s being made love to and together they squash the pathetic drug addict from before.
I want Braxton Kennedy.
Not just for the next few months. He’s not the type of man a woman can just forget and move on from.
“Jess,” he grunts, his body shuddering with the need to come. He’s waiting for me and I’m lost inside my head.
Cupping his cheeks, I find his blue eyes and stare at him. I hope to convey how much I need him—how much my soul depends on his connection. He’s my savior—he pulled me from the wreckage that was my life. I’m not losing him without a fight.
I will fight for Braxton Kennedy.
Even if it means fighting against him to have him.
I’ll make him mine.
“I’m yours, Braxton.”
He thrusts one thundering last time and it’s enough to send me spiraling into a tailspin of ecstasy. I shriek, losing all inhibitions, and give in to the pleasures he cloaks me with, both mind and body.
His body relaxes once his heat pours into me and he crushes me with his weight. I smile under his hot body and pray to whoever’s listening that the rug we lie on doesn’t get swept out from under us by the time we wake up tomorrow.
I’m not sure I can handle if he wakes up in one of his moods and suddenly seems indifferent toward me.
In fact, I know I won’t handle that well at all.
Sad part is, I know it’s coming.
In my life, nothing ever goes right for very long.